To say that Chris Packham is well-known is an egregious under-statement. Noted author, photographer, television presenter, tireless campaigner for wildlife conservation; Packham is quite likely one of the most readily identifiable naturalists in the world. However for all who may think they know Packham, there is another side to him, part of which even he himself has only recently come to know and understand; a side he has now shared with all in his new memoir Fingers in the Sparkle Jar.
For as long as I’ve ventured afield in search of whatever nature might wish to show me, I’ve gone fully vested. That is to say, I’ve worn a field vest. Not that I have anything against day packs or shoulder bags, mind you; I just find that vests (or as my British friends call them, waistcoats) allow me to carry what I need in a way that allows me easy access to all of it while still letting me move about with a feeling of being unencumbered.
Look at a perched Gyrfalcon; they are pure muscle just waiting to be put into motion. Peregrine Falcons have a dark, brooding look; even in full sunlight they still give the feeling of being partially in shadow. Merlins are compact packages of energy and ferocity; ever on the very verge of flight. American Kestrels are, […]
During certain times of the year at the northernmost tip of the Willamette Valley where I make my home, it seems that no telephone wire next to an open field is complete without an American Kestrel perched upon it.