Archive – Page 2 – Hoopoe

Author Q&A: Clive Slater, Peter Mundy, and Ray Williams – John Henry Gurney: a passion for birds

Many books have been written about notable names in the world of natural history, with the likes of Darwin and Wallace being the first that come to mind. Digging a little deeper in areas such as ornithology will uncover names that aren’t as well known and yet still made significant contributions to the field. Uncovering almost 30 species of birds that were previously unknown to science, John Henry Gurney was a founding member of the British Ornithologists’ Union in 1859, while focusing on the identification of birds of prey. Large collections of letters written by Gurney to Alfred Newton are held by Norfolk County Council in the Norfolk Archive Centre, and others to his family members are in the Library of the Society of Friends in Euston, London. Now a deeply researched biography about the man, his personal life and his contributions to cataloguing nature is being published by John Beaufoy Publishing.

NHBS managed to bring the co-authors together to answer a few questions about the book and uncovering the history of a man seemingly forgotten by the world of ornithology.

How did you first come across John Henry Gurney, and why did you decide to write this biography?

As co-authors of this biography, we (Clive Slater, Peter Mundy and Ray Williams) have combined our three quite different perspectives of John Henry Gurney. Almost 50 years ago, Ray commenced research on a bio-bibliography of the Victorian publisher John Van Voorst (1804-1898) and has published many accounts of the books that Van Voorst produced. One of them, in 2008, concerned Gurney’s Descriptive Catalogue of the Raptorial Birds in the Norfolk and Norwich Museum – Part I. Discovering that Gurney was occupied from 1857 to 1864 in producing Part I but that he never completed the project prompted the obvious question of “why?” Further investigations revealed his misfortunes of the 1860s, including his wife’s elopement, an inevitable divorce, and his entanglement in the notorious financial crash of Overend & Gurney for which the directors were tried for fraud (but acquitted).

When Peter was studying vulture specimens in the bird collection at the Natural History Museum at Tring for his PhD, he noticed some with Norwich Castle Museum labels. Then, much later, having bought a copy of Gurney’s 1884 account of raptors in the Norfolk and Norwich Museum, he realised what a huge collection it must have once been. He asked Clive, his ornithologist friend from university days in the 1960s and now a Norwich resident, to investigate. Apparently, none of the original specimens were present, which sparked their quest to discover more about Gurney and the fate of his remarkable collection. Since so little of his work seemed to have been remembered, Peter and Clive decided that it deserved wider recognition and so set about writing a biography. Since Ray’s 2008 paper on Gurney’s Descriptive Catalogue of the Raptorial Birds had come to Clive’s attention, contact was made, and thus came about our decision to join forces, Clive and Peter contributing as ornithologists, and Ray as a historian and bibliographer.

For those unfamiliar with Gurney, could you briefly tell us a bit about him and his work?

Gurney was born in 1819 and raised among the famous Norfolk family of wealthy Quaker bankers, also well known as philanthropists or promulgators of the Quaker faith, not only in Britain, but also in America. After education at a Quaker school, he entered the family bank in Norwich. He had started collecting bird specimens from an early age and this interest developed into journal publications. From 1853, he made collecting and writing about raptors his speciality. Simultaneously, he was receiving and publishing on bird specimens supplied by collectors in southern Africa. These two threads dominated his life’s ornithological work. However, John Henry fell for a cousin, Mary Jary Gurney who was an Anglican, and he was therefore, upon his marriage to her, disowned by his co-religionists, as was the current Quaker convention.

Nevertheless, he did not abandon the principles of his upbringing and was assiduous in his commitments to his banking career, his public service as an MP and JP and his philanthropy. Though his additional personal ornithological research resulted in a constant and considerable workload, what is truly astonishing is his determination and strength of mind in continuing his bird work throughout a series of tragic misfortunes during the 1860s. His research procedures were constant throughout his life, meticulously documenting external morphology of as many specimens as possible, while accurately recording geographical distributions. He was not a theorist, however, and dealt only in facts as he recorded them. Although best known for his studies of the world’s birds of prey, Gurney’s wide zoological interests also embraced the birds, fishes, amphibians, reptiles, mammals and marine invertebrates of his home county of Norfolk, which he supplemented with fascinating accounts of historical manuscripts.

What were the greatest challenges you faced when writing this biography?

The research itself was, of course, naturally difficult and time consuming, involving numerous visits to libraries, archives and museums by all of us. The access to archival material in private and public collections of books and specimens in the UK and southern Africa was challenging and required much logistic planning. Covid lockdowns hampered access to libraries and museum collections. On several occasions when reviewing progress, we found that the vast amount of information gleaned had to be severely edited in order to keep below the agreed word limit.

A significant challenge, therefore, was not any difficulty in finding enough information, but was how to select the most important facts and to present them in the most succinct fashion. Moreover, information had to be continually assessed and corroborated, which additionally involved the interpretation and explanation of events, extending in the end to nine years since we decided in 2016 to combine resources. However, the major issue was Peter’s deteriorating health, leading to his death in February 2023. Nevertheless, his determination to continue contributing to our work despite his serious illness was inspirational and we vowed to finish the book as a testament to his courage (the book is also dedicated to him).

This book covers the intriguing twists and turns of Gurney’s life in impressive detail. Were there any discoveries that surprised you when researching this book?

Much taxonomic information was encountered, though that is practically certain to arise in any biography of a Victorian naturalist. It is significant, however, how deeply respected he was in the ornithological circles of his day – many others across the world would often seek his help and advice in their studies. But perhaps the most surprising revelations concern Gurney’s private life and how he miraculously managed to continue his ornithological research in the face of so much adversity and personal tragedy, all of which became intertwined with other misfortunes of his wider Norfolk family. These discoveries provided the answers that Ray sought to explain the slow progress of the Descriptive Catalogue of the Raptorial Birds and the failure to complete it. Whilst the Overend & Gurney affair has been known about for some years, we were able to add some more detail. Most startling of all was the story of Gurney’s wife’s elopement and its tragic impact not only on his own life, but his whole family, and British and American Quakers in general.

The American newspaper press was gleeful in their cruel and unjustifiable use of the unfortunate event for their own political purposes. Gurney must have been deeply embarrassed by the public exposure of these events, hence his self-exile from Norfolk for five years. However, the care he bestowed on his sickly younger son was exemplary and his ability to continue his bird studies whilst living out of a suitcase for years was quite extraordinary. Equally impressive was his memory of details of his specimens at that time, even when he could not access them. He apparently never saw his recalcitrant wife again, but as it happened, she possessed huge financial resources of her own and thus Mary Jary and her lover were ultimately able, after their marriage, to re-establish themselves in society with very little trouble. However, their family also was to be visited again by tragedy when Mary died of cancer, aged 43, and their daughter died of a brain disease, aged 31.

