Of birds and birders

I have started reading a book by a Swiss biologist called Adolf Portmann about animals as social beings. It was written I think in the 1950s. He talks of how beneficial bird ringing was for the scientific study of birds.

For example, the first generation of Swiss ringers in the 1930s learned not only that Alpine swifts (Micropus melba) stay loyal to a particular mate but also that each pair returns to the same nest year after year following their long migration from Africa. This, of course, alerts us to the need to preserve established nest sites.

Somewhat synchronistically, I recently attended a ringing session. The group erected mist nets with the aim of catching swifts. They did indeed achieve their ambition.

Look at the size of those eyelashed eyes! The swift has feathers all the way down its legs to its feet!

They also caught house martins and swallows.

The first martin caught in the net was a juvenile. As it struggled, another bird repeatedly flew in close, as though seeking to rescue it - I think it was a parent. When the swift was being weighed and measured, its mate swooped about overhead.

All the work is done with great care and tenderness, but also quickly - so that the birds are not in human hands longer than necessary. These people, gathering information for databases, are passionate about the creatures they catch.

They are volunteers with variable levels of experience. Some with licenses, some in the process of learning. There is a level of extreme dedication - the time, the commitment... Many are engaged in other projects - like setting up video cameras on an island off Wales to film storm petrels. The man who did this was a TV cameraman. He is working with sound engineers to record the bird's calls as scientists at Nottingham University believe they all have individual calls. I met a teacher and a former policeman among the group. People from these two professions seem to figure in impressively high numbers amongst those who give their time freely.

One of the birders told me that she was a volunteer for the Wildlife Trust and was, as a result of that, offered a chance to attend a ringing session. She said, 'Once I held a blue tit in my hand, that was it. I was hooked. There is nothing like holding a bird in your hand.' I completely understood: I recalled holding the baby tits when Mischa invited Kate and me to do the rounds of the nest boxes; I recalled catching the baby gulls when I went out to the rafts with Dave; I recalled holding the juvenile crow. In all cases I was stunned by the close contact with life so different and yet, the same. With a being whose life - whose flight - I can never totally encompass in my imagination and yet whose drive to continue being is embodied with the same blood-bourne certainty as my own.

I was deeply moved by these people's love for birds. And the information they gain... Look, I approve of science. I saw no harm to birds - apart from a few hours of limited access to their nests and perhaps the temporary stress of being caught. We know, from ringed birds caught again, that they recover from the ordeal. What I saw were the actions of some of the most compassionate, thoughtful and considerate humans it has been my good fortune to meet.

At the same time, a part of me wonders how much we need to know in order to care? How much we need to touch? Or see, or photograph. What does all this knowledge do for the birds themselves? These people will seek to protect birds... and yet we are all implicated in industrial agriculture, transport, extraction, the demand for money to go into human research (e.g. cures for cancer) rather than environmental protection. And, when it comes down to it, clean water, suitable habitat, insect life, fewer tall buildings, darker nights - these are what matter for birds - not knowing how many of them there are. And none of us does (can do?) anything like enough to make a real difference to them.