From one of the finest naturalist/writers of our time, a fascinating investigation of Nature’s inspiring death-to-life cycle
When a good friend with a severe illness wrote, asking if he might have his “green burial” at Bernd Heinrich’s hunting camp in Maine, it inspired the acclaimed biologist to investigate a subject that had long fascinated him. How exactly does the animal world deal with the flip side of the life cycle? And what are the lessons, ecological to spiritual, raised by a close look at how the animal world renews itself? Heinrich focuses his wholly original gaze on the fascinating doings of creatures most of us would otherwise turn away from—field mouse burials conducted by carrion beetles; the communication strategies of ravens, “the premier northern undertakers”; and the “inadvertent teamwork” among wolves and large cats, foxes and weasels, bald eagles and nuthatches in cold-weather dispersal of prey. Heinrich reveals, too, how and where humans still play our ancient and important role as scavengers, thereby turning—not dust to dust—but life to life.
Bernd Heinrich was born in Germany (April 19, 1940) and moved to Wilton, Maine as a child. He studied at the University of Maine and UCLA and is Professor Emeritus of Biology at the University of Vermont.
He is the author of many books including Winter World, Ravens in Winter, Mind of the Raven, and Why We Run. Many of his books focus on the natural world just outside the cabin door.
Heinrich has won numerous awards for his writing and is a world class ultra-marathon runner.
He spends much of the year at a rustic cabin that he built himself in the woods near Weld, Maine.
I have just fucking lost a long review on this book. Sometimes I fucking hate GR. Why can we not have drafts automatically saved? Isn't it something that couldn't be monetized so it's just not a feature worth bothering with?
I might get round to rewriting it because this is an important book, but then again, I might not.
Bernd Heinrich's new book is a beautiful musing on death, but more so, it is about life. An organism, an animal, is a being that processes energy -- energy comes in, becomes ordered, and eventually leaves. What happens to that energy after it leaves is Heinrich's subject. It doesn't disappear, but rather it feeds myriad new lives. The death of one individual provides life for countless bacteria, hundreds of invertebrates, dozens of ravens with all their intelligence and capacity for joy. Heinrich discusses the deaths of many things, from shrews, to elephants, to trees, to whales, to plankton. In every case, the death of one individual contributes to the health and growth of the ecosystem.
The way we live today, we isolate ourselves from death and "waste". Heinrich discusses the way we rake our lawns every fall, conscientiously removing every fallen leaf and sending it away. But those leaves, if allowed to return to the soil through the work of earthworms and other creeping things, would come back to us as new grass. Instead, we try to subvert the cycle, denying the earth the nutrients derived from death and instead using chemical fertilizers as a poor substitute. In our own deaths, we try to retain the form we had when alive using embalming fluid and hermetically sealed caskets. We seem to believe that by preserving our bodies and preventing their dissipation, we will hold onto our lives in some way. But all we do in this way is to prevent the thriving of new lives.
In some ways, this book reminds me of the end of Phillip Pullman's "His Dark Materials". Pullman, in looking for a new form of an afterlife, suggests that the most beautiful thing that could happen after death is to disperse -- to become one with the dragonflies and the flowers. Pullman is looking for an atheistic conception of death, one that does not rely on supernatural beings. Heinrich doesn't reject religion outright in his discussion of what happens to us. Rather, he want us to embrace new traditions in line with what we know about ourselves and the natural world: that we are part of the ecology of this planet, that our energy, when we die, should be allowed to continue in the bodies of others.
Life Everlasting is a collection of essays that addresses the broad topic the human taboo surrounding death and its corresponding impact on our decision to remove human bodies from the biosphere. The book ultimately serves two functions: it's a call to write a new creation myth that destigmatizes the idea of scavengers eating the dead, and a death panacea, comforting us with the idea that our corpses, consumed by hundreds of species post-mortem, lives on in the DNA of thousands of new lives.
Honestly and competently written, this book serves as both a philosophical work, a naturalist's journal and a scientific survey. It is both compelling and comforting, and does a great job of straddling the line between metaphysical rumination and scientific inquiry.
Most importantly, it is Heinrich's voice, exuberant and passionate, curious and rational. He is impossible not to like, and by extension, so is his work.
