David Elliott

The image came to me more than fifteen years ago: A boy living in a forest in a ramshackle cottage. His only companions? His strange and unloving parents. He has never seen another human being.    Without too much thought, I knew this was a loosely disguised analog of my own childhood. I also knew it was a starting point for a much larger story, one that went far beyond the details of my life. I understood, too, it was a story beyond my own ability to tell. If the narrative were to reach its...

In March of this year, Candlewick Press released In the Desert , the penultimate in a series of ten lavishly illustrated poetry picture books focusing on the world of animals. By the time the last book is on the shelves, I will have published somewhere around 150 short poems about the creatures with whom we share the planet. Animals. I live in rural New Hampshire. Last spring, a black bear strolled across our yard as if he owned the place. (And us!) One early autumn morning a year or so ago,...

In the past week alone, the New York Times has run three stories about birds and birders. A participant on a recent trip where I was...