I’ve not yet visited Scotland, and quite frankly I’m a little concerned about ever going there… because so many things I’ve read and heard about it make me very much of the opinion that once I arrived I’d never want to leave.
And of all the parts of Scotland that look like places a naturalist such as myself would wish to remain all my days, the Isle of Mull in the inner Hebrides off the country’s west coat is most certainly at the top of the list.
Then as if my CoVid-19 cabin fever wasn’t already bad enough, not so long ago our friend Dr. Avery reviewed a copy of the recently published book Wild Mull; A Natural History of the Island and its People by Stephen Littlewood and Martin Jones, and set my imagination dancing with visions of White-tailed Eagles, puffins, otters, and a host of other Scottish natural delights.
A copy of this book has now reached me, and what did I discover upon opening it – even before reaching the main text itself and the host of heartbreakingly beautiful photographs? A forward by Mark Cocker, whose Crow Country I am presently reading, very much enjoying, and as a result making myself extremely homesick for rook-and-jackdaw-filled British farm fields.
Alas – I’m doomed.
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