…deer…occupy a middle zone between …extremes of domestication and wildness. Far from tame, they are nonetheless experts at living with people, and
…deer…occupy a middle zone between …extremes of domestication and wildness. Far from tame, they are nonetheless experts at living with people, and in many ways, they actually prefer to share habitat with us. All across North America, as in many other parts of the world, we exist in intimate proximity to deer.
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The FAA considers white-tailed deer more hazardous to U.S. civil aircraft than any other animal.
Many images might pop to mind when we think about deer. I am sorry to say that the first one in my tiny mind is the sad vision of road kill. The second is the sheer joy of spotting wild deer in woods, or yards, or, more grandly, in national parks, whether the white-tail native to my part of the world, the mule deer and caribou more prevalent in the west, and even moose. I cannot say I have seen reindeer in the wild, unfortunately. Many visits to the Bronx Zoo introduced me to a much wider range of cervids, the family to which deer belong, including the diminutive muntjacs.
[image] Erika Howsare - image from her site
Erika Howsare has had more of a connection to deer than, I expect, most of us. She grew up in western Pennsylvania in a family that hunted. In fact, the Monday after Thanksgiving is an unofficial holiday in our state, with most schools, and many businesses closed due to expected high absenteeism. This is one of many foci of interaction between deer and people.
I’d had an inkling, even before writing the book proposal, that deer were involved in all manner of controversies, contradictions, and human strivings. That was what got me interested in them. But I didn’t know too many specifics. When I started researching, one of the first things I did was to set up news alerts on deer and several other related terms.
Within a week, I had a rough outline of some of the major roles deer play in our world. They are victims; they are pests; they are something to hunt as well as something to study and protect. They are the targets of culling operations and the objects of sentimental love. They are trophies and intruders. It was all there in the news cycle. - From the Lithub article
Thankfully, Howsare, a published poet, offers a lot more than the daily deer chyron.
I did start the book from a fairly cerebral place where I thought, “Oh yeah, great subject. Like, this will bring up all kinds of great questions, and I’ll be able to go down all these roads in terms of the research and make these points, and it’s gonna be a really great opportunity to dig into these intellectual questions.” What I wasn’t expecting was how much it would change me as a person. - from the Phoebe Journal interview
And a wondrous opportunity it proved. You will learn a lot about the human/deer connection, and a bit about deer behavior as well.
[image] White tailed deer - image from PennVet – University of Pennsylvania
One thing to consider is just how long deer and humans have been interacting. Pretty much as long as there have been people, judging by the content of ancient cave art. They appear in all cultures, and are a rich presence in mythology worldwide. As our first-hand experience of deer is usually liminal, many have come to see deer as ambassadors of the wild world, crossing from theirs to ours, and maybe offering a route away from the world of living humans. Of course, for many of us there is an UR deer image that has been burned into our brains. Really, can you name any other deer this side of Santa’s team?
[image] Bambi - image from Disney via KRCA.com
They are beautiful and offer us an image of wildland innocence. But for many they have become pestiferous. Consider having spent months planting and tending your beautiful back yard garden, only to wake one day to find that real-life Bambis and their kin have laid waste to all your work. There is also the carnage caused not just to deer but to people and their vehicles from collisions with deer. There are folks whose job it is to collect the bodies. Howsare spent time with one of them.
Deer have been a crucial source of food for people across the millennia, but also of a wide range of materials. Howsare gets trained in earth skills to find out how to make buckskin, and many other useful items formed from deer parts.
We usually think of reintroduction of wildlife having to do with trout, or other finned creatures. You may have heard of attempts to reintroduce predators, like wolves in Yellowstone. But the largest and most successful reintroduction in US history occurred in the early 20th century when deer, which had been driven near to extinction, were reintroduced in many parts of the nation.
[image] Sweet Tooth - image from Netflix via BBC
Ok, this was not at all included in the book but I kinda hoped it would gain at least a mention, as it does speak to the closeness of our species.
Factlets abound. Did you know that deer can suffer from a chronic, deadly disease that we usually associate with cattle, chronic wasting disease? Or that maybe the notion of adorning rulers with crowns was a way of imitating the stag rack? You will gain an appreciation for the use of deer-based imagery in the film Get Out. There are plenty more.
One of the main points to be gained is seeing how deer are actually quite adaptable, and have managed to carve out an ecological niche at the perimeters of human population.
