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Life Through A Lens - Musings from the RSPB’s Roseland Team
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Why birds? by Stuart Croft - Field Officer for the Cirl Bunting Reintroduction
 It’s a question that I’ve been asked many times: why do you watch birds? Until now I’ve been unable to come up with a simple, in-a-nutshell answer, as it’s always been difficult to sum up all the various reasons why birds attract my attention. I suspect if the question was asked to a variety of people who spend their time to a lesser or greater degree engaged in the activity of birdwatching, each would come up with their own, different response.
As a small child I can remember being fascinated by all wildlife from the familiar ‘cabbage whites’ in the back garden to the exotic big game of the African savannah, broadcast to our living room through the miracle of television. But then something happened. My focus switched. Though still interested in all nature’s forms, I began to notice birds more than I ever had before. In the garden I provided food and nestboxes to attract them; to bring them within range so that I could observe their variety and gain an insight in to their lives. I began to explore further afield and soon appreciated that different types of habitats attract different types of birds. And whilst viewing those browsing impala and stalking lions, I would become distracted as I tried in vain to put a name to that inconspicuous flycatcher or plover, which invariably remained anonymous in the corner of the frame. I was hooked.
But why should this happen? What is it about birds that can have such an enduring effect on me and the many others who gain pleasure from watching them? Perhaps it’s worth exploring some of the possibilities. Firstly, birds are everywhere. It takes no effort at all to find them. Unlike some other groups of wildlife, which can be a challenge to observe, they are very accessible. And then there’s the sheer variety – over 10,000 species worldwide. In the UK the list is a little smaller (approaching 600, though less than half this number breed here). Even so, when all the many different plumages relating to season, sex and age are taken in to account, not to mention moult patterns, calls, songs, movements, behaviour and breeding ecology, there’s more than enough to sustain a lifelong interest with no fear of ever knowing it all.
Without wishing to state the obvious, birds fly! This can attribute them with a certain transitory, elusive quality; a feeling that at any moment they will be gone, never to be seen again. It is this ephemeral nature that drives the most hard-core of rarity hunter to pursue the most far-flung vagrants the length of the country, at the drop of a hat. Such birds are gold dust – see it now or perhaps never see it at all! The thrill of finding such birds oneself can be euphoric; equivalent to, or exceeding, your team winning the cup, or your numbers coming up on the prize draw. It’s all relative though. Equal delight can come from finding what may be no more than an uncommon species for the first time on your local ‘patch’, as it can from discovering a national, once-in-a-lifetime rarity on an offshore isle at the extreme end of the country. Either way, they both record indelibly on the minds of those with an interest in such things.
Not only do birds fly, but some undertake extreme journeys with unfailing precision. We have only relatively recently worked out how they do it. Centuries ago it was thought that the reason for the absence of swallows in winter was because they hibernated in ponds; a fanciful notion maybe, but no less remarkable perhaps than the truth of long-distance migration. The ability of a bird, weighing just a few ounces, to find its way from one side of the world to the other and  back again to the same spot the following year is awe inspiring. Even more staggering is the fact that, when a bar-tailed godwit (a wading bird similar to a curlew) sets off south after breeding in Alaska, its next view of land is not until it finds New Zealand where it will spend the winter. That’s a non-stop, nine day journey of 7000 miles, without food or rest! Such epic journeys highlight the wonder of bird migration and confirm how utterly well-adapted birds are to their airborne lives with not a sat-nav in sight!
But maybe the answer to my question is more prosaic. Birds can be such attractive, entertaining creatures to watch – simple as that. They come in a multitude of shapes, sizes, patterns and colours that defy the imagination and their day to day antics can be captivating. Anyone who has watched the family lives of sparrows cannot fail to have been uplifted, seeing the youngsters as they beg, gapes open wide and wings fluttering to a blur, in their desperate attempt to get that next morsel from mum or dad.
