Hoopoe – A blog by nhbs – The NHBS Conservation Hub

The NHBS Guide to UK Wasps

Often seen as mere picnic nuisances, the UK is home to a surprising variety of wasps, including both social and solitary species. While many of us will be familiar with the iconic black and yellow social wasps, numerous solitary species display incredible diversity in both form and behaviour. Distinguishing them can seem daunting, but key features like body shape, coloration, and reproductive behaviour can offer valuable clues.

Here, we’ll explore a selection of common wasp species, and some wasp families found across the UK, detailing their identifying characteristics and the typical habitats they can be found in.

**Common European Yellowjacket (*Vespa vulgaris***)

Common wasp DSC_5493_edited-1 by Clifton Beard, via flickr.

Identification: Between 11-19mm in length with striking black and yellow stripes. These social wasps have six abdominal sections, each with one stripe, and there is a very distinguished waist between the thorax and the abdomen, which has black dots and rings. The species has a conspicuous face on a triangular shaped head with a black anchor or dagger shaped mark towards the base, and a pair of long, robust antennae. They have yellow cheeks and yellow legs.

Distribution: Widespread throughout the UK. Common Social Wasps can be found in almost all habitats, particularly grassland, heathland and woodland from mid-March to November.

**Red Wasp (*Vespula rufa***)

Rote Wespe (Vespula rufa) by Frank Vassen, via flickr.

Identification: Growing up to 20mm in length, Red Wasps can easily be distinguished from V. vulgaris by reddish-brown markings on their upper back segments.

Distribution: Widespread, and frequently found in open woodland, moorland and hedge banks from the end of March until September.

**Hornet (*Vespa crabro***)

Identification: Hornets are Britain’s largest social wasp species. Around 15-35mm in size. The abdomen is yellow and unbanded, with brown markings on the upper parts, while the thorax is black and reddish-brown. Their legs are a reddish brown – a characteristic that can distinguish them from Asian Hornets – and antennae are yellow or brown in colour.

Distribution: Widespread distribution and commonly found throughout England and Wales. Hornets can be found in many lowland habitats and are known to associate with ancient woodland, wood pasture and can be found in parks and gardens in more urban areas. Queens emerge from overwintering in early April, while workers can typically be seen from late June to November.

**Yellow-legged Asian Hornet (*Vespa velutina***)

Asian hornet by Gilles San Martin, via flickr.

Identification: Typically smaller than native hornets, this invasive species can grow up to 3cm in length. Their abdomen is dark in colour with fine yellow stripes, and the fourth segment towards the base of the hornet is distinctly yellow orange in colour, while the thorax is entirely black or dark brown and appears velvety in texture. From the front, the head appears orange and the legs have yellow tips.

Distribution: Yellow-legged Asian Hornets were first recorded in England around 2016, after they were accidentally introduced from Asia. They have mostly been recorded in the south of England, particularly the South-east.

Wasp Families

The diversity of wasp families in the UK is vast and presents a significant identification challenge. In this blog, we have chosen to focus on a number of wasp families to demonstrate the wonderful diversity of this group.

Ichneumon Wasps

Sabre Wasp – Rhyssa persuasoria by Nature Spot. Ichneumon wasp by nutmeg66, via flickr. Barylypa propugnator by Nature Spot.

There are around 2,500 species of Ichneumon wasp in the UK. These small insects can vary in size but generally reach up to 1 ½ inches in length. They exhibit a wide range of colours and patterns, some with brightly coloured bands, and others with more subtle markings. Ichneumon Wasps can be distinguished by a slender sickle-shaped abdomen and a pair of long antennae, each with at least 16 segments. They have a narrow waist, long jointed legs and two pairs of wings. These parasitic wasps inhabit flower-rich meadows, gardens and woodland – they can often be seen around umbellifers or investigating vegetation and dead wood.

Gall Wasps

Oak Marble Gall by Nick Wood, via flickr.

The UK is estimated to have 86 Gall Wasps, a group of well-studied parasitic wasps. This group gets its name for a unique reproductive behaviour where adults lay eggs in the soft tissues of trees, flowers and other plants, creating a gall as the larva develop. Usually on the underside of leaves, branches and around acorns, these wasps produce conspicuous galls on their host plant – interestingly, they usually only infect a specific species of genus, for example, Citrus Gall Wasps will exclusively parasitise citrus trees. After overwintering, the larvae will emerge in spring and can be seen throughout summer. They are typically under 5mm in size, shiny, and are black or brown in colour with a humped thorax and wings.

