How a family can shape a naturalist
Dara McAnulty's "Diary of a Young Naturalist," flower of the week and more
Dara McAnulty on a dense Forest Flame bush full of birds in the backyard: “Although not great for a wildlife garden, the Forest Flame has so many bursting-through holes that birds have made, going in and out at speed … What do the birds all do in there? Sometimes, it sounds like a brawl has broken out inside a Tudor inn, so many different “accents,” residents and visitors alike. A multicultural community. All different, all bird. Once, a rook flew in and the whole thing exploded with wings and screeches.”
I love the Tudor inn metaphor: how else to get at the rambunctiousness of a bush full of birds? We had a shrub like this in our St. Louis backyard, an opaque boxwood that rustled and puffed cartoonishly with white-throated sparrows scrabbling here and there but concealed behind the leaves as we watched from the kitchen window.
McAnulty started writing Diary of a Young Naturalist when he was 13. Now 16, his debut book has just been shortlisted for the Wainwright Prize for UK Nature Writing. The book tells the story of how he sought out solace in the natural world during struggles with school, moving to a new town, and becoming a teenage environmental activist. Dara, his sister, brother and mother are all autistic, his father “the odd one out.” The five are “as close as otters, and huddled together, we make our way in the world.” McAnulty provides a wealth of insights into how he navigates social situations, the challenges of standard classrooms, and major protests as an autistic teen.
Diary of a Young Naturalist transports the reader to the places in Northern Ireland that have “formed” McAnulty. These are wild places small and large—from the huge dunes at Murlough where the McAnultys watch gannets “torpedo” into the sea, to the bucket in the backyard where the family watches snails, water beetles, and tadpoles thrive in a tiny ecosystem.
“When we (by ‘we’ I mean autistics) get interested in something, most people would call it an ‘obsession’,” McAnulty reflects. “It really is not an obsession, though. It’s not dangerous, quite the opposite. It’s liberating and essential to the workings of my brain. … I prefer the word passion.” It’s in the liberating hours spent with wild creatures—and writing about it—that he recharges and processes the rest of his life.
It has to be said—writing a book like this as a teenager is an incredible accomplishment. McAnulty lives and writes bravely, inspiring many in Northern Ireland and beyond to take action for the climate, bird conservation, and more. While many things in his story speak to mine (we both find listening to The Clash to be soothing, for one), he’s also had many experiences before 20 that I hope to have before 60 or so. Setting jealousy aside, cheers to a young comrade for not following a conventional timeline and getting after what he wanted to do most. That’s an example we can all look toward.
The book makes clear, though, that he’s not on this journey alone. His parents made it a point to give their children an education in the natural world, as mine did. They put in the work to fill the gaps left by classroom education and provide self-directed learning in forests, fields and beaches. There’s plenty of nature writing focused on an individual in nature that doesn’t investigate where the love for the natural world originated. McAnulty’s Diary writes against this trend. His family is united in their intense interest in wildlife: “From a distance, we must look like a strange bunch, leaning towards a bramble bush.” The wild places around Enniskillen and Newcastle shape him, but his family does, too.
As the book progresses, McAnulty increasingly finds common ground with people outside the family in shared concern for the living world. His mother accompanies him on a trip to participate in fieldwork on goshawks in Scotland with a group of scientists. The trip helps him realize how fulfilling ecological research can be:
“Without realizing, I start talking to the people around me – Simon, Dave, Eimear and Kendrew. I feel at ease. This is so rare. They aren’t teasing or confusing me. I ask questions which are given detailed, intelligent answers, and it feels as if I’ve been dipped in a golden light. This is what I want to do. This is what I want to be, surrounded by kindred spirits, doing useful things with care, knowledge and clarity.”
Here’s one tiny bit of experience that I, an aging Millenial, can share: doing fieldwork with a group of like-minded people continues to be just as exciting and fun as described here. It’s one of the most unique and exciting things I’ve gotten to do. While not the easiest work to find, I’d say writing this book is a pretty good start on finding more. I wish McAnulty plenty more opportunities to do fieldwork, and hope to read a lot more from him.
All this about having fun with people in nature has a sad twist to it when read during a pandemic. There are several points where the McAnultys stop for a quick dinner : “We decide to head to a local pub for dinner, so we can properly celebrate the first day of the summer holidays together.” It’s nice for me to remember that kind of thing and realize it will eventually happen again.
Flower of the week: Jewelweed
Orange jewelweed (Impatiens capensis) is one of my favorite plants to encounter with people relatively new to botanizing. Not only are the delicate flowers stunning and attractive to hummingbirds and butterflies, jewelweed seed pods are little special-effects devices. They are pressure-sensitive: a light touch causes them to spring open.
Encouraging students to see what happens when they touch the seed pods is a field trip chestnut, one step towards convincing someone that plants can be interesting, even exciting. (But be aware that the seeds are toxic to humans if eaten. We don’t want that kind of excitement.)
One less racist mascot
Remember when I mentioned we’ve been trying to change a nearby high school mascot that’s a racist depiction of a Native American? After a sustained pressure campaign led by students and Native Americans, the mayor announced changes to the mascot. It will now look like a Revolutionary War patriot. It’s easy for me to remember a time when the local leadership seemed so entrenched in their defense of the mascot that change seemed impossible. The students continue to press administrators on issues of systemic racism in the school district. And it’s also time to take action in supporting educators locally and nationwide who are calling for remote learning until it’s truly safe to return to classrooms.
In other anti-racist environmental news
The reckoning with racism in ornithology and birding goes on. The National Audubon Society is taking steps to address the legacy of its namesake, John J. Audubon, who enslaved Black people, opposed abolition, and perpetuated white supremacy in his writing (article: “The Myth of John James Audubon”). I was happy to see the organization take this historical legacy seriously. Meanwhile, we still need to rename McCown’s Longspur.
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Possum Notes is a weekly newsletter about wildlife and landscapes around where I live. It’s produced on occupied Massachusett and Wampanoag land.