The name Maurice Bird might not the most instantly recognisable, but it may be familiar to anyone who has read the author James Parry’s 2020 work (co-written with former BTO Director Dr Jeremy Greenwood) Emma Turner: A Life Looking at Birds. The Reverend Maurice Bird (1857–1924) was the Rector of Brunstead in Norfolk for over 30 years, and as a neighbour with shared interests in photography, ornithology, and natural history, he and his family were close friends with the pioneering photographer and ornithologist Emma Turner. The Reverend Bird was a polymath, whose Norfolk-based interests ranged from birdlife to snakes, meteorology, and gardening (including his unsuccessful attempts to grow wild rice in the Norfolk Broads). He left behind an extensive archive of newspaper cuttings, photographs, notes, letters, and, most significantly, an almost unbroken run of diaries covering more than half a century. The archive has remained within the Bird family, and work on this biography was begun by the Reverend Bird’s great-granddaughter Alison Horne, who sadly passed away in 2014. Maurice Bird: The Gilbert White of The Broads is the latest in the Norfolk & Norwich Naturalists’ Society’s series of occasional publications, and James Parry uses the Reverend Bird’s own archive to tell the story of an intriguing figure who meticulously recorded his varied interests. The comparison to the Selborne naturalist of the title was first made by the Norfolk ornithologist Bernard Riviere in 1924, and parallels between the two become apparent throughout. Coming in at 140 pages it is a short book, but its six chapters (focusing on the Reverend Bird’s personal life, his role in the community, his published writings, his diaries, the significant people who feature in his writing, and his legacy) bring to life the words of a skilled observer of natural history, who for many years was an important fixture in the landscape of The Broads.

Many of us will have found owls pellets while on a walk, and some may have even extracted the contents to see what has been eaten, but most will be unfamiliar with the range of species which produce pellets and how to go about finding them. Ed Drewitt’s Bird Pellets: A Complete Photographic Guide aims to fill this gap and goes about doing so in a thorough and digestible manner on a (literally) indigestible subject. The book is mainly divided into two parts, the first helping to identify the maker of a pellet, while the latter half shows the likely contents of pellets and which animal they might have come from. Both sections are filled with high-quality images, allowing for detailed inspection of the minutiae needed to identify a vole skull to species level, and are accompanied by detailed text, especially so for many of the mammal skulls. While by no means aimed at children, and a useful reference guide for any field naturalists, I’d imagine many young naturalists will get a lot from this book (didn’t we all start with collections of skulls, feathers, pellets and bits of bone?), whether from the many pictures of birds coughing up pellets or the access into a different aspect of these birds’ lives. The range of bird species covered is insightful, with even rare and unusual birds, such as European Bee-eater, being given an entry.

Following the author’s journey along the River Nene at Oundle in Northamptonshire, this book is set out in specific months of the year. The reader can fall into step with the writer as he explores the river habitat, along with explorations further afield, and watches the unfolding lives of Kingfishers over the changing seasons. As a musician, it may not be surprising that the author has added an element of audio into his work. Throughout the book there are numbered speaker icons that allow the reader to listen to the birdsong described that the author recorded himself. This can be done by either visiting the Bradt Guides website or scanning the QR code included within the book on a smartphone. The recordings cover specific species and events like the dawn chorus, with the richly recorded birdsong allowing you to appreciate the environment the author is writing about. It is a novel way to experience the sounds of birds and not be confined to the silence of a paperback book. The addition of this audio element also opens accessibility of the experience for readers who cannot access the countryside or who may not know what the birds’ songs mentioned sound like. This book would suit readers who enjoy the nature writing style of prose, with this work dotted with quotes and experiences from other writers and naturalists throughout history too, including Gilbert White, John Clare and Peter Scott. It may be of particular interest to those who are drawn to riverine habitats, local history and of course Kingfishers.