Cuckoo Wasps

Crysis cf impressa close-cropped by Nigel Jones, via flickr. Chrysis fulgida by Ryszard, via flickr. Chrysis viridula by Tim Worfolk, via flickr.

Instantly recognisable by their brilliant metallic body colours in shades of blue, green, purple and red, these small chrysidids are also known as jewel or ruby tailed wasps. There are around 31 species of Cuckoo Wasp in the UK, which can be seen in sunny weather from April to October in a range of habitats; particularly in sandy soils around coastal areas, gardens and ancient woodlands. The group are often seen investigating the nests of other Hymenoptera species in order to reproduce – these parasitic species will enter the host nest and lay their own eggs in the host cells. Once hatched, Cuckoo wasp larvae will eat the eggs and larvae of the host species before restarting the cycle – hence the name ‘cuckoo’.

Author interview with Seán Ronayne: Nature Boy

An inspiring story of love, connection and the healing power of nature, author Seán Ronayne recounts his journey to record all the regularly occurring species of birds in Ireland. He also tells the stories of his adventures across the Sahara Desert, the jungles of Nepal, and the streets of Thailand, revealing the wonders of the natural world.

Seán Ronayne is an ornithologist and naturalist who was born in Cork, Ireland. He spent his childhood exploring the fields and woodlands around his hometown, before studying Zoology at University College Cork, followed by a Master’s in Marine Biology. He secured his first ornithology role in 2017, before relocating to Barcelona with his partner where he began recording local wildlife and birds in earnest. Upon their return to Ireland in 2020, Seán embarked on a project to record all of Ireland’s birds, some of which are on the cusp of extinction, and he now has only three species left to record.

We recently had the opportunity to speak to Seán about Nature Boy, including what first sparked his interest in nature, which equipment he uses for sound recording and more.

In your book, you talk about how nature has been a constant source of comfort and curiosity for you. Do you remember when the natural world first began to resonate with you? Was there a key event which sparked your interest?

Yes! I have two standout moments, both of which are particularly special in different ways. I was a very active child, and I really mean that. I was always on the go, and if I couldn’t be on the go, I was wriggling, squirming, and crying – longing to be free. My father quickly learned that a foray into nature was the cure. He would take me to our local nature reserve and imitate the sounds of all the wildlife around us. I would belly laugh at his attempts and give him my best guess. It was a great game to me, but it was also an education in disguise – Dad was teaching me to listen to nature, and to get to know my neighbours by ear.

The other is my first memory of a bird. I was very young, around 2 years old off the top of my head, and the bird was pointed out to me by my Dad’s father – Pops. He loved birds too. I’ll never forget that first view of a magpie, with its regal pied plumage, draping long tail, and green and purple shimmying iridescence. Pops died not long after. I did not understand, but today, every time I see a magpie I see Pops, smile and thank him for the journey he sent me on.

Can you share with us what equipment you use for recording and what your decision process was for selecting it?

I am not a technical sound-recordist. I follow my ears, and my heart, and then I record the sounds that call to me with whatever tools I have at my disposal. I learned my skills through trial and error (mostly through error), but you know the phrase – even a broken-down clock is right twice a day! For isolating birds and getting a close intricate recording, I use a Dodotronic Hi-Sound parabolic reflector, paired with a second-hand Olympus LS-12 recorder – the Nokia 3210 of the sound recording world. To capture really intimate moments, or for longer, all weather deployments, I used a Song Meter Mini II. The sound is superb, and the device can be hidden easily, allowing birds to approach close and whisper into the mics unbeknownst to themselves. This provides intimate chitter-chatter I’d never otherwise get the opportunity to capture, and the Song Meter runs for weeks and can survive all manner of weather conditions! I guess these two pieces are my go-to tools.

Bioacoustics is one of the fastest-growing industries in the ecological sector. Are there any technological advances you’d like to see in this field?

I am really happy with where it’s at, to be honest! I can see that AI software to auto-identify birds is being worked on, but I don’t really care for that. I absolutely adore pouring through raw audio with a fine-tooth comb myself. In doing so, I enter that world, and I learn so much – a fast summary response kills the magic and learning for me. Perhaps others will disagree with me, but for my needs I am happy with where the technology is at, and the constant need for ‘progress’ in today’s world has a lot to answer for in terms of ecological, climate, and planetary degradation, after all.

While watching your documentary, I was very moved by your recording of the last known pair of Ring Ouzels in Ireland. Can you describe what it felt like to capture that moment, knowing you were recording a piece of history?