It is this ability that birds have to touch our emotions that makes them such firm favourites with so many of us. The swallow provides a fitting example. The sight of the first spring bird dashing full of purpose to reach its destination is joyous and in contrast to the somewhat wistful air that accompanies those end-of-summer, pre-migratory gatherings on overhead power lines. Like crotchets on a stave they assemble, before the urge to head south takes over and they are gone for another year.
The sounds they produce can be even more evocative. The raucous cacophony of a 30,000 strong gannet colony can overwhelm. Once heard, just listening to it with eyes shut conjures up visions of countless Dulux-white forms and pungent odours. Though sadly, only very rarely heard these days in Cornwall, the song of the nightingale has no rival. Eulogised by poets, to experience this songster in full flow without distraction, has to be one of the most enthralling performances given by any bird in the UK.
And the best thing about all this is that it is free to anyone who cares to look. You don’t have to be an expert or even know what the bird is that you are looking at to enjoy it. And it can do you good too. Not only does it promote exercise and fresh air, the sight of birds going about their daily rituals, if only viewed through a closed window, can do wonders for the powers of recovery for anyone who is house-bound or hospitalised for any length of time. Even the Government has identified the quality of the natural environment as a key indicator for sound health and well being. So, less drain on our over-burdened NHS – yet another reason for enjoying birds and all other wildlife.
Having watched birds for fun for most of my life, I consider myself very fortunate to watch them for a living too. They continue to surprise and provoke questions to which I may never find satisfactory answers, but that doesn’t bother me. As long as there are birds to see, that’s what really matters. So, getting back to the original question: why birds? Maybe I’ve found my short, concise answer: because they are amazing! Why would you not want to watch them?
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Thinking outside the box - By Nick Tomalin
First of all I must apologise. I ended last month’s article by insisting that you really must get out and enjoy nature. I suggested that getting off your collective backsides and departing the house would provide a bountiful hamper of natural history wonders. I had the gall to dictate that a new experience lurks behind every back door. Whilst I still hold true to this assertion, it dawned on me this month that not everything that shapes our interests and excites our enthusiasm need be externally based. And though I appreciate that staying indoors does not necessarily indicate sitting in front of the TV, there is something to be said for the occasional spot of armchair viewing.
Part of my realisation came when I found myself torn between watching Rafa Nadal at Wimbledon on BB1, Andy Murray on BBC2, France losing to South Africa in the World Cup on ITV, and Countdown on Channel 4! Now I must confess two things here: first, I am a big fan of sports, with football, tennis and hockey being my passions; second, I am a huge geek, and love nothing more than to test the old grey matter with a dose of mental arithmetic or  word puzzling. Countdown, or 15 minutes thereof, tends to be a regular feature and ideal mid-afternoon biscuit break from work! So this was indeed a difficult position to find myself in. In the end I opted for a few minutes of each (especially the conundrum), finished my work and went to play tennis.
So although I made the most of the fine conditions, I do recognise that there are some things that you simply don’t want to miss, for a variety of reasons. This was highlighted even more during the England football matches, when beaches, gardens, parks and paths all emptied, despite the stunning weather. No doubt there were some amongst you who made the most of this unseasonal exodus and enjoyed these magnificent places to yourselves in the absence of screaming hoards. Perhaps you even caught up with goings on later. The programmers would have you believe that everything is now ‘unmissable’, with the introduction of online viewing, instant playback and home recording, but for live events such as sport, it seems somehow less exhilarating watching back after the action is over.
The second reason behind my swift backpedalling was that I recently spent a few delightful evenings socialising with colleagues and volunteers in the county, and wondered whether wildlife film-making may have had anything to do with our collective interest. Again, I maintain that you can’t beat getting out and indulging in it for yourself, but with the improvements in technology now on offer to the production teams (and to FIFA!), there are many more sights and sounds that can be captured and beamed, streamed or DVD-ed into our homes. As a kid I would sit amazed at each new programme and the proximity to wildlife, often far away, that this allowed me. Even now I look forward to each new Attenborough series, although the great man seems to bring an air of depth and authenticity to natural history that I’m yet to discover from other presenters. I don’t watch much of Springwatch or similar programmes, but I don’t suppose they are aimed at me. What they do well is bring in the next generation of conservationists and wildlife enthusiasts, as Sir David did for me 20 years ago (though I suspect Kate Humble will never quite achieve the same status!).