[image] Moose - image rom Britannica
A survey course on cervid-sapiens connection makes for an entertaining, informative read on its own. But Howsare incorporates a personal journey into her narrative. Never a hunter, at least not one who shoots anything, she has enough personal connection to folks who do, relations, to want to gain a better understanding of the hunting culture and the rationales of those who kill deer. She looks at her own feelings about deer and hunting. Not all who hunt actually shoot. Hunting can be a group activity, with a diversity of roles, very reminiscent of our prehistoric ancestors. One very appealing element of this learning curve for Howsare was becoming more comfortable with being still, settling into a place and letting herself experience the environment, the moment, fully, a form of meditation almost.
She looks at some of the outrages associate with hunting as well. Like releasing or breeding deer in fenced areas to be killed by people fond of killing things, but not much interested in doing all the research and preparation that serious hunters undertake. Think Dick Cheney hunting quail.
My only gripe about the book is a petty one. I find that science/nature books always go down easier when the information is spiced with a bit of humor. No danger of that here. So, past my personal preferences, The Age of Deer is an easy thumbs up. You will learn a lot and gain a far greater understanding of the relationship between humans and cervids throughout history and our interactions today, finding yourself saying, whether aloud or internally, “I never knew that.”
In the Anthropocene, it seems that far too much of humanity has assumed the position of the prototypical you-know-what frozen in place as the headlights of global doom approach at increasing speed. Deer, at least, have an excuse for such behavior, as their woodland-creature-instinct, however misguided it might be on a paved road, is to become very still so an approaching predator might not see or hear them. Given their abundance on the planet, it is a strategy that has worked out well for them, despite the roadside carnage, as deer remain the last large wild animal in most places. The roaches and rats will not be alone after we are gone. Deer, icons of woodland beauty, are adaptable. They are survivors, and will be keeping them company.
If the American project was, in part, to make a pastoral landscape out of a wilderness, deer benefited from that project in a cultural sleight of hand. We thought of them as part of the wild, but we had misconceived them. Their secret was that they, like us—like squirrels, corn, apple trees, clover, ands sparrows—would flourish in our human garden.
Review posted - 03/22/24
Publication date – 01/20/24
I received a hardcover of The Age of Deer from Catapult in return for a fair review. Thanks, folks.
Profile – from Catapult ERIKA HOWSARE holds an MFA in literary arts from Brown University and has published two books of poetry. She also worked in local journalism for twenty years, covering culture and environmental issues. She teaches writing and contributes reviews and essays to various national outlets. A native of Pennsylvania, she lives in rural Virginia.
Like a bird flying repeatedly into a pane of glass, I kept seeking Heathcote. Each time I reached out for him, the crack yawned open just a little
Like a bird flying repeatedly into a pane of glass, I kept seeking Heathcote. Each time I reached out for him, the crack yawned open just a little wider, until eventually. I hurtled straight through.
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How do you let go of someone you never had?
Charlie Gilmour was living in southeast London when his partner’s sister came across an abandoned chick.
Magpies leave home far too soon—long before they can really fly or properly fend for themselves. For weeks after they fledge their nests, they’re dependent on their parents for sustenance, protection, and an education too. But this bird’s parents are nowhere to be seen. They’re nor feeding it, or watching it, or guarding it; no alarm calls sound as a large apex predator approaches with footfalls made heavy by steel-toed boots. It could be no accident that the bird is on the ground. If food was running short, a savage calculation may have been performed, showing that the only way to keep the family airborne was to jettison the runt.
[image] From infancy to adulthood – From Charlie’s eulogy for Heathcote –photos by Polly Sampson and Charlie
This small bird with a huge personality caught his attention. Charlie’s struggles to care for, to raise, this raucous magpie parallels his growth as a person, and his lifelong struggle to get to know the man who had abandoned him as a chick months-old baby, his father, a well-known poet, artist and playwright. Heathcote Williams, for a brief period in his life, had likewise nurtured a corvid, a jackdaw, bequeathed at a country fair by a pair selling pancakes, fulfilling an old boyhood dream Of having a jackdaw on your shoulder, like a pirate. Whispering secrets in your ear Charlie seizes on this connection when he discovered the poem his father had written about the experience.
“Initially it was just meant to be a light-hearted story about this magpie that came to live with me, roosted in my hair, shat all over my clothes and stole my house keys. When my biological father died, though, it became a much, much more complicated story. Honestly, I really didn’t know what the book was about until I was quite far into the writing process.” - From the Vanity Fair interview
Williams was quite a character, a merry prankster, a Peter Pan sort, grandly creative but not the best at responsibility, able to charm all those around him, doing magic tricks, persuading people that he really was there for them, while never really being able to handle the demands or needs of the people who needed him most, leaving domestic carnage in his wake. Charlie had never really understood why, one day, he suddenly just got up and flew the coop on him and his mother, Polly Samson. This memoir tracks Charlie’s quest to make sense of the father he never really knew.