It was utterly devastating, and highly stressful. We’re talking about a bird that has been visiting our uplands each summer for hundreds, even thousands of years, wiped out in a heartbeat, with the majority of people not even knowing it existed at all. The stress came into the equation because I felt a strong desire, responsibility even, to capture its voice to show people the sonic beauty of what we are erasing, and what we need to stand up and fight for. With just one known pair remaining I was unsure if I had time to give this bird a voice, and if I didn’t capture it I’d have been doubly devastated – I’d have felt like I left it down, leaving it to die out in silence, unheard and forgotten. That did not happen though, at least.

Birdsong seems to have the ability to engage and move people in a way that perhaps other facets of nature don’t. Why do you think this is?

Well, I think it’s hard not to love it, isn’t it? Birdsong is nature’s melody! The dawn chorus is nature’s orchestra. It’s always there, it’s such a treat to listen to and it’s completely free. We have evolved in tandem with it. We hear birdsong, and everything is right with the world…we don’t hear birdsong, and something has gone terribly wrong. Right? A forest has been felled, a river has been covered, a bog has been drained, a city has enveloped, a motorway has drowned it out.

In your book, you talk about the importance you placed on your first bird ID guide as a child. Do you have any go-to books for bird identification?

This is easy – the Collins Bird Guide (the bible), and of course the legendary Sound Approach collection.

With your recent book, tour and documentary, you’ve made a real push to engage with the public and remind them of the natural world. What do you hope people take from your work?

I just hope that people realise how inexplicably beautiful, educational, nourishing, wondrous, and ever-giving nature is. But I also need them to know that it’s in freefall. Because of our own very actions. And inactions. My work is a call to arms, with hope and beauty being my primary weapons – with a brief but sharp slap of loss and despair. The latter is necessary, but it is my secondary weapon. Love and hope outgun loss and despair always.

You currently only have 3 species left to record to complete your mission to record every Irish bird. Do you have any plans for afterwards?

Of course. I will be on this journey for as long as I’m gifted time on this earth. Recording all of these birds was never intended to be a tick and run exercise. Every time I listen to a given species or individual I learn something new. I capture a new voice. The more I listen, the more I realise how little I know. And that’s gorgeous, isn’t it!? This is what I mean when I say that nature is ever-giving. And to answer you in more direct terms, I fully intend to write more, and to work on more film projects. I’ll also tour my talks, stories and sounds until people have had enough of me, which I hope never happens (haha)!

Nature Boy: A Memoir of Birdsong and Belonging by Seán Ronayne is published by Hachette Books Ireland in Trade Paperback and is available from nhbs here.

Author interview with Trevor Dines on Urban Plants

The 15^th volume in the insightful British Wildlife Collection is this timely and illuminating journey into the wild lives of Urban Plants. In this book, Trevor Dines explores the floral species that pioneer our pavements and walls, break ground in our towns and cities and strive to connect corridors for pollinating invertebrates through our built-up landscapes. Trevor also looks to the future and the potential impacts of invasive species, herbicides and climate change, as well as the concept of urban rewilding.

Trevor Dines, a farmer’s son from Hampshire, co-authored the New Atlas of the British and Irish Flora, mapping every native and naturalised plant in these islands. A campaigner for better management of road verges and lawns and the creation of wildflower meadows, he appears regularly on the Radio 4 Today programme, BBC Breakfast and Countryfile. Trevor also presented Channel 4’s Wild Things and wrote the accompanying book The Wild Things: Guide to the Changing Plant Life of the British Isles.

We recently had the pleasure of asking Trevor more about why and how he came to write Urban Plants

Firstly, can you tell us a little about yourself and how you came to write the 15th volume in the renowned British Wildlife Collection?

I was incredibly lucky to grow up on two farms -one in Wiltshire and another in Hampshire -where I developed a deep passion for wild plants. I’d spend hours searching dad’s fields for rare arable flowers like Venus’s-looking-glass and Rough Poppy, as well as orchids on the chalk downland. After leaving Bangor University with a PhD in plant architecture, I worked for the Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland, co-authoring the New Atlas of the British and Irish Flora (2002). This is when I really got to know our flora, travelling the length and breadth of the country meeting plants and the network of incredibly talented plant recorders that are so happy to share their knowledge. For 20 years I then worked for Plantlife – the plant conservation charity – in particular championing the creation of wildflower meadows, the better management of road verges, and changing attitudes towards lawns through the invention of No Mow May.

