57 books like In the Shadow of Man

Lyrical and personal, this breathtaking book leads you on a journey to discover sides of the wolf you might never have expected would exist. The way a deer signals to the wolf that it will give in to the chase, to become the wolf’s prey, and the wolf’s ‘reply.’ Lopez gets into the head of wolves and the social systems of wolf packs. Years ago, travelling through rural Washington State, USA, I met the endangered buffalo timberwolves close-up. I carried Lopez’s thoughts in my head to calm my nerves. After reading this book, I longed to learn as much about killer whales such that we could have this same intimate relationship with them, learning about their ways, understanding their signs. It took time but eventually, we did just that.

I first read this book as a graduate student and it gave me a new appreciation for insects. Heinrich wowed me by describing his discovery of a hot-blooded insect. Bumblebees can increase their body temperatures by shivering and in this way live in our coldest climates. They heat up to fly in search of nectar which they bring back to their nest of developing bees. They even hibernate and survive the winter in cold regions such as Heinrich’s backyard study area in Maine. This book so influenced me that I eventually studied with Heinrich, spending three years in his Maine woods following the lives of ravens with my wife, Colleen.

Aldo Leopold was a Forest Service ranger stationed in New Mexico’s Gila National Forest when he first began advocating for a new approach to managing national forests. Leopold’s visionary thinking and diligent advocacy resulted in the first-ever Wilderness Area in the U.S.—the Gila Wilderness Area, established in 1922—more than 40 years before the Wilderness Act was passed by Congress in 1964. A Sand County Almanac is Leopold’s best-known work and follows his efforts to restore a patch of cut-over farmland in Wisconsin while also articulating his vision of a land ethic where humans and nature are intertwined and care for people cannot be separated from care for the land. His beautiful writing resonated strongly with me when I first read A Sand County Almanac more than two decades ago, and his vision remains as important now as ever.

Peter wrote about his long trek into the Himalayas in the company of a biologist who went in search of the elusive snow leopard. I was awed by this concept, but more so, for Peter, it was a spiritual journey that memorably reflects on his own life and the recent death of his wife.

There’s such vivid beauty and inspirational honesty in his words. It evoked in me a longing for wild places with no expectations attached. 

I was 30 years old - more than 30 years ago - with a high-flying career in the Information Technology industry when I first read this memorable non-fiction book about two young university students who went to study lions in the most remote parts of Botswana, Africa, with nothing much more than a backpack.

I remember chills running down my spine as I read of them sleeping under the stars just metres from wild lions, who had probably never seen a human being before. It was far from an easy life, but more than anything I wanted to know first-hand how that felt.

As a non-scientist it would be even more difficult for me – but after then visiting the African wilderness as a tourist I, too, decided that I wanted to be on the ground, fighting for the welfare of Africa’s endangered wildlife. 

When an elephant family wanders outside the bounds of the Amboseli Reserve in Kenya, an adolescent daughter is shot by poachers. Cynthia Moss has spent decades studying these creatures in the wild and was among the first to document their rituals of mourning and burial so similar to human rites of parting. “They stood around Tina’s carcass, touching it gently with their trunks and feet. Because it was rocky and the ground was wet, there was no loose dirt, but... when they managed to get a little earth up they sprinkled it over the body.” Even more poignant because Moss describes the ceremony in the most scientific terms.  

We often fail to appreciate the most common birds among us. In contrast, Nobel Laureate Niko Tinbergen celebrates the life of a common beach denizen in this classic book. Tinbergen wrote this book in the 1950s based on his detailed observations of the gulls in their natural habitats. As I read, I am taken to the dunes of the Netherlands where Niko spent his life. I can hear the cries of the gulls as they greet their mates, defend their turf, and raise their young. Tinbergen’s life of observing and experimenting is laid before me as he describes the postures and calls that form the gulls’ communication system. I come away from my read knowing a lot about gulls and even more about a brilliant scientist’s mind.

This German zoologist discovered “imprinting” in birds and was often photographed waddling in his backyard, followed by a gaggle of goslings who mistook him for their mother. Lorenz was convinced that avian species experience emotions like love and grief, describing the mating rituals of jackdaws in terms touchingly evocative of human sweethearts. “Remarkable and exceedingly comical is the difference in eloquence between the eye-play of the wooing male and that of the courted female: the male jackdaw casts glowing glances straight into his loved one’s eyes, while she apparently turns her eyes in all directions other than that of her ardent suitor. In reality, of course, she is watching him all the time!”

Becoming Animal changed the way I look at my habitat. I hope it does the same for you. In his philosophical musings, David Abram contemplates why nature is something we look at, not something we are. He suggests our calloused coldness and ordered separation from other species allows us to subdue the wild-ness, but it comes with a numbing feeling of solitude. I too believe our disconnect with natural systems fuels many human ailments (physical and psychological). I love Abram’s suggestion that we change the spelling of Earth to Eairth to acknowledge that we, and the air we breathe, are part of this planet, not separate from it. 

George Schaller’s pioneering popular Year of the Gorilla, set in Rwanda, is part history, travelogue, and accessible behavioral biology. This book was my model for how to write about my own seven summers living with killer whales off northern Vancouver Island, Canada. Travelling with wife Kay, Schaller in his mid-20s was among the first to get into the field with primates when few even considered it. Rich with stories, his book included his own beautiful line drawings of gorillas and tantalising maps. The story uncovers a misty kingdom—he climbed the volcanoes—as much as revealing the intimate details of the gorillas, with their food gathering, nest-building, relationships, their emotional lives. This book has human and gorilla characters. You feel like you are right there.