Years ago, when I was a new school librarian, a third grade boy came into the library. "Miss Freeman, do you have any books on the blue-footed booby?" he asked earnestly. "Very funny," I said. "No, really, do you have any books on the blue-footed booby?" "Ha, ha," I replied cheekily, certain he was trying to pull my leg. "Miss Freeman, it's a real bird!" he cried. He pulled from his pocket a three by five animal card, with a color photograph of a blue-footed booby, a bird with alarmingly pretty, powder blue feet that lives in the Galapagos Islands. I was flabbergasted. You know this kid. He's the subject specialist who likes to know everything about his chosen area of expertise. This guy knew his birds.
I learned a lot that day. I learned that I didn't know everything, but, working in a library, I could always find out more. (Nowadays, with the Internet, we have so many more facts at our fingertips, any time we get curious any little thing. What a boon for our kids who want their questions answered right now.) I've wanted to go to the Galapagos ever since, thanks to that boy. Whenever I find a fascinating new nonfiction book on a subject I heretofore knew nothing about, I call it a Blue-Footed Booby Book. Here's one. Ever heard of a wolfsnail? No? Me neither, until now.
Who knew mollusks could be so darn cute? Translucent close-up color photographs track a typical day in the life of a wolfsnail, emerging from its shell with its long, slimy foot outstretched. Readers will coo over the wolfsnail's graceful opalescent outstretched neck ending in four bluish tentacles, and a set of lip extensions that look like a handlebar mustache. Now watch it gliding along the green ridged leaf of a hosta plant. The wolfsnail doesn't eat plants. "The wolfsnail eats meat." It glides along the plant, following a slime trail. Oh, look-now it's found a nice little brown snail to play with. Oh, no! Our sweet big wolfsnail likes to eat . . . OTHER SNAILS! We watch it attack and munch daintily on the poor little snail, using the tiny teeth on its tongue, or radula-there's your new word for the day-leaving only the empty shell behind. Our sweet wolfsnail is just a cold-blooded killer, a Jack the Ripper of the snail world.
THEMES: ANIMALS. SCIENCE & SCIENTISTS.
Years ago, when I was a new school librarian, a third grade boy came into the library. "Miss Freeman, do you have any books on the blue-footed booby?" he asked earnestly. "Very funny," I said. "No, really, do you have any books on the blue-footed booby?" "Ha, ha," I replied cheekily, certain he was trying to pull my leg. "Miss Freeman, it's a real bird!" he cried. He pulled from his pocket a three by five animal card, with a color photograph of a blue-footed booby, a bird with alarmingly pretty, powder blue feet that lives in the Galapagos Islands. I was flabbergasted. You know this kid. He's the subject specialist who likes to know everything about his chosen area of expertise. This guy knew his birds.
I learned a lot that day. I learned that I didn't know everything, but, working in a library, I could always find out more. (Nowadays, with the Internet, we have so many more facts at our fingertips, any time we get curious any little thing. What a boon for our kids who want their questions answered right now.) I've wanted to go to the Galapagos ever since, thanks to that boy. Whenever I find a fascinating new nonfiction book on a subject I heretofore knew nothing about, I call it a Blue-Footed Booby Book. Here's one. Ever heard of a wolfsnail? No? Me neither, until now.
Who knew mollusks could be so darn cute? Translucent close-up color photographs track a typical day in the life of a wolfsnail, emerging from its shell with its long, slimy foot outstretched. Readers will coo over the wolfsnail's graceful opalescent outstretched neck ending in four bluish tentacles, and a set of lip extensions that look like a handlebar mustache. Now watch it gliding along the green ridged leaf of a hosta plant. The wolfsnail doesn't eat plants. "The wolfsnail eats meat." It glides along the plant, following a slime trail. Oh, look-now it's found a nice little brown snail to play with. Oh, no! Our sweet big wolfsnail likes to eat . . . OTHER SNAILS! We watch it attack and munch daintily on the poor little snail, using the tiny teeth on its tongue, or radula-there's your new word for the day-leaving only the empty shell behind. Our sweet wolfsnail is just a cold-blooded killer, a Jack the Ripper of the snail world.
This nonfiction photo essay, a Geisel Honor winner for beginning readers, does for snails what Red-Eyed Tree Frog by Joy Cowley did for frogs. At the back of the book are additional facts about the creature, including a photo of one actual size (they're about as long as your finger), and the disturbing fact that they were introduced into Hawaii in 1955 to control the giant African snail, but instead have wiped out many of the other native snail species there. Whoops.
Publishers, give us more books like this, please, with simple-to-understand texts filled with drama, fascinating facts, and glamorous color photos, which we can share with preschoolers or any age. While we're waiting, we can make our own. Young naturalists could track an animal (an ant, a ladybug, the cat), take photos of it with a digital camera, and do some research to write their own day-in-the-life texts. Download the photos onto your computer, scan them into the text pages, and print out your own nonfiction books. They call nonfiction text that tells a story "expository writing" in school these days, in case you're curious about the latest jargon.
THEMES: ANIMALS. SCIENCE & SCIENTISTS.