During this time, I also presented a Channel 4 TV series (Wild Things) that showed how and why plants are changing their distributions around Britain and Ireland. This led to more work in the communications side of things at Plantlife, something I’ve always had a passion for because it’s such an important element of conservation. This was an exciting time, with appearances on BBC Countryfile, BBC Breakfast and Gardeners’ World, as well as many local radio and newspaper interviews and writing articles for magazines. Katy Roper, Commissioning Editor at Bloomsbury Wildlife, became aware of my work through an item I’d written about the spread of Oxford Ragwort and invited me to consider writing a book on urban plants for the series. I was, of course, thrilled at the prospect, and threw myself into the project in 2022 when I became a freelance botanist.

Flowers in a Conwy street by Trevor Dines

My favourite excerpt from the book was hearing about the newly established population of Lesser Tongue-orchids thriving on the roof of a large city bank. Do you have a favourite, but possibly less well-known, urban botanical enclave you can share with us?

I particularly enjoy finding mundane or even rather grotty places with completely unexpected plants. Between a footbridge and the railway into my local town, Conwy, for example, there’s a thin sliver of fallow waste ground that’s home to a very bizarre mix of plants. Alongside the usual suspects like Buddleja and Oxford Ragwort, bright pink Pyramidal Orchid and Zigzag Clover push up between clumps of Pampas Grass, an increasingly invasive garden escape from South America. And, for the last few years, Iris reticulata × histrioides ‘George’ has also flowered here, the only place in Britain where it’s known to be established outside gardens. Tantalisingly, all these plants are unreachable behind a metal fence, adding another level of challenge for the urban botanist.

There has been a sad decline in the number of higher education courses offering botany as an option. However, with the news of the natural history GCSE coming this year, how would you integrate uUrban botany into the course as a way to encourage future botanists?

Urban botany is unique in being accessible to everyone, everywhere. You don’t need to travel to a nature reserve, a woodland, a meadow or other special place to engage with it – it’s quite literally right there on your doorstep. This makes it an ideal subject for the new GCSE, and there are lots of opportunities. Students could look at the phenology of flowering through the year, counting the number of flowers in a given area from the first Dandelions and Groundsel of the year to Herb-Robert and Red Dead-nettle at Easter, and finally Red Valerian and Purple Toadflax before the end of term. Or they could study local walls, seeing how the vegetation varies according to building materials and the direction the wall faces. Or they could look at the impact of footfall on pavements, with fewer plants in areas having most pedestrian traffic. The important thing is that urban plants are fascinating because every species has a story to tell; I love the reaction from kids when you tell them that germinating seeds of Shepherd’s-purse actually kill nematodes to help them survive. It helps bring their environment alive (unless you’re a nematode!).

Iris reticulata x histrioides 'George' by Wendy McCarthy — Iris reticulata x histrioides ‘George’ by Wendy McCarthy

Rewilding is a hot topic in conservation and biodiversity, and No Mow May is a growing campaign many partake in. Can we ‘rewild’ our immediate environment with this changing mindset to benefit urban plants and biodiversity?

I’m glad you’ve put ‘rewild’ in quotes, as it’s become such a diluted phrase – it now seems to cover any conservation action, from planting wildflowers in a window box to reintroducing beavers. Rewilding in its original form (the reintroduction of charismatic mammals to kick-start natural processes) is very difficult to do in urban areas because habitats are so fragmented and anthropogenic pressures are so high. As engaging as they are, I’m afraid beavers can’t do much to improve the diversity of life in the built environment.

But for many people, rewilding simply means reining back on the intensity of management (or even abandoning management at all) and just letting things grow, seed and recover. And in this case, yes, it’s what the urban environment desperately needs. As the creator of the No Mow May campaign, it’s fantastic to see how this approach has captured people’s imaginations and encouraged us to put the mower away, hopefully not just for May but the whole of summer. The results can be spectacular, with orchids appearing on lawns and mini-meadows with carpets of White Clover, Selfheal, Bird’s-foot-trefoil and buttercups.

Urban biodiversity is all about the tension between our desire for control – an environment kept ‘neat and tidy’ through the use of herbicides, mowing and strimming – and our desire for something wilder. We are, I think, still exploring this relationship, trying to become more comfortable with ‘messier’ streets. Many towns and cities are relaxing their use of herbicides and allowing more vegetation to grow, but then often face a backlash from the neat-and-tidy brigade. Hopefully, as is the case in much of Europe, we’ll become more relaxed in the future and begin to embrace more flowers on our streets in the future.