I was surprised to learn that although Gurney donated 1,300 foreign bird specimens to the Lynn Museum, sadly, none of them remain. What specimens would you have been most interested in seeing?

Of course, all the specimens were valuable historically but most exciting would have been a view of the collection from Alfred Russel Wallace’s travels in the Malay Archipelago, as these would have been special and we do not even know what they were! Also intriguing would have been sight of the central displays of birds of paradise and hummingbirds that must have been striking but we have no idea what they looked like.

There are currently seven recognised bird species named in Gurney’s honour. Do you have a personal favourite?

Yes, a great favourite of Clive’s is Gurney’s Eagle, Aquila gurneyi 1860. More than 160 years after George Robert Gray honoured Gurney with its name we still know very little about the biology of this species – nobody has reported even finding a nest! An attempt to see it in Halmahera in 2017 was frustrating for the only fleeting, distant views. For such a large, imposing eagle to be so elusive and little known is quite remarkable.

Despite his vast contributions, including describing 29 birds, 21 of which are still recognised today, John Henry Gurney seems to be somewhat forgotten by modern ornithology. Why do you think this is?

Since Victorian times, momentous scientific advances have been made and the world’s environment is rapidly changing beyond all recognition. In the biosciences, there has been for a century or more an increasing trend for research to become focused on ecology, biodiversity, migration, physiology, biochemistry, genetics and climatology, all of which are now crucial for understanding and combatting the threats of global warming and habitat destruction. Whilst taxonomy must underpin these trends, so that biologists are able to confidently identify whole organisms of animals and plants of importance, the emphasis on taxonomy per se has shifted from the Victorian obsession with finding and naming new species for its own sake. Thus, Gurney is only one of many hundreds of naturalists of his period now unknown to modern biologists in general.

Even Peter, a modern authority on raptors and southern African birds, was baffled as to why for so long he knew little about Gurney, who published nothing about himself and only one very small booklet aimed at the public to serve as a guide to his raptorial collection. Difficult to trace were his letters and other manuscripts, widely scattered among collections in the Natural History Museum in Tring, the Castle Museum in Norwich, the Barclays Group Archives in Manchester, and the Society of Friends’ Library in London. Perhaps if his planned book of raptor paintings by Joseph Wolf had come to fruition he would have become better known. But it seems strange that most world birders and conservationists are so familiar with his name via the beautiful but near-extinct Gurney’s Pitta.

How would you describe Gurney’s impact on ornithology?

Gurney helped lay the foundations of modern ornithology in Victorian times by supporting the fledgling British Ornithologists’ Union and their journal, Ibis, in which he published his papers on raptors and southern African birds, embellished by Joseph Wolf’s illustrations. By his descriptions of new raptorial species and records of worldwide geographical distribution of many species he contributed crucial information to the difficult study of raptors, still a perplexing group. We should also recognise the lasting value of his specimens to modern scholars and the support that he provided to other ornithologists in his day.

What are you working on next? Do you have any more writing projects lined up?

Clive continues researching the history of the bird collections that were once held at Norwich Castle Museum but were dispersed in the 1950s, at the same time as Gurney’s raptorial collection. Thousands of bird specimens were sold, loaned or given to other institutions. Some of them emanated from important expeditions and notable naturalists, so why were these collections at Norwich in the first place, what went where, and why?

Now that Ray’s work on Gurney is finished, he is returning to his project of the bio-bibliography of John Van Voorst, and after that, a similar study is envisaged of the life of Thomas Alan Stephenson (1898-1961), a sea-anemone taxonomist and expert on marine intertidal zonation, as well as a superb botanical and zoological artist whose beautifully accurate paintings give the impression of being colour photographs.

John Henry Gurney – A Passion for Birds is published by John Beaufoy Publishing in association with the British Ornithologists’ Club, and is available in hardback from NHBS here.

Author interview with Joanna Wilbraham: Mosses, Liverworts, and Hornworts of the World

Mosses, Liverworts, and Hornworts of the World makes sense of this highly diverse group of miniature plants, differentiating between the three lineages and delving into their evolution, anatomy, and life cycles. The result is an unprecedented in-depth look at these exquisitely beautiful and often overlooked organisms.

Joanna Wilbraham is an active member of the British Bryological Society and Principal Curator at the Natural History Museum, London, where she leads the curatorial team responsible for the collections of algae, bryophytes, and lichens. At just over two million specimens, this is one of the most significant research collections of its kind in the world.

We recently spoke to Joanna about Mosses, Liverworts, and Hornworts of the World, where she told us how she decided which species to include, threats facing these groups and what projects are on her horizon.

Firstly, can you tell us a little bit about yourself, your background, and how you came to write this book?

I first became interested in bryophytes (mosses, liverworts and hornworts) as an undergraduate student. I was keen to do my final research project in botany after an inspiring field trip to the Austrian Alps and was presented with two botanical options: an agricultural research experiment on wheat plants or a project working with bryophytes. Neither option sounded very appealing at the time, but I opted for the bryophytes and have never looked back. Almost immediately I noticed a tiny world I hadn’t previously paid any attention to. I was amazed to discover there was an actual club devoted to the study of these plants! I swiftly joined the British Bryological Society which led to many field excursions getting out and about with experts – undoubtedly the best way to get to get to know bryophytes and learn how to identify them.

I’ve been fortunate to be able to work with my favourite plant groups professionally over the course of my career. As a curator at the Natural History Museum, London, I specialised in cryptogamic botany, that’s those plants and plant-like groups that reproduce by spores rather than seeds. I focused on seaweeds and freshwater algae for many years though bryophytes have always stayed on my agenda. I am currently Curator of Mosses at the Museum, and I have the privilege of curating one of the largest and most significant collections of preserved moss specimens in the world.

When I was invited to write a book in Princeton’s ‘A Guide to Every Family’ series I saw an opportunity to bring the wonderful world of bryophytes to a wider audience and also a chance for me to spend time delving into some fascinating research along the way.

How did you decide which species to include in Mosses, Liverworts & Hornworts of the World?

