mixed habitat & densely vegetated hiding places

subtitle that didn't fit in the subject line: Notes from a Black Man in the Natural World

In 2020, Christian Cooper was involved in what Wikipedia dubs the Central Park birdwatching incident. While birding, he asked a woman to follow park rules and leash her dog, and then caught her on video calling 911 claiming that an African-American man was threatening her life. Fortunately, by the time police arrived, the confrontation had ended and both people had left. By coincidence, this happened on the same day as the murder of George Floyd, which contributed to the video going viral when Christian's sister shared it on Twitter.

But only one chapter of this wide-ranging memoir is about that. Christian Cooper has led a life that's fascinating in its own right, not just as a lead-up to that moment, and his clear writing and kind-hearted voice make it consistently wonderful to hear about. Growing up as a nerdy, queer, Black kid on Long Island, he found comfort and calm in nature, and attracted birds to his yard with a homemade birdbath. In the '80s he went to Harvard, where he was confronted by casual racism and homophobia, yet also connected with other queer people for the first time and found the courage to come out. He was co-chair of GLAAD when it was a brand new organization, and was arrested at protests—a level of commitment that helped him bond with his father, a troubled man who was a longtime civil rights activist.

In the '90s he got his dream job as an editor and writer at Marvel, and worked on the comic in which the first Marvel character came out as gay. He's traveled the world, from South America to Africa to Australia to the base of Mount Everest, and was inspired by the Earth's divine splendor to forge his own spiritual path as a pagan. He's found love and lost it, he's repaired messy family relationships without sacrificing his integrity, he's had wise mentors and lived long enough to become one. He comes across as proud of his accomplishments, honest about his failings, and grateful for the opportunities he's had, great and small.

His deep love of birds and the birding community are common threads that weave throughout his life. But, while he has a gift for evocatively describing the natural world and the thrill of spotting that elusive rarity, I would not say this is a book about birds. Rather, the unifying theme is how the things we are passionate about—whether it's nature, fandom, or social justice—have the power to unite us as human beings no matter how different we are. Even if you can't tell a wren from a robin, I highly recommend this engaging, hopeful, and empathetic book.