Rob Mullen's favorite books for exploring beauty, ecology, and the wild in wilderness

I loved this book for its adventure and humor, but mostly for its authenticity (aside from some artistic license).

In the 1940s, Canadian and provincial governments were looking to scapegoat wolves for caribou declines. Mowat, a young biologist (like I was when I read it), was sent to prove the assumption, documenting an excuse to kill wolves. Instead, he confirmed indigenous knowledge while running afoul of the scientific orthodoxies and political aims of his government employers.

The authenticity that struck me in this book, apart from Mowat’s stick in the eye of the Establishment, came from Mowat’s research method: living for extended periods with his subjects. The idea of immersing yourself in your subject, whether as a biologist or a wildlife artist, made an indelible impression on me.

I read this book as a young boy, about the time I started deer hunting, and it made an enormous and everlasting impression because it validated my intrinsic empathy for animals, and Seton was the perfect messenger: a wildlife artist and naturalist, but also a hunter and trapper.

I grew up in a hunting culture (Vermont in the ‘60s), so reading such emotional accounts from someone who had hunted and trapped (I never trapped) resonated deeply. 60 years after reading it, I can still tear up thinking of Lobo and Silverspot.

Like Seton, I gave up hunting decades ago (though I acknowledge the ecological necessity of deer hunting where we have eliminated natural predators) and am now a wildlife artist and advocate for animals.

This book brilliantly and entertainingly crystallized my thoughts about the role of animals in ecosystems and the shortcomings of how they are too often perceived by policy makers.

These ideas had been fermenting while I worked on wildlife issues in the Vermont Statehouse. The hunting lobby took the legitimate issue of overpopulating deer and applied it to all wildlife, arguing for greater license to kill everything, while advocacy groups tried to make the case that “wildlife watching” was broader based and generated more money than hunting license fees.

I didn't disagree with that last argument, but to my mind, both arguments trivialized wildlife, missing the essential role they played in building and maintaining ecosystems. But I couldn’t express it as authoritatively, clearly, or humorously as Joe Roman does in his wonderful book. The humor is hinted at in the title. The essence of his argument is in the subtitle, “… animals make our world.”

Ben Goldfarb’s fabulous 2018 book provided me with a huge morale boost and encouragement for volunteer work I had recently undertaken on wildlife issues at our Statehouse.

I grew up next to Preston Pond (and live there again), which had beavers living in it for almost all my life. Yet, despite that and having a degree in biology, I didn’t know a great deal about beavers until a trapper (the first since probably the 18th Century) killed the family in 2016.

I didn’t even think that trapping was a thing in Vermont. That pointless killing is what got me involved in state and local wildlife management. Eager not only solidified and expanded what I was learning, but it proved that a wider audience was learning about this keystone species that creates the most biodiverse habitats in the northern forests.

I loved that this is no typical how-to book.

Rather, it is an adventure story with all of the wilderness canoeing tips and lessons you need woven into it, along with a good dose of humor (including the Black Fly Song). 

The book is a firsthand account of Davidson's and Rugge's descent of the Moise River in Quebec, using the challenges of the journey to explain and demonstrate how to safely plan and execute such an adventure.