Glimpses of Paradise: The Marvel of Massed Animals - Hardcover

Bruemmer, Fred

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 1552634906 ISBN 13: 9781552634905

Publisher: Firefly Books, 2002

Synopsis

In the beginning when humans sparsely populated the world, the earth and sea were infinitely rich in animals.Now, humans have multiplied and most of the ancient animal wealth of our world has been destroyed. Yet, here and there, for a variety of reasons, some animal species still exist in immense numbers. In this spectacular photographic book, world-renowned photographer Fred Bruemmer captures this vision of Eden, of a world that once existed. Glimpses of Paradise opens with a backward glance at the world of animal wealth that once existed, with a special focus on two species: the North American bison, a majestic animal that once roamed the Plains in the millions, now in the hundreds and the now-extinct passenger pigeon.Then, Bruemmer examines some forty massings of animals with exquisite photographs and accompanying text.Some of the many animals included are the flamingo that gathers in pink millions on Africa`s shrimp-rich saline lakes, the monarch butterfly that hibernates in the millions on remote mountains in Mexico, and the horseshoe crab, most ancient of all animals, that comes ashore on Delaware Bay, New Jersey every May when the moon is full and the tides are high. Bruemmer has been photographing animal massings around the world for the past ten years.In Glimpses of Paradise these visions of the past come alive. Respected internationally as a writer and photographer, Fred Bruemmer is the author of numerous books including for Key Porter Seals: In the Wild, Arctic Memories, Arctic World, Seasons of the Seal, From Acadia to Yellowstone and The Narwhal. His fascination with wildlife has taken him to every corner of the world.

About this title

About the Author:

FRED BRUEMMER is an internationally acclaimed author and photographer of more than twenty books, including Seasons of the Seal, Arctic Memories, and Glimpses of Paradise. He has spent his life travelling extensively throughout the circumpolar regions and to other remote parts of the globe. He speaks nine languages and has written more than a thousand articles for publications around the world, including Canadian Geographic, Natural History, National Geographic, and Smithsonian. Fred Bruemmer and his wife live in Montreal.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Introduction

In 1919, toward the end of his life, the great American naturalist John Burroughs looked back in sorrow at the vanished world of his youth. Then spring had brought "vast armies of passenger pigeons ... the naked beechwoods would suddenly become blue with them, and vocal with their soft, childlike calls. It was such a spectacle of beauty, of joyous, copious animal life, of fertility in the air and in the wilderness, as to make the heart glad. I have seen the fields and woods fairly inundated for a day or two with these fluttering, piping, blue-and-white hosts. The very air at times seemed suddenly to turn to pigeons."

The passenger pigeon was once the most numerous bird in the world. Alexander Wilson, the so-called father of American ornithology, estimated in 1808 that one Kentucky flock numbered more than two billion birds. John James Audubon saw such a flock cross the Ohio River in 1813: "The air was literally filled with Pigeons; the light of noonday was obscured as by an eclipse."

Death waited for the massed pigeons. "The people were all in arms," wrote Audubon. "The banks of the Ohio were crowded with men and boys incessantly shooting ... Multitudes were thus destroyed."

Market hunters killed the birds in millions. In 1805, Audubon saw "schooners loaded in bulk with pigeons ... coming in to the wharf at New York," and on New York markets passenger pigeons were sold for one cent a piece.

Farmers shot adult pigeons, knocked down nests and chicks, and fattened their hogs with the dying birds. Sport hunters captured passenger pigeons, sewed their eyes shut, and set them out as decoys on small perches to attract other pigeons into shooting range (hence the term "stool pigeon").

By the 1880s the marvelous flights of massed pigeons ended, never to be seen again. Ruthlessly hunted, the birds became rare. The last wild passenger pigeon was shot on March 24, 1900. The very last passenger pigeon on earth, a female named Martha, died at the age of 29 at 4 p.m. on September 1, 1914 in the Cincinnati Zoo. All that remains of these lovely birds that once filled the sky in rushing masses of life are 1,532 skins and mounts in the museums of the world, where their luster has faded.

The mighty bison, the largest land animal in North America, nearly shared the passenger pigeon's fate. In herds that numbered 100,000 or more, these animals roamed the infinite prairies. When they migrated south in fall to better grazing grounds, early European explorers saw streams of the mighty animals fill the land from horizon to horizon, and it filled them with awe. The total number of bison was estimated to be about 60 million. They were probably the most numerous large animals on earth.

