My Family and other Animals
by Gerald Durrell

'He has an uncanny knack of discovering human as well as animal eccentricities'
Sunday Telegraph Magazine

Introduction

Escaping the ills of the British climate, the Durrell family - acne-ridden Margo, gun-toting Leslie, bookworm Lawrence and budding naturalist Gerry, along with their long-suffering mother and Roger the dog - take off for the island of Corfu.

In a series of colourful villas, the yellow to accommodate friends, the white to avoid having to put up family, the Durrells give a sometimes reluctant home to a trail of local fauna, among them scorpions, geckos, toads, bats and butterflies. Recounted with immense humour and charm, this is a wonderful account of a rare, magical childhood.

Extract

A tiny green grasshopper with a long, melancholy face sat twitching his hind legs nervously. A fragile snail sat on a moss spring, meditating and waiting for the evening dew. A plump scarlet mite, the size of a match-head, struggled like a tubby huntsman through the forest of moss. It was a microscopic world, full of fascinating life. As I watched the mite making his slow progress I noticed a curious thing. Here and there on the green plush surface of the moss were scattered faint circular marks, each the size of a shilling. So faint were they that it was only from certain angles they were noticeable at all. They reminded me of a full moon seen behind thick clouds, a faint circle that seemed to shift and change. I wondered idly what could have made them. They were too irregular, too scattered to be the prints of some beast and what was it that would walk up an almost vertical bank in such a haphazard manner? Besides, they were not like imprints. I prodded the edge of one of these circles with a piece of grass. It reminded unmoved. I began to think the mark was caused by some curious way in which the moss grew. I probed again, more vigorously, and suddenly my stomach gave a clutch of tremendous excitement. It was as though my grass-stalk had found a hidden spring for the whole circle lifted up like a trapdoor. As I stared, I saw to my amazement that it was infact a trapdoor, lined with silk, and with a neatly bevelled edge that fitted snugly into the mouth of the silk-lined shaft it concealed. The edge of the door was fastened to the lip of the tunnel by a small shaft of silk that acted as a hinge. I gazed at this magnificent piece or workmanship and wondered what on earth could have made it. Peering down the silken tunnel, I could see nothing; I poked my grass-stalk down, but there was no response. For a long time I sat staring at this fantastic home, trying to decide what sort of beast had made it. I thought that it might be a wasp of some sort, but had never heard of a wasp that fitted its nest with secret doors. I felt that I must get to the bottom of this problem immediately…

The facts he told me about the trapdoor spider haunted me: the idea of the creature crouching in its silken tunnel, holding the door closed with its hooked claws, listening to the movement of the insects on the moss above. What, I wondered, did things sound like to a trapdoor spider? I could imagine that a snail would trail over the door with a noise like sticking-plaster being slowly torn off. A centipede would sound like a troop of cavalry. A fly would patter in brisk spurts, followed by a pause while it washed its hands - a dull rasping sound like a knife-grinder at work. The larger beetles, I decided, would sound like steam-rollers, while the smaller ones, the lady-birds and others, would probably purr over the moss like clockwork motor cars. Fascinated by this though, I made my way back home through the darkening fields, to tell the family of my new discovery and of my meeting with Theodore. I hoped to see him again for there were many things I wanted to ask him, but I felt it would be unlikely that he would have very much time to spare for me. I was mistaken, however, for two days later, Leslie came back from an excursion into town, and handed me a small parcel.

'Met that bearded johnny', he said laconically; 'you know, that scientist bloke. Said this was for you.'

Incredulously I stared at the parcel. Surely it couldn't be for me? There must be some mistake, for a great scientist would hardly bother to send me parcels. I turned it over, and there, written on it in neat, spidery writing, was my name. I tore off the paper as quickly as I could. Inside was a small box and a letter.

My dear Gerry Durrell,

I wondered, after our conversation the other day, if it might not assist your investigations of the local natural history to have some form of magnifying instrument. I am therefore sending you this pocket microscope, in the hope that it will be of some use to you. It is, of course, not of very high magnification, but you will find it sufficient for field work.

With best wishes,

Yours sincerely,

Theo. Stephanides

P.S. If you have nothing better to do on Thursday, perhaps you would care to come to tea, and I could then show you some of my microscope slides.

Readers Comments

Fun book for animal lovers of all ages.

I read this book first as a child, when I read everything in the library slightly related to animals. Then I grew up, and I reread the book every now and then, it is so funny, and the descriptions of the animal loving young Gerald are wonderful.

A reader from Skagafjordur, Iceland, December, 2000

Aged five or Fifty this book will enthrall

When I was younger I loved this book for the enthusiastic, humourous & accurate descriptions of the numerous little creatures the young Gerald encountered & collected during his time in Corfu. Revisiting this book recently I discovered that it had lost none of it's magic & had even managed to gain some. Opening this book feels like walking out into the hot Corfu sunshine & smelling the Cypresses in the air. Durrell's descriptions are wonderful, of the earwig with her babies, the different coloured houses, and last but not least the Durrell family & friends. Despite reading some of the excellent Laurence Durrell's books I can't help but to think of him as big Brother Larry yelling at Gerald to get rid of the latest creepy crawly brought into the house. All in all a wonderful book thoroughly recommended by myself & everyone I know who have read it.

Toby rutland, England, April, 1999