[Farley Mowat]'s spiritedness infuses the narrative about his adolescence and early adulthood from 1937 to '48, when an interest in wildlife meant "collecting specimens" or, more accurately, wantonly killing small mammals and birds and selling their skins to fellow collectors and museums.

The Second World War interrupted his relationship with animals -- the "Others." Mowat followed his father's footsteps as an army officer. While he leaves out details of the human carnage he witnessed, his imagery paints the picture: "In the thunderous dawn of July 10, my platoon and I waded ashore to face our baptism of fire on the saffron sands of Sicily."

Yet this grim tragedy was set amid the beauty of the North. Mowat writes with the unrestrained ardour about canoeing through the island-dotted, ice-cold lakes and looking over magnificent vistas of tundra. When he finally spots a herd of caribou he is elated, but wonders if they will survive "even in the memory of the next generation of mankind." Considering the effects of global warming, his words were prescient.