You discuss how the successional stages of our urban landscape provide a unique opportunity for plants from around the world, which is a win for cosmopolitan biodiversity. What can we learn as individuals from the resilience of this vast array of plant life?

I think botanists inherently appreciate that diversity is not just a good thing, but the very foundation of resilience. Each species has its own suite of unique characteristics that help it survive – be it tolerance of drought or pollution, the ability to set seed within just a few weeks, or a particularly successful method of dispersal – and building communities of plants with these different traits helps them survive the intense stresses of the urban environment. We humans are just the same; we are all different, we all have different skills and talents, and we all bring something unique to the party. And if we come together and draw strength from our diversity, we’re much more likely to cope with the everyday stresses of urban life.

Finally, what’s taking up your time at the moment? Are there any other projects you’re working on that we can hear about?

I’m currently working for the Species Recovery Trust, a small but brilliant charity that’s dedicated to the long-term survival and recovery of a suite of highly threatened species. Alongside traditional conservation subjects like Field Gentian and Forked Spleenwort, I’ve just started working on Welsh Groundsel (Senecio cambrensis) – a hybrid between Oxford Ragwort and Common Groundsel. This unique endemic species is only found in north Wales where it grows along pavement edges, roadside hedgerows and on waste ground, usually in urban settings. Unfortunately, it’s fallen victim to the neat-and-tidy brigade, having been lost from dozens of sites due to herbicides and strimming. It’s now only known from five places and is on the brink of extinction, so we have a lot of work to do to bring it back. But I relish this sort of challenge and hopefully we can recover some lost populations in the next few years.

Welsh Groundsel plant beside Chirk Council Office by Trevor Dines

Urban Plants by Trevor Dines is volume 15 of the British Wildlife Collection published by Bloomsbury in Hardback and is available from nhbs here.

This Week in Biodiversity News – 9th July 2025

Wildlife

Proposal to reintroduce Eurasian Lynx to Northumberland
A draft proposal for a trial reintroduction of Eurasian Lynx to Kielder Forest, Northumberland has been released by the Lynx UK Trust. The organisation ‘s previous application to reintroduce lynx to the same site in 2018 was rejected by then incumbent environment secretary Michael Gove. He cited the proposal’s failure to properly address the ‘social feasibility’ of reintroduction as reason for rejection. A trial release of lynx may be ecologically feasible but concerns relating to the potential of sheep predation persist. Tony Juniper of Natural England has stated that are introduction of lynx “should be looked at” but “we need more engagement to understand how communities that would be living with these animals would be able to continue with what they do”. Paul O’ Donohue, CEO of the Lynx UK Trust, believes that further attempts to engage farmers and stakeholders would be a waste of time, stating “sheep farmers will never change their position on lynx reintroduction, making more calls for more engagement utterly futile”. Meanwhile, Lynx for Scotland, a separate charitable organisation has coordinated a 100page report which seeks to address the concerns of farmers and other stakeholders, they hope to release a substantiated proposal in the future if social and ecological feasibility for lynx reintroduction can be established.

Environment

Peatland Protection
Danes Moss, a lowland raised bog on the outskirts of Macclesfield, is among the scarcest and most threatened habitats in the UK. The carbon storage capacity of the deep peat is invaluable and the open bogland hosts a biodiverse flora and fauna. With disregard to the habitat’s ecological significance, the peatland continues to be targeted as a site for housing development.

A recent planning application from Cheshire East Council has been withdrawn following a campaign from the Danes Moss Trust. CEC have cited ‘incompatibility with its climate and peatland policy’ as reason for the turnaround. The withdrawal has been positively received but campaigners and stakeholders remain braced for a revised proposal. If passed without amendment, ‘part 3’ of the proposed Planning and Infrastructure Bill could make it easier for developers to build on Sites of Special Scientific interest (SSSI) such as this.

Wet Farming

The Fens, Cambridgeshire was once Britain’s largest wetland and has been almost completely drained to facilitate traditional ‘dry’ agriculture and the growth of cereal crops. The Great Fen, between Peterborough and Huntington, represents part of a peatland restoration project within the Fen county and along with four other sites across Europe, has been selected for a wet farming or ‘paludiculture’ trial.
Under the project banner of ‘PaluWise’, the wet farming operation will run for four years under close monitoring. It aims to establish whether rewetted peatlands can be agriculturally productive whilst retaining the biodiversity and carbon storage capacity unique to wetlands.