"The Bison has several enemies," wrote Audubon, "The worst is, of course, man." Bison formed the basis of existence for the Plains Indians, but since there were few of them and their weapons were simple, they never threatened the vast herds. That changed when white hunters came to the plains. They were dubbed "buffalo butchers," or "hide and tongue hunters," because they took only the skins that could be sold and the bison's tongues, which were prized as a delicacy. They left the carcasses to rot. In 1882 alone, the Northern Pacific Railway carried 200,000 bison hides out of Montana and the Dakotas. The vast herds dwindled, and the Indians starved. "A cold wind blew across the prairies when the last buffalo fell ... a death-wind for my people," mourned the great Indian chief Sitting Bull.

A few animals did survive the slaughter. In 1889, William T. Hornaday of the Smithsonian Institution estimated that 835 bison remained, 200 of them in Yellowstone National Park. Legislation was introduced to protect the last few bison. Their numbers began to increase, but the animals were limited to parks and reserves, for nearly all their vast prairie realm was turned into farms and ranches.

Humans have multiplied prodigiously and most of the ancient animal wealth of our world has been destroyed. We shall never see passenger pigeons again, and the great herds of bison are a wonder of times past. But here and there, for a variety of reasons, some animal species still exist in huge numbers and convey in their multitude a vision of Eden, of a world that once existed.

I have searched for paradise for more than 30 years. I've sought out those magic places where animals congregate in large numbers, places that teem with the fullness of life.

Not surprisingly, some of the greatest concentrations of animals are in regions where humans do not live or where populations are small-the Far North and the Far South, the Arctic and the Antarctic.

In the dialect of northwestern Greeniand's Polar Inuit May is called agpaliarssuit tikarfiat, which means "the dovekies are coming." I was in that part of the world in May of 1971. I stood at the floe edge with Jes Qujaukitsok, an Inuit hunter. We were waiting for seals, and I was also hoping to see narwhal. It was an enchanted night, clear and cold and beautiful; the sea glossy black, the ice deep blue, the light honey yellow on the far mountains. Belugas swam in the distance, their milky white backs arching out of the dark water. We could hear them trill and grunt in the quiet of the night. Eider ducks flew past in great flocks. And then the dovekies came -- great dark clouds in the blue-green sky, hundreds of thousands, all winging north, toward the great breeding slopes of the Siorapaluk-Etah area to keep their date with destiny.

Thirty years later I was on South Georgia, a subantarctic island with lush green valleys hemmed by glittering glaciers. On great Salisbury Plain stood nearly half a million king penguins, the most beautiful of all penguins. Each adult bird was nearly three feet (1m) tall, its belly glossy white, its back a shining slate blue, with glowing golden orange patches on nape and bill and bib. In addition to the elegant adults there were groups of thick-downed, solemn hungry chicks. They stood like tubby men in fuzzy cloaks, waiting for their parents to arrive with food. I looked down from a slope and beneath me the neatly spaced birds spread toward the far hills in a marvelous tapestry of life.

Many years ago, when the migration routes of caribou were still relatively unknown, a biologist and I followed one large herd by plane, flying high above the animals every day. It was late fall and the caribou were marching southward. During the day, they scattered as they fed but then came together in the afternoon, the haphazard drift becoming a purposeful march. Far beneath us, the many mile-long mass seemed to glide across the tundra, skirting lakes and bunching into tight brown clusters at rivers and narrows. The sun was setting. The land beneath lay somber, its myriad glittering lakes reflecting the copper sky. Over the dark earth snaked the vast throng of migrating caribou, a golden ribbon of life in the sun's slanting rays.

Later, in Tanzania, I flew high above the Serengeti, that immense grassy plain that is home to Africa's largest wildlife herds. Most wildebeest had given birth within a two-week period, and now brownish long-legged calves were trotting near their mothers. The herds, consisting of more than a million wildebeest, were marching northward in search of greener pastures, following their age-old migration trails.

Some concentrations of animals, such as fur seal colonies, were discovered centuries ago. Others have only recently been discovered. In 1963, National Geographic published an article entitled "Mystery of the Monarch Butterfly." The mystery concerned the whereabouts of the monarch's winter roosting grounds. Twelve years later the mystery had been solved and National Geographic published: "Discovered: The Monarch's Mexican Haven." A few years later I visited this butterfly haven high in the Sierra Madre Mountains,

About this edition

• Publisher: Firefly Books
• Publication date: 2002
• ISBN 10: 1552634906
• ISBN 13: 9781552634905
• Binding: Hardcover
• Number of pages: 256