[image] Charlie Gilmour and his beloved magpie Benzene – image from Vanity Fair - photo by Sarah Lee
Charlie lucked out in the parent department in another way. When Mom remarried, it was to David Gilmour of Pink Floyd fame. None of David’s music career is addressed here. But he is shown as a stand-up guy, a supportive, understanding, and loving father who takes Charlie under his wing by adopting him.
Absent fathers are hardly uncommon. In 97 percent of single parent families, it’s the mother who ends up taking responsibility for the kids. The child’s impulse to seek them out is just as widespread: psychiatrists call it “father hunger”. I was lucky: I was adopted, and the man who became my dad is both a brilliant man and a brilliant parent. But the longing to know your maker is something that lives on. - from the Public reading Room piece
We follow the growth of Charlie along with Benzene. It is made clear early on that a magpie presents both challenges and delights that are uncommon in human-critter relations. Tales of bird behavior that might have one pulling out hair in clumps (which might actually be useful, as the bird stores food in Charlie’s hair) are told with warmth, and, frequently, hilarity. My favorite of these occurs when Benzene is under the sway of a nesting instinct, having settled on the top of the fridge as a place on which to construct her DIY nest. At a birthday party for her:
My dad strums her a song; my younger sister reads a poem; and a family friend, a venerable literary academic named John, unwillingly provides the sex appeal. This rather reserved man of letters is too polite to do anything but quote Shakespeare as Benzene places her birthday bluebottles and beetles lovingly up his sleeve and tugs the hem of his trousers insistently nestward.
[image]= Heathcote Williams planning one of the Windsor free festivals in his Westbourne Park squat, London, in 1974 - Image from his obit in the Guardian - Photo by Richard Adams
Charlie’s nesting life is also under development. After he marries his partner and they talk about growing their family, he must confront his fears of being a parent himself. Nature vs nurture. Will he be the absentee his biological father was, or the rock-solid mensch of a parent he lucked into in David Gilmour? Clearly a concern that requires some resolution before going ahead and fertilizing an egg. The issue extends to a question of mental illness. Heathcote had been ill-behaved enough to get institutionalized. It was certainly the case that his behavior often crossed the line from eccentric to certifiable. Did Charlie inherit his father’s proclivities? Is genetics destiny? Charlie had committed some behavioral excesses of his own, consuming vast quantities of illegal substances, which fueled some extremely bad behavior. This landed him on the front pages of the local tabloids, swinging from a beloved and respected war memorial during a protest, and then in prison.
[image] Charlie with David Gilmour – image from The Guardian - photo by Sarah Lee
Charlie takes us through the attempts he made for many years to connect with Heathcote, but his father offered only teases of interest, always managing to disappear before Charlie could latch on, a hurtful bit of legerdemain.
In addition to the title, the names, which largely focus on feather development, given to the five parts of the book, set the tone. All the expected imagery is used throughout, including fledging to nest-building, to mating behavior, to molting, egg-laying and so on. It could easily have been overdone, but I found it charming. In rooting about in Heathcote’s history Charlie offers us, in addition to his personal tale, some of Heathcote’s outrageous adventures from back in the day. Charlie’s personal growth as a person adds heft.
I was reminded of a few other memoirs. In Hollywood Park, musician and writer Mikel Jollett tries, a lot more successfully than Charlie, to connect with his missing father, confronting issues of nature vs nurture. Helen MacDonald’s H is for Hawk looks at her training a goshawk as a coping mechanism to help in grieving for and remaining connected to her late father, similar in feathery subject matter, although it is quite a different book. Alan Cumming, in Not My Father’s Son, looks at the damage his father had done to him, trying to figure out how this mercurial man had become so cruel, as Charlie tries to figure out how his mercurial, if not overtly cruel, father had become so nurturing-phobic. John Grogan’s Marley and Me looks at the difficulties of caring for a difficult pet, and the corresponding rewards.
It is not necessary to love the memoirist to enjoy their book, but that is not an issue here. Charlie behaved rather poorly, both as a child and an early twenty-something, but learned his lesson, grew up, straightened out, and became a likable, decent sort, a very good writer who is very well able to communicate the struggles through which he has grown. It is easy to root for him to get to the bottom of what made Heathcote tick, and to find a way to make peace with what their minimal relationship had been. His writing is accessible, warm, moving, and at times LOL funny. You will need a few tissues at the ready by the end. Just for padding your roost, of course.
