John Muller profiles Steve Bodio in New Mexico Magazine.
There are a lot of reasons people might want to call Steve Bodio. For just about any question on the worldâ€™s wild places, the living things youâ€™ll encounter there, and in particular how one might go about catching or eating them, heâ€™s as knowledgeable as they come. If a hawkâ€™s been snacking on your chickens and you need to find it a good home, his might be the only adobe in the state with a raptor roost in the dining room. If youâ€™re a gun gal, heâ€™ll talk your ear off about the craftsmanship of English antiques. Heâ€™s written volumes on pigeons and coursing dogs, both of which have a place in his rambling menagerie. More than anything, though, the man can talk about books.
Bodio is what can only be called a writerâ€™s writerâ€™s writer. Callers to his far-flung office include a roster of authors that could rival any nature-writing prize committeeâ€™s Rolodex. He and Annie Proulx go back to Grayâ€™s Sporting Journal in the seventies, where she made her name publishing short stories and he wrote a book review column thatâ€™s still talked about in reverent tones among the cognoscenti. He keeps letters from people like Jim Harrison, who died last year, and Thomas McGuane, one of his heroes, who checks in occasionally from Montana. Helen Macdonald, the author of H Is for Hawk, summed up her admiration in an introduction to one of his books: â€œYou might have come across Bodioâ€™s elegant book reviews. â€¦ You might have read Querencia, his great and moving meditation on love and loss and home. But if Bodio is new to you, then know that the book you are holding is by one of the great modern sportsman-naturalist-writers.â€