I love Melohy's writing and perspective on the natural world and it saddens me to know her voice is no longer with us. Her reflections on the relationship of humans with the natural world and with other creatures is beautifully protrayed, although the relationship is not always beautiful. ( )

The writing is beautiful, but so much of it is about the author's passion for and identification with desert landscapes in the south US that it left me (ironically) a bit cold. It's a very different landscape than the one I love, in about every respect, and while I admire the author's passion for that environment, I couldn't identify with it and it didn't resonate for me.

Well worth the extra weight in your desert backpack. A beautiful tribute to one of the desert's most ancient and magnificent beasts. ( )

I wanted to like this. The subject, bighorn sheep in the Southwest, is interesting to me, and I want to learn more about them. I love good nature writing.

But while a lot of the writing is good, a fair amount isn't. Some of the imagery is jarring (e.g., mesas scudding under the clouds instead of vice versa), it can be repetitive (all the sheep look the same), it is often vague (she loves visiting a small museum in a small town---why not give us the names?). The worst part is that the book severely needs editing. Especially in the first half, so much of the story has nothing to do with bighorn sheep... or anything. This gets much better in the second half, when she joins a few scientists who study the sheep and relocate a band to try to expand their habitat.

I learned some about bighorn sheep, but much less than I wanted. ( )

It took me awhile to read Meloy's eloquent narrative ode to desert bighorn sheep. Really, there was no way to read this quickly. Meloy's writing demands a slower pace of digestion. I found myself lingering for moments over certain phrases just to make sure I'd soaked it all in. What comes through clearly is that this was not a woman who lived an ordinary life. Not many people would spend a year wandering all over the southwest U.S. and Mexico seeking elusive wild sheep in their not easily accessible habitat. However, Meloy places the rewards of this endeavor within easy grasp of the reader. The message is one that has been consistently repeated in certain circles and by certain individuals for decades: humans have rapidly and alarmingly lost touch with nature, and this is a loss that ripples down to the core of our society. What Meloy tells us, in her sometimes less than gently chiding manner, is that humans need wildness, and the more removed we get from it, the more isolated and unhappy we will be. Meloy doesn't preach; she doesn't need to. But when you put down this book you'll still feel the effects of a powerful sermon. ( )