The Physics of Birds & Birding uses birds as examples to explain how fundamental principles of physics shape what we see and hear. The book covers a wide range of topics, including classical mechanics (forces and motions), cell physiology (protein pumps), electromagnetic fields, waves and sound, colour (including the molecular origins of pigments), vision (how birds’ visual systems differ from ours) and aerodynamics of flight. It then connects these ideas to birding equipment such as binoculars and cameras, explaining the optics behind magnification, brightness, and resolution. It also covers acoustic recorders, showing how sound is captured, processed, and interpreted. As a result, this book will appeal most to scientifically-minded readers, as the links to birds are often quite tangential. That said, the final two chapters – on thermoregulation and flight – are more explicitly about birds, and in a field as vast and intensively studied as avian flight, the level of detail is pitched about right. Less successfully, some of the information elsewhere in the book is now dated. For example, the account of how raptors locate and target prey relies on earlier studies that have since been superseded, including ideas about spiral flight paths and the use of ultraviolet cues from vole trails. This material would have benefited from a brief update – something that could easily have been achieved with a modest review of more recent literature. Overall, the book treats birding as a starting point for exploring physics, rather than as a practical guide to observing birds in the field, and in doing so it effectively reveals the deeper connections that underpin the natural world. If you are comfortable with physics driving the narrative, then you will find this book an engaging read – it’s full of insights that will deepen a birder’s understanding and sense of wonder about the world around them.

South west Scotland is a region close to my heart; for much of my life it was little more than an hour’s drive away, and I would regularly head to its coasts, woodlands, and hills in search of relative peace, wildlife, and a sense of ‘wildness’. Now, living as I do in the flatlands of Norfolk, the rolling vistas of south-west Scotland seem like another world altogether. Ian Carter, by contrast, moved from the Cambridgeshire Fens to Devon, before retiring north to Galloway in 2022. A professional ornithologist of many years, his desire to find a place where nature was somehow less impacted by human presence drew him to this rather remote corner of the UK. This is a book not just about the often-spectacular wildlife of this nature-rich area, but also about the sheer joy of discovering a new place and how its varied habitats came to be. Ian Carter writes in the truly authentic voice of one who not only really understands nature but is constantly and positively overjoyed and awed by it. An ornithologist he may be, but he is also a skilled amateur enthusiast in all disciplines of natural history, from botany to geology. Human history looms large too, as he discusses the impacts of our presence on the land, from ancient to modern day. Despite much evidence of the hand of human intervention, Carter is still able to find and define the appeal of a less-manicured landscape when he writes of Galloway, “There may be no wilderness left, but there is ‘wildness’ here in abundance.” Few places on these islands can claim such distinction. The author’s joy in getting out and exploring, observing, and appreciating his new backyard oozes from the pages, and as I joined him on each glen, and beside every burn, I felt as though I was in the company of a great teacher, constantly learning something new. There is of course the ever-present reminder that our lands are not in as good a shape as they could be, for nature at least. But that doesn’t stop Carter from finding plenty to enthuse about. He sums this up neatly when he writes, “These days, if you are an ornithologist who aspires to learn the names of a few more wild flowers, if you enjoy walking through meadows where grasshoppers leap up from your feet with every step, if you want to watch myriad butterflies and bees skip from one plant to the next, or if you habitually snack on edible leaves or mushrooms as you walk, then it is to the one of these small surviving scraps of land that you must come.” Somewhat sandwiched between the double allure of the Lake District and the vast, rugged and classic Highland and Island landscapes to the north, Dumfries and Galloway is routinely overlooked by birders from south of the border. This corner of Scotland certainly deserves more attention, and this book will surely encourage more people to investigate its jagged beauty.

