Canter Bridge

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This finely produced University of Texas hardback is not your typical off-the-rack ‘What’s that bird?’ book.

What bird book do you know that begins with such picturesque scene-setting: ‘It is 6:30 a.m. in late April: a strange assortment of liquid chirps, chortles, and muffled yodels threads the dimness about to be burnished. In a nearby yaupon, a cardinal hammers bellow chinks into the still-black earth. Overhead, Purple Martins lance dawn—expressing their invisible presence through these baubles of sound that hang, as do the minstrels, in the dew-rich air.’

The two Texan authors, clearly in love with their land and the birds that fly above and well beyond it, maintain this lyrical tone throughout a volume that is more collector’s item than reference book.

93 pages of such reflection, printed on high-quality stock, cover ‘Classification: Species and Names’, ‘Migration and Range’, ‘Colonial Regard: Early Interest in Martins’, ‘Martins and Bird Protection’, ‘Life of the Purple Martin’, ‘Purple Martin Promotion’, and ‘Landlords’.

As Doughty and Fergus recognize early on, their topic is the ‘special relationship’ that binds these migratory and acrobatic birds and the humans who have adored them in this country since colonial times. It seems almost touching rather than tragic that in most of the North American continent Purple Martins are entirely dependent upon human beings for housing.

I first became aware of the Purple Martin-loving community by barely noticing the Martin homes that the Amish around my town in Central Pennsylvania built beautifully simple Martin houses. My wife recently reminded me that Harrison Ford memorably ran into one of these in his car in the film Witness, then poignantly ended his refugee time among the Amish people by bending is newly acquired carpentery skills to build a (replacement?) Martin house.

Now I own the scratches on my leg from having assembled—just now—my first Purple Martin house, soon to be erected in the front yard of my Indiana home.

If The Purple Martin is to be believed, Ford’s generosity is arguably still to be remembered as Martin dads and moms teach their fledgelings to seek and to enjoy the company of men and women, some of whom welcome their Springtime return from winter in the tropics with almost religious zeal.

Though the authors are both scientists, they have produced something near to a work of poetry, attractive for its high-quality construction and both endearing and informative for the loving labor that has taught us to love these acrobats of the sky, intrepid travelers, loyal friends, witnesses to creation as an act of good love.