The premise of books in this series is to provide a complete overview of a group at some appropriate taxonomic level. Classifications are constantly in flux as new research reveals more about the natural world but, at the time of writing the book, bryophytes were classified into 73 accepted taxonomic orders and this looked like a good starting point to base the narrative around. Some of these orders represent huge diverse groupings. For example, the Hypnales are an immense group of creeping mosses with over 4,000 genera, so I squeezed in a few example genus profiles here to showcase their diversity. In contrast, some other orders are only represented by one known extant genus, so for those the decision of what genera to include made itself. Some bryophytes are so charismatic that I simply had to include them, such as Dawsonia, the world’s largest free-standing moss. I did give in to some personal biases to include some of my favourite plants like the beautiful Myurium in the Hypnales. However, all the taxonomic entries had to pull their weight by contributing to the broader narrative of the book, such as revealing something about their evolutionary past, their adaptations to a world in miniature or how they are responding to a rapidly changing planet. Within these parameters, I chose 100 genera to illustrate the structural and evolutionary diversity of bryophytes from around the world.

Can you tell us about the most interesting species that you’ve learned about while researching your book? ?

There are many fascinating species I knew from the outset had to have their stories included. We meet a moss that glows in the dark; mosses that grow on dung and decaying corpses; a moss that could allegedly survive on Mars and a moss that saved the life of a Victorian explorer in western Africa. The structure of the book also forced me to peer around obscure taxonomic corners and investigate species which I hadn’t come across before. I got to know some new plants like the large charismatic tropical moss Sorapilla. This genus is so rare it was only known from a handful of historic herbarium specimens until a student on a botanical fieldtrip in the Queensland rainforest discovered a new population in 2015! It was also fun to discover more stories about people’s interactions with bryophytes. I needed to research the liverwort genus Solenostoma and in particular the species S. vulcanicola which has a remarkable capacity to thrive in acidic hot springs where is forms extensive, lime-green cushions. Known locally in Japan as the ‘Chatsubomi moss’, specialist tours are available to visit this plant on the Chatsubomi tour bus and now I really want to go to Japan!

Given our rapidly changing climate, what are the largest threats facing these groups, and how can we safeguard them going forward?

We are witness to increasing threats to the survival of bryophytes in their natural habitats around the world. Recent studies have reported that around 20% of European bryophyte species are threatened with extinction. These worrying declines result from the combined consequences of climate breakdown and habitat destruction.

The most immediate threat to bryophytes is the destruction and degradation of their natural habitats. Sphagnum mosses, which form peatlands, play an essential role in our planet’s biochemical cycles, sequestering huge quantities of carbon. The extensive peatlands of the boreal north store twice as much carbon as tropical forests. Alarmingly, increasing temperatures are threatening the existence of these peatland bogs as they risk drying out in warmer conditions. It is more imperative than ever that we protect these peat forming Sphagnum bogs and the wealth of biodiversity that they support. Sphagnum bogs should be treasured and certainly not destroyed for peat extraction to support the horticultural industry. Please make sure to buy peat-free at the garden centre and help save Sphagnum bogs by taking away the demand for these products.

Climate breakdown is having a huge impact on bryophytes. The story that resonated the most for me when I researched the book was that of the rare and enigmatic moss Takakia. This genus represents an ancient lineage and evidence suggests that Takakia plants have existed in the form we are familiar with today for at least 165 million years. Populations of Takakia on the Tibetan Plateau actually predate the uprising of the Himalayas! At a cellular level, these plants have had to adapt at phenomenal rates to protect themselves from the extreme increases in UV radiation and freezing conditions that one finds oneself exposed to when lifted up atop the world’s highest mountain range. However, Takakia faces its greatest challenge yet as the planet is now warming at such an unprecedented rate that even Takakia cannot adapt fast enough and the Tibetan populations are recorded to be steadily declining. Ultimately, the planet’s rapidly changing climate and our global ability to reduce carbon emissions going forward is the driving factor that will determine the fate of many bryophytes.

What’s next for you? Are you working on any other projects that we can hear about?

At the Natural History Museum, I’m responsible for curating and managing the moss herbarium which, with over 700,000 specimens, is one of the largest collections of its kind in the world. Herbaria are taxonomically arranged libraries of preserved plant specimens that provide spatial and temporal distribution data for species. New uses for these collections are constantly coming to light, so it’s a really exciting time for us in the curatorial team and we are busy working on some major projects to make these collections and their associated data more accessible for researchers around the world. I am particularly interested in how we can better leverage our bryophyte herbarium data to support biodiversity and conservation research that can lead to a positive impact for bryophytes in the wild.

The good thing about studying bryophytes is you don’t necessarily need to travel far and wide to find some beautiful species and contribute useful insights on their distribution or biology! I’m looking forward to getting back into some local recording when the hoped for autumn rains revitalise the poor drought frazzled bryophytes of South London. With a magnifying glass to hand there can always be something new to discover.

Book Review – Mesozoic Art II: Dinosaurs and Other Ancient Animals in Art

***** A remarkably diverse collection of the very best of current palaeoart

Comic book editor, writer, and artist Steve White and palaeozoologist Darren Naish team up once again to bring you another lavish, large-format art book with the very best of current palaeoart. If you bought the previous volume, I am pleased to say that this book is more of the same, which is the best possible outcome one could hope for. It is also *more* of the same, as the book is bigger than its predecessor, featuring 25 artists that together span the full gamut from upcoming talent to seasoned veterans, and from cartoonish to photorealistic illustrations. Mesozoic Art II provides a balanced cross-section of jaw-dropping artwork that portrays not just dinosaurs, but also numerous other organisms that are less often depicted. If ever you needed proof that the palaeoart community has matured and is taking its craft seriously, this book is your ticket.

Before even cracking open the book, take a moment to appreciate the object. Remove that dust jacket to marvel at Rebecca Dart’s gorgeous illustration of the sauropod Qijianglong by moonlight. Next, check out the beautiful endpaper illustrations by Gaëlle Seguillon. This book leaves no opportunity unused to impress. Also important: Mesozoic Art II is the same physical dimensions (31×28cm) as Mesozoic Art; and, for that matter, its spiritual predecessors Dinosaur Art and Dinosaur Art II.

For the second instalment, White & Naish have stuck to the same formula, giving each artist, no matter their fame, ten pages each to show off their very best. The page count has grown from 208 to 256 pages, allowing for more artists to be featured: 25 instead of 20. Also nice, it is a completely new crop: none of these featured in Mesozoic Art. The mix of nationalities is heavily weighted towards North America (nine artists) and Europe (twelve), with the remaining three hailing from Asia (two) and Australia (one).

