Fritz Dörries set out on his first trip to Eastern Siberia in 1877, when there were still blank spaces on maps of the world. Travelling alone or with his brothers, he climbed mountains, traversed great rivers, explored remote islands and crossed treacherous lakes of ice, always with one purpose: to augment man’s knowledge of the natural world.

Bears, tigers, vipers, bandits, stormy seas, frostbite, ice chasms fathoms deep – every danger was faced head on and overcome. And yet he remained defenceless against the charms of the landscape, and the animals, birds and butterflies he found there.

Through his twenty-two years in Siberia, Dörries collected a wealth of essential material for scientific institutions, fundamental to our understanding of fauna and flora. This account of his adventures, set down for his daughters in his ninetieth year, and adapted for publication by Roy Jacobsen and Anneliese Pitz, is his second great legacy.

Translated from the Norwegian by Seán Kinsella

Investigating the ethical and practical challenges of one of the greatest threats to biodiversity: invasive species.

Across the world, invasive species pose a danger to ecosystems. The UN Convention on Biological Diversity ranks them as a major threat to biodiversity on par with habitat loss, climate change and pollution.

Tackling this isn’t easy, and no one knows this better than Hugh Warwick, a conservationist who loathes the idea of killing, harming or even eating animals. Yet as an ecologist, he is acutely aware of the need, at times, to kill invasive species whose presence harms the wider environment.

Hugh explores the complex history of species control, revealing the global movement of species and the impacts of their presence. Combining scientific theory with gentle humour in his signature style, he explains the issues conservationists face to control non-native animals and protect native species – including grey and red squirrels on Anglesey, ravens and tortoises in the Mojave Desert, cane toads in Australia and the smooth-billed ani on the Galapagos – and describes cases like Pablo Escobar’s cocaine hippos and the Burmese python pet trade.

Taking a balanced and open approach to this emotive subject, Hugh speaks to experts on all sides of the debate. How do we protect endangered native species? Which species do we prioritise? And how do we reckon with the ethics of killing anything in the name of conservation?

Fritz Dörries set out on his first trip to Eastern Siberia in 1877, when there were still blank spaces on maps of the world. Travelling alone or with his brothers, he climbed mountains, traversed great rivers, explored remote islands and crossed treacherous lakes of ice, always with one purpose: to augment man’s knowledge of the natural world.

Bears, tigers, vipers, bandits, stormy seas, frostbite, ice chasms fathoms deep – every danger was faced head on and overcome. And yet he remained defenceless against the charms of the landscape, and the animals, birds and butterflies he found there.

Through his twenty-two years in Siberia, Dörries collected a wealth of essential material for scientific institutions, fundamental to our understanding of fauna and flora. This account of his adventures, set down for his daughters in his ninetieth year, and adapted for publication by Roy Jacobsen and Anneliese Pitz, is his second great legacy.

Translated from the Norwegian by Seán Kinsella

Winner of the Richard Jefferies Society and White Horse Book Shop Literary Prize

‘splendid’  –The Guardian

‘visionary’  –New Statesman

Britain has all the space it needs for an epic return of its wildlife. Only six percent of our country is built upon. Contrary to popular myth, large areas of our countryside are not productively farmed but remain deserts of opportunity for both wildlife and jobs. It is time to turn things around. Praised as ‘visionary’ by conservationists and landowners alike, Rebirding sets out a compelling manifesto for restoring Britain’s wildlife, rewilding its species and restoring rural jobs – to the benefit of all.

‘No hawk can be a pet. There is no sentimentality. In a way, it is the psychiatrist’s art. One is matching one’s mind against another mind with deadly reason and interest. One desires no transference of affection, demands no ignoble homage or gratitude. It is a tonic for the less forthright savagery of the human heart.’

First published in 1951, T.H. White’s memoir describes with searing honesty his attempt to train a wild goshawk, a notoriously difficult bird to master. With no previous experience and only a few hopelessly out-of-date books on falconry as a guide, he set about trying to bend the will of his young bird Gos to his own. Suffering setback after setback, the solitary and troubled White nonetheless found himself obsessively attached to the animal he hoped would one day set him free.