In memorium: Henry Horn

In the acknowledgements section of my PhD defence, I drew Henry as a male satin bowerbird, as a tribute to his inventiveness, artistry and intelligence. By analogy, bowerbirds are also much less personally showy than their posturing relatives, the birds of paradise. Henry is easily the most unassuming yet brilliant people I have ever known.

He is also a great inspiration to those who are equally inspired by the art in science and nature as by the nature of art. There is no better embodiment of a Renaissance man than Henry Horn. Inventor, naturalist, mathematician, artist, poet, musician, craftsman, beloved teacher, environmentalist, humorist, lifelong explorer of the natural world.

I have never met another person who so genuinely enjoyed sharing his diverse passions with others, yet managed to make anyone feel as though each conversation with him was a comfortable, cosy chat between kindred spirits. Henry always made one see the humour in a situation and to think deeply. This is probably because of his consummate ability to do both simultaneously. The door to his office was covered in jokes, often against himself. There was a copy of a letter threatening failure at Harvard if he didn't pull up his socks academically. Also a photograph of himself at a more tender age, with a caption along the lines of "such a cute kid, where did it all go?". Once you entered, he would have original and thoughtful comments on any subject.

Some of the best pieces of advice on writing comes from Henry, and I pass it on to students all the time. 1. Read good writing, and lots of it. Preferably Jane Austen. 2. Read what you've written aloud, and if you stumble, that's a sure sign the sentence is clumsy.

There are far too many memories to list, but I speak for assorted strays and aliens who benefitted from Henry and Betty's hospitality at Thanksgiving. Their beautiful home at Stony Ford was where I had the pleasure of first encountering J. Chester's gallery and the LiWA, short for Little Wooden Animals, which accompanied him and Betty to some spectacular places. I am also personally grateful to Henry for choosing my book prize when I graduated from EEB. The last time I visited him, he showed me his children's books and lesson plans with the LiWA as protagonists, played the guitar, and showed me the new public library building at Princeton, all on top of discussing bird behaviour over Subway sandwiches.

Unlike many scientists of his stature, Henry had a deep and abiding respect for all students of nature. He spent so much time teaching and exploring with everyone, from schoolchildren to lost undergraduate and graduate students, that his intellectual legacy through other minds is immense. Now that I can no longer pop in for a chat, every memento and memory of Henry will be all the more precious. I shall be taking a walk in the woods this Sunday as I can't attend his memorial service.