Policy

UN Ocean Summit 2025
Representatives from nearly 200 countries met in Nice, France to discuss marine protection. The summit has culminated in fifty countries ratifying the High Seas Treaty, an international agreement to conserve and sustainably use high seas which lie outside of national jurisdiction. The fast tracking of the treaty has been welcomed as a positive development but significantly China and the US have not agreed to ratify.
Commitments made at the summit represent a small step in the right direction but silence from global superpowers and a litany of feeble sentiments like Emannuel Macron’s announcement that France will “limit” bottom trawling and seek to protect just 4% of its metropolitan waters- shows that we are a far cry from meeting marine protection targets.
A study from Dynamic Planet has suggested that 85 Marine Protected Areas (MPAs) would need to be notified every day if there is any chance of meeting the 30 x 30 target (an agreement to protect 30% of land and sea by 2030). This figure increases with every passing day of inaction.

Book review: King Tyrant

***** Sets the standard for what good popular science can be

When Princeton University Press announced King Tyrant, I was beyond excited. Whether it is pterosaurs, palaeoart, or the Crystal Palace dinosaurs; whatever palaeontologist and palaeoartist Mark Witton writes on has been brilliant so far, and King Tyrant very much continues that tradition. Do not let the pretty pictures fool you; this is not a children’s book but a grounded, fact-based overview of the scientific consensus on all things Tyrannosaurus rex, combined with numerous informative diagrams and Witton’s gorgeous palaeoart. The execution of this book sets the standard for what good popular science can be and is a model that other authors and publishers can aspire to.

Even if you know nothing about dinosaurs, T. rex is the one name you will recognise, such is the fame of this extinct animal. Surely, books about it are a dime a dozen? In a recent interview on the Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs podcast, Witton pointed out that, surprisingly, this is not the case. Hone’s book covered the family at large, but, aside from two technical books in recent decades, the last popular treatment was Horner & Lessem’s book in 1993. That might just as well be prehistory, given how much research has advanced and how many more fossils have been found since then. This is a clear case of Witton writing the book that he wanted to read.

Given how frequently the name T. rex crops up, you might even get a bit annoyed: not you again! All the more reason to read this book. Witton is acutely aware that a veritable subculture has grown up around this one species that “sits, sometimes uncomfortably, on the boundary between science and sensationalism” (p. 1). These popular depictions, often carrying with them an air of scientific authority, bleed into people’s consciousness, creating something less of a dinosaur and more of a chimaera, with traits both exaggerated and fictional. One of Witton’s most important goals with King Tyrant is to “deconstruct hype and controversy” (p. 41). The first chapter daringly combines a précis of the first century of research with an examination of the sociological side. How did this particular species become palaeontology’s rock star? It is a fascinating history that starts at the American Museum of Natural History who promoted it to attract large crowds. It was “proverbial lightning in a bottle” (p. 278), with an influential legacy that lasts to this day in movies, documentaries, and merchandise. And yet, popular depictions “have nothing on what science tells us about the reality of Tyrannosaurus rex” (p. 279).

The bulk of the book thus explores what the science actually shows. The remaining six chapters flow logically into each other: the definition and taxonomy of the species; internal and external anatomy; physiology, growth, sensory biology, locomotion, etc. (i.e., what all this anatomy might have been capable of); ecology and behaviour; and extinction. Indeed, the writing is one of the two highlights of this book. Witton strikes that fine balance between going into quite some technical detail and yet keeping it entertaining. The result is a well-grounded and accessible summary of the scientific consensus on numerous topics.

T. rex, more than any other species, attracts a lot of fringe ideas from inside and outside of academia, and Witton leaves no rock unturned. On the one hand, there are the minority views and “non-troversies” (thanks Witton, I am stealing that brilliant term) that get far too much airtime, such as the existence (or not) of a dwarf species, “Nanotyrannus“, or the scavenging hypothesis, the notion that T. rex was a scavenger rather than a hunter. Needless to say, neither idea curries much favour among professionals. On the other hand, actual scientific debates are often ignored by the press. Opinions are divided on whether dinosaurs were already on their way out before the asteroid impact or were still in their prime. Witton provides the best overview of this topic that I have read so far.