I did not like the way this book was organized, nor did I like the tone. This was the first time I had ever heard of/read any Bernd Heinrich, and I didn't know anything about him or his experiences besides the information the blurb on the back of the cover provided. The book started off with a very casual tone, and it made me a little uncomfortable. Who was this guy? How much experience did he have? I didn't trust him as a narrator. I was also disgusted to find he was actively killing animals for the casual "experiments" he was describing. Sure, they were "only" mice and rats, and it was "for science." But, it was a) the only time in the book he felt the need to kill an animal and b) he had similar experiences using roadkill or naturally dead animals - killing them wasn't necessary.
So, by the end of the first chapter I was angry about the murder and I was sort of like, "What the fuck, who is this guy?" Until he casually mentioned that he got a study based on the topic in a peer-reviewed magazine. Oh, ok ... If only you had begun the book with an introduction or something to their nature establishing who you are, or had taken a bit more of a formal tone, I would be more comfortable with that.
Thankfully their were no more murders in this book. (I almost returned it because of that.)
This book contained a lot of interesting information I was not aware of - but then again, I'm not necessarily the most knowledgeable on animal life cycles. I thought most of what was included was described well enough, and he gave a lot of background information on various animals. I wish the salmon chapter had been explained a little more deeply - it was very brief and I didn't full understand why he had included it. Bernd also makes a point of showing us how humans have been, and will ultimately, destroy the planet.
This book didn't hold my interest as much as other books about animals did. I really love animals and I love to learn about them. I don't know if it was the author's tone, or the fact that these animals aren't "cute" or often are dead stars of this book, but I just found myself rushing through it. There were definitely interesting parts but I often was just pushing through.
The points about human burial were very intriguing. I hope Bernd's family friend found peace, wherever he may rest. One thing is for sure, I may not read a Bernd book again, but he is clearly an intelligent and worldly man.
Vultures and other scavengers may give us the willies, but the author of Life Everlasting shows us in careful, touching, and sometimes funny ways how essential they are to life—and what we humans, as the biggest scavengers of them all, have in common with them.
I found charming the story of the beetle couple on their backs underneath a dead mouse "walking" it with their feet to a soft spot to bury it for their soon-to-be-hatched-out young. I laughed out loud over the raised-from-fledging raven Goliath rolling the author's yard (possibly over the slight of him staying away for too long) using tp from the outhouse. Dealing as this book does with death and decay, there are parts that will make the most squeamish, well, squeamish; but nothing that would overly bother most people. It's worth getting through those moments to experience the rest.
Heinrich's careful observations encourage the reader also to slow down and observe carefully, rather than trying to read the book as quickly as possible; to think about the meaning of it all in a larger geological and ecological context. As with Joe Hutto's excellent "My LIfe as a Turkey," I found this book brought me closer to the living world around me, at times in endearing and even spiritual ways, and it opened my eyes wider. A "Further Reading" section organized by general interest areas (e.g., "Metamorphosis," "Vulture Guilds," "Neolithic Vulture Cults") is provided for readers who wish to explore more deeply. I'm glad I read this book.
Tightly crafted essays illumine the necessary connections between life and death, namely, how matter is transformed from death into life. Heinrich's writing, as ever in his books for general readers, is lyrical and accessible. The last essay wends into reflection on how we make meaning from life and death and invites reflection on how religions are part of that meaning-making. Many Unitarian Universalists and other liberal religionists will take both inspiration and comfort from this book, for, with Heinrich, we accept that one cannot argue with life itself (Heinrich uses the term "nature"). Heinrich is making a case for a greater acceptance that we are of and belong to the whole, and to change how we approach both life and death. He does not directly raise the issue of fearfulness of death and dying, but he does provide many reframed perspectives which might open the way of changing that fear and separation and strengthening our sense of connection to the wholeness of life, which is, by necessity, also the wholeness of death. Liberal religionists exploring death and dying issues may wish to take up this text, and the conversations that will easily arise from them, on how to return to the whole and not keep ourselves apart, on the wisdom of many religious traditions and customs that recognize and sustain that wholeness and not further separation, and on how we can make choices to live, sustained by and sustaining the whole, and make those choices accessible to all.
A great book for anyone who is interested in the processes that make the natural world work. Much more accessible to the average reader than I found Heinrich's 'Winter World' to be. There are some short sections that are written in a more academic style that can be difficult to get through if you don't love reading about the physiological differences between two species of beetle. This is why the book got four stars instead of five. Fascinating and readable overall, however.