It’s always a thrill to see a Crossbill! I’ll never forget my first sighting of Common Crossbill (Loxia curvirostra), the species that we see most regularly in the UK. It was at Lawson’s Clump in Wareham Forest, Dorset. A flock of around 50 announced their presence with their loud, excitable calls, and they landed at the top of a tall conifer tree. There was a mixture of raspberry red males and bottle green females. It was fascinating to watch them as they fed on seeds from the conifer cones that this fascinating family of birds so relies upon. So, onto this book! In a nutshell (or perhaps in this case, a conifer cone shell, if there is such a thing!) it covers in detail how the different species of crossbill around the world have adapted to feeding on the type of conifer cone that it feeds on. Of course, in order to do this, crossbills are the only species of finches that have crossed mandibles, hence the name. This book explains why having a crossed mandible helps these sturdy finches to prise apart conifer cones in order to feed on the seeds within them. To help illustrate this point, I remember a few years ago when there was a significant irruption of crossbills to the UK. As well as good numbers of Common Crossbills in Thetford Forest near where I was living at the time, there were also small numbers of the more scarce Parrot Crossbill (L. pytyopsittacus) and Two-barred Crossbill (L. leucoptera). This was a real treat, as it provided the rare opportunity to study these two species. Although I didn’t think too much of it at the time, in comparison to Common Crossbill, the ‘Parrots’ had larger beaks and the ‘Two-barreds’ had smaller beaks. Now that I have read this book, I have a better understanding of why this is likely to be! To put it very simply, there are many different types of conifer trees across Europe. Therefore, different species of crossbills have adapted so that their beaks are the right shape and size to feed on their favourite type of conifer cones! This book is predominantly text, but there are several high quality images in it. If you are interested in finding out more about how crossbills, and other species for that matter, have adapted over the years to feed on their favourite foods, you need to read this book! As many of you will know, finches are a very well studied group of birds, mainly in relation to how they have evolved to fit their specific ecological niche. This book is a very welcome addition to that dynasty of research, as crossbills are such fascinating birds!

Clinging to the Edge is the story of one breeding season at the Beacon Ponds Little Tern colony on the North Sea coast in East Yorkshire. It offers an intimate portrait of these endangered birds, covering everything from foraging and breeding to predators and conservation. The book is written from one person’s perspective, that of Richard Boon who, as Chair of the Beacon Ponds Little Tern Project Management Committee, a volunteer for Spurn Observatory Trust as well as the RSPB and BTO, is best placed to write this 'how-to’ manual and insight in the sharp end of species conservation. Richard’s talent for writing anecdotes about the trials and tribulations of the colony and the detail that is given to the day-to-day monitoring, maintenance of electric fences and protecting the birds from predators such as grass snakes and otters, makes it a charming read. At 152 pages, the book is concise, comprised of monthly accounts spanning from April to August of the 2022 season. You gain a real sense of the area and the colony over this time frame and feel as though you are there, walking across the “ripples, bowls and ridges” of the beach near Spurn Point. This colony was first mentioned in text in John Cordeaux’s 1872 treatise Birds of the Humber District and so Clinging to the Edge continues a tradition of charting the journey of the Beacon Ponds colony. And with Little Tern numbers going the way of so many other species and declining in the UK, putting this knowledge to paper for prosperity is more important now than ever.

Robin Prytherch: A Life with Buzzards is a charming anthology of Buzzard scenes sketched by Robin Prytherch and sent out by him to his friends as Christmas cards between 1995 and 2020. These 26 drawings (copied from pen-and-ink drawings or pencil sketches) have been compiled and reproduced here for the first time, along with each year’s accompanying text on the reverse noting Robin’s observations about the single bird, pair, or family unit depicted in each scene. Robin Prytherch (1939–2021) is a well-known name synonymous with Buzzards, having spent over 40 years observing them in a small area of North Somerset, close to his home in Bristol. Although admittedly not a common Christmas card theme, the depth of his knowledge and understanding combined with the hand of a talented artist produced a set of drawings in which the individual personalities of the birds jump off the page. The species’ typical wide variation in plumage is also faithfully depicted, making it easy to match each image to the detailed explanatory description. Watching the birds over multiple decades enabled Robin to build up unparalleled view into their lives and behaviours. The sketches record their changing relationships, territories, fortunes and misfortunes: from Tess, the devoted mother, fledging a staggering 43 chicks over her lifetime, to Gos and his bigamous relationship spanning multiple years. The affection with which Robin held these birds is apparent on every page, making this short book a pleasant and informative read, giving both illustrated and written insight from an expert with real comprehension of Buzzard behaviour.

Dr Fionn Ó Marcaigh is a zoologist from Dublin, who received his PhD from Trinity College in 2023 for a thesis on the evolution of birds on islands. Encounters with Corvids is his first published book. Corvids are a much-maligned family of birds that rarely get much positive attention, and I must admit that I’ve never really looked at them myself in any detail before now. This book sets out to change the public perception of ‘crows’ and the author’s empathy towards the seven species of corvids that are found on the island of Ireland is clear, if anthropomorphic at times. Each chapter is superbly illustrated and devoted to a different species, interwoven with a mix of the author’s personal experiences, associated Irish folklore and some fascinating facts about each species. Who would have thought that the Magpie arrived in Ireland only in the late 17th century, given how common and widespread they are now, or that one of the few endemic taxa in Ireland is the subspecies Irish Jay? Corvids also feature often in Irish mythology, notably the Mórrígan (from the Irish ‘Great Queen’), a Celtic goddess of war, who could take the form of a Crow. This stemmed from these corvids’ habit of feeding on human remains left at battlefields, leading them to be associated with warfare. The common theme throughout the book is that corvids are intelligent birds that have adapted so well to the changing landscape of Ireland. Their ability to prosper across intensively managed farmland has led to Ireland having some of the highest densities of Magpie and Hooded Crow in Europe. The author encourages us to celebrate their success rather than treat them unfairly. Perhaps he has a point.

