In 2014’s Dark Emu, Bruce Pascoe shared the untold story of Indigenous agriculture, suggesting a history very different to the orthodox colonial narrative and starting a political firestorm in the process. A decade later and he is back with Black Duck, a work that lies in the shadow of Dark Emu but is nonetheless determined to strike its own path. On one hand, it’s a deeply pragmatic book asking important questions about Indigenous disempowerment and food sovereignty. On the other it’s a beautifully meandering reflection on a year of work and living. In both cases, Country is the beating heart of Pascoe’s writing.

If Dark Emu was the theory, Pascoe’s organisation Black Duck Foods is the practice, striving for Indigenous food sovereignty and a sea change in white Australia’s perspective on native food. However, despite the name, that work is just one of the many recurring threads in Black Duck, a book following Pascoe’s reflections through past and present, reminiscence blending with reportage. While on the surface the book seems to lack a driving thesis, that absence feels intentional – it is the story of a year of long days, some tough, others triumphant, but all of them slow and contemplative. The meandering is the point: there should always be time in the day to watch the birds and care for the land.

Indeed, Pascoe’s writing pays as much care and respect to the wildlife he encounters as he does the humans in his life, acknowledging their agency and importance for the land. Furthering that sense of connection, Pascoe refuses to treat the book like a solitary project, perpetually celebrating the hard work and friendship of the people he meets, as if the entire book was an acknowledgements section. It’s a refreshing approach that, coupled with the irrepressible warmth of Pascoe’s writing voice, makes Black Duck a true pleasure to read.

I found myself longing for the same slowness and connection in my own life – this is the sort of book that bristles at the indoors and begs to be read in fits and starts as you leave time for the living world around you.