In the Archive, the sour smell of mold is somehow even more overpowering than it was at Port Eliot, as if the material is rebelling against the light. At the end of each day I come away filthy, sneezing, and feeling lousy—but I keep going back for more. I need this. My approach is far from methodical. I attack the body of words and images like a carrion bird, looking for the wound that will yield to my prying beak, the original injury that unravels the man. I peel back layers of skin, pick over the bones, snip my way to the heart of the matter. A patchwork biography begins to emerge; a rough story told in scavenged scraps. It feels almost like stealing, like robbing the grave, except it’s not the treasure that interests me. Heathcote’s glories get hardly a glance. It’s the traumas I’m searching for. Answers to those same old questions. Why does a person disappear? What makes a man run from his child? Why was Heathcote so afraid of family? What forces guided that nocturnal flight in Spring so many years ago?
For his heroic service, Cher Ami was awarded the French Croix de Guerre with palm. He was returned to the United States and died at Fort Monmouth, N.J
For his heroic service, Cher Ami was awarded the French Croix de Guerre with palm. He was returned to the United States and died at Fort Monmouth, N.J. on June 13, 1919, as a result of his wounds. Cher Ami was later inducted into the Racing Pigeon Hall of Fame in 1931, and received a gold medal from the Organized Bodies of American Pigeon Fanciers in recognition of his extraordinary service during World War I. - from the Smithsonian
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…in a contest against passion, truth always makes a poor showing.
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Even the few who had come through the incident largely unhurt looked like shades; greeting the new arrivals with yellowed grins and vacant eyes.
Two kinds of heroism are on display in Cher Ami and Major Whittlesey. The usual sort is displayed by a homing pigeon, Cher Ami of the title, braving and taking enemy fire to bring news back to base of the dire situation faced by a battalion caught behind enemy lines. The other was the courage Charles Whittlesey, the commander of that battalion, mustered to remain in place when the urge to retreat was almost overwhelming. Movement would have offered no assuredness of survival, and probably would have resulted in annihilation, the other option, surrendering to the surrounding German army, again offered no certainty of survival, but confidently promised the collateral damage of severe disgrace. A very Anthony Fauci decision, selecting the least of the available evils, but Whittlesey chose the one offering the greatest hope for the best results.
[image] Kathleen Rooney and friends - image from her site
This novel is a fictionalized account of a real-world event. Cher Ami is indeed in the Smithsonian. Charles Whittlesey did lead his men in dire circumstances. The Lost Battalion was a major media event in the waning days of World War I.
[image] Cher Ami – image from the Air and Space Museum
News coverage at the time had focused on the Metropolitan Division more than most segments of the Army prior to the event. It was made up primarily of New Yorkers, and thus a large contingent of immigrants, some of whom did not even speak English, many of whom were not yet naturalized citizens, draftees fighting for their home country of choice. So, there was much more news sent home about the 77th Division, of which the battalion was a part, than there might have been had the incident afflicted a less reported-on force. You could read all about the plight of The Lost Battalion in the New York papers, and then across the country. One of the main writers covering the story was a reporter for The New York American, a Hearst newspaper. He had a readership, based to a considerable degree on his sports journalism, but he was more than just a sports writer. You may have heard of him. His name was Damon Runyon.
[image] Damon Runyon - image from FamousBirthdays.com
Whittlesey’s piece of the 77th, part of an Allied offensive into France’s German-occupied Meuse-Argonne Forest in October 1918, did their jobs too well, continuing to advance, even when forces on either side of them had ceased their forward progress, unbeknownst to Whit. It is called a salient when you advance past enemy lines and find yourself surrounded by the enemy on multiple sides. Not a good thing. We get to see Whit’s decisions, and the efforts that had to be made to try to get word back to base, and the herculean task of keeping his soldiers’ spirits up, trying to keep them as safe as possible, countering any enemy moves while meting out diminishing supplies and tamping down those who would welcome capture just to end their awful situation.
Each man was the miserable monarch of a kingdom that squirmed with vermin, one that consisted of the dirt and a bit of sky each one could see from the dirt, of their feet in their boots in the mud—a kingdom indistinguishable from a grave.
But the battle and the heroism displayed is only one part of the story, albeit a compelling one.
