“Man is a great blunderer going about in the
woods, and there is no other except the bear makes so much noise. Being so well
warned beforehand, it is a very stupid animal, or a very bold one, that cannot
keep safely hid. The cunningest hunter is hunted in turn, and what he leaves of
his kill is meat for some other. That is the economy of nature, but with it all
there is not sufficient account taken of the works of man. There is no
scavenger that eats tin cans, and no wild thing leaves a like disfigurement on
the forest floor.”
This 1903
work from Mary Hunter Austin can be thought of as a South-westerner’s poetic
agreement with Thoreau. In a series of observational walks Austin reveals the beauty
of the desert that she sees so ably. She offers evocative expressions of the
landscape, insightful commentary regarding the flora and fauna and how to “see”
as they do and ends the volume with a few choice comments on the difference
between those who live on or close to the land and those who don’t.
While not
Western fiction it is a landmark record and love-letter to the environment of
the genre.
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