There is no doubt that TV can be a powerful tool to educate, communicate, and entertain, when used wisely. There is also little doubt that it is over-used and abused for that very reason. The cynics amongst you may claim that the small screen is simply another form of propaganda, no different to, say, writing regular articles for your local community website! And you would be right. But with such a wide audience just a remote control click away it is not surprising that most organisations, including the RSPB, clamour to feature in the schedules as much as possible. In fact I wonder how much the world of multimedia is likely  to change in the next few years. I hear more and more about tweeting, blogging, and social networking (which I would like to see shortened to ‘snetworking’) than ever before, and imagine that this is now the best way to reach a technologically gifted populous.
I don’t suppose many of you would argue that the defining moments and abiding memories of your life were based around the box, but many of us will have seen world events unfold in this way. Where it is not possible to be there in the flesh, as it happens, it does not mean that we have to miss out altogether, as those who witnessed the moon landing or 1966 world cup final would hopefully testify. And though it may have been all the more enjoyable had we taken that small step, or perhaps been on the pitch thinking it was all over, to have missed out altogether would have been a tragedy.
Though I would never substitute the experiences I’ve had in the field and when travelling for plasma widescreen versions, I am sure that part of what makes them so memorable, interesting and enjoyable for me came from what I’ve learnt on TV. How many natural history enthusiasts have never seen a wildlife programme? How many sports fans don’t watch live coverage? And how many people in need of mental stimulation fail to turn to quiz shows to stretch their minds? Of course there are other ways to nourish the hunger, but sometimes you just have to put the feet up and relax in front of the box. I just hope the quality work of the natural history unit and others continues to inspire and encourage people to go out and soak up these experiences for themselves. After all, the next one may be lurking just behind the back door!
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Raptor rapture!By Nick Tomalin
 My guilt at taking my first flights for over five years was swiftly replaced by a growing fear that karma had hired an ash cloud to scupper my airborne journey to Spain. This was my first excursion overseas for half a decade, and though the main reason was the wedding of two of my close friends, I was hoping that the week-long break with some friends in the run up to the nuptials would provide an opportunity to see some of our European feathered friends, and provide an alternate window on the world of birds.
I have often considered what it would be like to go on a wildlife watching tour, and although my companions were a little less concerned about the local avifauna than I was, I was sure there would be plenty of outdoor activities during the week that would allow me to don my optics. We had booked a villa in a small village called Asin in Northern Spain, at the base of the Pyrenees. We should have known how isolated it would be when the only instructions we received for our arrival were to come to the village and ‘ask for Jesus’! Jesus was the owner of the villa, and clearly well known to the local population. This was rural Spain at its finest, with small hills giving way to larger mountains, giving way to snow-capped peaks.
And not a word of English spoken. This was actually very refreshing, as it forced us to improve our linguistics in readiness for the cross-cultural wedding. During one exchange, I managed to convey to Jesus that I was looking for birds. A multinational game of charades followed in which he described, perhaps, how it was better to see birds there in autumn. After much nodding of heads, he beckoned me to his house and found a map on which he circled all of the best local sites. Having bid him ‘adios’, he arrived at the villa half an hour later with a bird guide for the local region, and to my disbelief the bird on the front cover was a cirl bunting! When travelling abroad, or to any new place, in search of birds or other wildlife, it is important to do some homework on what you might find and where. There are invariably guide books available for most sites, although the Collin’s Guide to the Birds of Britain and Europe covers many of the species you’re likely to find on the continent. A learned travelling friend was able to provide a map and a guide to birding sites in Spain, which added to my pre-trip reading, and allowed me to develop a target list of species.
