Zusatztext The wolves of North America have their Jane Goodall! and her name is Renée Askins. An eloquent plea for nature unrestrained. Outside Magazine Delightfulfun to read. The seamless way Askins weaves the natural world into her narrative brings to mind Terry Tempest Williams's memoir Refuge . The New York Times Book Review Demonstrates the kind of deep natural wisdom and sense of awe at the wild that has distinguished writers like Edwin Muir! Annie Dillard! and Aldo Leopold.Wonderfully poignant. BookPage Renée Askins is a modern-day hero! a woman of tremendous courage and creativity. . . . Never have we needed these words more. This book is a quiet revolution. Terry Tempest Williams! author of Refuge and Leap Informationen zum Autor Renée Askins is a writer, naturalist, environmental activist, and founder of the Wolf Fund. Educated at Kalamazoo College and Yale University, she has written and lectured extensively on the relationship between humans, animals, and the wild. She has been profiled in Time , Audubon , The New York Times , Life , People , and Parade , and her writing has been featured in Harper's Magazine and in the anthology Intimate Nature: The Bond Between Women and Animals . Askins has received awards from the Outdoor Writers of America, the Student Conservation Association, and the Wyoming Wildlife Federation. She lives in Wilson, Wyoming, with her husband, Tom Rush, and their daughter, four dogs, and three parakeets. Klappentext After forming an intense bond with Natasha, a wolf cub she raised as part of her undergraduate research, Renée Askins was inspired to found the Wolf Fund. As head of this grassroots organization, she made it her goal to restore wolves to Yellowstone National Park, where they had been eradicated by man over seventy years before. In this intimate account, Askins recounts her courageous fifteen-year campaign, wrangling along the way with Western ranchers and their political allies in Washington, enduring death threats, and surviving the anguish of illegal wolf slayings to ensure that her dream of restoring Yellowstone's ecological balance would one day be realized. Told in powerful, first-person narrative, Shadow Mountain is the awe-inspiring story of her mission and her impassioned meditation on our connection to the wild. Leseprobe One On this cold night winter's last rally rakes across the fledgling breast of spring like claws. The last white bear turns, hungering, northward. We put on layers of sweaters again and light a circle of lamps deep in the heart of the house. But we are restless, keep listening. You are the first to get up. You pace a few silent steps then go. Upstairs I find you perched at the window, an early stork staring from the slender chimney of your bones down at icy slivers of teeth slicing into tender garden growth. Without thinking why we gather the afghans and carefully fold our long limbs down into them. With a soft ritual clicking of bills, necks twining, wings rising, we begin the ancient migration back to the place of our birth. "storks," marcia casey My first memories are of meadows. Evening meadows, when the sun's honey-warm rays turned the long grasses and birch borders into an enchanted and radiant secret. It is the light I mostly remember, when the dark was seducing the day and the shadows would flicker and splinter in a spectacle of courtship. It was the hour of whimsy and expectation. Perhaps it was the melon light that beckoned the deer. They emerged like druids from the forests, miragelike in the tall shimmering grass...

8220;The wolves of North America have their Jane Goodall, and her name is Renée Askins…. An eloquent plea for nature unrestrained.” —*Outside Magazine

“Delightful…fun to read. The seamless way Askins weaves the natural world into her narrative brings to mind Terry Tempest Williams’s memoir Refuge.*” —*The New York Times Book Review

*“Demonstrates the kind of deep natural wisdom and sense of awe at the wild that has distinguished writers like Edwin Muir, Annie Dillard, and Aldo Leopold….Wonderfully poignant.”—*BookPage

“Renée Askins is a modern-day hero, a woman of tremendous courage and creativity. . . . Never have we needed these words more. This book is a quiet revolution.” –Terry Tempest Williams, author of Refuge and Leap

Auteur

Renée Askins is a writer, naturalist, environmental activist, and founder of the Wolf Fund. Educated at Kalamazoo College and Yale University, she has written and lectured extensively on the relationship between humans, animals, and the wild. She has been profiled in Time, Audubon, The New York Times, Life, People, and Parade, and her writing has been featured in Harper's Magazine and in the anthology Intimate Nature: The Bond Between Women and Animals. Askins has received awards from the Outdoor Writers of America, the Student Conservation Association, and the Wyoming Wildlife Federation. She lives in Wilson, Wyoming, with her husband, Tom Rush, and their daughter, four dogs, and three parakeets.

Texte du rabat

After forming an intense bond with Natasha, a wolf cub she raised as part of her undergraduate research, Renée Askins was inspired to found the Wolf Fund. As head of this grassroots organization, she made it her goal to restore wolves to Yellowstone National Park, where they had been eradicated by man over seventy years before. In this intimate account, Askins recounts her courageous fifteen-year campaign, wrangling along the way with Western ranchers and their political allies in Washington, enduring death threats, and surviving the anguish of illegal wolf slayings to ensure that her dream of restoring Yellowstone's ecological balance would one day be realized. Told in powerful, first-person narrative, Shadow Mountain is the awe-inspiring story of her mission and her impassioned meditation on our connection to the wild.

Échantillon de lecture
One

On this cold night

winter's last rally

rakes across the fledgling breast

of spring like claws. The last white bear

turns, hungering,

northward.

We put on layers of sweaters again

and light a circle of lamps

deep in the heart of the house. But

we are restless, keep listening.

You are the first to get up.

You pace a few silent steps

then go. Upstairs I find you

perched at the window,

an early stork

staring from the slender chimney

of your bones down

at icy slivers of teeth

slicing into tender garden growth.

Without thinking why

we gather the afghans

and carefully fold our long limbs

down into them.

With a soft ritual clicking of bills,

necks twining, wings rising,

we begin

the ancient migration

back to the place

of our birth.

"storks,"

marcia casey

My first memories are of meadows. Evening meadows, when the sun's honey-warm rays turned the long grasses and birch borders into an enchanted and radiant secret. It is the light I mostly remember, when the dark was seducing the day and the shadows would flicker and splinter in a spectacle of courtship. It was the hour of whimsy and expectation. Perhaps it was the melon light that beckoned the deer. They emerged like druids from the forests, miragelike in the tall shimmering grass, unable to resist those last lingering moments of summer sunlight to warm their shadow-cooled backs.

My mother would count them. Two, three, four, ten, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight. My older sister Robin and I would listen and watch, two small daughters perched beside their mother on the liver-colored seat of a plump black Volkswagen Bug. There was no television in our remote cottage in the Thunder Bay State Forest of northern Michigan, and my father had to travel for his…