In his foreword, naturalist Chris Packham praises the artwork for both its stylistic diversity and scientific accuracy. As White & Naish explain in their introduction, neither is coincidental. Next to producing a beautiful book, their aims are twofold. First, to show that scientific accuracy need not come at the expense of artistic expressiveness. Second, to continue to adjust preconceptions and correct misconceptions, old and new, as to what dinosaurs looked like and how they behaved. The result is a panorama of today’s palaeoart that is remarkably varied on several fronts.

Thus, the contributors range from non-vocational artists to established professionals. Haider Jaffri might be new to the scene and training to become a dentist, but he already produces some remarkable artwork. Similarly, freelance artist Simone Giovanardi specialises in depicting extinct penguins, which is simply delightful. At the other end of the spectrum, you have professionals such as Beth Zaiken who, alongside other work, has produced large murals for museums. I will never tire of poring over the kinds of grand panoramas she produces. Gaëlle Seguillon has, among other things, worked on the documentary Prehistoric Planet, and her artwork is incredibly atmospheric.

Most artists work exclusively digitally, and only a few turn to traditional tools such as pencils, markers, graphite, acrylics, watercolours, etc. Lest this be mistaken as a judgemental comment, let me repeat what Tom Björklund wrote in Dinosaur Art II: “Painting with a computer isn’t about pushing buttons […] the artist’s hand still holds a pen or a brush and the craftsmanship required is pretty much the same” (p. 134 therein). Not being an artist myself, if it were not for the figure legends, I would not be able to tell the difference, and the choice of medium does not get in the way of style.

Indeed, the variety of styles on display is dazzling, fully meeting the editors’ stated first aim. There is plenty of (photo)realistic work, but about a third of artists make more cartoonish artwork. Possibly the most divisive inclusion of what the editors call “‘palaeontologically themed’ art” (p. 3) is comic book artist Lewis LaRosa. There are a mech-suit battling Tyrannosaurus rex, panels from his comic Savage that have a human-fighting dinosaurs and pterosaurs, but also some of his anatomical sketches and studies, as he makes conventional palaeoart too.

This kaleidoscope of styles does not get in the way of scientific accuracy. I think White & Naish have succeeded in curating a selection that shows how all these artists take their craft seriously and incorporate recent scientific developments. Soft-tissue reconstruction has been fully embraced, and there are lips, flaps, folds, fluff, and feathers galore. Several of the drawings have been specifically made to accompany research. There are many more organisms beyond dinosaurs, pterosaurs, and marine reptiles; Naish has always been clear that the “Mesozoic” in the title should be taken loosely. Invertebrates and vertebrates from both before and after this era feature, including stem-whales, early reptiles, protomammals, and others.

The final aspect worth highlighting is the naturalistic realism. The full range of animal behaviour is on display here. Yes, there are scenes of violence, but they are an appropriate minority given what the time budget of most animals is spent on. Also, did I mention the skies? Good grief! More so than in Mesozoic Art, I felt that numerous artists have embraced cloudy, rainy, stormy, or otherwise moody skies, playing with colour, light, time of day, and atmosphere to produce incredibly memorable pictures.

By now, these four art portfolios are becoming a remarkable collection of snapshots of palaeoart over the last two decades. Examining the dates of the artwork featured here, and given that Mesozoic Art II was published “only” three years after Mesozoic Art, only five artists exclusively feature artwork from 2022 to 2024, while 17 artists feature artwork going back to 2017 and later (i.e. the period also covered by Mesozoic Art). This overlap in time means that both Mesozoic Art volumes capture similar ideas and fashions. That said, I am tempted to speculate that future art historians could tease out trends in the evolution of palaeoart by comparing the four portfolios. However, you do not have to be an art historian to enjoy this stunning production. If you love dinosaur artwork and palaeoart more generally, get it now, add it to your wishlist, or give it to that special palaeo-person in your life. This is another stunner you will not want to miss. Here’s to Mesozoic Art III!

Author Q&A: Peter Fretwell and Lisa Fretwell – The Penguin book of Penguins

A Fellow of the Royal Geographic Society, Dr. Peter Fretwell, like the subjects of his new book entitled The Penguin book of Penguins, spends the majority of his time in the cold. As a senior geographic and remote sensing scientist, Peter has been responsible for leading many projects that further our understanding of the Polar regions and the wildlife that inhabits the area. Establishing and contributing to key projects to help better understand predators in the polar region by using satellite imagery has assisted in crucial conservation efforts.

For this book, Peter has joined forces with his wife Lisa who provides a unique selection of illustrations throughout the book. As an artist of over 30 years, Lisa draws on a wealth of experience having exhibited her works in London and New York.

Peter and Lisa Fretwell. Courtesy of the authors

We were lucky enough to catch up with Peter and Lisa recently to talk about the new publication.

What inspired you to write “The Penguin Book of Penguins”? Why penguins?

Peter: Strangely, there has never been a book titled The Penguin Book of Penguins, so when we were asked to write it, it was an opportunity we couldn’t turn down. I had previously written the Antarctic Atlas, published by Penguin Random House in 2020 and I have worked with penguins and on penguin science for twenty years. These small charismatic creatures are such a delight to be involved with, and they are a major part of working in Antarctica. Working at the British Antarctic Survey you pick up stories and anecdotes about them almost by osmosis, so having a chance to relay those narratives to a wider audience is a real privilege. We all love the jovial nature of these unique birds and their amazing adaptations to survive and thrive in some of the most challenging environments on Earth, but there is a more serious message that I also wanted to convey about the challenges that many of the species now face with climate change, pollution, habitat loss and overfishing. Communicating these challenges to a wider audience is one of our main drivers, whilst keeping the message light and not too “preachy”, to engage and inspire that wider readership. What was more, we decided we wanted to include drawings rather than photos, so my wife, Lisa, who is a professional artist joined the author team to bring the illustrations to life.

How has your work as a cartographer and scientist at the British Antarctic Survey influenced your writing and perspective on penguins?

Peter: I really started researching penguins through my work on mapping and remote sensing. I started my scientific career as a geographer and got a job in the British Antarctic Survey as a cartographer. I have always loved maps, especially mapping the natural world around us, but I also loved the science and was soon not just making maps but helping with the geospatial analysis. The British Antarctic Survey is a wonderful and diverse place for environmental science and to help the scientist analyse their data was fascinating – you never knew what you might be working on; one day it could be mapping and analysing volcanoes, and the next it might be cuttlefish distribution. In 2008, whilst making a map for our pilots, I discovered that we could see emperor penguin colonies in freely available Landsat satellite imagery. At the time, we didn’t know how many emperor penguin colonies there were or their distribution, so it was a groundbreaking discovery.

