My hard(back) drive

Today is World Book Day. A good time to admit to one of the driving passions behind my estuary walks.

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Just over five years ago-

 I thought 'enough's enough' and quit full-time work. There is only so much time available. I had just turned the half century and was beginning to feel it. Never mind the image they sold us, of keeping our health and wealth well into old age, of enjoying retirement travelling. Health? I already had bits falling off. Wealth? Given up on that but had a plan for hand-to-mouth survival involving allotments, pushbikes and maybe perhaps a part-time Saturday job for some pocket money. Health and wealth could be covered.

As for travel, I had never really had a big drive to go 'world listing' The times I had been abroad I'd always found myself thinking I knew nothing about those new bird species I was looking at; sure, I had the field guide, but it never told you much, and you never got the time to get to really know the species. Ticks on a list didn't mean much. I began to think I'd be happier with local species close to home. Besides, I had one thing something on my small bucket list that I could combine to help keep me stay happy here.

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Go back another five years-

"1,437!"

"One thousand... four hundred... and thirty-seven... what?" I reply, slowly, sensing it might be a trap.

"1,437 bird books. You have 1,437 bird books in this house. Enough is enough."

My mind races with all sorts of half-plans on how to keep that number.  I imagine how I might be able to sneak extra into the house, under the radar. I panic over how to keep the loft off-limits so the journals wouldn't added to that total. But I never once admit to any problem ("My name is Kevin and I'm a bibliophile").

Besides, I had already compromised on this- the books were sorted, not by Dewey classification or similar so I could easily retrieve any title, but instead by dust jacket/spine colour/design. Only the nicest hardbacks could ever make the living room, all other hardbacks relegated to the spare bedrooms, Antiquarian titles in an antique cabinet in the back room. Paperbacks up on the landing. And Journals? Well, as said, I really didn't own any and, no, there was no need to ever look in the attic.

"And don't try to tell me you've read them all, cover to cover."

Well of course not! This was, for the main part, a reference library in progress. My dream, since, yes, being school librarian, was my very own reference library. That I had gone on to find birds after leaving school did mean the ornithology section was rather large, but this made the dream of combining my two loves. Watch the birds then read up on them.

You try selling that dream to a non-birder into minimalist furnishings. I won't. I'll just look at my feet and shuffle them awkwardly.


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Jump forward five years...

Moving back to be in walking distance of 'my' estuary once more might give me the chance to start living that dream. Forget work, there was mud to watch. And now I had the chance to use that reference library as I'd always hoped. Most days I could get out for some birding- perhaps, on good days, get out two or three times. And each time I return home, I could gather a dozen or so different texts off of the shelves to read up on what I had just seen. Surely this could keep me happy for a few years?


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And today...

...some books never seem to leave the small table by my comfy chair; 'Birds of the Western Palearctic' volumes three (waders) and one (wildfowl), the BTO's excellent 'Migration Atlas', Gillham and Homes' 'Birds of the North Kent Marshes', Goss-Custard's 'Coastal waders and wildfowl in winter' and Woods' 'Birds of Essex' (yes, I know I'm in Kent, but there is no better summary of estuary birds in the south-east).

I'm no scientist, it was all English Lit. and History back in the day. So the on-the-go bookpile is never all textbooks. There will always be a good narrative to slip into. (As I look away from the laptop, Bob Chestney stares back at me from the cover of his 'Island of Terns, Warden of Scolt Head'. And there might well be the latest issue of 'BB' pushed under the chair.

Add to that a hot cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, and all is right in life. My dream to really use my books is being lived out. I might have limited myself to a local life, but there is more than enough to be see here on the estuary and to then read up on. For a good few years now, and a good few more to come.

Of course, if asked, yes, I still own 1,437 bird books, no more. And absolutely no journals.

Enjoy your books everyone.

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A game for Ornitho-bibliophiles:
This photo was taken about six years ago. You will note a number of volumes of 'HBW' in view.
Since the photo was taken
(i) has the number of HBW volumes increased?
and (ii) Has that series gained any blue spines?

(Please note relatives of the blogger and employees of NHBS.com may NOT enter this competition).