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Book Review
| Condor: To the Brink and Back—The Life and Times of One Giant Bird. By John Nielsen. New York: HarperCollins, 2006. x + 275 pp. Illustrations and notes. Cloth $25.95.
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| At first glance, the California condor seems an unlikely poster bird for endangered species: it is not only ugly but also makes a living by consuming dead animals. But with a nine-and-a-half foot wingspan, an ability to soar gracefully for miles at a stretch, and a close association with its wilderness habitat, this charismatic species has captured the hearts and minds of many Americans. Indeed, on the eve of World War II, the condor became one of the first vanishing species to be extensively studied by scientists, and the federal government eventually spent more than $20 million trying to nurse it back from the brink of extinction. As NPR environment reporter John Nielsen explains in this passionate, highly readable, and wide-ranging account, "once you see the condor soaring, it owns you" (p. 8). |
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For eons the bird ranged across the North American continent, until the late-Pleistocene large mammal extinctions dried up its major food supply, forcing a retreat to the southwest. Native Americans, who not only venerated the species but also ritually killed it, may have further reduced its population, as did the predations of Euro-American settlers. By the end of the nineteenth century, its numbers had become dangerously thinned even in its final California strongholds, while skin and egg collectors scrambled for specimens of the increasingly rare bird. |
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Enter the National Audubon Society, which sponsored an intensive study of the bird's population status, life history, and ecology beginning in the late 1930s. Carl Koford, "the patron saint of condor field research," spent about four hundred days observing the condor in the wild (p. 105) and concluded that it was a skittish bird needing prodigious swaths of undisturbed habitat. His study, published in 1952, provided the rationale for a "hands-off" school of condor conservation that fiercely resisted plans for removing any wild birds for breeding in captivity. That position became increasingly problematic, though, as the surviving population continued to plummet, despite the creation of several large condor sanctuaries. |
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In the late 1970s, a committee of prominent scientists determined that the condor could only be saved through more "conscientious human intervention," including a captive breeding program (p. 150). By 1985, the situation had further deteriorated, with only a dozen birds remaining in the wild and only a single pair still producing eggs. When one of the breeding birds turned up dead later that fall, the Fish and Wildlife Service issued an emergency order to trap all remaining wild condors. Experts enjoyed great success producing condor chicks, but fears that the captive-bred birds lacked critical social and survival skills proved on the mark. Released condors collided with electrical wires, slurped up poisonous anti-freeze, and buzzed motorists. Equally troubling, many of the birds reintroduced into California and Arizona quickly developed dangerously high blood levels of lead. The real world no longer seemed safe for the species. |
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Nielsen does a wonderful job of capturing the contentious debates, colorful personalities, and curious ironies that have swirled around this beleaguered bird. Despite enthusiasm for the progress made thus far, he retains his reporter's even-handed instincts when it comes to answering difficult questions about the ultimate success of the condor recovery program. |
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Mark V. Barrow, Jr., is associate professor in the History Department at Virginia Tech. His research touches on the intersection between natural history, wildlife conservation, and American popular culture. He is currently completing a book on American naturalists' engagement with the issue of wildlife extinction. |
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