In this sequel to One For The Road, murder and intrique follow
a young couple's quest to expose a mill owner responsible
for the death of thousands of black-necked swans. The twists
and turns of this eco-thriller make it hard to put down.
Review from the Don Weeden Foundation
WHAT WE HAVE HERE IS ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF MAN'S DESTRUCTION OF OUR PLANET AND ITS WILDLIFE FOR SHORT TERM GAIN. WHEN THE WHISTLING STOPPED IS A FAST-PACED NOVEL OF INTRIGUE AND CORRUPTION THAT TELLS OF THE REAL LIFE DECIMATION OF THE LARGEST POPULATION OF BLACK-NECKED SWANS IN SOUTH AMERICA. KUDOS TO MATHER FOR PUBLICIZING THIS TRAGEDY.
Don Weeden, Executive Director, Weeden Foundation
(25 years of funding environmental projects in Chile)
Don Weeden, Executive Director, Weeden Foundation
(25 years of funding environmental projects in Chile)
Visuals and excerpts from WHEN THE WHISTLING STOPPED
She walked along the side of the house, stopping at the kitchen door. She heard a radio playing a cueca: Pablo must be out back, working on the new saddle.
...and finally the Valley of Cochamó near Puerto Montt where hardcore rock climbers from all over the world came to scale what they called Little Yosemite.
In a few minutes they arrived at the street in front of the market where, waiting for traffic, Amanda looked over at the V-shaped, two-story restaurant, La Perla del Sur. Beautifully restored, it was one of the few buildings left standing after the massive earthquake of 1960. Painted bright blue with tall, tan-trimmed windows and doors, 1920 was emblazoned in large tan numbers at the top of the façade. Well-dressed shoppers and tourists were sipping cappuccinos at the outdoor tables.
Two long roofs of taut, brightly colored nylon tarps offered protection from the weather. The sunlight filtering through the nylon bathed the vegetables and fish in false tones.
As they filled their shopping bags with items they couldn't or didn't grow behind the house, a young woman selling avellano nuts and small bundles of brown and white chupónes called over to Amanda.
Not five meters away on a dock, Amanda saw a large bull yawn, displaying four prominent yellow-brown teeth. Behind each tooth was a single row of small black teeth that, set in the cavernous pink mouth, reminded Amanda of watermelon seeds. The sea lion's button ears weren't much bigger than the little black teeth.
"It's where they turn the steers," Carlos said. "It's all about controlling the animals, Lilia. Two huasos work in tandem....One rider drives the steer while the other gallops side-ways until they force it into this quincha."
He watched the women roll out the dough with empty wine bottles, and shape the little tarts, filled with a mix of meat, onions, raisins, and pieces of hard-boiled eggs, before dropping them into a large pan of sizzling oil.
On the stage the men were dressed as huasos, and the women wore white blouses and long skirts.
Vendors were selling meat and fish empanadas, skewers of lamb, toasted avellanas, souvenirs, even huaso broad brimmed hats, colorful ponchos, and shiny spurs.
