Of all the parts of Scotland that look like places a naturalist such as myself would wish to remain all my days, the Isle of Mull in the inner Hebrides off the country’s west coat is most certainly at the top of the list.
Of all the parts of Scotland that look like places a naturalist such as myself would wish to remain all my days, the Isle of Mull in the inner Hebrides off the country’s west coat is most certainly at the top of the list.
If asked to suggest an author who would be the most likely to be successful in setting the record straight in regard to the public reputation of a much-maligned and widely unpopular insect, I would immediately recommend Richard Jones. After all, given what he was able to do with mosquitoes, and common household “pests,” to say nothing of his writings about feces, it stands to reason that he could quite likely make even the most vitriolic haters of any given creature reconsider their opinions.
The scene: England in the middle ages. King Arthur and his faithful servant Patsy have just clip-clopped by two men standing by the road. Large Man: Who’s that then? Dead Collector: I dunno. Must be a king. Large Man: Why? Dead Collector: He hasn’t got shit all over him. (Monty Python and the Holy Grail) […]
I was particularly pleased to discover that the 2 June 2017 issue of the Times Literary Supplement contained a review by Tom Holland of not just one but two recent books on foxes; Lucy Jones’ Foxes Unearthed: A Story of Love and Loathing in Modern Britain. from Elliott & Thompson, and How to Tame a […]