"We deny that we are animals and part of the wheel of life, part of the food chain. We deny that we are part of the feast and seek to remove ourselves from it, even though we kill and consume animals by the billions and permanently remove the life resources for many more. But not one animal is allowed to consume us, even after we are dead. Not even the worms. We need a new creation story that connects us to nature and to others, one that can give us strength -- that can make us real rather than rich. Nature, religions, and science coincide on the real: kinship with each other and with the mountains and praries, oceans and forests. I am talking about beliefs built on facts that we all can agree to and that trascend individual deaths."
Saturday I was a bit depressed. I went to the library and picked up five books, mostly about animals, because animals are not people and they live these fascinating lives and I wanted to be close to something different. I thought it would be an escape, but reading this book was particularly touching and, dare I say it, spiritual. I want to read everything by Heinrich now -- he has a simple but beautiful way of writing that combines facts with anecdotes with theories without any one overwhelming the rest.
You'd think that a book discussing the disposal of carcasses by beetles, ravens, vultures and other smaller but no less significant creatures would be grisly or disquieting or even downright disgusting. Nothing could be less true than that notion when you read this well-composed, easy-to-read book. The flow and pace of Heinrich's writing is nicely timed; I felt like I was attending classes given by the only prof on campus who could hold my interest, and to whose classes I looked forward.
I came away well-informed, but with curiosity roused on topics raised within the book. I'm so glad that the author included further readings; some will be too academic and advanced for me, but others, I suspect, will provide more great reading and entree into even more related works.
I'm also moved to learn more about green burial and alternative ways of disposal of my own flesh when I've finished using it. And there's not a single creepy thing about that or the way in which Heinrich inspired me to pursue the question.
There is something captivating about death and dying. It is this final mystery we can't prove. It is the atonement of our life and what has been left behind. To us, it means to be put in a casket and lowered on the ground to preserve or to rot or to be consumed by the flames and burned into ashes. But to animals, it is part of the cycle of nature. A beetle births its offspring inside a mouse's corpse, a vulture consumes the carcass left behind, and decay brings forth life. That's nature for you. Dead leaves are there for a reason, not only to remind us of the changing seasons and the fact that nothing lasts but also to give life to the little critters.
To us, death is not about changing seasons. We fear it. We use chemicals to keep our lawns green, we use antibiotics to mass-produce our cattle, and we let it all seep into nature that is barely coping by. We preserve our corpses to keep them as they are, but decay is inevitable, and it gets all of us in the end. That's the point. We can only speculate why our universe is organized thus. What is the point of it all if, in the end, entropy erases all what was and all who we were? In a decade or two, most of us are barely remembered, and in thousands of years, the ruins of our cities are what is left of us.
And the animals. They seem to accept it. That there is an end, and so it goes. Or we could be fooling ourselves, unable to read what is spoken inside their minds. Nevertheless, Bernd Heinrich shows over and again that they make a life out of it rather than hide and build shrines for eternal youth. That's the thing to be taken away from this book of essays about how animals deal with death and how our fear of it alters the course of nature and sometimes makes the vulture population collapse. I'm not more at ease with death and dying than I was before starting this book. Maybe I appreciate the offering death brings to our environment and its parts, but it is one thing to acknowledge it on an intellectual level than to accept your own mortality and of those you love. It is enormously hard, even how hard you think about our bodies providing for the soil to come.
Thank you for reading the review! Have a beautiful day <3
Given the title, I expected something more metaphysical. The book is a straightforward but lucid account of how death operates in nature. Many interesting observations. Not the thought provoking work, however, that I had hoped for.
I initially picked this off my tbr shelf because we were putting down my cat and I needed a way to cope. Halfway through the book some other life situations came up that also benefitted from the perspectives written about. Even without that I would have loved this book. Beautifully written, fascinating knowledge, Bernd Heinrich can NEVER dissappint me.
I often find it really quite difficult to rate a book out of five stars. Easier would be at least a minimum of ten. Three seems to underscore most of the novels I have read, but four may not be indicative of my true feelings on the subject.
Anyway, I have really enjoyed all the Bernd Heinrich I have read so far, and it is absolutely on my list to read them all. I was quite captivated by his attention to our connection in the global ecosystem, and I related to it very well myself. The only aspects of the book I was not entirely satisfied with were the following:
1. The book introduces so many wonderful subjects, and I think it's a fantastic method of acquainting oneself with subjects that may not always be at the forefront of thought when you are outside of that discipline. That being said, some of them were almost too brief and I wish he had expanded a little bit more on a few of the subjects he introduced.