Peter Fretwell nose to nose with a wild Emperor Penguin.

How has the use of satellite imagery revolutionised the study and conservation of penguin colonies?

Peter: Fast-forward 17 years and we now know that there over double the number of colonies that we thought there were. We track their locations each year and do annual population assessments using satellite imagery. We have also used the technology to discover unique, previously unknown behaviours and traits, and we have witnessed and recorded the struggles and calamities they suffer as the continent warms and the sea ice diminishes. The Earth observation methods that we developed for emperors have been transferred to many other species of penguins and other types of wildlife around the world. My job itself has changed dramatically, from a scientific cartographer to a remote sensing expert and an expert on penguins and other polar vertebrate species that we track from space.

What were the major obstacles or challenges you’ve come across during your study of penguins?

Peter: Using satellites is a brilliant way to study these animals as most of the colonies are in extremely remote locations, where on-the-ground research is almost impossible. Even now the resolution of the most powerful satellites is still not good enough to see every individual adult and chick. We still need to get out there to calibrate our satellite counts and see how accurate they really are, but getting to emperor penguin colonies and synchronising ground (usually a unmanned aerial vehicle or UAV) counts with satellite data is really challenging, not just for emperor penguins, but for all the wildlife that we study from space. One of our current technical challenges is to improve the methods.

Lisa: Finding the inspiration and imagery for the more temperate penguins was quite challenging. The Antarctic and sub-Antarctic penguins were easier, as Peter had taken hundreds of photos of all the species throughout his career that I could work from. We had also visited New Zealand and seen many of the penguin species, like the adorable little blue penguin, there. On his travels, Peter had also photographed penguins on the Falklands and South America, but there were still some species that we had to trawl through published sources to get good reference images for. You have to be careful as what you see on the internet is not always correct, but it helps when you are married to a penguin expert!

Adélie penguin leaping out of the water. Lisa Fretwell

Many people feel rather enamoured by penguins. Why do you think that is?

Peter: I agree, and it’s hard to put your finger on the reason. Maybe it is a combination of their comic trusting nature and the fact that they are one of the few animals that stand upright on two legs, which makes them look a bit like us. It is really hard not to anthropomorphize penguins and compare them to little people with similar habits and social structures. Like us they often live in huge congregations, sometimes hundreds of thousands strong, they have complex courtship routines, bicker with their neighbours and do daily commutes to look after the family. They are also very tame, curious and often clumsy, which makes them quite endearing. Add their incredible, unique abilities in response to their challenging environments and you have an animal that really is quite engaging.

What are the biggest misconceptions about penguins that you would like to clarify?

Peter: There are many. Firstly, and perhaps obviously, penguins are a bird. They have feathers, not fur. Secondly, not all penguins live in Antarctica. A minority, only four of the eighteen species, breed around the coasts of the Southern Continent, but it’s fair to say that almost all (except for a few hundred) live in the Southern Hemisphere and most of them would call the waters around the Southern Ocean home.

What are the primary threats to penguin habitats, and how can these be mitigated?

Peter: It’s not just their habitats, but we can start there. Over the years, penguins have been eaten, killed for their feathers, had their eggs collected in their millions, been squashed and boiled down for their oil, and had their nesting habitats dug up and destroyed for fertiliser. In more recent times, urbanisation and land clearance has affected some of the more temperate birds, and the introduction of non-native species has had a devastating impact on many of the island-living species that are endemic to just one small group of islands.

Today, the main threats to the temperate species of penguins that live close to humanity are pollution from oil spills, overfishing and bycatch in their foraging grounds. But even in Antarctica and the remote island homes of penguins that no one ever visits, the influence of humans is affecting populations. Climate change is a global, man-made phenomenon that cannot be averted at a regional scale and is starting to have dramatic effect on many species. Although it is fair to say that in a warming environment, there will be winners and losers, at the moment, it looks like we will see more losers than winners.

BAS scientist Peter Fretwell in the field. Snow Hill, Antarctica.

What conservation efforts have been most effective in protecting penguin populations?

Peter: Around the world there are many amazing people and organisations helping penguins, from re-homing little penguins in New Zealand and Australia to the fantastic efforts to save African penguins from oil spills. In South America, there has been a great effort to protect breeding colonies from predation and on many sub-Antarctic islands there have been great programmes to eradicate non-native species that eat eggs and chicks, and trample breeding sites. There are fantastic efforts in many places that are saving penguins from the brink of extinction that anyone who loves or admires these birds should be grateful for.

Personally, what thoughts and feelings were you left with after this study of penguins?

Peter: Writing the book has not only highlighted how much we love penguins and how our culture has embraced these charismatic birds, but also the paradox of how badly we have treated them over the years and how threatened they are from human activity. Today most of those threats are indirect, but they are still caused by us and can still be solved by us.

Lisa: In terms of illustrations, I had to re-draw the ‘Penguin Digestor’ numerous times, because it made me feel a bit queasy just thinking about it. If you look at the original image it is very expressive and full of angst! I left those images of how we had mistreated penguins, like the Digestor and the Egg Collector until the very end when I could summon up the will to re-engage with them.

Emperor Penguin with chick. Lisa Fretwell

How do you envision the future for penguins?

Peter: For many species, it is a worrying time. Several are on the brink of extinction; some, like the emperor and chinstrap, are on a worrying trajectory caused by climate change that can only be solved at a global level. But there is hope. So far, we have not made any species of penguin extinct and there is still time to save all of the wonderful types of these birds, but the window for doing that is growing narrower every year.

What are the most important impressions you would like the reader to be left with after reading “The Penguin Book of Penguins”?

Peter: We hope readers will come to understand how wonderful and loveable these birds are and how invested into our culture they have become. When we think about the future of penguins, it can be a little depressing, but we are not there yet and that future is not yet written. If people care about a subject, then maybe they have it within their power to alter the future so that the worst predictions never come to light. If this book does anything, we hope it will enthuse people to help save penguins.

Lisa: I also hope that my illustrations enhance and portray these amazing birds in a true light. I tried to capture their personalities, particularly their behaviour, which I think is absolutely fascinating! The infographics should enable the reader to differentiate between each species, which for some penguin families, especially the banded penguins, is very subtle. I wanted to portray how endearing and intelligent these birds are. They have evolved to survive against the odds and their quirky nature is often fundamental to whether they breed successfully, survive extreme weather conditions and ultimately sustain their populations, and I wanted to reveal these quirks visually to enhance the reader’s experience.

