When I began this book, I promised myself I would read a bit each day; some hopes! I found myself enjoying it so much that I got through it in about three sittings. It is beautifully written, full of simple yet unerringly apt description and well laced with wit and wisdom. I can best describe it, I think, as a collection of essays, some already published but others not, penned by a man who, in another age, would be an essayist, not a mere writer of articles. Conor takes us through the year, grouping his shortish pieces by seasons and by months. The topics are wide-ranging and the subject matter is wildlife - this is not a book just about birds, although they feature prominently throughout. Occasionally we are taken to such far-flung places as the Seychelles or New Zealand, but most often the setting is at or around the author's home patch in rural Bedfordshire. There we find Conor looking at everyday (well, almost) birds, beasts and plants, discovering new things, rediscovering the familiar and finding something at which to marvel in all of them. There is a sense of wonder about it all that makes you want to go out there and look again for yourself.

There should be more books like this, where birds and the rest are enjoyed for what they are and are not reduced to being mere ciphers in travelogues or tales of people's listing exploits. You must read it yourself to find out about the unusual title. You should read it anyway. Let me finish this unashamed total recommendation by quoting Jameson on a familiar bird to most of us: 'A soaring buzzard often has an entourage of irate crows, flailing in its wake. This serves mainly to emphasise how expert a flier a buzzard is, how much more refined its lines, how dignified its progress. Cool. Chilled out. Effortless.

Serene. A ballet within a brawl, protected from the blows of its assailants by some invisible field created by total balance and mastery of the air.' Anthropomorphic perhaps, but what a wonderful way to write about a bird!.