2. Maybe as a consequence of the former, there were a couple of moments where I felt like the continuity of the book lost it's flow. There are clearly so many ideas that can stem from the subject that it seemed as though there were parts that jumped a little too much, and thus I had to often 'reorient' myself to where he was at a given moment.
3. I felt like his treatment of some subjects outside of his specific field in the last chapter were so...vague to be almost wrong. He failed to hit what I personally believe to be some key points in the explanation of some of those subjects. Of course this is a dangerous statement because they are also out of my field, but my understanding of the subjects based on various readings by people who are at the forefront of the field left Heinrich's a little lacking in important areas to me.
That being said, he is a unique and engaging individual, reminding us that we are part of nature, and should envelop ourselves in it. He sparks my interest in organisms that I have been absurdly afraid of for no reason, and I have learned from him to suck it up and look closer at them. While the fear is often still there, it's not as consuming and I always wind up being taken down a curious little rabbit hole. He speaks without embellishment and yet there remains a poetry or a magic that fills me with a sense of wonder and excitement.
I had read a comment previously on this book wherein someone was put off by his murder of the animals. Frankly, I didn't see incident of this other than when he was talking about being a young man, which was also further on than the other reader appears to have gotten. He would describe moving an already deceased animal from it's grounds, or purchasing a giant hog to experiment on. He did briefly discuss hunting, but not simply for the sake of hunting, and I have a phenomenal amount of respect for an individual that will hunt and use that animal for food, clothing, knowledge, or whatever else have you. This is because we are a part of nature, and that is a part of the natural world (maybe not with the utensils we carry with us, but he's not exploiting the environment or animals) and because we often don't appreciate the magnitude of our effect on those natural systems when we shop at a grocery store. Even had that individual been a vegetarian, suggesting that buying fruits, vegetables, and grains hasn't both had a direct impact on the environment, but also a more indirect one with a global spread.
Another win for Bernd Heinrich. I recommend this book to anyone. It was engaging, educational, introduced subjects that are often 'creepy crawly' in a fashion which inspired their observation, and was always accessible to everyone, regardless of their previous knowledge on the subject.
Po tej zakupionej w promocji książce spodziewałem się informacji o tym, jak zwierzęta znoszą śmierć w sensie psychologicznym: czy o niej myślą, jak się do niej przygotowują, na czym polega lęk zwierząt przed umieraniem itp. Sama w sobie kwestia ta jest interesująca. Otrzymałem jednak coś znacznie – jak się okazało – ciekawszego. Książka Bernda opowiada o gniciu, rozkładzie, zjadaniu zwłok, czyli o najistotniejszym w świecie przyrody procesie przemiany martwego w żywe.
Kiedy umiera człowiek, wkładamy go albo do drewnianego pudła albo do gorącego pieca. W pierwszym przypadku, odwieczne procesy zachodzące w przyrodzie są po prostu spowolnione. W przypadku kremacji nie tylko wpuszczamy w środowisko masę szkodliwych substancji, ale dodatkowo pozbawiamy przyrodę jej naturalnego budulcja w postaci zwłok, które mogłyby pożywić miliony innych organizmów zwierzęcych i roślinnych.
Kiedy umiera zwierzę, jego zwłoki stają się prawie natychmiast pożywieniem dla wielu organizmów: od mikroskopijnych bakterii, przez owady, grzyby, chrząszcze, szczury, ptaki, po małe i wielkie drapieżniki. Dla wielu z nich – na przykłąd muchówek – truchła zwierzęce są jedynym miejscem, gdzie mogą one składać jaja.
Zainteresowanie Berndta tym tematem pojawiło się wtedy, gdy jego przyjaciel zażyczył sobie “zielonego pogrzebu”, co sprowadza się do pozostawienia zwłok naturze. Nawiasem mówiąc, praktyki takie są zabronione prawem właściwie wszędzie. Od tej pory autor rozpoczął eksperymenty i obserwacje polegające na szczegółowym badaniu procesów zachodzących w rozkładających się ciałach i gości, którzy wizytują martwe organizmy.
Gdyby nie zjadanie zwłok, życie na Ziemi byłoby niemożliwe. Zwierzęta współpracują ze sobą w tym potrzebnym zadaniu, dzielą się pożywieniem, pomagają sobie nawzajem. Tworzy to fascynujący system, który opisuje Bernd, a Michał Szczubiałka pięknie przełożył.