Luke Western was inspired to produce this charming book, which he wrote and illustrated, upon introducing garden birds to his baby daughter. The book itself is aimed at slightly older children – aged four to eight. Fortuitously enough, I have a six-year-old son who was on hand to help me write this review. First impressions were good. My son could confidently identify all the birds from the illustrations, which include examples in the author’s signature ‘geometric birds’ style. I found the accuracy of the details a refreshing change from many of the illustrations in books for younger children, which often have generic ‘birdy’ images, or perhaps even worse, biologically misleading ones. For example, I remember once flicking through a book designed to engage children with nature published by none other than the National Trust, and noticing a depiction of Blue Tits raising chicks in an open nest on a tree branch. I returned it to its shelf. In terms of the text, my son enjoyed the “my nest is the best” refrain, and appreciated the rhymes. It was pitched just right for children of his reading age and understanding. Having said I valued the book’s accuracy, I did have a few minor gripes. On one page for instance, a male Chaffinch is shown sitting on a nest, when nest building and incubation in this species is carried out exclusively by females. On another, there’s a mention of Blackbirds’ nests being mud-lined, when this is the case for the closely-related Song Thrush. Speaking of Song Thrushes, this was my son’s only criticism. Admittedly, he’s not the most typical six-year-old, having been coming out nest recording since he was a babe in arms. However, he said he was disappointed that Song Thrush and Dunnock didn’t feature in the book, as those are his favourite species to look in the nests of. He also asked why the Barn Owl and House Sparrow were simply called ‘owl’ and ‘sparrow’ respectively! That said, he did love the story and the artwork, especially the picture of the Chaffinch nest with eggs, and the jewel-like Jay’s eggs. All in all, The Best Nest Contest is a brilliant idea, and we wish the author luck sending copies to schools around the UK to spark children’s interest and educate them about nesting birds.

Although there are many bird books available for birders visiting Australia, the best by far is The Australian Bird Guide. However, this book is somewhat too large, heavy and bulky for use in the field. Even taking with you would add weight to your luggage. Thankfully, a concise version of this field guide has now been released and I was fortunate enough to visit northern Queensland earlier this year and have a copy of this book to take with me. The main thing to notice about this concise guide is the difference in size, being about half the size and thickness of the original guide. It also weighs less than 500 g compared with the original being about three times this, making it much easier to slip into a pocket or backpack without adding any noticeable bulk. The plates, as in the original, are superb and although the species accounts are much reduced in this version, this doesn’t take anything away from the usability of the guide in the field. Each still gives a distribution map, a brief text description covering distribution and habitat, a succinct description of voice (including transcription of sound), and illustrations with notes on age, sex, and identification characteristics. The taxonomy is more up to date that the original guide, with newly split species such as the Hornbill Friarbird and Torresian Kingfisher, both of which I was lucky enough to see, included. In order to make this book more concise, there are around 200 species fewer included than in the original, though these are vagrants and species with very restricted ranges on less visited Australian territories such as the Lord Howe Woodhen, and so these aren’t noticeable for the majority of visiting birders. Although the original The Australian Bird Guide is still worthy of a place on any birder’s bookshelf as a reference when they are revising for a trip or on returning and want to check their photos or notes, this concise guide is an invaluable piece of kit that no birder undertaking a trip to Australia should be without. Now, if they could just follow in the Collins Bird Guide’s footsteps and bring out an app version too …

As a birder growing up in Greater Manchester in the 1990s, I would regularly phone Birdline Northwest (remember those days of having to phone up for bird news?!) and very often, the site Woolston Eyes, in Cheshire, would feature. Although I never had the chance to visit the site as it requires a permit to access, the name has always been a familiar one to me, and in my role as one of the Wetland Bird Survey (WeBS) team, I have had a few phone conversations with Brian Martin about a few of his WeBS records on that site over the years. Even before he published this book of the history of the site, from its beginnings as a desolate wasteland just a couple of miles from the centre of Warrington to the amazing wetland reserve it is today, the enthusiasm in which he spoke of the site was always evident and this book captures that love and dedication. The first chapter tells of the history of the area, which sits underneath the busy M6 Thelwall Viaduct, which many will have driven over without realising what was below them. The next few chapters detail the development of the habitat of the reserve which today is a Site of Special Scientific Interest and has a nationally important breeding population of Black-necked Grebes, among other rare breeding species. The final part of the book has short stories detailing certain species which have been conservation successes on the site, including the grebes and also Willow Tits which are declining at an alarming rate (90% decline in England since 1995) but this site remains as a stronghold. The site is not only important for birds, but also invertebrates and they are covered in this book too. The book gives a thorough overview of the reserve’s history and its birds and even for those who may never get the chance to visit the site, it will be a fascinating read on what can be done with a bit of vision and a dedicated group of volunteers successfully managing a site over 40 years.

