Last week I received my review copy of Ben Goldfarb’s book. Apparently a few minor changes and corrections will get made in the finished version, and the artwork will be added, but it’s basically the almost-entirely-final product. The publisher thought a review from this beaver website might be useful so we all get a sneak preview now. Hopefully this will encourage you all to pre-order this excellent book. If you do, you help the book rise on Amazon and your copy should arrive soon enough to bring it to the festival and have him sign it! I thought some some of our beaver photos would help deliver the message,
Here goes:
Every now and then a well-written and cheerfully-researched book comes along that changes the conversation forever. Suddenly no one is asking whether DDT is harmful or we didn’t do enough to prevent 911, they are just discussing what to do about it now and where to start first.
This might just be one of those books. With Eager: The surprising secret lives of beavers and why they matter, accomplished author Ben Goldfarb lays out a Michener-esque sweeping look at an America that was burrowed, shaped and watered by beavers. He uses a convincing cast of characters to tell this compelling story – characters as varied as they are persuasive. From the “high-spirited and freckled” fluvial geomorphologist Rebekah Levine in Montana, to the “geyser of colorful catch phrases” Joe Wheaton in Utah, or the fish biologist with the “gentle manner of painting instructor”, Carol Evans of Nevada, each tell their part of a highly relevant ecological drama that we never even realized we were waiting for.
I have a lot of favorite parts to this book, but an enduring winner is the unparalleled illumination Ben shines on a pre-settlement America when beavers and their dams were everywhere and complex interlacing streams looked more like ‘a bowl of spaghetti’ than individual channels due to their ubiquitous work – my most stark and unfavorite part is similarly unforgettable – the devastating near apocalyptic impact that the fur trade had in drying our national landscape.
Besides introducing the reader to beaver believers from every walk of life all over the country and beyond, and stacking the courtroom with deftly-delivered scientific arguments from every field, Goldfarb is a careful archeologist who unearths historical passages that introduce a new understanding of past figures and their thoughts about a beaver-made country. Like a special lens attached to a telescope, his writing becomes a prism through which beavers shape our past, our present and our future.
Of course, this book didn’t change my conversation. Because I talk about beavers every day of my life and have now since the Bush administration. But it did introduce me elegantly to a chorus of advocates and arguments for beavers even I never knew existed. From flow devices to St. Francis Satyr’s to the limitations of beavers in Yellowstone, reading through these pages I was reminded viscerally of the early days I spent watching the then-unknown family in Alhambra Creek, calling to mind the engrossing, awakening, immersive feeling of discovery.
You deserve discovery too. The book is currently available for pre-order on Amazon, and listed as number one in ecology. Early orders boost its status and mean more people will be convinced to buy it which mean more people will be able to learn about beavers.
I am personally overjoyed that this book has been written, and thrilled to see it come together in such a powerful way. I am also happy that Ben will be at the festival and that Martinez plays a memorable part in its story. Reading about myself was disconcerting for all the reasons you might expect, but I will say I that I was heartened by this in the acknowledgments at the end:
“ Heidi Perryman has supplied me an endless stream of stories, sources, studies and quips since our first email exchange. This book would be far drier without her involvement.”
Aw, thanks Ben, I’m a book-moistener! Who knew?
To be honest I felt proud but a little wistful when I finished this book. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe like you feel at graduation when you know that it’s time to leave something important behind and move on to the next level of wonders. All the scrappy fighting we did to save our beavers reported in this book will mean so much to the next ten cities who try to save theirs. All the fish biologists and cattle ranchers who were never quite listened to by their co-workers. All the assistant professors who get laughed down when they say they want to teach beaver ecology will finally get eyed with new respect. I think Ben’s book will change things for beavers, which probably means it will change things for me and you too.
I especially like the ‘appearance section’ from the publisher.
See you there!