In The Future of Dinosaurs, Hone pointed out the frequent disparity between what people *think* we know, and what we actually know – and plenty of examples of this feature here. Some confident depictions are almost completely fictitious. The trope of the roaring T. rex leads to the question of whether dinosaurs as a group vocalised at all! This is not “overzealous scientific conservatism” (p. 159); we have found, all told, one whole fossilised voice box. The ensuing discussion on the evolution of vocalisation in birds, dinosaurs, and other reptiles shows the complexities and competing scenarios. The opposite also holds: there are topics where the general public does not realise just how much palaeontologists know, such as the anatomy of T. rex‘s face or its remarkable growth pattern with age.

The other highlight of this book is the illustrations, both the artwork and the diagrams. Witton is an accomplished palaeoartist who cares deeply about the scientific accuracy of his artwork. We thus get modern depictions of dinosaurs with fleshy lips and bulky muscles. Each of these paintings is worthy of a frame, and it is hard to pick favourites. The book’s cover, showing T. rex rumbling a closed-mouth vocalisation (a behaviour seen in modern birds and reptiles), is, in my opinion, one of the best pieces he has ever made. The azhdarchid pterosaur stalking a juvenile T. rex on page 250 is also instantly memorable. Even when the subjects are cliché, such as T. rex near erupting volcanoes or the K–Pg impactor streaking across the sky, Witton’s depictions are visually arresting. Labelled photomontages show T. rex‘s “raw osteological charisma” (p. 4), and include detailed close-ups that help you form a mental picture of what all those anatomical bits look like. Equally important are the numerous informative diagrams littered throughout the book. Witton has gone to the painstaking effort of redrawing every one of them, in the process modifying and adapting them as necessary. Instead of a mishmash of styles, ages, production values, and extraneous details, the illustrations are presented in a single unified style. It will have been a huge amount of work for something that most authors and editors would probably consider nominal gains, but it shows his attention to detail, and I, for one, rate this very highly.

King Tyrant is an instant classic: I do not even care that much for T. rex per se, but the book’s brilliant execution immediately lands it a spot in my top 5 for 2025. A compulsory buy for dinosaur enthusiasts, this book is also a valuable overview for professional palaeontologists and an inspirational example of what excellent science communication looks like.

Author interview with Michael J Warren: The Cuckoo’s Lea

Weaving together early literature, history and ornithology, The Cuckoo’s Lea takes the reader on a journey into the past to contemplate the nature and heritage of ancient landscapes. It explores the stories behind our placenames, alongside historical accounts of bird encounters thousands of years ago, their hidden secrets, the nature of places and more.

Michael J. Warren is a naturalist and nature writing author who teaches English at a school in Chelmsford. He was an honorary research fellow at Birbeck Colledge, curates The Birds and Place Project, and is a series editor of Medieval Ecocriticisms. We recently had the opportunity to speak to Michael about The Cuckoo’s Lea, including how he first became interested in birding, what he discovered throughout his research for this book and more.

Firstly, can you tell us a little bit about yourself, and how you became interested in birds and birding?

Professionally I do many different things, but birds, the natural world, conservation and environmentalism are central to all of it. I’m an English school teacher as well as an academic working in the environmental humanities (my PhD was on birds in medieval poetry), so literature, language and history are always intertwined with my love of nature and nature writing. I was formerly chair of the New Networks for Nature group and am currently a trustee for the charity Curlew Action, where I advise on education as it relates to the forthcoming Natural History GCSE.

I’ve been into birds and birding for as long as I can remember, having been encouraged by my uncle and aunt who are both keen naturalists themselves, but most of all I was inspired by my parents as they did one of the best things I think any parent can do for a child – they educated me in the great outdoors. By which, I meant that all our holidays were in various wild locations across the UK, involving ramshackle cottages in remote valleys and by secluded rivers, from which my brothers and I were free to roam, exploring and playing each morning. I have a deep passion for British landscapes and wildlife, and I am who I am today because of those early experiences. They shaped me profoundly, and I’m now trying to do the same with my two daughters (which is working so far, but they’re still young and impressionable right now!)

What inspired you to write a book on the history of place names with avian origins?

Initially this idea came from my academic research on birds in medieval literature and culture. When I started to explore the presence of bird species in place names – in the realm of medieval studies by default as most English place names are Old English in origin and can be traced back to the Middle Ages – I was astounded by just how many there were. I knew there was something really fascinating to examine, including what these names could tell us about people’s ecological knowledge and relationships over one thousand years ago. Every name is a story.

One of my reviewers has kindly described The Cuckoo’s Lea as a ‘Rosetta stone for our ecological knowledge’, but it’s the place-names that are the stone. They provide us with a portal into the imagination of early people who were encountering and interacting with these environments. I realised that placenames were the perfect subject for my first narrative nonfiction book as it combines birds, landscapes, medieval history and ecological history, while also providing the opportunity for me to travel to different places, experience them first hand, and collate all these elements into a personal narrative with broad appeal.

