Writing goes and goes. I’m still in Panama, working on a chapter about raptors. Which sounds straightforward until I figured out that raptors, for me, are not so much about their biology as their cultural and personal meaning. What, after all, could be more allegorical than a eagle? Or a goshawk? (GREAT book by Helen Macdonald, by the way).
Plus, this chapter has been taking a few side-trips: on child-rearing in Andalusia, eagle-watching in Sweden, the vulture-plagued Iquitos airport. One segment on scary Danish 19th century natural history sculptures connects, I think, to another one on the collared forest falcon/spotted antbird association. There’s a story about a drunken revel in a Panama water taxi that has something to do with snail kites, but just barely.
I’m still not sure where it’s all going, but I hope it’s going somewhere good. Or at least, somewhere readable.