 The delight of visiting a new site is the possibility of finding something unfamiliar and being able to identify it. As such, all of the senses are tuned to maximum efficiency. Not only was I able to see new species, but I could study birds that are less frequent visitors to our shores in different plumages, and exhibiting alternate behaviours. I have seen black redstart in Portscatho each winter, but I have never before heard its song, or recorded the white patch in the wing it displays during the breeding season. The Cornish corn bunting population has declined to probably less than 100 territories, but where I was the key-jangling call was ever-present. And though our red kite population is now increasing after years of re-introduction and conservation, out there they drifted lazily over every village. The mix of cultivated fields and open scrub provided a good mix of habitat for a range of species. Woodchat and red-backed shrike were hawking the low bushes, golden oriole and nightingale preferred the few trees that sprung up in the valley bottom, cirl and corn bunting were omnipresent at the field edges, bee-eater and hoopoe scanned the landscape from telephone wires, and house martin and red-rumped swallow sucked mud from the puddles for their nests. Spain is well known for its raptor populations, and there was no difficulty adding red and black kites, booted eagle and griffon vulture to the list. I had to wait until we foraged further north into the Pyrenees to see one of my main targets – Lammergeier. This magnificent vulture is very uncommon in Europe, with an isolated population in the highest and most remote peaks in the Pyrenees. The adults drop bones onto rocks to break them into fragments, which they then swallow, and it has a unique shape in flight, with a long wedge-shaped tail and narrow, pointed wings. It was a wonderful and memorable first for me.
Foreign travel provides a wealth of excitement for natural history enthusiasts. The prospect of new species and unfamiliar observations maintains the adrenaline levels for wildlife junkies like me. But for those not unable to leave our shores this summer, there is much to be said for discovering a new place in this country. With ‘staycation’ the buzzword of travel in these most scrupulous of times, I am all in favour of expanding my knowledge at home whenever possible. The UK and Cornwall have some fantastic places to visit, and you don’t have to fly to get there! You need not travel far for a new experience – you just have to get out! Wherever you go and whatever you do, a memorable experience is not far away. Whether it’s your first basking shark in the bay or the joy of seeing a goldfinch through a telescope, the scent of wild garlic or the pleasure gained from sharing these experiences with someone else, grab these opportunities and store them away. Last weekend, for the first time n my life, I saw a pair of Chough fly overhead whilst I was swimming in the sea – an experience that made the freezing water, aching muscles and grazed shin totally worthwhile! And if the aerial disruption and fine weather continue, perhaps more of us will discover something or somewhere new in this country. Every cloud has a silver lining!
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Not the RSPCA: by Resident RSPB Volunteer, Roland Digby
Not the RSPCA: A brief history of the RSPB and the difference between conservation and welfare.
A few weeks ago, whilst listening to Nick giving an interview on BBC Radio Cornwall about the Cirl Bunting Reintroduction Project and how it was going (very well in fact), I heard the interviewer introducing him as Nick Tomalin of the RSPCA. This was quickly corrected by her colleague in the studio, but it seems to be a very common mistake. Usually it is just a slip of the  tongue, rather than genuinely mistaking one organisation for the other. I have even heard mention of the ‘RSPCB’ – a mythical concoction of the two organisations that sounds more like a chemical pesticide! However, it does appear that some people seem to confuse the roles of the two organisations.
From time to time, we get knocks on the door or email  requests to treat an injured bird; usually some poor thing that has come off second best in a collision with a motor vehicle or window. Unfortunately, barn owls appear to be very vulnerable to this sort of injury with their very low body mass to wing area ratio and slow flight, coupled with their tendency to hunt along the roadside verges. Usually there is nothing we can do as the birds are too badly injured, and we lack veterinary qualifications. The best we can manage is to put the person in touch with the RSPCA, an organisation with the expertise and facilities to treat injured animals. Some people are still quite shocked to realise that our role is very different from that of the RSPCA.
The RSPCA is a welfare based charity whose work follows the principle that animals have five basic freedoms:
Freedom from hunger or thirst
Freedom from discomfort
Freedom from pain, injury or disease
Freedom to behave normally
Freedom from fear or distress
These freedoms often relate to the husbandry of animals in captivity and are regarded as fundamental rights.
