鈥楾he Book of Birds鈥� illustrates a world of wonder
Robert Macfarlane and Jackie Morris, the British writer and illustrator who teamed up to create 2017鈥檚 delightful children鈥檚 picture book 鈥淭he Lost Words鈥� are back with 鈥淭he Book of Birds,鈥� another beautiful, eminently giftable, clarion call to pay attention to the wonders of the natural world.
Both books are underpinned by concerns about the sidelining of nature in modern life. 鈥淭he Lost Words鈥� celebrates in sumptuous illustrations and playful hidden words the names of 20 common creatures and plants 鈥� including adders, otters, heather, and fern 鈥� that were, to the authors鈥� dismay, dropped from the Oxford Junior Dictionary. The compilers had made room instead for newer technological terms like 鈥渂log鈥� and 鈥渂roadband.鈥�
The selection of species in 鈥淭he Book of Birds鈥� is largely United Kingdom-centric, though many will be familiar to even casual American birdwatchers. Macfarlane and Morris showcase 49 species, from avocet to yellowhammer, whose populations have been decimated or threatened by a changing climate, loss of habitat, commercial exploitation, and disease.
Why We Wrote This
With swooping, poetic prose and vivid watercolors, 鈥淭he Book of Birds鈥� offers an introduction to what writer Robert Macfarlane calls 鈥渢he seven wonders of birds鈥�: nests, eggs, beaks, songs, feathers, flight, and migration. The field guide conveys not only wonder but also concern over the plight of many species.
Macfarlane writes, 鈥淎 great thinning of the skies is under way,鈥� and he goes on to point out that nearly 50% of bird species worldwide are in decline.
鈥淭he Book of Birds鈥� is no mere catalog of endangered species. It鈥檚 a lovingly produced introduction to what Macfarlane calls 鈥渢he seven wonders of birds鈥�: nests, eggs, beaks, songs, feathers, flight, and migration. Full-throated prose poems flag distinguishing habitats, habits, and character traits that make the birds come alive in a way that more traditional field guides do not. To further aid in identification, illustrated tables at the back of the book identify the species鈥� varied eggs, Latin and common names, average length, weight, and lifespan.
Macfarlane鈥檚 most recent book is 鈥淚s a River Alive?鈥� (2025). He is perhaps best known for what he has called 鈥渢he literature of the foot鈥� 鈥� like his now classic 鈥淭he Old Ways: A Journey on Foot鈥� (2012), about how landscape and nature connect with language and literature.
Macfarlane鈥檚 stated goal in 鈥淭he Book of Birds鈥� is not just to identify birds, 鈥渂ut also to identify with them鈥� (my emphasis). This is why the volume is illustrated with paintings instead of photographs, and wields metaphor, story, and poetry to enhance data. The authors clearly believe that familiarity breeds caring; people, Macfarlane writes, 鈥渨ill not save what we do not love, and we rarely love what we cannot name.鈥�
Macfarlane festoons his soaring descriptions with internal rhymes, ribbons of adjectives, metaphors, acrobatic verbs, legends, and personal stories. Often, he addresses the birds directly. On the page, these flights of fancy can come across as florid and overwritten. But when read aloud, Macfarlane鈥檚 lyrical tributes paint word-pictures you鈥檙e more likely to remember than dry lists of facts.
A few examples: The bar-tailed godwit, Macfarlane writes, is 鈥渕igration鈥檚 undisputed record-breaker,鈥� traveling 6,000 miles or more. He calls it an 鈥渆quator-crossing, ocean-spanning specialist of the one-hop, non-stop, eight-night, Alaska-to-Australasia journey.鈥� He writes of the nefarious, nest-stealing cuckoo, with its 鈥渄evious, monstrous switcheroo鈥�; the curlew, with its distinctive bow-shaped beak and 鈥渇eathers ... made of autumn, more foliage than plumage鈥�; and the oddly named kingfisher, 鈥渇or there鈥檚 nothing regal or kingly about this shy little bird鈥� who 鈥渉as somehow stolen all the colours of sunset and of river and made them his own.鈥�
He asks a nightingale whether they might sing together, marveling that such 鈥渁 small, rust-brown bird could hold so much song.鈥� He chants apologetically to 鈥淓ider, eider, wave-rider 鈥� for thousands of years you鈥檝e feathered our nests with the down you shed from your belly, your breast. We鈥檝e killed you and plucked you, we鈥檝e skinned you and worn you.鈥�
Macfarlane paints a less sympathetic but no less vivid portrait of an osprey, 鈥渢he black-masked brigand of the yellow eyes. ... The white-capped highwayman of creek and bay.鈥� He deems the great skua a 鈥淟ucifer in feathered form.鈥� And yet, he acknowledges, 鈥淭here鈥檚 a cold magnificence to your violence, which lies beyond the moral. ... Who mourns a murderer such as you? We all should. There are fewer and fewer of you, Skua.鈥�
It took Macfarlane and Morris six years to complete 鈥淭he Book of Birds.鈥� Morris, who lives in a cottage on a cliff in Pembrokeshire, Wales, has meticulously captured birds in profile and in flight. While at a glance, the overall color palette appears to be dominated by shades of earth-toned browns, grays, and burnt oranges, several black-and-white drawings encircled by dabs of the watercolor hues that went into Morris鈥� finished paintings show us how nuanced they are. The yellow-bellied gray wagtail, for example, required 17 shades of grays, slate blues, and yellows to capture its subtle coloration.
Other birds sport their colors more blatantly. One of the most endearing creatures is the puffin, with its clownlike orange feet and rainbow bill. Six weeks after hatching, this arctic bird swims from shore and doesn鈥檛 touch land again for three years. Later, as a parent, it travels 40 miles each way, daily, to the fishing grounds to seek sand eels to feed its single chick. After 40 days, the chick is left to thrive or die 鈥� and hopefully embark on its own three-year sea voyage. And so, the cycle continues.
I had never before read a field guide from cover to cover, but after marveling at the wonders in 鈥淭he Book of Birds,鈥� I can well understand the authors鈥� profound admiration for their subjects. At one point, Macfarlane comments on how moved he is by murmurating starlings who group together by the thousands across the night sky. He marvels at 鈥渢he staggering beauty and the mutual safety that both emerge when living beings cooperate.鈥� And he asks, 鈥淐ould we ever know how it feels to surrender self to a group like this?鈥�
