There are books about rediscovering places you once knew and books about finding places you’ve never been before.
I guess a lot of this writing is born out of the current and very urgent climate emergency and that is happening in large part because in these complex post-lockdown times we are nostalgic for a time where the world was simple and where we could go bird-spotting with our grandfather.
I love these books and they are often well written but what I have noticed is that without exception all of these nature writers are very good at naming things.
They know the name of this tree and the name of this bird. At a glance they can tell you what kind of mushroom it is and where you might find it and they can tell you the name of the mushroom next to it which turns out to be a completely different mushroom even if it looks more or less the same.
The difference between me and these writers is that I have absolutely no idea what most trees, birds, or plants are called, and between you and me, I don’t give a damn.
And I can’t identify which owl the hoot is coming from that I’m not emitting.
Sometimes in the morning my wife peeks at the bird table and says “Oh look there’s a great tit” and I look at something beautiful flapping around half a coconut and i enjoy the wings and the head and the beak and the color and the movement and somehow i won’t feel diminished by not knowing his name, in the same way that i can enjoy a sunset without knowing or understanding the complex science behind it.
But as I leaf through those nature books in the bookstore, I start to think, as I often do, that I’m missing something.
Taxonomy is what I’m missing.
I like the word ‘taxonomy’; I love its sound, shape and meaning. It means “the branch of science concerned with classification, especially of organisms” and maybe I’m missing something just by liking the word without practicing any taxonomy. In other words, will knowing the names of these things help me appreciate them better?
I have to point out that I’m not completely clueless at this, mind you. I know what a robin looks like. I know what an oak tree is. So I can identify a robin in an oak tree but honestly that’s about all I can do.
So maybe it’s time, as a sort of fall resolution, to learn the names of things, to become a sort of CaptainTaxonomy, to savor the fact that this tree is a birch rather than “that big” and that this bird is a jay rather than “the noisy and brilliant one”.
This newfound articulation will make me a better reader and a better writer too, and that has to be a good thing.
I’ll become like the natural world’s equivalent of those lookouts I see at Doncaster station, who know the names and numbers of every locomotive and carriage. And it’s a Great Tit passing by!