 The RSPB was formed in 1889 to counter the trade in plumes for women's hats. This fashion was responsible for the destruction of many thousands of egrets, birds of paradise and other species whose plumes had become popular in the late Victorian era. Earlier in the century, there had been concern about the wholesale destruction of native birds such as the great-crested grebe and kittiwake for their plumage. This lead to early legislation, including the Sea Birds Preservation Act of 1869 and the Wild Birds Protection Act of 1880. In its earliest days the Society consisted entirely of women who were moved by the emotional appeal of the plight of young birds left to starve in the nest after their parents had been shot for their plumes. The rules of the Society were simple:
That members shall discourage the wanton destruction of birds, and interest themselves generally in their protection
That lady-members shall refrain from wearing the feathers of any bird not killed for purposes of food, the ostrich only accepted.
Some of the Society's staunchest supporters were the very kind of people who might have been expected to wear the plumes – people such as the Duchess of Portland, who became the Society's first President, and the Ranee of Sarawak. A number of influential figures, including the leading ornithologist of the day, Professor Alfred Newton, lent their support to the cause, which gained widespread publicity and popularity, leading to a rapid growth in the Society's membership and a widening of its aims. Indeed the young Society was so successful that it was granted its Royal Charter in 1904, just 15 years after being founded.
A lot has happened since, especially the purchasing of land to create reserves and safeguard important and vulnerable habitats. The RSPB has always been concerned with the conservation of species and habitats rather than welfare issues. That is not to say that we are not concerned by ill treatment of animals, and we do strongly oppose cruel and barbaric practices. It is just that our expertise relates to conservation rather than welfare, and there are other organisations, notably the RSPCA, which are geared up to deal with rehabilitating injured animals.
On a final note, I have been talking about people handing in birds to the RSPB or other organisations, and it will soon be the season for young birds. The cute little fledglings, which always appear so vulnerable and alone, have a useful survival strategy to reduce the risk of disease and predation. At a certain point in their development, before they are fully-grown and independent, they may leave the nest and split up from their siblings. This reduces the chance of the whole brood being predated, and disease-ridden nests are abandoned. Most of these fledglings will still be cared for by their parents and are not in any need of assistance. As an aviculturist, I can vouch for the fact that young birds are very hard to rear, and even harder to release successfully! The best thing you can do is to suppress the parental urge and let the rightful parents rear their own young in the wild.
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Roseland Rocks by Resident RSPB Volunteer, Ben Wyatt
After eight months in south-east Asia I had just one thing on my mind; Cornwall. In all honesty it was a pint of ale in a traditional pub with a measure of cold weather that was the focus of my daydreaming. Cornwall was merely the location. As my return date loomed nearer and nearer my mind started to wander back to this scene with increasing frequency. Little did I know that the place that had appeared so many times in my visions was a place that I had never set foot; The Roseland Peninsula. Having spent a number of years living in Falmouth I would often admire the view of a beautiful headland decorated with an iconic lighthouse, across the Carrick Roads. This had subconsciously become the backdrop for my long awaited beer.
It shames me to admit that in three years of living so close to the Roseland, I never once visited. I never even contemplated it. I soon discovered that this was my loss. Having returned to this country to seek work, I found myself back with my folks in Devon with few jobs on offer. Conservation had always been my interest, and I had studied cirl buntings as part of my degree, so I contacted the RSPB to see whether I could be of service. As it turned out, the reintroduction project was looking for additional eyes and ears to spend some time monitoring the birds on the Roseland. Within a fortnight I was winding my way back to the southern Cornish coast, this time with binoculars in hand.
During my first week on the project I was given the full tour. Much of the work involves covering farmland to locate the cirl buntings, and I found this one of the most enjoyable aspects of the daily routine. Each site we visited had its own unique charm, and every time I topped a new hill or rounded the next bend I was greeted with yet another stunning vista. The mix of habitats – rolling farmland, tidal creek, rocky shore and sandy beach – provides a bountiful supply of birds and beasts for any natural history enthusiast. And despite the myriad attractions on offer, the area retains a sense of isolation, peace and tranquillity (that I suspect would be less evident during the summer months!).
