From the winner of Argentina's National Endowment of the Arts Prize and the Manuel Rojas Ibero-American Narrative Prize comes this series of reflections on critters and their natural or not-so-natural habitats。

Hebe Uhart's Animals tells of piglets that snack on crackers， parrots that rehearse their words at night， southern screamers that lurk at the front door of a decrepit aunt's house， and， of course， human animals， whose presence is treated with the same inquisitive sharpness and sweetness that marks all of Uhart's work。 Animals is a joyous reordering of attention towards the beings with whom we share the planet。 In prose that tracks the goings on of creatures who care little what we do or say， a refreshing humility emerges， and with it a newfound pleasure in the everyday。 Watching a whistling heron， Uhart writes， "that rebellious crest gives it a lunatic air。" Birds in the park and dogs in the street will hold a different interest after reading Uhart's blissful foray into playful zoology。