One of the pieces included in the fine anthology Best American Magazine Writing 2007 is by one of my favorite writers, Paul Theroux. “Living with Geese” originally appeared in the Smithsonian Magazine. In it, Theroux describes his ten years’ experiencing breeding and raising these singular creatures. His powers of observation are astute, as anyone who has read his novels and travel narratives can attest. He does, however, expend what seems to be a rather inordinate amount of energy critiquing E.B. White. I didn’t know this, but White also raised geese, but in Maine, rather than in Hawaii, where Theroux lives. White too wrote on this subject, in an essay that’s apparently held in affectionate esteem by many readers. But not - definitely not - by Theroux.
He complains that”…E.B. White patronizes his geese, invents feelings for them and obfuscates things.” This incessant tendency to anthropomorphize, Theroux contends, gets in the way of understanding the true nature of the animal in question. I can agree with him there. But then he goes on: “E.B. White is never happier that when he is able to depict an animal by humanizing it as a friend. Yet what lies behind the animal’s expression of friendship? It is an eagerness for easy food.”
I sighed deeply upon reading this. Whenever folks want to denigrate us doting pet owners, they trot out this argument. Well, okay, “easy food” is a major benefit for dogs and cats who share their dwelling space with humans. But if you’ve lived with these wonderful creatures for any length of time, it becomes increasingly evident that, at least to some extent, your affection for them is reciprocated in kind. Many little gestures on their part serve to reinforce this conviction. And naturally, at this point, I just have to slip in a picture of a certain cat…
[ Miss Audrey Jane Marple, irrepressible sidekick and beloved friend]
Theroux makes one assertion in this essay that I find even more troubling: “Animal lovers often tend to be misanthropes or loners, and so they transfer their affection to the creature in their control.” The examples he cites are Joy Adamson of Born Free fame,Timothy Treadwell, who was the subject of the documentary film Grizzly Man, and Dian Fossey, who did groundbreaking research on the mountain gorillas of Central Africa. Fossey, Theroux states, was “a drinker and a recluse.”
I remember reading articles about Dian Fossey in the 1980’s, both before and after she was killed in Rwanda in 1985. I did not recall reading that she had a problem with alcohol. Theroux’s remarks brought to mind “The Woman Who Loved Gorillas” by Alex Shoumatoff. This piece first appeared in Vanity Fair, but I read it in African Madness, a collection of four long essays by this author.
I read this book when it came out in 1988. As luck would have it, there are still two copies owned by my beloved Central Library! I brought one home because I was looking for a particular passage that I did recall. Here it is:
“In general, people who are drawn to nature and become animal lovers fall into two groups, which might be described as the Shakespearians and the Thoreauvians. The Shakespearians consider man and his works to be part of nature; while loving animals, they have warm, positive feelings toward people, too. The animal love of the Thoreauvians, however, is inversely proportionate to their compassion for their own kind.”
(The description of the Shakespearians put me in mind of these lines from Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage by Lord Byron:
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar;
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal. )
Shoumatoff goes on to theorize that Throeauvians, who often have “extraordinary empathy with animals,” are often the product of a lonely, isolated upbringing. Such indeed was the case with Dian Fossey.
Although I obtained a copy of African Madness so that I could find that passage, I found myself reading “The Woman Who Loved Gorillas” in its entirety. Once again, I was riveted by this sad, compelling story. Fossey was a difficult, complicated woman; as the years passed, her relations with the students at Karisoke, the research station she had established, became increasingly strained. Relations with the native population went from bad to worse. She became a fanatic where poaching was concerned, and some of the actions she took against those she suspected of this crime are, in retrospect, pretty shocking. One gets the picture of a woman going off the rails. And yes, she was drinking.
But, as with so many complicated situations involving complex personalities, ambition, and bruised egos, there is more to this story. There is Dian Fossey’s tremendous contribution to our knowledge and understanding of those magnificent creatures, the mountain gorillas. There was her Herculean effort to preserve their habitat and their lives, work which one desperately hopes will not prove to be all for nought.
The government of Rwanda eventually charged the man who discovered Dian’s body, American primatologist Wayne McGuire, with her murder. Most observers considered the charge baseless. Although McGuire needed more time to collect data for his doctoral thesis, he left Rwanda on the advice of the American consul. The murder has never been solved.
Shoumatoff’s piece concludes with a visit to Dian’s grave in Africa. She is buried at Karisoke, near her cabin, among the gorillas who died before her.
“Hers was a pure, selfless love, forged in the pain of loneliness, like an artist’s love, which doesn’t feed or heal your soul, and takes a lot out of you. A damaged, driven person, herself a victim of unlove, she had this extraordinary love, without which there would probably be no gorillas in the Virungas. It was her love that she will be remembered for.” 
Oh - and by the way, “Living with Geese” concludes with Theroux moving Heaven and Earth to aid and comfort an aging gander in his flock. Having in recent memory endured the pain - always so much greater than you think it will be - of losing an animal companion, I understood why he was going to such lengths. When his efforts proved successful, I was happy for him.
Highland cattle - I love them!
Poitou donkey with Annie Pollock, a retired veterinarian who has worked tirelessly on her Hampshire farm to save the breed from extinction.
