Nature fakers controversy

Lambasting writers such as Seton, Long, and Charles G. D. Roberts for their seemingly fantastical representations of wildlife, he also denounced the booming genre of realistic animal fiction as "yellow journalism of the woods".

The controversy effectively ended when President Theodore Roosevelt publicly sided with Burroughs, publishing his article "Nature Fakers" in the September 1907 issue of Everybody's Magazine.

In 1837, Charles Darwin wrote in his diary that "If we choose to let conjecture run wild, then animals, our fellow brethren in pain, disease, death, suffering and famine—our slaves in the most laborious works, our companions in our amusements—they may partake of our origin in one common ancestor—we may be all melted together.

One reviewer noted in 1901 that "It is a part of the progress of the day that the nature study is coming into prominence in our schemes of education, and, beyond these, is entering into our plans for coveted diversion, yet it is a real surprise that so large and increasing a number of each season's publications are devoted to the purpose.

"[6] Such literature was regularly published in a wide variety of subjects: children's animal books, wilderness novels, nature guides, and travelogues were all immensely popular.

[9] The budding animal welfare movement helped establish a climate for wider public support of wildlife conservation, and soon nature writers similarly sought to gain sympathy for wild animals—specifically those who seemingly displayed honorable human traits—by depicting them in a positive light.

Known as an outspoken advocate for the conservation movement in the United States, he was later described by his biographer Edward Renehan as "a literary naturalist with a duty to record his own unique perceptions of the natural world".

[20] Long insisted not only that animals demonstrated unique and individualistic behavior, unpredictable to science, but he also wrote that there was "absolutely no limit to the variety and adaptiveness of Nature, even in a single species.

Among the many letters written in support for Burroughs' assertions was an article published in the Boston Evening Transcript in defense of Long's reputation as both a writer and a respected man of the cloth.

"[35] Three weeks after Burroughs' article appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, he and Seton met at a literary dinner given by Andrew Carnegie; while accounts of the meeting vary, the two men seemed to make amends.

Because he wrote personal nature essays, and not scientific reports, Long believed that his readers required from him "not simply eyes and ears and a note-book; but insight, imagination, and, above all, an intense human sympathy, by which alone the inner life of an animal becomes luminous, and without which the living creatures are little better than stuffed specimens".

[41] Intended to prove his thesis about the unpredictable and adaptive nature of wild animals, he wrote of how the pair "plainly deliberated" their elaborate swinging nest that had been made out of three sticks fastened together; when finished, the birds then "tied a single knot at the extreme end" of a dangling string so it would not unravel over time.

"[43] While The New York Times reviewed it favorably, pointing out its "close observation and loving attention to the details of wood life", Long's critics were quick to note a number of propositions regarding wildlife.

[43] He told of how animals such as muskrat, beaver and bear were capable of intentionally bandaging their wounds and stumps of amputated limbs by coating them with materials such as tree resin or clay to keep the injury clean.

Again he took some clay and plastered it over the fibers, putting on more and more till I could plainly see the enlargement, working away with strange, silent intentness for fully fifteen minutes, while I watched and wondered, scarce believing my eyes.

Then he stood perfectly still for a full hour under an overhanging sod, where the eye could with difficulty find him, his only motion meanwhile being an occasional rubbing and smoothing of the clay bandage with his bill, until it hardened enough to suit him, whereupon he fluttered away from the brook and disappeared in the thick woods.

"[47] As to the woodcock story, Long provided several accounts from other men who had witnessed as much; an Ohio man, for example, reportedly found upon shooting a similar bird that it "had evidently broken its leg above the knee joint.

Seton's response was in the form of a lighthearted tale about a critic named Little Mucky—obviously meant to parody Burroughs himself—who climbs a hill called Big Periodic, only to throw mud at a newcomer who attracts attention away from him.

"[61] While Roosevelt reportedly enjoyed a majority of the book—he even read it aloud to his children—he found fault with Long's dramatic description of how a wolf killed caribou by piercing the animal's heart with its teeth.

When Roosevelt published Outdoor Pastimes of an American Hunter in October 1905, however, he not only dedicated it to the elder naturalist, but he also made his first public foray in what would become known as the nature fakers controversy: "I wish to express my hearty appreciation of your warfare against the sham nature-writers—those whom you have called 'the yellow journalists of the woods' ... You in your own person have illustrated what can be done by the lover of nature who has trained himself to keen observation, who describes accurately what is thus observed, and who, finally, possesses the additional gift of writing with charm and interest.

"[64] After four years of privately denouncing the popular nature writers in letters and conversation, Roosevelt decided to weigh in publicly; while alerting Burroughs that he had finally broken his silence, he wrote: "I know that as President I ought not to do this".

In reference to Roosevelt's published works describing his hunting expeditions, Long wrote: "I find after carefully reading two of his big books that every time he gets near the heart of a wild thing he invariably puts a bullet through it.

Writing in the June 8, 1907 issue of the Outlook, editor Lyman Abbot stated that Roosevelt's desire to become embroiled in such a debate stemmed from his "extraordinary vitality, coupled with his unusual interest in all that concerns human welfare" making "it very difficult for him to keep silence in the presence of anything which he thinks injurious to his fellow-men.

[75] One such parody referred to a non-existent book called How to Tell the Animals from the Wild Flowers, including an illustration which depicted an anthropomorphic "Dandy Lion" with a cane, top hat and monocle.

We who believe in the study of nature feel that a real knowledge and appreciation of wild things, of trees, flowers, birds, and of the grim and crafty creatures of the wilderness, give an added beauty and health to life.

With Roosevelt's final public word on the matter, the controversy began to die down in earnest, although its key players continued to comment on the debate's major points for the next few years.

In his 1908 book Leaf And Tendril, he wrote: A great many intelligent persons tolerate or encourage our fake natural history on the ground that they find it entertaining, and that it interests the school-children in the wild life about them.

What would these good people think of a United States school history that took the same liberties with facts that some of our nature writers do: that, for instance, made Washington take his army over the Delaware in balloons, or in sleighs on the solid ice with bands playing; or that made Lincoln a victim of the Evil Eye; or that portrayed his slayer as a self-sacrificing hero; or that represented the little Monitor that eventful day on Hampton Roads as diving under the Merrimac and tossing it ashore on its beak?

Also, I endeavored to make my stories in line with the facts of evolution; I hewed them to the mark set by scientific research, and awoke, one day, to find myself bundled neck and crop into the camp of the nature-fakers.

"[88] Though blind naturalist and author Clarence Hawkes deemed the literary debate "a veritable tempest in the teapot," after the controversy had died down he came to believe "if I ever make a bad break in regard to my natural history statements that I was doomed.