Endemic. It’s a word that conjures up imaginings of species only found in tropical rainforests or islands. As soon as I read the title of this book I was intrigued. Endemics in Britain. It’s something we don’t often think about. The author, conservationist James Harding-Morris, takes us on his personal journey to discover the species unique to our shores, joining experts working to save them along the way. The book covers species from different taxonomic groups, including plants, mammals, birds, invertebrates and fungi, making you eager to turn every page. The chapters are clearly laid out, so that you can easily dip in and out – however, before I knew it, I was 100 pages in! The language James uses to describe his adventures immerses you into the landscape too. From walks in Scottish pine forests in search of the Scottish Crossbill to meandering along rivers looking for the stonefly Northern February Red and squeezing through dark cave tunnels after the British Cave Shrimp. James is clearly knowledgeable and passionate about wildlife, a true naturalist in all that the word entails. His descriptions of the endemic species he encounters are detailed yet accessible – you can imagine them even if you have never heard of them before. I also appreciated the way James made the species themselves and the experts he met the stars of the work, with his knowledgeable and humorous narration the perfect compliment. There has clearly been a vast amount of research put into the text too. Did you know that the grass Interrupted Brome was declared globally extinct twice? James’ contribution to the fate of the endemics he encountered should also be applauded. From collecting seeds for cultivation to taking the first known photograph of the British False Flat-backed Millipede, James helped further to protect these species. He also raised the question about to what extent conservation is like a beauty contest. The cutest and most appealing species are historically favoured with funding and public support. He questions the perceptions of human value, and highlights the much needed effort to save many endemic species from extinction. Overall, it was a fascinating book, and one I’d recommend to nature enthusiasts. Well actually, to everyone. The work encapsulates the intriguing yet fragile nature of the natural world, and the role we have in its care. I also couldn’t help but wonder what other species there might be still to discover right here in Britain.

“I am not a memoirist” declares Nic Wilson at the start of her new book. But we do indeed learn a lot about her life in the ensuing 13 chapters, although some details are pieced together with help from other people’s memories, since her own have been lost. This loss emerges to be a result of the trauma of living with chronic illness – not just the author’s own, but her mother’s too. The book explores how women’s health in particular can be dismissed, and how damaging internalising this has been for the author. The book is not written chronologically. It flits back and forth, but along the way covers the author’s childhood, adolescence, university years, her career and her experience of motherhood. Nature is a theme throughout, often in terms of how her knowledge and experience of it has helped her cope with her illness. However, it does not only feature in that way – BTO volunteers might appreciate the account of her father’s nest recording, for example. We also accompany the author on a thorough exploration of the places she’s lived, learning about their ecologies and geologies, and former residents including naturalists and poets. I found I had to concentrate to fully follow the scope of the book, especially in the passages that venture into poetry, and the dreamlike sequences the author uses to convey her experience of pain, anxiety and dissociation. However, I did appreciate the contrast with other nature writing, which can be very expansive, while this focuses on the intimacy with which you can get to know a place, especially when confined by young children, or bedbound by illness. I hope writing this book has been a healing process for Nic Wilson.

In Bird School: A Beginner in the Wood, Adam Nicolson charts his journey to learn more about the natural world surrounding his home of over 30 years in the Sussex Weald. From the vantage point of the shed he built in a forgotten field, he takes the reader with him to ‘bird school’ – an exploration prompted by the sights and sounds of the bird life he encounters. Over the course of 13 chapters, he covers a huge amount of information: from individual species such as the Wren with whom he shares his shed for a time, to the broader concepts of migration, rewilding and human intervention. The book closes with a useful chapter on how to attract birds to your garden written by his wife, the horticulturalist Sarah Raven, and a roll-call describing the birds found in his part of Sussex, each with a QR code linking to the appropriate page on the Xeno-canto wildlife sounds website. I first encountered Adam Nicolson through his wonderful 2014 publication The Mighty Dead: Why Homer Matters, and his wide-ranging interests are evident throughout Bird School from classical references to Homer and the pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus to quotations from Shakespeare and Wordsworth. However, at the same time this is a well-researched book packed full of ornithological facts, backed up with data including population graphs adapted from BTO’s own Bird Trends Explorer. Bird School is a fascinating and easy-to-read book, which contains as much of interest to someone starting out with birds as for those who have been attending ‘bird school’ for some time.