The Glitter in the Green: In Search of Hummingbirds by Jon Dunn
Basic Books, April 20, 2021 – $25.99
ISBN 9781541618190
- Thanks to NetGalley for an advance e-copy in exchange for an honest review.
Jon Dunn, British birder, writer, naturalist, and photographer, grew up on the side of the world where there are no hummingbirds – except dead ones in the hummingbird cabinet in London’s Natural History Museum. “Dipped in rainbows,” they mesmerized him and he was well and truly hooked. His first sight of a live hummer, in Arizona’s Madera Canyon, was literally magnificent: big, bold, dark, glowing, its wings issuing a “sonorous buzz” – it was a Magnificent (now called a Rivoli’s) hummingbird. And so he plans a journey, from the northernmost tip to the southernmost extreme of hummingbird territory, from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego, to see as many hummers as he can, in all their haunts and habitats, from deserts to glaciers to jungles. And lucky us: we get to go with him.
Dunn is a genial, dedicated (obsessed?), and infinitely knowledgeable guide. He will tell you everything you ever wanted to know about these physiological miracles (a hummer can require 4000 calories an hour to nourish a heart that beats 1200 times a minute, and that climate change is affecting their ranges to the extent that an Anna’s hummingbird has been seen feeding in Alaska in January). He will tell you about the historical naturalists who studied, identified, named, and killed them in vast numbers. There are elaborate images in art museums like the portrait of Christ made entirely of hummingbird feathers; tiny desiccated chuparosas are sold by the packet as love charms in a foul, stinking Mexican wildlife market as bad as anything in Wuhan, China. Darwin, Dickens, Edward Lear (The Owl and the Pussycat man, who was also a fine bird painter), Fidel Castro, Teddy Roosevelt, Gerald Durrell, David Attenborough – all make cameo appearances. If there’s a hummingbird connection, Dunn has found it. There’s even a flight in a rickety plane over the famous Peruvian Nazca glyph of a hummingbird, and speculation about what precise species it may be. The place of hummingbirds in history, folklore, poetry, fashion, art… it’s all here, enthusiastically described and you can’t help but be charmed.
And then, of course, the birds themselves. Dunn has to dig deep to find the words to describe them: emerald, sapphire, ruby, topaz; shimmer, sparkle, blaze, flame, glow. The names alone (largely thanks to John Gould, an otherwise thoroughly unpleasant man) are something out of fairy tales: Fiery Topaz, Velvet Purple Coronet, the particularly ferocious Black Jacobin, Green-Throated Mango, Tourmaline Sunangel, Festive Coquette, Sapphire-vented Puffleg… What this book desperately needs is pictures. Dunn is a fine photographer; I would have hoped some of these creatures would have shown their faces in the pages, but I had to settle for Googling. And I promise you, every image for every one of these wondrous names will make you gasp, smile, and say, “wow!”
Dunn must be an affable fellow, and I assume he must speak good Spanish, for he engages a cast of guides, drivers, lodgekeepers, and locals in his quest who are dedicated and generous. He discusses the protections afforded birds in areas threatened by development (Brazil is a horrifying example) or climate change, and asks (pre-Covid!): “Were the ecotourism to dry up, what would happen to the Marvelous Spatuletail?” What, indeed? Huembo Lodge’s Facebook page says they are open with all “biosecurity protocols” for Covid in place – let us hope for the best.
Not a field guide, not an ornithological treatise. History, adventure travel, quest, obsession, with effusive language to share the wonderment of these tiny, hovering, fierce, glorious birds. One evening, Dunn lingers in a clearing high in the Ecuadorean forest. His fellow birders have returned to the lodge. There is a “deep throbbing hum” in the shadows. A waft of air brushes his cheek, and a dark hummingbird is hovering inches from his face. The bird shifts to face him, and the inky plumage suddenly turns to an “overpowering imperial purple,” and the late light “exploded into myriad sparks… coruscating… glittering.” He and the bird “share some sort of communion,” the bird deliberately looking him in the eye. Dunn’s first Velvet-Purple Coronet, and his desire to share that moment with us makes this book a lovely and endearing pleasure.