During my 20 years of birding, I have only modestly dabbled in bird photography (with the same camera from the 2000s I’ve had since school), so when beginning to read this new RSPB book by Mark Carwardine I was curious to see how well it would read to a beginner such as myself, and whether it would inspire me to join the growing photographer community and to properly partake in this popular pastime. I was pleased by Mark’s clear message that you don’t need to travel to far-flung and exotic locations to take effective photographs. Focusing on your garden birds can offer a great source of enjoyment as well as a much more convenient opportunity to practise and hone your photography skills. As long as you remember a small number of core principles, there is nothing stopping you from taking professional-quality snaps from your doorstep. To emphasise this, the photographs in the book primarily come from Mark’s garden, and I particularly liked his inclusion of purposely-taken ‘bad’ shots, to reinforce his tips on what not to do when starting off. The pages are full of useful tactics to enhance your photography, as well as subtle tricks to make your photographs look as though they were taken during the all-too-brief ‘golden hours’ of the day, when natural light is at its best for taking effective shots. There is also a section on taking impressive photographs by producing your very own ‘artificial rain’ - though admittedly after the winter we’ve just had I think I’ll be passing on that particular trick for the foreseeable future! This book is certainly beginner-friendly, with Mark’s writing style coming across as a friendly mentor giving tips by your side. For those of you who are completely new, however, I would perhaps recommend reading the glossary at the back before commencing the book, as there might be some words and phrases that could be unfamiliar to you. I was also somewhat surprised not to see any diagrams of camera apparatus or accessories, though of course we have our phones and/or laptops to quickly look these up. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed this book and would highly recommend it to those wishing to explore and develop their photography skills. I certainly came to better appreciate the skill of taking good-quality shots which, like all hobbies, requires lots of practice and patience to master. With Mark’s helpful pointers, you’ll certainly get a head start, and I look forward to having them in mind myself when I’ll next have my camera while enjoying my garden birds.

As the title suggests, this book is presented as an atlas of the wildlife on our ‘Atlantic Archipelago’ from roughly 1519 to 1772. The term ‘wildlife’ covers a range of vertebrate species (from mammals to fish) together with a scatter of predominantly marine invertebrates, which together cover 151 species or grouped taxa. The mapped records and accompanying text draw on a few dozen key regional texts, largely produced by gentleman naturalists, such as Thomas Browne’s Notes and Letters on the Natural History of Norfolk, supported by material from a significant number of other sources. While the species accounts provide some fascinating insight into the challenges of securing an identification for a species from these historical sources, it is difficult to see the value of the maps or the statistical treatment of what are typically very sparse data. In some cases the maps are misleading; that for Grayling, for example, shows records at river level by shading every county with similar topography which that river runs through. With so few records, it might have been better to use some of the 398 pages to provide more detail on the sites mentioned within the original records. The attempts to provide information on the trend since 1772 for each species also feel unwarranted, largely because most of these simply say ‘uncertain’ or ‘probably increased/decreased’. In some cases it is difficult to see how the stated trend since 1772 aligns with data from other sources. How valid, for example, is the use of ‘No change’ for Eel, when there is documented evidence of Eel fisheries from the Domesday Book through to the 19th century, and a decline of c.70% in numbers since the 1970s in our remaining fisheries? The book provides valuable insight into how individual species were identified, named and viewed during the period of interest. You learn, for example, that the spelling ‘capercalze’ for Capercaillie in older texts stems from printers not having access to a separate character to represent the Older Scottish letter ‘yogh’ (derived from a ‘g’ but pronounced like a ‘y’). At times, however, the text sections are frustrating, either lacking additional detail on the records mentioned or including unhelpful and unsupported throwaway comments like ‘... possibly with a small year-round population in the Norfolk wetlands.’ (White Stork) and ‘It may have been a common vagrant.’ (Eagle Owl). Overall, this book feels like a missed opportunity. The period in question is of interest and importance to those looking to re-establish lost species, and I feel that had more of the book been devoted to exploring the individual records and the nature of the sources, then it would have been far more helpful in this regard. A more rigorous academic treatment, much like the approach adopted by Michael Warren in his Birds in Medieval English Poetry, would have delivered a more useful book. The sloppy unsupported statements and attempts to apply a statistical rigour to such sparse data suggests that a stronger editorial hand might have helped to steer this book to a more helpful place. Further evidence of this comes from things like the Great Grey Shrike account being accompanied by an obvious Red-backed Shrike illustration, and the Wheatear by what appears to be a Jay. This is a shame, particularly given the author’s clear knowledge of the central subject, as evidenced by their peer-reviewed publication record.