Autora szczególnie interesuje porządek i celowość tego procesu. Od pierwszych minut po śmierci, kiedy ciało jest jeszcze ciepłe do momentu, gdy pozostaje po nim wyczyszczony do bieli szkielet (a to przecież nie koniec), wszystko odbywa się jakby według ustalonego planu. Berndt z upodobaniem zbiera więc z szosy potrącone przez samochody sarny, szopy, jeże i lisy, wykłada je w spokojnym miejscu, które łatwo obserwować, i opisuje spontaniczną realizację tego idealnie zorganizowanego planu.
Although the title is somewhat misleading, I enjoyed the book regardless.
The more scientific sections were the most engaging part of the book - it was clear when Heinrich had personal experience with something versus only having researched it. I particularly enjoyed the sections on burying beetles and bark beetle larvae. Other parts were a little more disjointed but still fun to hear about.
However, the book tends to ramble on a little too much at times - some of the details get lost because another train of thought interrupts the narrative. Heinrich's eccentric uncle tone is friendly and passionate but there's a few small inaccuracies (especially regarding his embrace of Haeckel and his explanation for the decline in buffalo populations). But if you look past those, the book is an enjoyable read.
Admittedly, this is a good scientific book on scavengers, detritavores, and predation. I don't think anyone can realistically fault Heinrich for not having a mind sharp as a knife. I was looking for something more. I loved one of Heinrich's other books, The Mind Of The Raven, for the spiritual bend in which the book was presented. I was disappointed to see the real meat and bones about death sidestepped.
Judging from other reviews, you either will love this book or hate it. I might have liked this book at another point in my life - before I had been so intimately aquainted with death. I saw this book at the library and thought it might be a nice open look at death. In fact it begins with a letter from a friend of Heinrich's - who is expecting death - requesting a burial place on his voluminous land for very spiritual, yet practical, reasons. I thought this would be a perfect grieving book for me. However, the book is mostly concerned with dead animals being eaten and broken down in various ways. I am a student of science, and these little details are interesting to me, but didn't seem to have anything to do with "The Animal Way of Death," which is the tagline for the book. Based on his introduction, I was expecting a look at things like elephant graveyards and grief responses among animals species.
I will say quite honestly that I only got a little more than halfway through the book before skimming through the rest and putting it down. While at the end, he has a quick attempt at spirituality, it seems forced, and to have nothing to do with the rest of the book. It is not for me at this time in my life. No biggy, I only worry that should I read Mind Of The Raven again, I won't find it so special.
This is a non-fiction book about the cycle of life...or more specifically, about what happens to bodies after they die.
Heinrich likes to put corpses outside and document what happens to them. Invariably, they get eaten by a variety of scavengers, both big and small. They take turns. Small corpses are generally tackled by insects. Larger corpses need larger scavengers to get things started. After they're done, smaller ones step in, and eventually the insects inherit the remains. If it weren't for scavengers, we'd be surrounded by billions of rotting corpses. The scavengers are nature's undertakers and janitors. Insects, ravens, vultures, lions, etc. They're all doing their part to recycle dead bodies into useful nutrition for themselves and the environment.
We're all part of the food web. Every individual in every species spends its life eating, and when it dies, it gets eaten. Except humans, of course....we pump ourselves full of formaldehyde and seal ourselves in metal boxes to try to avoid being eaten by anything, even though we're dead. It's a shameful waste.
When it's my turn to die, I want to give my body back to the earth. I want to get recycled by nature. I want to feed the ravens and insects. I want to feed back into the earth.
Having read several of Bernd Heinrich's books, I find that both their strengths and limitations are glaringly obvious. On the positive side, he not only has a vast knowledge of ethology but also a gift for finding intriguing topics and questions. His enthusiasm for his subject is contagious. But when he strays from his field, as he often does, he is very careless about both facts and analysis. When discussing unfamiliar cultures or practices, he often shows a serious lack of anthropological or historical sophistication. When speaking the ancient Egyptians, for example, he takes a takes a tone of complacent superiority, saying "To achieve an afterlife we no longer need to wrap the human body to make it look like a scarab beetle pupa" (p. 189), apparently unable to conceive of Egyptian rituals otherwise than as an attempt to encode primitive science. But the coffins of the Egyptians had little resemblance to pupae of the scrab. The Egyptians conceived the soul as a bird, not as an insect, and the beetle played little or no part in their elaborate funerary practices. So far as I can tell, Bernd Heinrich has here simply taken a few motifs from Egyptian culture and drawn them together with a vague analogy. Even more seriously, he should consider the ways in which our ideas of an afterlife are very closely tied to complicated conceptions of personal identity, which vary greatly with time and place.