[image] Image from Chris Rice Cooper’s blog
The periods portrayed are, like all Gaul, divided into three parts, the lead-up before their engagement in the war, wartime duties, and postwar experiences, including the psychological and political processes and actions that radiated from that Lost Battalion event.
[image] Image from Chris Rice Cooper’s blogspot
This is a tale of two narrators, Charles Whittlesey and the homing pigeon of the title, Cher Ami. Chapters alternate. Do not think that just because we have a pigeon narrating half this book that it is in any way a children’s tale. It most certainly is not. Cher is an amazing character whom Rooney uses to great effect. She has a rich social and emotional life, offers astute observations of human nature and behavior, and teaches us a lot.
[image] Image from Chris Rice Cooper’s blogspot
We meet her (yes, her, Cher was mis-gendered and named as a male, an error that persisted even into her descriptive display at the Smithsonian) in the present day, inhabiting, as she has for a century, a place of honor in the National Museum of American History in DC. It is from this perch that this highly decorated war hero looks back on her life, the events that led up to her heroic act, and her life after she completed her final wartime mission. Whittlesey is no longer with us, stuffed or otherwise, but tells his first-person tale in the present of his actions.
[image] McMurtry was Whittlesy’s second in command and a fascinating character in his own right - Image from Chris Rice Cooper’s blog
The alternating chapters cleverly share opening lines that lead each narrator to offer their cross-species perspectives on similar processes and events. Chapter 1, for example, opens with Monuments matter most to pigeons and soldiers. Cher addresses her long display at the museum, and gives us a look at her life, living and displayed. Whit has become something of a monument himself, widely lauded for his leadership under extreme duress. There is even a film being made of the horror of The Lost Battalion, in which Whit and some of the other survivors play themselves. He would much prefer being able to return to anonymity, particularly as he is a gay man in the Jazz Age, in which finding love on the run was a risky enterprise. And PTSD is never much fun, particularly when tinged with survivor’s guilt, and a feeling that he is nobody’s hero.
[image] The Soldiers and Sailors Monument in Manhattans Upper West Side – image from Wiki - Whit names this as a significant locale for him early in the book
In preparation for the adventure, Rooney shows us the stages Cher and Whit go through to become combat ready. For Cher, it is training to sharpen and strengthen her homing instinct, and she turns out to be a natural, a champion even. We learn a lot about how special pigeons are, what is involved in their training, and a bit of the history of homing pigeons being used in war. Whit’s training may not have involved flapping, but it is no less interesting, seeing how the military encouraged educated sorts to get a taste of military life, before having to sign up for real, a trial subscription, if you will. This was news to me, as was the makeup of this particular division. How Whit grows into his command is beautifully portrayed. We see Whit and Cher both in combat, and we see them both in love, with mirrored romantic interests. We see them both considering the madness of men and how veterans might be used as props for ignoble purposes. We see them both yearning for home, and giving their all.
A particular strength of the novel is pointing out how media influences political, and even military decisions, and how real events can be used by the cynical to support less than laudable aims, why some are hailed as heroes, while others, equally meritorious, are abandoned to a dark fate.
[image] Image from Chris Rice Cooper’s blog
This is an incredibly moving book. I counted nine times in my notes the word “tears.” Have those tissues or hankies locked and loaded. It is rich with new info. Fun to learn of Damon Runyon’s involvement. Rewarding to learn so much about about what makes pigeons so much more than Woody Alan’s memorable “rats with wings” putdown, homing pigeons in particular, news to me, at least, and I expect news to most readers. It was fascinating to learn about military life and recruitment in 1918.
The use of Cher as a narrator was a bold choice, and, IMHO, entirely effective. Well, I did have one gripe re Cher. Rooney stretches her consciousness way too far near the end, as she perceives in the mode of an omniscient narrator things she could have no way of knowing. I am willing to suspend disbelief for the conscious bird, but this was a step too far. The experiences of Cher and Whit may have been personal, but the importance of the issues raised is universal and still with us today. The War to End All Wars did no such thing. But if you are looking for a wonderful read, Cher Ami and Major Whittlesey will end your search, at least until you finish reading it.
Battle was said to harden a man—during my youth I’d heard this stated in the same offhand tones used to discuss first Communions and debutante balls—but in my case there had been no hardening, only a constant effort to hold together despite proliferating cracks.
I received this book from the publisher via NetGalley. I was able to find my way to it with no problem at all.
==========In the summer of 2019 GR reduced the allowable review size by 25%, from 20,000 to 15,000 characters. In order to accommodate the text beyond that I have moved it to the comments section directly below.