[McAnulty's] prose is both spirited and spiritual, performing an intensive phenomenological survey of the wildlife around his home, bringing the reader into deep, occasionally uncomfortably close communion with the insects, plants and, above all, the birds of Northern Ireland.

... a remarkable book, the most moving memoir I have read in years. Now 17, Dara wrote it when he was 14, and his knowledge at such a young age amazed me — not just his understanding of the natural world, which is immense, but of literature, of Irish history and legends, of music and politics. His writing is clear and honest, laced with analogies from nature.

Is it ageist to expect a callow book from a young author? Any such expectations will be confounded by this wise, lyrical, and well-researched book.

McAnulty is a perceptive, introspective narrator whose descriptions of seasonal changes in the natural landscape are crystalline. His autism turbocharges his angst, and his intense reflections about the differences he feels in and out of his natural world refuge are self-aware.

... McAnulty is an extraordinary writer, and every page of this book thrums with life and feeling, every paragraph seems like some bud coming into eloquent flower.

... evocative, thoughtful, and utterly charming nature observations.

[McAnulty's] lyrical descriptions of birds, insects, landscape, and seascapes are beyond his years, yet he also candidly relates the teenage angst of dealing with bullying and trying to find a place in the world. Though description of the natural world predominates here, McAnulty’s narration of his inner thoughts is sometimes more informative. He discusses being on the autism spectrum and wrties that dealing with other people and conventional school prove particularly challenging for him; it is in nature and his family that he finds refuge.

... impressive.

... stunning.