WHAT I TREASURE
My big red bird book
For more than 40 years, my treasured item existed only as a memory. But as soon as I opened the red book that arrived after an internet hunt through secondhand booksellers, I knew it was the one. It’s a reference book, The Oxford Book Of Birds. It’s not a story book of mystery, escapism or wizardry – but it does contain magic.
I first borrowed it from Leagrave Library in Luton. It was 1976 and I was nine. I’d missed my first chance of taking the book home the week before – I’d just picked it up and was flicking through it when a small child toddled over, whisked it out of my grasp and wandered back to a parent. I was too shy to ask for it back. I’d seen enough to know I wanted to borrow it, so was pleased to find it on the shelf the following week.
Just a few days later, my sister and I used it to identify a pair of coal tits that visited our garden. We matched them to the pictures and eagerly read the text. This was the start of our love of and interest in birds.
Recollecting the book and its significance, while on a writing course a few years ago, prompted me to look for it again. I hadn’t seen it since moving away from Luton in 1979. Sat at my computer, I couldn’t remember the title, author or illustrator so tried the obvious key words. No luck. The breakthrough came when I typed ‘1970s red bird book’ and searched the images. Hopeful, I scrolled down, and found a used copy for sale online. I immediately bought it and awaited its arrival.
As soon as I explored the pages, I knew I had the right book. First published in 1964, The Oxford Book Of Birds was written by Bruce Campbell and illustrated by Donald Watson, a renowned wildlife artist. Watson was known for his ability to capture the true essence of the birds he drew. That’s what first attracted me to the book. His exquisite, highly detailed drawings brought the subjects to life. They seemed so much more than two dimensional depictions. I found the page that included the coal tits, the one with the goldfinches I had copied in my own drawings, and the golden oriole, one of the birds on my hope-to-see-one-day list (still!). I was nine years old again. My memory of this book had not been a case of rose-tinted embellishment – those wonderful illustrations resonate still. It really is a magical book, and I love that it’s now on my own bookshelf.
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“It’s not a book of mystery, escapism or wizardry – but it does contain magic”