This was an odd book. I was hoping to find out more about the Labrador Duck, but there was very little here. I suppose that's largely because the duck was last seen in 1875 and very little is known. Most of the bits about the duck are dry recitals of the condition of the museum specimens. The rest of the book, probably about 80 percent of it, was a travelogue about Chilton's wanderings around the various cities waiting to get into the museums to see the ducks. These were occasionally mildly clever, but more often dull. He's also delusional. He claims to have made many of his trips in the company of women who were all young, extremely attractive, and willing to share hotel rooms, and in some cases, beds with him to save costs. (He went on and on about these women.) One of these young, beautiful women was even willing to go skinny dipping with him and skinny firefly-catching to boot. Chilton claims his wife didn't mind any of it because he's never given her any reason to worry. But in one chapter, he was with his wife in Russia and complained that he couldn't even look at sunbathers because he was with his wife. So looking at a half-dressed woman is bad, but catching fireflies with a naked woman is OK. Right. I have to wonder if she read the book.