The Illustrated Nature Journal:

There is a kind of freedom in nature journal work that engages the interest of the most hesitant and insecure adult, and the most suspicious and recalcitrant child - one chooses the subject that most intrigues one (and there is plenty of that in a natural setting) and then the closer one looks, the more interesting it gets! There is no room for feelings of resentment or reluctance in the dialogue between a grasshopper, or a mushroom, or a salamander - and the curious eye and steady hand, equipped with good quality paper and a soft pencil.

Children should be encouraged to draw from nature. What they learn at school too often is restricted to constrained imaginative work, so that children develop no interest in the usefulness of drawing. Most of them grow up with no respect for their own artwork, and no confidence in their natural ability to draw from a subject. I remember one journal workshop in particular. I had been warned, ahead of time, that there would be one girl given to disruptive and disrespectful behaviour. I busied myself throughout the workshop guiding the children, and afterward, realized that no child had been troublesome at all. I never found out which of the absorbed and hardworking young artist/journalists had been the "problem student".

Some children feel very alone in their interest in drawing realistically from natural subjects. I met one such child while doing a nature drawing workshop for a group of young naturalists. The children had all been out catching insects, and brought them in, where I showed them my work and my published books, and told them how I developed as a nature artist and author. Then I set them up with good paper and pencils, to draw their own discoveries of the day. One little girl was absolutely glowing afterwards. "I'm glad you told us that it's okay to draw real things", she exclaimed. "My art teacher tells us that we should only draw with our imagination, and when I bring my drawings from home to show her, she thinks my Dad did them". I then went on to encourage the children to sketch from memory as well, to record their fleeting glimpses of things they want to remember.

While in Art School, I met biologist Frank Ross at the Royal Ontario Museum, and began to do some ink drawings of Crocodiles for him. Frank kept his journals in lined, bound books using india ink. He drew animals as he observed them, and encouraged me to keep my own natural history journal. I bought a cheap, lined, record book and a Rapidograph pen. Frank also told me that in order to be a naturalist, one should have a favourite animal or subject to study, a sort of window or stepping stone to observation in nature.

Frank himself was interested in Amphibians and Reptiles, but he told me about Wayne Grimm, a malacologist he had met at the National Museum in Ottawa, who had sparked his interest in snails, telling him how little is known about them, and how much there is to find out. So I thought snails would suit my interest in small things, and it intrigued me to be told that here was a field to which an amateur could contribute valuable observations. Two years later, Wayne recommended me for a job as illustrator in Design and Display at the National Museum of Natural Sciences, on the basis of my life-sized watercolour of an Arion slug, which showed important but hard-to-see details used in identification. I had been entirely ignorant of these details, but had noted them faithfully and precisely, through curiosity and respect. I worked on contract for Design and Display, Malacology, and Herpetology over the next few years, and Wayne often advised and encouraged me in my study of land snails.

Nature Journalling is a solitary occupation, and not easy to do on a group hike. The journalist is often left behind, jotting notes or making sketches. One's companions must be respectful and understanding of the time it takes to study and record. Compromises must be made for the sake of a journal page, which can afterward be valued and admired by everyone. On a few occasions I have carried a small tape recorder in order to keep up with a group, or in attempt to keep moving away from biting insects, but the results are usually unsatisfactory, as the best descriptive phrases still take time to compose, and hurriedly-taken notes leave much to be guessed in time-consuming reconstruction. I try to make a complete word picture of a scene in time and place, including weather, sounds, smells, colours, topography, and surrounding vegetation so that the plant or animal that is the focus of my attention is provided with a setting, for nothing is an island unto itself. I sometimes bracket an unsuitable word in my rough notes, so that I can search for a better term later as I hand-letter text around the sketch on my journal page. Field notes can be jottted on a 3x5 card, pocket notebook, or handheld computer for later transcription, as it's nice to have elbow room and just the right slope under the page for careful hand-lettering. Also, when the sketch or painting is done, it's often time to head on down the trail, or go in for supper!

You can travel as light as you want, but if you can make yourself a little camp where you sit to work, the comfort will result in greater ability to concentrate and do your best work. Be prepared to protect yourself and your work from sun, wind, rain, and cold. A folding stool is a good idea if you get too stiff sitting on the ground, but a simple closed cell foam pad is great for protection against damp, cold, and rough surfaces. I often carry a large beach umbrella if I don't have to walk too far (preferably blue and white, to neutralize the yellow colour of sunlight). Take warmer garments than you think you will need, as sitting still for a long time is very cold business. Always wear a hat - a brimed one is best. Sometimes I wear a toque ontop of the brimmed hat for extra warmth. In cold weather I sit in a sleeping bag on a ground sheet, and drink hot tea from a thermos. A light tarp can be rigged up to fend off wind and rain. Sometimes I have pitched a tent, just to be sure to get that watercolour done, whatever the weather, and it has proven a great screen against biting flies. Heat and mosquitoes are the worst conditions I have had to contend with, but these too can be overcome by the determined nature journalist. In hot weather, a wet towel across my back, and a wet hat, provide cool comfort. A little insect repellant dabbed behind the ears and around the back of the neck and on the backs of my hands keeps me from twitching and swatting, but the residue must be wiped from my fingers and the edge and heel of my hand or it will damage the paper. The best trick of all against mosquitoes when one is stationary in the woods, is a burning insect coil, smoking away upwind a bit. The mosquitoes just don't seem to be able to find me then.

On our field trip West to write and illustrate the book Fragile Inheritance, we took a teenage apprentice from Ohio. She wrote weekly "Letters Home" for her local newspaper. Near Flin Flon, she saw the Aurora Borealis for the first time, but making a detailed description of its aspect was not easy for her, as the words she found described her own feelings rather than the Aurora. We encouraged her with questions: What did the Aurora look like? How was it moving? How much and which parts of the sky did it cover? Searching for just the right words on the spot is always a worthwhile endeavour, as you can never do better than when communing with your subject itself. Every thing you pause to notice deserves the most precise and thoughtful description, and your journal deserves your best. We need to push our limits in order to improve.

If you are drawing or painting, and you feel that your skills are inadequate - don't worry. Once the page is finished, the sketch will be framed and explained by the writing which attends it. Take Nature seriously, but don't take yourself too seriously. Anything that is done on location has value. You can't lose. It's an immediate process, like a relationship.