The reason that I looked into becoming a residential volunteer was that I wanted to gain some first hand practical experience within a conservation project, whilst also contributing towards the project’s targets. The day to day work was very enjoyable and I gained invaluable knowledge from working alongside the experts, especially the other volunteers. Monitoring the cirls became almost addictive and there was great satisfaction when I managed to get my ears tuned into contact calls and song, and started observing well hidden birds or birds that I had not seen in a while. There was also an effort made to broaden my experience by helping out with other aspects of the project, and other areas of the work conducted by the RSPB. This included attending meetings with landowners and a day trip down to Marazion Marsh to get stuck into some habitat management work, which was a good opportunity to have a bit of fun working with all members of the cirl team, and other volunteers in the county.
Although my motivations will not be shared by all the volunteers, they will have their own reasons for participating in such a unique piece of work. I suspect that some of them also use it as an opportunity to develop their own skills and character, whilst others use their years of experience to contribute towards the ultimate goals of reintroducing the species to Cornwall. Perhaps others simply want to keep active! But for everyone it is a great chance to discover a quiet, undisturbed corner of the county.
Sadly, I am on my way again and in complete contrast to the Roseland Cirl Bunting population, I find myself relocating to Devon. Hopefully I will be able to establish myself there as easily as I have on the Roseland. I have promised myself it will not be long before I am visiting the area again... and perhaps sampling some more of the local ales!
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Listless Listers
 I recently had my sanity called into question. And in true ‘Catch 22’ style, it was me that had reason to query it. The reason for such personal uncertainty was my overly competitive response to a colleague having told me he had just seen a Smew (for anyone wondering, an uncommon but beautiful duck). My jealousy was not reserved for him out of personal dislike. Nor was it due to the extraordinarily striking bird, which I have seen previously. Indeed, I would have been equally envious had it been any number of other species. What drove me to such disdain was that he had seen it this year, and I had not!
Before you label me a petty and childish fool, please read on as I attempt to dig myself from the self-inflicted pit of misery that I currently inhabit! You see, in 2010, I am ‘year listing’. Year listing is a birdwatcher’s checklist of all the species of bird he or she has seen in the entire calendar year. Most birders (what we generally call ourselves!) have one list or another; life (or world) lists for everything you’ve ever seen, garden lists for those species you’ve identified on (or from) your property, a UK list for birds seen within our national boundaries, or county lists for those more local still. We keep a ‘Roseland’ list for everything we have found on ‘our patch’. For many birders the patch list is the most important one, as it usually represents those species that you have found yourself, and correctly identified. For many birders, this is the most rewarding and satisfying aspect of our addiction.
I do not use this term lightly, as there are people for who this obsession becomes dominant over and above everything else. I have read several excellent books about Listers*, and the recurring theme seems to be that, at its most extreme end, the pursuit of new species (‘lifers’) has been responsible for marriage break ups, family hardship, job losses and bankruptcy. Why would anyone put themselves, or those they love, through such an ordeal? What is it that drives someone to the far ends of the earth in search of birds? Without going into a lot of detail, or plagiarising much of the excellent literature available on the subject, I simply can not answer that.
Instead, I can try again to explain how I found myself in the shameful position of ‘list envy’ that I’ve now grown accustomed to. I was invited to take part in a year listing competition by two friends. These are fellow RSPB employees, and, like me, they gain pleasure from seeing a variety of avian fauna. In order to improve their knowledge, and encourage themselves to venture into the great outdoors more frequently, they have taken on this challenge. As a bonus, a bit of witty banter and friendly rivalry has been passed among us. But what started as a small and select band of amateur enthusiasts has grown exponentially into a feverish mass of birding knowledge, with more and more competitors flooding in. We now have a huge range of abilities taking part, from ‘newly fledged’ to ‘experienced’, and it is hard not to feel left behind by some of the more serious birders taking part. I have even had other birders tell me that they’ve heard on the birding grapevine that I’m year listing! Where previously my motivations were personal, now the competitive spirit has been awakened.
