A Return to the Western Shore
On the Aran islands of Ireland.
On the Aran islands of Ireland.
On our relationship with wild horses.
The question for researchers isn’t “How smart are dolphins?” It’s “How are dolphins smart?”
Why do all those rugged coastlines, moors and stone buildings make England seem haunted?
On the rapid disintegration of the ecosystem in Las Vegas.
Coastal erosion is leading more than a few Britons to watch their homes crumble into the sea.
In the deep ocean, a swimming sea-worm called a “green bomber” can throw sacs of light when attacked.
She’s 80 now, working 13 hour days, and still won’t take so much as a reporter’s hand to cross the stream.
Locals on the Outer Banks are arguing about whether climate change is real. Meanwhile, their islands are disappearing.
Perhaps because your people have always hunted them. But also because there’s demand in New York fashion circles for their pelts.
A man’s love of pigeons leads him to build a Ponzi scheme out of birds.
The controversial owner of the Dallas World Aquarium once nearly caused a riot over pygmy sloths.
The British and Irish have coined some fabulous terms to describe nature and landscrape. “Doofers” is the Scots’ term for horse-shit; “clinkerbell” means icicle in Hampshire.
A friendship born of mutual interest in birding stretches across the Berlin Wall.
Three years ago, Shell spent millions to send a colossal oil rig to drill in the remote seas of the Arctic. But the Arctic had other plans.
75 years ago, Marguerite Perey unearthed an element while working as a technician in Marie Curie’s lab. Her achievement came at a great cost.
A story of bird and human patterns.
"Rose is nothing without him because difference defines everything. The eyes of the Cooper’s hawk are closer to the front of the head than the sharp-shinned hawk. The downy woodpecker’s bill is small relative to its head while the hairy woodpecker’s bill is long and thick. House finches are more slender than purple finches. When she finds his hairs scattered on the pillow, they are straight, black pins while hers are bright, red commas."
Walking the East Tennessee woods with a Carol, aka “The Forest Granny,” a woman who lives off the land.
A mini epic of murder, theft, and nature in the Old West.
"He trotted down the steep slope and across the range, passing monuments of salt cedar and sagebrush and croppings of bouldered limestone and sandstone. Everett marched on, glancing back to the pass like clockwork. His vision began to blur and he mistook shadows of dashing clouds overhead as armies of villains bent on doing him harm. He crept on as his headache worsened and soon he forgot his sentried errand. He kept low to the ground and stopped himself twice from collapsing completely, bracing himself on passing man-made edifices of rock and earth. His limp had worsened and he stumbled upon wreckage of some wrecked wagonette and used a long timber from the wagon-bed as a crutch until it snapped in half ten minutes later. The sun was hot and without his hat or coat he felt the full effects of it on the nape of his neck."
What it’s like to be struck by lightning.
When animals infect us.
On the palm trees of Los Angeles.
From Norwegian waters to European plates.
A flight attendant's love affair.
"Only now, in filling up the legal yellow pads with her memories of Will bent over his maps and her black panties drying on the towel rack and those broken glasses and the plane roar that wakes her up at night, does he seem more lost then her. She wasn’t a bird, not a bit like one. Birds were sharp, had metal in their brains which told north and south apart."
Severely depressed snow leopards, obsessive-compulsive brown bears, phobic zebras and the inner lives of other captive creatures.