A Book by the Fire
I sat down the other day and thought about books.
It’s been a while since I committed myself to reading anything substantial. As someone who could easily consume endless novels as a child, that realization hurt. My conception of reading has changed — it’s become wrapped up in scientific articles and blog posts and the news. Outside motivation to commit to reading actual books, as ridiculous as that might sound, is a welcome companion.
Unfortunately, I ran in to a challenge almost immediately. The AODA is pretty specific about the types of books that “count”:
…the point of this requirement is to learn about your local ecological region... Books on general ecology or environmental science, without a specific focus on the local ecological region in which you live…don’t satisfy the requirement; neither do books about human peoples and cultures, or books about human impact on the environment.
It didn’t take long to figure out that it is exceedingly difficult to find books about my direct ecological region that aren’t:
- Textbooks — which I don’t really imagine reading, so much as referencing;
- About how humans have impacted the region
- Guidebooks
Though there will be guidebooks in my list, it’s hard to imagine reading nine of them. Guidebooks are, in my experience, really meant to be taken out to the field and used in situ. Intentional and hands-on practice has always been the winner for me when it comes to picking up new skills.
Further to that, I think there is a lot of value in understanding how society views the natural world, both philosophically and practically. Humans are part of nature. Maybe it’s hubris, or youthful ignorance, but I think the dismissal of local human culture as unimportant is an oversight. For many who live in highly built-up urban centers, land use — as defined by humans — has irrevocably changed the natural spaces they occupy.
The above points, coupled with the desperate lack of books about my local region that actually met the requirements, means that I took some liberty with my selections. I tried to consider different areas of knowledge with the goal of equipping me to better understand the natural world around me. Since that seems to be the underlying aim for the AODA, I’m hoping there can be some forgiveness for achieving it in a roundabout way.
With that said, I’m open to suggestions of how to modify this list to better fulfill the AODA‘s conception of this part of the candidate journey. If you have any thoughts, reach out — I’d love to hear them!
Without further ado, my main contenders:
Trees of Ontario, Including Tall Shrubs by Linda Kershaw
Botany in a Day: The Patterns Method of Plant Identification, by Thomas Elpel
The Forager’s Harvest: A Guide to Identifying, Harvesting, and Preparing Edible Wild Plants, by Samuel Thayer
Northeast Foraging: 120 Wild and Flavorful Edibles from Beach Plums to Wineberries, by Leda Meredith
How to Read Water, by Tristian Gooley
The Once and Future Great Lakes Country: An Ecological History, by John Riley
The Last Stand: A Journey Through the Ancient Cliff-Face Forest of the Niagara Escarpment, by Peter E. Kelly and Doug Larson
The Forest Unseen: A Year’s Watch in Nature, by David Haskell
What the Robin Knows: How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World, by Jon Young
My hope is that these titles will be complimentary, playing off one another to help me build a greater understanding of and appreciation for my local outdoors. I’ll also be leafing through A Sand County Almanac again, by Aldo Leopold; it, like no other book I’ve read, challenges one to consider their place in and responsibility to the natural world.
Conservation is getting nowhere because it is incompatible with our Abrahamic concept of land. We abuse land because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect. — Aldo Leopold