 Ultimately I think it is this competitiveness that drives me, my colleagues, and the listers mentioned above, to such extremes. In some cases this can be detrimental, but in others it can be controlled and focussed in positive ways. For example, in order to maintain parity with my friends, I now carry my binoculars with me more frequently, and have taken the time to go for more walks than I otherwise would have done. Equally, by knowing what other people have seen, I have studied these species to be sure that I could identify them if I were to stumble across them myself. I now know that a cattle egret has a shorter bill than a little egret, and that the bill is yellow instead of black – a useful fact to know when I saw them side-by-side recently! Despite my colleagues and I being in direct competition, I have also ‘shared’ a number of birds with them, which one or other of us would not have seen had the other ‘suppressed’ the sighting. A male Garganey (a small duck, unusual to see in winter) and a beautiful Short-Eared Owl were two recent highlights – added to both the year list and to our ‘Roseland’ list!
Therefore, I make no apologies for my strange obsession. It has, at its worst, resulted in me being slightly too competitive. However, at its best, it has caused me to expand my knowledge, to help others develop theirs, to get out into our beautiful countryside, to keep fit, and to follow a rewarding career path where I truly feel happy to get up to work every day. If I manage to see something new for the list then so much the better!
Nick Tomalin
Notes
*I’ve enjoyed several books about listing, but the three below stand out:
 ‘To See Every Bird On Earth’, by Dan Koeppel, depicts the reality of living with a world lister. Dan’s father, Richard, has seen over 7,000 of the 10,000 known species of birds on our planet. In doing so, he pushed his son away, ruined his marriage, and damaged his career. Ultimately this book is about understanding the obsession and learning to live with it.
In ‘Around the World with 1000 birds’, Russell Boyman narrates his own mid-life crisis, and how he escaped it by birding. In the midst of a stressful job, with failing relationships, he decided to pack it all in and spend months travelling in search of 1000 species of bird. This is less obsessive and more escapist, as the target is actually quite modest, but it was a personal challenge he felt he needed to reach.
 Personal challenges do not come much bigger than ‘The Big Year’, by Mark Obmascik. A ‘Big Year’ is a year list in North America. Mark Obmascik tells the story of three men who attempted this challenge in 1998. Each had their own style, each followed their own path, and each one knew they faced stiff competition from the other two. A series of fortuitous circumstances, including an El Nino climate event, and galvanised by the hunger of the three men, culminated in the greatest ‘Big Year’ of all time, and set a target that may never be beaten again.
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In the first of Roseland Online's RSPB’s features, Nick Tomalin (The RSPB's Cirl Bunting Project Officer) talks about the effect the cold snap has on the Roseland’s birds, and what you can do to help them out. (All Photos by Nick)
Fat Birds and Aggropansies
The possibility of taking the day off was slim, as the commute to work involves a less than perilous four-yard dash across the landing to the office. For those of us lucky enough (or unlucky, depending on your point of view) to work from home, the snow earlier in January represented a mild annoyance, and not the total bedlam that seems to have befallen the rest of the country. In such cataclysmic times we find ourselves ill-equipped to cope with even a few days of below-freezing temperatures, as unnecessary journeys are curtailed, pipes cement themselves together, and snowball fights become an essential part of the national curriculum.
Having scoured the back of the cupboards for the last of anything edible, I finally ventured north in search of provisions, and found myself staring at empty shelves where once there was bread. Fresh fruit and vegetables were in short supply, and the last of the milk was whisked away before my eyes. This ‘every man for himself’ mentality seemed like some kind of primeval urge, and I had to resist the urge to yell, “Run for your lives!”, and start a stampede. Yet it mirrored the natural order, or lack of it, that I was seeing in my garden at the same time. We provide a veritable hamper of snacks and treats for our more common birds, but suddenly the numbers swelled as more and more of our feathered friends arrived to seek out sustenance uncomfortably alongside one another.
