Winters coming, the days are shorter: maybe its easier to concentrate than when youre lounging around in the sun. Here are FOBIFs recommendations for some cold weather reading. We didnt organise it this way, but were not surprised to find that the common theme in these items is: we need to know more.

A new book, Biodiversity Impacts and Lessons from 2019-2020, edited by: Libby Rumpff, Sarah Legge, Stephen van Leeuwen, Brendan Wintle, John Woinarski brings together contributions from more than 200 scientists and experts. It provides the most comprehensive assessment yet of how the fires affected biodiversity and Indigenous cultural values, and how nature has recovered.

You can find an account of the book on the Conversation website, but heres a list of (unsurprising) conclusions:

1. Natural systems are already stressed

2. We dont know what, or where, all species are

3. Emergency responders dont have enough information

4. Biodiversity usually comes last

5. Conservation funding is grossly insufficient

6. First Nations knowledge has been sidelined

These conclusions have something pretty sobering in common: we dont know enough about natural systems, and dont make use of what knowledge we have. Should we be surprised by these conclusions? In any case, below are a couple of books that might be a start in improving our knowledge.

 Alison Pouliots new book, Underground loversencounters with fungi  has been described as taking fungal storytelling to a whole new level, and thats pretty right: but the stories are not just there to entertain. They are entertaining, of course, but the book is serious: a powerful argument for a better understanding of fungi and the part they play in keeping us all alive.

That last phrase may seem strange, given that humanitys default position on fungi is as a menace to be eliminatedlook at the number of products available encouraging us to wage war on them. Alison Pouliot is savage on this, as she is on the tendency of humanity to see nature as an enemy. Take this: the Queensland (poisons information) centres 2019 report records insecticides as causing almost three times as many calls as the insects themselves. In Victoria in 2018, there were 226 calls for suspected mushroom poisoning, fewer than those for soap, glow necklaces or nappy rash products.

One approach to this book is to see it as a reflection on language. Alison asks Yorta Yorta elder Aunty Greta Morgan if there is a Yorta Yorta name for the white dyeball. We dont have a name because our ancestors were forbidden from speaking languageand passing on knowledge about land Loss of words is loss of knowledge, and one of the interesting themes here is on the nature of Indigenous knowledge systems, the ways they differ from and overlap with Western science. She discusses the efforts of mycologist Peter Buchanan to collate and systematise Maori knowledge of fungi, and fill gaps left in lost traditions. Language is one key to unlocking historical knowledge of fungi. Peter and his team, and Sonia and the Yorta Yorta elders, are gradually reviving it, one fungus at a time.

Indigenous people are not alone in having to deal with language gaps, says Alison: ...

One way of plugging the knowledge gap is bylistening more carefully.  Andrew Skeochs book Deep Listening to Nature offers some keys on how to go about it.

The striking achievement of this book is that it seduces readers into actively focusing on sound: partly through an engaging writing style, and partly via the fact that its accompanied by an easily accessible set of soundscapes. The trick is, you access the Listening Earth website via a simple click with your device; references to birdsong are illustrated by a recording of the sound itself. This is not just a perfect book for bird enthusiasts, but a wonderful aid for anyone who wants to hear and understand whats happening in the natural world. What does a robins song mean? Whats the point of that monotonous pigeon ooom? Is birdsong really music? Is the Butcher Bird a better singer than the Nightingale? Oh, and what about this: Why biodiversity?

Very big questions are posed here, and some provocative answers provided. The theme throughout, however is that deep listening is a form of concentrated attentiveness and openness to nature: If nature can be thought of as a game of sustaining life, then by listening, we can hear its rules of play.

Whats really great about this book is that although some pretty challenging ideas are put forward, the language is clear, and the tone is accommodating. Andrew is not scared to throw in the occasional unexpected cultural referencefor example, to Doctor Whos brilliant summing up of Time as wibbly wobbly, timey wimeystuff;  or to Saint Franciss legendary duet with a nightingale. (The saint conceded that the bird was the better singer).

An additional benefit for our readers is that Andrew lives in this region: so that while the book ranges all over the globe, there are...