How to write fiction with a naturalist’s lifestyle

There it is, small and black carrying a small crumb of cat’s dry food. Suddenly, they all come anf there’s a black moving line making up an antsy highway. You look at their lives, asking yourself if to brew a harsh war or let them live. However, your green army looks at you with a certain displeasure and… Of course, the dry food! So you decide to place the cat’s plate inside a bowl with water and place some chlorined cotton in their way.

Gerry Durrell said a naturalist —what minute did naturalists became biologists the Charles Linnaeus of the world? — never gets bored. Some of reason he had. Though that depends on how much you hate grass and love asphalt. There’s nothing deadliest boring that looking and looking again at some bug or plant you have already looked at and looked all over again without nothing to happen in appearance.

However, we aren’t here learning stuff about world’s bugs and relatives. You and I are chatting about the convenience of entering in possession of naturalist’s knowledge as material to tell or draw stories. And it doesn’t have to be underneath a cracking-stones-sun or the park. Either if we’re still safe bird boxed or already strolling around, we can become house bound naturalists.

It can be at home with our little company animal (no, I’m not talking about your wife or husband no matter how much them resemble a gorilla sometimes). Describe what the cat does. It yawns, scratches without notice, meows in more than one tone to speak to you. My kid Dai likes speeches (of which I can’t get a meow) and can use more tones than Chinese. Plus, cats become kids-parents-friends-siblings; all at the same time and without asking, so they can do an assortment of strange things. Like bringing untailed lizards or half dried lizards. Or… bring you a pair of mice to be raised[1]. You can tell a story about when was the last time Kitty said “I love you” or how you fought for the chicken on the kitchen table. Or the punch they gave you unaware when playing.

You don’t like cats and have a dog? Are you about to bite that pizza when Knine begs for a try?Can you resist its big aqueous eyes? If you own a dog I can bet you don’t. Equally difficult to ignore little Michi’s paws.

The Fighter fish of the fish bowl… How does it sleep like? Does it float like a slumb or does it fall on the bottom? How does it move its fins? Does the turtle living in the bathroom bite? Do you have spiders on your drapes?

Write or, draw. Even the smallest of pets has its own personality. Of course, if you work and work and never have time, we truly appreciate you staying away of having any baby who might miss you and end up high strung. Fish and insects might be your option then. Who doesn’t feel attracted to the fascinatingly disgusting eight legs of those furry creatures? …I can’t stand aracnophobia and every single creature bigger than two centimeters, legs included, had to be deported inside a cup. That nowadays I can see a black spider of about four centimeters doing her daily trip to the bathroom… I don’t want to think what’s hiding under the fabric in the closet…

And, what about those immobile, unflinching and dull green beings? There are tons of books where they are mentioned cause their folklore uses[2]. To know them can help to add spice to your story as potion ingredients (garlic smashed with a silver knife…not unless it is a superb cooking additive).

If you happen to cook, you use herbs that for sure are already in a pot to make haste off its freshness. And if cooking books were to describe these plants as wines are described (woody, fruity, soft); the book might end up catching fire by itself. So sensual can these descriptions become. It tickles the end of the tongue and gums with a caress of breeze… peppermint. Plus, they are even more interesting than what they look like. Colours and textures that seem not to end ever.

To finish this, I’ll recommend Desmond Morris: Watch your dog, Watch your cat; that might probably be a bit obsolete but are very useful for starters and take away prejudices. Among The naturalist’s guide by guess who? (Right! Gerald Durrell). Besides Dangerous garden by David C. Stuart.

By the way, this last book is an essay about plants, the ways we relate to them and how we use those. It ain’t an erotic book at all. And I mention it only so you won’t end up disappointed by the title… as suggestive as it is and even more with the title they gave in Spanish El jardín de la tentación[3].

So like, subscribe, describe your own naturalist’s experience or take a stroll… Visit the duckies or squirrels in the park and come back to tell us what they do afterwards.

[1] I’m sorry to inform you that the mice died both very few days after the happening. I did what I could and cried the after match a lot so think whatever you want about me.

[2] Most of the mentioned uses are either poisonous or their effects haven’t being proved by science since no scientific feels like getting themselves into trouble by discarding; chamomile for example, as an effective way to alleviate swelling.

[3] The temptation garden as a direct translation.