A vibrant book of discovery that re-creates the sight and sounds of the Quetico-Superior country and explores with deep insight the permanent values of a great wilderness area. Illustrated by Francis Lee Jacques.

I recently purchased a library of books from a garage sale that a 97-year-old gentleman had left with his nephew. It was an eclectic trove, filled mostly with books on the occult, psychic abilities, and the afterlife, but hidden inside too was a small collection of old nature and survival books—right up my alley!

After reading How Animals Talk by William J. Long (which itself was a weird mixture of nature and telekinesis), I picked up this more mellow collection of essays by Sigurd F. Olson, a renowned naturalist and wilderness guide from way up Nort’.

This book, Olson’s first, captures the many moods of the north woods from season to season in a way that puts you there. In fact, there were times while reading this book that I was reminded of Jack London‘s writing, a style that so expertly captures the story’s setting that I literally feel like I’m there.

This writing style reminds me of “word paintings,” classic writing exercises that seek to capture every sense of a location and a moment in words alone on a single sheet of paper. I’ve tried such writing exercises myself and wouldn’t dare publish them, but Olson did and the world of natural history is better off because of it.

In this book, he describes many of the sights and sounds one might encounter in woods of Northern Minnesota, including the animals. Occasionally, he uses the animals as vehicles to describe his own growth as a person and in his relationship with nature, as we see in “The Red Squirrel.” At other times, he uses his own experiences as a vehicle to describe the animals that populate his wilderness, as we see in “Birds on the Ski Trails.” If you’re just picking up the book to see if you’ll like it, I recommend starting with either of these delightful chapters. You’ll be hooked for the rest, I’m sure.

Olson also sometimes includes other people in the essays, and not merely as travel companions. One of my favorite chapters early on was “Birthday on the Manitou,” where he comes unexpectedly upon an octogenarian fishing in a spot on the river where he thought no humans ever tread. Through their conversation, he finds in the old man a kindred spirit who’d grown up in and loved this same country almost as much as Olson himself. We also get to witness Olson’s negative impressions of the human migration that began to change his wilderness world in the slightly sad account, “Farewell to Saganaga.”

This is a book that (if read properly) will easily make you more aware of your own outdoor surroundings, no matter where you live. How might you describe, for example, some moment of intense pleasure that you yourself felt whilst sitting within God’s magnificent natural world? Maybe take a hint from Olson’s book and try jotting down some of those feelings in your own “word painting.” If no one else ever reads it but you, who cares? It’s a snapshot of a moment and a place in your history that no photograph or even painting could capture, and one that will bring back the most vivid memories someday.

I wish I’d done more of it over the years, quite honestly. And I guess there’s no better time to get back at it than now!

©2022 E.T.