What future research or projects are you planning on currently?

Lisa: I am planning to enhance my penguin illustrations with colour and exhibit them at a number of galleries. I have already been asked to create some other wildlife illustrations for the Arts Society Youth Fund locally, and I hope to illustrate or even write more books in the future.

Peter: I am currently leading multiple projects on penguins and other polar wildlife. My penguin-themed projects include mapping and monitoring seabirds on South Georgia, recording and improving the methods, carrying out population surveys of emperor penguins, and counting chinstrap and Macaroni penguins on the remote South Sandwich Islands. Results from all these studies should be coming out over the next year.

The Penguin Book of Penguins is available as a limited edition signed hardback book, while stocks last, from NHBS here.

From waste, to resource – an interview with Waterhaul

NHBS is delighted to be working with Waterhaul, a company turning harmful marine debris into valuable resources. Their commitment to tackling ocean plastic and promoting sustainable practices aligns closely with our own mission to protect wildlife and the natural environment.

Earlier this year, NHBS arranged a beach clean using Waterhaul products, giving us first-hand insight into their quality and effectiveness. After seeing them in action, we’re excited to now offer Waterhaul’s beach cleaning range through NHBS.

To learn more about the inspiring work behind the brand, we spoke with Jon Green at Waterhaul and asked a few questions about their mission, processes, and impact.

Waterhaul collecting “ghost gear” from across the UK coastline. Photo credit: Waterhaul

You primarily create your products from recycled “ghost gear”. What is ghost gear? and have you set your sights on any other forms of marine pollutants for future projects?

‘Ghost gear’ refers to any fishing gear that has been abandoned, lost, or discarded in the ocean. Once separated from fishing vessels, this gear continues to drift in the ocean, entangling marine life and damaging habitats. Ghost gear is a subset of marine litter but is particularly harmful due to it being designed specifically to trap and kill marine animals, combined with its extreme durability.

Unfortunately, around 640 000 tonnes of lost or discarded fishing gear end up in our oceans every single year, making it the most harmful and abundant plastic – there is certainly enough of it to keep us busy! That being said, in the past we have worked with other forms of plastic, for example our ‘ReTask The Mask’ campaign where we recycled PPE from the NHS post-COVID-19 into litter picking components.

How and where do you find the nets needed to supply your products?

Being a team of ocean users all passionate about protecting what we love, we often can be found out and around the Cornish coastline physically collecting reported ghost gear ourselves; from remote corners requiring boats, paddling or swimming to in plain sight on some of our busiest beaches following storms.

As well as collecting ourselves, we have a dedicated Impact & Recycling team who have established strong relationships and partnerships with local fishermen, harbours, organizations and waste management companies such as Biffa, providing an end-of-life solution and preventing the gear ending up in landfill.

We often hear stories of plastic packaging that has lasted for an age in our waters, only to wash up in recent times. Is there a particular piece of netting that stands out from your time working with marine plastic?

The most prominent one/example that comes to mind happened on September 21st 2023 where the Raggy Charters crew spotted a juvenile humpback whale in Algoa Bay, South Africa, exhausted and entangled in fishing gear and fighting for its life.

The whale was struggling under the weight of heavy plastic ropes cutting into its flesh as well as two large orange buoys, a small yellow buoy, and a huge amount of 20-mm nylon cable wrapped around its caudal fin.

A rescue operation, led by the South African Whale Disentanglement Network took hours of painstaking effort involving multiple rescue boats and a coordinated team where they were able to free the whale who swam away, shattered but alive.

The ghost gear that ensnared the humpback was recovered and through collaborative links with the World Cetacean Alliance (WCA), made its way to us, where we saw an opportunity to create something unique and share this near-tragedy as part of our ‘Rescue to Recycle’ Campaign. An initiative that transforms harmful marine debris into products that drive change and supports ongoing conservation efforts.

Gathered plastic marine debris is recycled for manufacturing. Photo credit: Waterhaul

What percentage of your total product is made from ocean-reclaimed materials?

100% of all plastic components across our entire product range are made from Traceable Marine Plastic (TMP), our material feedstock derived from lost, abandoned and discarded fishing gear. Our eyewear frames are also made 100% from TMP.

Do you partner with any marine conservation or environmental organizations?

Waterhaul was founded with a background in and ethos of marine conservation and environmental direct impact, ultimately initiating the mission we are on. We are incredibly proud to be supported by and have partnered with organizations such as Surfers Against Sewage, The Wave project, Sea Shepherd, The RNLI, Cornwall Wildlife Trust, Canal and River Trust, and many more.

Can you explain the process of transforming ocean plastic into your final products?

Every single piece of ghost gear, whether collected by ourselves or the end-of-life fishing gear we have received from the source, is taken to our processing unit here in Cornwall.

The gear is then separated by polymer type and recycled in the UK through a mechanical process of shredding and washing. The plastic is then extruded into pellets and becomes our fully traceable raw material, Traceable Marine Plastic (TMP).

We then injection mould this plastic into our range of purposeful products. This is the stage where we give new value to plastic ‘waste’. Our impact is driven further by our extensive network of partners, from stockists to product partners and more.

What’s the best way for someone to get involved in helping your mission, any tips for how everyone can make a difference?

Aside from the conscious purchasing of products that make a direct impact and questioning the materials of where our products come from, getting out there is the most efficient way of making a difference. Grab a litter picker and whether it’s a 2-minute beach clean, a litter pick around your nearest green area or picking up rubbish you pass on the street, it all makes a huge difference in protecting our planet’s ecosystem and wildlife! Spending a few extra minutes to sort out recycling from domestic waste will also play a huge role. Finally, talking about and sharing stories on this often-overlooked topic will also spark conversations and inspire others to go out and do the same thing!

Waterhaul ocean friendly litter picking kit made from recycled marine debris. Photo credit: Waterhaul

Browse the Waterhaul products available through NHBS here

Visit the Waterhaul website to learn more about their work here

Book Review – The Lives of Bats: A Natural History

The Lives of Bats is part of Princeton University Press’s series The Lives of the Natural World that has grown to 14 volumes. Technically speaking, it is designed and produced by UniPress Books, which I have described elsewhere as the spiritual successor of Ivy Press and which is similarly known for producing good-looking books. As with the other volumes, this one is chock-a-block with full-colour photos, to the point that you would be hard-pressed to find a single page of plain text. It follows the same formula as other volumes, ending each chapter with a short species gallery that profiles four or five relevant or noteworthy species.

