Spiritual Rambling

There is no more exciting companion for a walk across the prairies than Trevor Herriot. I have only been out with him once, several years ago, but the experience was unforgettable. It was a big, blue, shining day, and a troupe of us were scrambling across a high, shining expanse of natural grassland in southwestern Saskatchewan. And there he was, attuned to everything that moved and many things that did not: a tinkle of bird song, a blur of wings, a blade of bent grass. Did you hear the pipit? Possibly. Did you see the McCown’s longspur there and the Vesper Sparrow over here? Maybe, I am not sure. Look: at your feet, an exquisite basket tucked deep into the grass, holding four smooth, speckled eggs. The prairie Herriot showed me that day was hidden and perfect.

Although I will address him formally here, Trevor Herriot and I are actually on friendly, first-name terms. That is not surprising, since we are both non-fiction writers from...