• Sharp Eyes: A Rambler’s Calendar (1891) by William Hamilton Gibson
  I know of no 19^th Century naturalist with the exuberance, insight and humility of William Hamilton Gibson. His attention to detail, his astonishing illustrations and his elegant prose makes Sharp Eyes my favorite collection of essays about nature. They just don’t write like this anymore.

• Audubon Bird Guide: Eastern Land Birds (1946) by Richard Pough and Don Eckleberry
  You won’t use this as an actual field guide. But Don Eckleberry’s luscious illustrations will make you weep. Eckleberry, by the way, was one of the last people ever to see Ivory-billed Woodpecker alive.

• The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex (1871) by Charles Darwin
  Twelve years after he published On the Origin of Species (which I assume you already own), Darwin got a bit racy and specific on animal courtship and sex. Darwin, besides the minor feat of explaining the origin of life on earth, was a damned good writer.

• Last of the Curlews (1954) By Fred Bodsworth
  You’ll have to trust me on this one. Bodsworth writes a fictionalized account, a tragic love story, of the last Eskimo Curlew on earth. You will know what it’s like to be a bird. I promise. The 1988 edition (ISBN 1-887178-25-2) includes a foreword by the Pulitzer Prize-winning poet W.S. Merwin and an afterword by the Nobel Laureate physicist Murray Gell-Mann.

• Field Book of Ponds and Streams (1930) by Ann Haven Morgan
  Nobody should leave this earth without having mucked around in ponds and streams. So here’s a hands-on guide to what’s swimming, slithering, squirming, wriggling or otherwise just sitting there in some wetland or river near your home. It’s a member of the old Putnam Nature Field Book series, a delightful collection of natural history guides.

John Himmelman certainly likes butterflies. He likes birds. And he’s big on amphibians. But John really loves moths. He’ll interrupt a nighttime drive to investigate the glow and flutter about a street lamp. He won’t even kill the hornworm caterpillars munching his tomatoes. John loves these insects so much that he’s written his own Ode to Moths: Discovering Moths – Nighttime Jewels in Your Own Backyard. Published in 2002, it’s among the finest guides to insect appreciation I’ve seen, elevating moths to the lofty status of their glittering butterfly kin.

I deliberately refer here to the author by his first name (though I’ve not met him) because, in the pleasant prose of his book, John comes across a regular, nocturnal kind of guy sharing his enthusiasm and youthful exuberance for these underrated insects. How could anyone not admire a guide with a chapter called “Of Moths and Men?” It begins with the tragic tale of Mothra, the 15,000-ton silkworm moth that battled Godzilla over Tokyo, and ends with John’s discovery, as a child, of the mothly secrets to Mexican jumping beans.

Discovering Moths is not a field guide. Those are scarce. Your best bet remains Charles V. Covell Jr.’s A Field Guide to Moths. But this fine book offers all the tools to get a beginner (or skeptic) hooked on moths, not the least of which is John’s informed, easygoing approach to the subject. Strong chapters cover the moth’s life, from egg to larva to pupa to adult, and the diversity of species dominating our woods and openings throughout the year. Even stronger is a chapter describing 15 common moth families, each illustrated with the author’s excellent line drawings and rich color photographs. Names a color or camouflage strategy and you’ll find it here on the wing of a moth.

This book is hardly limited to moth-watching. It’s about understanding and enjoying these vital constituents of every natural community. Other gems among the jewels in this book include an indictment of bug-zappers as well as chapters on watching moths by day and rearing moths from egg to adult. The final chapter is a smart treatment of a battle raging in lepidopteran circles – between those who only watch or photograph insects and those, often scientists, who need to kill some in the interest of research and conservation.

This entire book is conveyed through John’s own experiences and his wide-open eyes. He’s done a great favor for moths – and for us all.