Professor of biology DeeAnn M. Reeder’s research programme encompasses physiology, immunology, disease ecology, behaviour, evolution, and conservation, and bats are often her model organism of choice. She is only all too aware of the dislike and fear that bats instil, especially as reservoir hosts of diseases, so an important focus of this book is to demystify and (if that is even a word) de-demonise bats by giving a factual and up-to-date primer on their biology. After a brief introduction, Reeder picks seven topics—evolution, anatomy, echolocation, diet, thermoregulation, reproduction, and disease—before ending with a chapter on past and present interactions between bats and humans.

If there is a unifying theme to this book, it is how much the biology of bats is shaped by the demands of flight. Anatomical adaptations are the first to come to mind, from the ankle spur (a calcar) that supports the wing membrane between the hind limbs (the uropatagium), to the five extra muscles that control the tautness and curvature of the wing membrane. Reeder’s favourite overlooked adaptation is the hind limbs that are rotated 180°, meaning the soles of the feet face forward and the knees bend backwards compared to other mammals.

The demands of flight extend far beyond anatomy, though. To conserve energy, bats can go into torpor, lowering their metabolic rate and body temperature. This can be as brief as a few hours or be extended for weeks on end, at which point we call it hibernation. Like humans, bats generate their own body heat (endothermy), but unlike us, they can conserve energy by allowing their body temperature to track the environmental temperature (heterothermy) while we maintain a steady body temperature (homeothermy). The need for energy conservation even impacts their reproduction. Bat pups are huge compared to their parents, meaning pregnancy is energetically costly on two fronts: foetal development takes energy, but so does flying around with all that extra mass. To make sure birth coincides with peak food availability, female bats can store sperm (a well-known trait in many organisms) but also slow down or even pause (!) foetal development.

Reeder features many other notable traits, adding an extra layer of information to the basic facts that will be rattling around in most people’s heads. Sure, bats echolocate, but what I did not realise is that some groups emit sound out of their mouth and others out of their nose. The family Pteropodidae, the fruit bats, have lost echolocation (fruit tends not to move), yet some species have secondarily re-evolved it, relying on wing-clapping or tongue-clicking to help them navigate their cave roosts. And where many bats issue a call and then listen out for the echo, some bats do not separate the two in time but in frequency, calling at a different frequency than the echoes return at. This nifty feat of sensory biology allows them to produce sound while simultaneously receiving and interpreting the incoming echoes.

I also came away from this book with a much better appreciation of the family Phyllostomidae. When the University of Chicago Press published a book dedicated to this family in 2020, I was admittedly nonplussed: what is so special about them? The incredible diversity of their diet. This family includes carnivorous bats dining on small reptiles, birds, and mammals. It includes the three species of vampire bat whose sanguivorous habits have become the stuff of legend. More relevant but less appreciated is that, by eating fruit, pollen, and nectar, they are important pollinators, including of many cacti and important crops.

Reeder is at her most strident when it comes to the role of bats in diseases, including COVID-19. Yes, bats harbour viruses and other pathogens that impact public health, but spillovers are a human problem caused by our relentless destruction of wildlife habitat. We should be wary of “the sometimes sensationalistic portrayal of bats, writ large, as hosts of deadly viruses” (p. 250); the same can be said of many other animal groups, including primates, rodents, and birds. Reeder is a proponent of the One Health framework that recognises that you cannot tackle human, animal, and ecosystem health in isolation because they are all interconnected.

Given the format and aim of this series, Reeder only has the space to go so deep on these and other topics. However, as with the book I reviewed previously, this is not just a regurgitation of popular information. You can tell this is written by a specialist in her field who is carefully weighing up how much information to give you and how much to hold back. The resources section recommends some of the many technical books if you want to read deeper, plus a two-page reference section to journal articles, including studies up to 2023 and 2024.

Bats are particularly photogenic, and the editorial team at UniPress Books has scoured several stock photo libraries, as well as the work of numerous individual photographers, credited in the back of the book. There are memorable photos here while a small number of neat infographics are contributed by illustrator Sarah Skeate.

The Lives of Bats continues the series’ successful formula: challenge one or two subject experts to write an accessible introduction that can serve multiple audiences. For novices, this is a great first stop on bats that will give you a well-informed introduction to their unique biology (and equally, it is a book that you can safely gift them). However, the book is also rewarding for biologists who just happen to have studied other organisms but have a hankering for bats. I enjoyed The Lives of Bats more than I thought I would, and by the end, I felt it had subtly enriched my knowledge.

This Week in Biodiversity News – 3rd September 2025

Rhizostoma pulmo jellyfish spotted in Canet-en-Roussillon. CC-BY-SA-3.0 Steren Giannini

Unprecedented and expected… marine heat in 2025

As anticipated, in 2025, UK seas have had their warmest temperatures since records began. The first seven months of the year average 0.2°C higher than any year since 1980.

The observable outcome of this is the sometimes-abundant appearance of marine species that are usually found in low numbers in UK waters – Common Octopus, Bluefin Tuna, Mauve Stingers and Barrel Jellyfish have all been observed at unprecedented levels. Although likely to delight some marine naturalists, the unusually high presence of these species could be indicative of ecosystem destabilisation and the collapse of the global aquatic food web.

An eco-populist shift for the Green party

Zack Polanski has won the election to lead the Green Party in the UK. Defeating Adrian Ramsay and Ellie Chowns, two of the party’s four elected MPs, Polanski promises to actualise his vision of a green, mass membership, ‘eco-populist’ movement. The new leader aims to reverse the perceived ineffectuality of the established party approach by tactically parroting, and ideologically challenging, Nigel Farage and Reform UK.

The new leader is ‘open to’ collaboration with Jeremy Corbyn and Zara Sultana’s temporarily titled ‘Your Party’ and has directly vowed to replace Keir Starmer’s Labour.

It is unclear what the Green’s ‘eco-populist’ shift will mean for UK politics, but Polanski’s election victory represents a significant development for a splintered but variously surging political left.

European badger photographed in Scotland. Charlie Marshall, Flickr

Legal action against the badger cull

Campaigners from Wild Justice and the Badger Trust have launched a legal challenge against the government’s decision to award additional badger cull permits. The controversial decision to renew licences, despite a previously promised ‘phase out’, has been met with considerable pushback from campaigners who cite the shaky evidence used to justify the culling of badgers in the UK. Rosie Wood, chairperson of the Badger Trust, says that ‘Bovine TB is overwhelmingly a cattle-to-cattle spread disease.? Follow the evidence – end the badger cull, stop this egregious attack on nature and stop misleading the public, farmers and the taxpayer.’ Look out for her commentary on the ongoing case in an upcoming issue of British Wildlife.