Additionally, I must ask to whom exactly does his "we" refer?
From its title all the way through to its uniquely personal closing chapter, Heinrich’s book grounds the reader in nature’s death-to-life cycle not by way of technical treatise but by sharing his observations and interactions among a rich assortment of carcasses, scavengers, recyclers, and undertakers. Many of them are not the most popular sort of organisms—beetles, flies, ravens, and fungi, to name a few—but that doesn’t stop Heinrich from giving them careful, even loving, attention. His connection to the flora and fauna of the land he inhabits in Maine and Vermont is intimate and breathtaking, and it’s rooted in an authentic experience and strong sense of the human animal’s role in the circle of life. As a child in post-war Europe, Heinrich and his family lived as refugees in a forest, and he recalls foraging for berries and acorns, hunting small rodents, and prizing a recently dead elk. “The carcass was fresh,” he writes, “and we ran to the cabin to tell our parents, who rushed back to cover it with brush, the way cats hide their prey or ravens cache meat.” Illustrated with Heinrich’s own line drawings, Life Everlasting digs deep into the reality that we are “tiny specks in a fabulous system, part of something grand.”
This didn't really deliver, in content, what I expected it to deliver based on the book jacket. I thought this was going to be about how different animal species handle death, in terms of rituals they perform etc. Instead, this was more about how death in the grand scheme of things is a form of recycling, how the death of one thing contributes to the life of another. It's kind of obvious in that sense, so I didn't learn as much as I was hoping to.
I found the chapters to be kind of haphazard and didn't understand the structure of the book. I also felt weird reading about how he obtained the carcasses for these experiments, like he kept saying it was roadkill, but you know he loves hunting and just doesn't want to admit it.
I guess I didn't know what to expect from a memoir type book by a naturalist, but this wasn't very engaging. The most interesting things this made me think about were whale falls.
A dry, meandering read with some interesting facts, a naturalist message, and many, many random anecdotes.
In summation: * Pumping the dead with anti-decay toxins and removing them from the ecosystem's recycling processes by burial = Bad. * Releasing toxins in the air & using up fossil fuels to remove the dead from the ecosystem's recycling processes by cremation = Bad. * Organ donation + air burial = Good. Basically, STOP whatever you're doing with your stupid burying of dead things & genetic modification of animals/plants that have spent millions+ years adapting with each other so that this blue planet could run like the green, 99.99% efficient natural engine that it is. In an attempt to "improve" things for your own benefit you are just MESSING. EVERYTHING. UP.
Call in the vultures. Bring on the worms & fly larvae. Crush your bones to dust. Give back. Die with life everlasting.
You can even still have a standard funeral with your worldly artifacts. :)
Heinrich's lense is holistic and all encompassing. His book makes it easy to join the thought provoking and astounding world of nature, including our own, effectively noting how crucial each "undertaker" is to our ecosystem and how death is not something to be shied away from if we truly want to connect with nature. Sure, the book isn't as scientific and sometimes his anecdotes aren't logistical at all, but as a naturalist as well as human being, compiling his own experiences with concrete data is one of his talents that show clearly throughout this book. I loved the simplicity and the intricate details of how interconnected animals from land and sea truly are and how death is opportunity, not ending. This is a fantastic book to just know more about the world from someone who makes it so personable.
Life Everlasting: The animal way of death is a book about wild death that should be called Decomposition: Ecological recyclers. It's not only about animals, it talks about plants and fungi and protists and bacteria. It looks at a long list of fascinating organisms that facilitate decomposition. (with out ever using the word saprophyte)
It is a beautiful look at the mechanics and behaviours that guide nutrients through ecology. There were some details that I found obscene and plan to redact with black marker, but I give this full marks for being exciting and weird and smart and interested in all the right stuff: Dung Beetles, Vultures, mushrooms, he even explains how caterpillars turn into moths. The whole way through he manages to be insightful rather than yucky.
Years ago I read Heinrich's book about Ravens, and I was very interested. Since then he has written many nature based books, and I recently picked this one up at a bookstore on the Oregon Coast. Fascinating. It's all about how bodies are recycled after death in the natural world. Whether it's salmon, or whales sinking to the ocean floor, or a mouse that has died in the woods, Heinrich tells what happens to their bodies after death. Mixed in are stories about his life, and about his thoughts on death and the way we treat it. I had no idea cremation was so toxic to the environment - for example. An interesting thought provoking topic.