There was a time, up until the early 20th century, when the orthodoxy was that bird identification should be done "bird in hand". This was a way of saying, "shoot it, and pick up the corpse and study it carefully". Roger Tory Peterson was among that generation of bird enthusiasts who rejected this method (although look closely at the cover picture for an entertaining spin on this saying). He was also one of the first generation of bird enthusiasts to become photography enthusiasts, despite (or perhaps because of) his profession as a painter of birds for field guides. This series of essays, originally writen for a periodical named "Bird Watcher's Digest", was from later in his life, when he had a half century or more of knowledge (and memories) to draw on.
Oddly, this is not really a book about birds, in particular. It is a book about birdwatchers. Whether telling of his efforts to get the perfect shot of one species or another, or of how he learned from the generation of painters who came before him, or of his many friends and colleagues who helped to create the post-WW2 conservationist movement with film, tours, and books telling a newly urbanized society why they should care about nature still, he is mostly writing about humans here. Humans who are in closer than usual proximity to birds, for sure, and there are a few dozen color prints of his masterful paintings or photographs of birds scattered through the book. But the real theme through all of these essays is other people.
I admit to being more interested in the birds than the people, myself, but the interesting thing is that the audience for his essays was, presumably, a lot of people who were interested in birds as well, and more knowledgeable about it than I am. But, one wonders if perhaps, as with dogs and cats and horses and so forth, the type of animal is in part an excuse to bond with other people over a common interest. Humans are a sociable lot. Having just finished Robert Putnam's "Bowling Alone", however, I am reminded that the generation which Peterson came from was by historical standards a remarkably social one, prone to extraordinary levels of "clubbishness", that is joining of clubs and voluntary associations (such as the Audobon Society).
My own dad was for a time president of the local chapter of the Audobon society. I was very small at the time, and understood it to mean that he was President of the United States, and then to think that he was president of the entire Audobon Society, which would have been rather more work. Mostly, as I dimly recall it, being president of the local chapter involved talking to a lot of other people, and occasionally going on birding expeditions with them. Peterson mentions several years in which he is involved in attempts (as a group) to see as many species of bird in one 24-hour period as possible, which involved getting up early, driving around a lot, and a bunch of careful planning. I admit, I don't quite see the appeal, but it was entertaining enough to hear Peterson tell stories about it. The entire book, really, is much like sitting next to an old man who is telling tales of his youth, and you either enjoy that sort of thing or you don't (I mostly do).
In fact, it is probably the case that, if you are going to get humans to care overmuch about protecting bird species from DDT, vanishing wetlands, and the like, you will need more than to appeal to their concern over abstractions like ecosystems. If they also have a gut-level response of "that area where I go on fun birding expeditions with my friends every year", they are more likely to do what they can to see that it is preserved. As our species becomes ever-more-urbanized and remote from the wilderness, it will be a challenge for current and future generations to find a way to convince themselves to care, and I expect that will require different techniques each generation. Peterson's use of binoculars and camera instead of shotguns was quite a change from what came before. Hopefully we will produce an equivalent person, with the right combination of concern for wildlife and savvy PR instincts, in the generations to come.