Blue tits hit double figures, and dared each other to steal in between the larger great tits and chaffinches. Coal tits zipped back and forth from the tree like flies, and parties of long-tailed tits arrived with increasing frequency, ignoring their usual rigid timetables. These tiny birds remind me of a flock of teaspoons, chattering as they leapfrog each other through the trees. Our magnetic peanut feeder saw ten stuck to it at one point. Periodically, one member of our greater-spotted woodpecker family would arrive and usurp the feeder,  driving the other birds away; only the bravest or stupidest blue tit risked a swipe from the powerful bird. Even our resident robins found the neighbours muscling their way across the border in search of the rich pickings. The four redbreasts spent longer chasing each other around than feeding, despite the plentiful supply of food on offer. I call them ‘aggropansies’ – a word that I invented to describe someone or something that is unnecessarily aggressive! (Incidentally, the term was first developed after hearing Sir Alex Ferguson moaning incessantly about refereeing decisions that went against Manchester United!).
Many of our less familiar birds arrived on mass in the surrounding fields and hedgerows, and even in urban parks and gardens. Winter thrushes were more common than pedestrians on the pavements in Truro, as well as on the Roseland’s fields. Fieldfare and redwing are winter visitors, but blackbird and song thrush accompany them on their crossing, adding to our resident population. Squadrons of other northern visitors had us craning upwards as they called overhead, with numbers of lapwing and golden plover well up. As Ian Bennett mentioned earlier in January, these waders are not common on the Roseland, only appearing during very cold spells. They added to the cocktail of wading activity that we have seen on the beaches, in the creeks, and off Portscatho in the last few weeks.
The cold period will undoubtedly be having a bad affect on many bird populations. Insectivores like chiffchaff will have had a tough time, and waders like snipe that probe the soil with their specialist bills will have struggled to break through the rock hard ground . Seed-eaters like cirl bunting should fare better so long as there is not a continual blanket of snow burying their lunch. Many species will end up in people’s gardens, where they can take advantage of the more accessible and varied food source. The desperation of these birds also brings out their tolerant side. Cold periods are great for bird watching, as the continual battle to find enough resources forces the birds to spend more time indulging their appetite than worrying about ending up on the menu themselves. Our robin appeared in the house when the back door was left open, seeking out crumbs on the kitchen floor. He has previously made it as far as the lounge, where he saw his reflection in some glass and started singing to warn himself off!
With so many birds struggling through their own nutritional recession, it is crucial not to disturb them, as taking flight will use up more of their limited energy, and reduce the time available to feed or rest. The best thing you can do is make sure there is a continual supply of food and water available for them, and to provide a range of food if possible. Many of  the smaller birds will go for high protein peanuts instead of seed during hard times. Kitchen scraps can be good, including fat, which can be collected from the grill pan or oven trays and left to solidify into a block; life-affirming stuff if you’re a small bird! I usually mix nuts and seed into it to tempt them into taste testing this unappealing mushy blob. Some fruit and vegetables will be popular, especially apples for the thrushes. Fresh water is not just for drinking, but so the birds can bathe and keep their feathers in good condition – all the more important to keep them toasty during the big freeze. Small birds will use nest boxes to roost in, sometimes in large numbers, so keep these up and available as overnight hostels. It is worth taking care of the birds in your garden during these harshest of times. After all, if you are stuck at home you may find yourself spending an increasing amount of time watching them!
With that in mind, the RSPB’s Big Garden Birdwatch is coming up on the weekend of 30th/31st January. All you have to do is spend one hour over the weekend counting the birds in your garden. You have to tot up the highest number of each species you see at any one time and send in your results. Last year more than 6000 people in Cornwall took part, and house sparrow was the commonest garden bird in the county, with an average of 4.2 per garden. For more information go to www.rspb.org.uk/birdwatch, where you will find resources for the event, and there will be a results form available from 30th January. Alternatively, call 0300 456 8330 to request a form in the post (calls charged at standard rate).
Pictures (Top to bottom): Golden Plover, Redwing, Robin, Long-tailed Tit, Great Tit and Blue Tit.
More of Nick's photography can be seen on his own photos page in our images section.
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