A. Leopold

A Sand County Almanac

Derek Graf

"The Trophy-hunter is the caveman reborn Trophy-hunting is the prerogative of youth, racial or individual, and nothing to apologize for. [...] To enjoy he must possess, invade, appropriate. Hence the wilderness he cannot personally see has no value to him"

"Wildlife administrators are too busy producing something to shoot at to worry much about the cultural value of the shooting"

Aldo Leopold

and Sketches here and there

A Sand County almanac

Andrew John Kinney

I have known of A Sand County Almanac for years; it is referenced by writers like Elizabeth Kolbert, David Quammen, E.O. Wilson; it is generally considered a classic in the genre of conservation / nature writing along with Thoreau or Muir. So I am late coming to this book, but I’m glad I finally read it, because it expresses elegantly things that any one who loves nature and the outdoors understands in his soul. Aldo Leopold says in the foreward, 

“There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot.” 

So true. A person’s need to be in nature, if they have such a need, seems almost preordained from infancy; that is how it has been for me. And yet, I know people who look at me with a puzzled expression when I talk about backpacking or canoeing in New Mexico or North Carolina; to them it seems a lot of exertion and discomfort for a minimal return. Leopold’s book tries to bridge the divide and make the case for preserving wilderness, and for spending time in nature, but he is honest about the reasons for doing so, namely, because some people have a need for wilderness in their souls, not because of some contrived economic case touting the benefits of tourism to local economies, or etc. As Leopold says later in the book:

“Wilderness areas are first of all a series of sanctuaries for the primitive arts of wilderness travel…canoeing and packing,….I suppose some will wish to debate whether it is important to keep these primitive arts alive. I shall not debate it. Either you know it in your bones, or you are very, very old.”

The book is divided in three parts: first, the “almanac” of Wisconsin’s sand counties, describing the activities of nature in each month of the year; then various essays about nature, hobbies, and his time as a forester in the U.S. Southwest; finally, “The Upshot” – Leopold’s thoughts on how to instill a conservation ethic in America. The writing in many parts is lyrical and quote-able. Leopold describes at length his efforts to rehabilitate the run-down 120 acre farm he bought for back taxes after the bootlegger who owned it previously left the territory for parts unknown. There is discussion of things like how many of the original prairie plants and flowers are preserved in places like cemeteries and railroad right-of-ways, and of how flowers grow in the parts of plowed fields that are too close to the fence, or are in corners. Sadly, 70 years later, most of those remnants of native prairie plants have been eradicated with RoundUp or GPS-driven precision farming. Leopold also says:

“There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace.”

In a famous section, Good Oak, he describes cutting down a lightning struck oak, and the years and events it has seen pass, and he reflects that it will warm his cabin as firewood for one winter, not more. The essay is his way of thanking the oak.

He spends a great deal of time on the value of soil, and since I have been a gardener most of my life, I completely understand his focus on this. Leopold fundamentally looks at conservation as gardening writ large; one must care for the soil, the water, maximize diversity of native plant and animal life in your care, and treat the whole with respect if you want to have a sustainable system. His fundamental point is as valid for the world today as it was when he wrote 70 years ago.

Leopold writes beautifully of a canoe trip he and his brother took in 1922 on the Colorado River as it meanders toward the sea in Arizona, and of his time in the Southwest as a forester. The last part of the book is somewhat repetitive, but he makes some very salient points. He endorses individual efforts to preserve land and enhance diversity, but he makes the case (and I agree) that the overall goal of sustainability cannot be achieved without government enforcement of certain minimum standards, and he argues for the teaching of conservation in schools, and more importantly of the need for children to spend time in nature. 

When I was in my twenties and thirties, I planted the side of a mountain in Appalachia with about two acres of Fraser Fir and Red Spruce, along with a few hemlocks. When I began, the side of the mountain was beginning to erode badly; it was a place I loved, and I wanted to improve it. Today the mountainside has firs and spruce thirty feet tall, at least among the oldest plantings, and you can see the dark forest on the side of the mountain from several miles away. I don’t own that land, but it sort of owns me, and I have great satisfaction in visiting it now. I think Aldo Leopold would have approved.

If you have any interest in environmental issues, this book is a foundational text, and you should really take the time to read it.

A must read if you value nature on any level be it philosophical or economic. Leopold is broad in his ideas which leaves a lot up for interpretation but has a baseline great insight which carries the reader from idea to idea. Extremely relevant in the modern day where political polarization dictates thinking on many aspects of how people look at the environment.

Tara King

Reading this one for the second time because it was assigned as homework for my master naturalist class. Ugh, it's so good.  It's so good when I read it out loud to Paul in bed, it kept him awake.  The writing is gorgeous, the observations are crystal clear and never boring, and the entire ethos basically spawned modern land management, so. Like. Nothing to be intimidated by, right?

Megan Parrott

Colton Ray

Erik Wallace

Michael Springer

Peter Boyd

landon brand

A classic in the "nature" genre is reprinted here, featuring more than one hundred photographs and numerous eloquent essays on conservation and environmentalism.

Dawn Keiser

Helene Utterback

Hannah Sween

with essays on conservation from Round River.

Erin Cawthorn

Few books have had a greater impact than A Sand County Almanac, which many credit with launching a revolution in land management. Written as a series of sketches based principally upon the flora and fauna in a rural part of Wisconsin, the book, originally published by Oxford in 1949, gathers informal pieces written by Leopold over a forty-year period as he traveled through the woodlands of Wisconsin, Iowa, Arizona, Sonora, Oregon, Manitoba, and elsewhere; a final section addresses the philosophical issues involved in wildlife conservation. Beloved for its description and evocation of the natural world, Leopold's book, which has sold well over 2 million copies, remains a foundational text in environmental science and a national treasure.

A Sand County Almanac

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