Diane Inman's biography of Harry Adamson is what is known in the trade as a coffee table book. In my house no cup of coffee will be allowed within 10 feet of it.

Imagine having at your fingertips a whole gallery of Harry's works, smaller than the originals of course, but covering far more wildlife subjects than most of us waterfowl addicts ever imagined of him. Imagine being able to seek out at your leisure the tiny details that make Harry's art such a joy to examine with care: the hidden Eurasian wigeon mixed in with a flight of ours, the sneaky spoonie (usually pictured flying or swimming in the opposite direction from the painting's majestic sprig or mallard subjects), the modest coot casting his own critical eye over incoming waterfowl. Then turn to the Rocky Mountain sheep, the tropical birds, or even the one plate whose live subjects are just a pair of sleepy horses. And finally, from Diane's exhaustive research, learn about the man himself and how he became probably the foremost waterfowl artist in this country and perhaps in the world today.

Every one of Harry's plates demands careful attention. Every one rewards that attention with new discoveries. Yet, every one stands on its own as a superb overall composition.

For most of us dedicated hunters, waterfowl will be the primary game bird, or course. Here, there are others that make you reach convulsively for a non-existent gun as they sweep past or leap from hidden waters. But my own favorite has no connection with hunting. It is the pair of Audubon-like mergansers fishing a tidal pool, with a background of almost audible surf and palpable salt air.

I get an odd sense of challenge from these wonderfully meticulous works, and I finally found one technicality for which a life-long California resident such as Harry might be forgiven: red-legged black ducks in an East Coast October setting. The red legs are a hallmark of late-season northern birds, or were when I hunted them. Maybe that no longer holds true. (But thank you, Harry. You've given me the one tiny negative note that all reviewers are supposed to find.)

In the accompanying text, Diane chronicles Harry's long life, decade by decade, in great detail. She describes the struggle of Harry and his wife Betty to launch his career in a highly competitive field, the voyages that they have taken together over the years to all corners of the earth, and the worldwide honors that have been given to him. The text is liberally salted with quotes from well-known figures in the waterfowl world, from England's Peter Scott to many Californians familiar to us all. Here, my critique is her description of the late Charles ("Howdy") Allen merely as a Realtor. A talented amateur waterfowl artist in his own right, Howdy was trapped in the real estate profession and hated it. His two sons Wheat and Peter, however, fulfilled his destiny by becoming internationally known sculptors of wildlife. As Diane notes, Harry escaped Howdy's kind of fate thanks mostly to Betty's unflagging support and role as a breadwinner in their early years together. There but for the grace of God.

I predict that first editions of this book will sell out and become collector's items before the ink has had time to dry. Its appearance just ahead of the year-end holidays makes it an ideal gift for any waterfowler.