Birds Every Child Should Know
by Neltje BlanchanUniversity of Iowa Press, 296 pp., $15.95 (paper); $34.95 hardback
If all the birds of the world fell out of the sky, the rest of us would perish soon after. The world would be uninhabitable, claims the ginger and poetic Neltje Blanchan. Originally published in 1907 soon after the first waves of ecological destruction in the name of commercial and territorial growth, Birds Every Child Should Know delights with its vivid descriptions of more than 100 birds native to the continent. Call it a work of proto-environmentalism or the indulgence of a quaint fetish — either way, Blanchan’s prose comprehensively details the behaviors, appearances, and vital statistics of her favorite pets with superb knowledge and taste: “Such a rollicking, jolly singer is the bobolink!” she writes. “On a May morning, when buttercups spangle the fresh grasses in the meadows, he rises from their midst into the air with the merriest frolic of a song you ever heard.” While she obviously loves her subjects dearly, that doesn’t stop her from whipping the dunces of the species during some of her more hilarious moments. Of the poor cowbird she writes: “This contemptible bird every child should know if for no better reason than to despise it. … His morals are awful, for he makes violent love to any brownish-gray cowbird he fancies but mates with none.” The book is made even more impressive by Cornelia Mutel’s new foreword; she especially succeeds as she discusses Blanchan’s real identity as the wife of publishing titan Frank Nelson Doubleday. That Blanchan ever completed this work speaks volumes about the woman herself; underneath the great prose, there seems a striking self-portrait with birdsong.
This article appears in July 7 • 2000.