Eurasian Cranes at St. Benets Abbey by Nick Goodrum, via Flickr

Each chapter focuses on a different location and species across the UK. How did you decide which areas to focus on and which of the many species that reside there to highlight?

I went back to the drawing board a lot with that one!

I wrote this book alongside becoming a father: six years of raising two daughters through those early years combined with six years of research, travel, and writing at 4am in the morning because that was the only way to carve out writing time until I got my book deal with Bloomsbury. As such, practicality determined a lot of it – I travelled to locations I could feasibly reach within my budget (at one point we were living on my part-time salary and my wife’s statutory maternity pay) and the restricted time available. Under other circumstances I would have liked to have travelled farther afield for the book – to Ireland, for instance.

My selection was also determined by the range of species that I thought would most appeal to readers. So, although there’s a danger of over-featuring certain birds in nature writing, I knew I had to include cuckoos, cranes and nightingales in the book because everyone loves them! These three species were also popular in medieval culture too, so it made sense to feature them, and I lived in Cranbrook (Kent) for most of the time I was writing the book, so that provided an obvious starting point.

I also thought hard about the range of ideas I wanted to explore relating to how birds evoke and define place for us and allowed this to lead me towards particular birds and/or places. For instance, I wanted to write about the soundscape of birds as a phenomenon that both animates or shapes place – a recurring idea in the book. This meant that owls became important as, to me, they exemplify this enthralling idea that our ancestors naturally and happily recognised bioacoustics as distinguishing properties of a place’s atmosphere. Finally, and again practically, it was also imperative to have some geographical range to my adventures so any reader would be able to read about somewhere in their home county or a nearby county.

What was the most surprising discovery you made whilst researching this book?

I think it was the sheer number of species represented in Old English placenames.

I don’t think you would expect birds to turn up so frequently in placenames, given that you’d want a place-marker or identifier to be reliably solid, present and static – and birds don’t tend to remain static much of the time. Some of the species that can be found in our placenames, such as swallows and cuckoos, aren’t even in Britain for much of the year! On this basis, wrens, buntings, snipe, dunnocks and sparrows aren’t species I expected to find.

There’s also nowhere that really matches the range of species in English placenames. Gaelic does have a good range across both Ireland and Scotland, but it’s difficult to trace the origins of the names beyond the 19th or 18th centuries as the cultures were oral, so names often weren’t recorded until the first OS maps were produced.

On the flip side, I was also surprised by the species that aren’t in our place-names – nightingales, for instance. This species was highly prominent and celebrated in both medieval art and poetry, and would have been much more populous than they are today, so how is it that they didn’t find their way into placenames? (That doesn’t stop me having a chapter on nightingales, by the way.) The same goes for corncrakes. There was an Old English name for the bird, and their calls would have undoubtedly been an unavoidable and loud sound of summer throughout the land. Herons only appear once or twice, and, perhaps most surprisingly, the robin (or ruddock in Old English) doesn’t feature at all!

Cuckoo at Thursley Common by Alan Shearman, via Flickr

Finally, can you tell us what you’re working on at the moment?

Right now, I’m focused on making a success of The Cuckoo’s Lea!

Alongside booking readings, signings and talks, I’m also creating a website titled The Birds and Place Project (birdsandplace.co.uk) which aims to record the birdsong of all the species mentioned in English placenames – which is quite an undertaking! It will be a lifelong project as I’d like to extend it beyond England and the English language to include other countries and languages found across Britain and Ireland. I see it as an extension of my book; and as a site for anyone to find out about this fascinating, but currently little-known, aspect of our natural history and heritage.

Beyond that, I’ve got my eye on my second book, provisionally titled Hibernal: The Obsessions of a Justified Winter Lover. I’m a serious winter fanatic, so I’ve known for some time that my second book will be a meditation on my favourite season. It will be an emotional and personal journey into my obsession with winter, including encounters with those living and surviving the season in the far north, as well as those who can’t stand winter and suffer terribly in the darkness and cold. Plus, it will highlight historical stories about the importance of winter, how previous times and cultures coped with it, and discuss how winter as a season is changing because of climate change. I don’t think there’s much chance of me commencing this book in 2025, but then again, if this book is going to take me another six years, I can’t waste a single winter…

The Cuckoo’s Lea is available here