A setback for the global plastics treaty

The United Nations meeting marked the most recent push to actualise a global plastics treaty. Representatives of 100 nations called for an ambitious and effective treaty to curtail global plastic production but were stalled by 234 lobbyists from the oil industry who argued instead for a focus on ‘recycling’ and the continuation of unregulated plastic production. This breakdown of negotiation is the latest in a long line of failures to meet deadlines for the treaty – meaning business as usual for oil states and the accelerated detriment for ecosystems.

Protestor highlighting Plastic pollution overshoot in London. CC BY-SA 2.0 Alisdare Hickson, Flickr

Book review: Is a River Alive?

***** A hydrological odyssey

Nature writer Robert Macfarlane will need little introduction, having authored a string of successful books on people, landscape, and language. Billed as his most political book to date, Is a River Alive? sees Macfarlane wrestle with the titular question and examine its relevance to the nascent Rights of Nature movement.

At the heart of this book are three long, 70–100-page parts that detail visits to three river systems in Ecuador, India, and Canada. They are separated by short palate cleansers, describing brief visits to local springs close to his home in Cambridge. In the back, you will find a surprisingly thorough ten page glossary, notes, a select bibliography, a combined acknowledgements and aftermaths section detailing developments up to publication, and an index.

This dry enumeration aside, it is the quality of the writing that we are all here for, and Macfarlane is on fine form as he immerses you in the landscapes he visits. These journeys are not solo affairs, however, and in each place he is accompanied by knowledgeable local guides: some are long-term collaborators, others he has only just met. It is a motley crew that includes a mycologist, a musician, and a lawyer, as well as judges, activists, back-country experts, and his close friend Wayne Chambliss. Macfarlane has a knack for giving warm and memorable portraits of them, as well as others they meet along the way.

The political aspect of this book stems from the fact that all these river systems are under threat; from mining in Ecuador, industrial pollution in India, and the construction of hydroelectric dams in Canada. In part, the book is a reportage on the environmental harm caused by resource extraction, economic development, and heavy industry, and the slow violence it inflicts on predominantly poor and marginalised communities. In Chennai, he graphically details how this has already come to pass, while in Ecuador and Canada, it could come to pass if certain companies were to get their way. In response, Western and Indigenous activists have rallied behind the Rights of Nature movement that originated in 1972 when lawyer Christopher Stone asked whether trees should have standing. Its proponents argue that natural entities such as mountains, forests, and rivers can and should have rights—legal personhood even—and thus protection by law.

So, is a river alive? What makes this book intriguing and thought-provoking is that Macfarlane does not provide a straightforward answer (“Yes, of course rivers are alive and here is why”). Instead, he wrestles with this question in full view of the reader. Clearly, he supports the environmentalist agenda and quickly counters the claim of anthropomorphism. He refers to rivers as a “who” and not an “it”, condemning the habit of the English language to “it” all natural entities, “a mode of address that reduces them to the status of stuff” (p. 22). I like to reference the work of Eileen Crist to make the point that language shapes our reality, and Macfarlane condenses it masterfully here: “Words make worlds” (p. 22).

Macfarlane’s struggle plays out along two axes. First, how can we really speak on nature’s behalf? What does a river want? He worries that in granting rights to nature, we will simply end up with “human proxies […] ventriloquizing ‘river’ and ‘forest’ in a kind of cos-play animism” (p. 83). His close friend Wayne justifiably asks whether the whole movement is just “a disguised form of political manoeuvring” (p. 292), in which assigning personhood to natural entities merely becomes a means to an end. Second, there is a philosophical and linguistic struggle. What words can truly capture this? “The history of literature is littered with the debris of attempts to utter water” (p. 289). In searching for a “grammar of animacy” (sensu Kimmerer), he is frustrated with “language’s short reach” (p. 260) and repeatedly runs into a wall. Partially, it seems the answers cannot be verbalised but have to be bodily experienced, as his journeys show him; partially, Indigenous thinking provides him with answers.

On that latter point I have to be honest: though I am supportive of this cause, as a child of the Western, scientific tradition, Indigenous thinking does not resonate with me much, and this is entirely *my* shortcoming. Macfarlane, it seems, sympathises, struggling with it himself: “It requires unlearning, a process much harder than learning” (p. 19). That said, there are moments where he speaks to the biologist in me, such as when discussing the deep-time maps of geologist Harold Fisk that show the many past meanders of the Mississippi River snaking across the landscape, making rivers seem very much alive. Similarly, when mycologist Giuliana Furci points out the consequences of deforestation (when the cloud-forest goes, so do its rivers), you have to wonder: are these rivers a form of niche construction, or even (if you squint hard, I admit) an extended phenotype of a kind? By and large, however, even if life is a fuzzy phenomenon that lacks sharp boundaries, the scientist in me feels that the question is stretching a metaphor beyond its breaking point.

So, I ask again, is a river alive? Better perhaps to ask, I think: Does it matter? Given how entwined life is with water and how dependent human societies are on rivers, the question seems moot to me. For most people, this is ultimately about environmental protection, in which case, whether or not a river has vital signs is irrelevant. However, if personhood is what it takes, given existing legal frameworks, then, sure, why not? A second concern I have is that of enforcement. All these lofty declarations risk being yet more paper parks if they do not have the force of the law behind them. Though Macfarlane does not explicitly raise this point, both his main text and his aftermaths give examples where judges have successfully invoked the Rights of Nature to halt or prevent companies from extracting natural resources. A final concern, as was so clearly argued in The Irresponsible Pursuit of Paradise, is that protective measures risk merely displacing resource extraction to somewhere else with less oversight. As long as there is demand for resources and money on the table, companies will continue extracting value from nature. This deeper cause is not dealt with here, though expecting Macfarlane to imagine the end of capitalism, pretty please, would be a tad unrealistic of me. That is a thorny, multifaceted problem if ever there was one.

Is a River Alive? is an intriguing and thought-provoking piece of nature writing that refuses to give easy answers. I imagine that this is not what Macfarlane’s readers are after anyway, and, if so, they will be amply served by the spectacle of a master wordsmith grappling with a weighty question.

In the Field – Testing the new Apodemus PippyG bat detector

The PippyG is a low-cost, static, passive bat detector made by Apodemus. The construction consists of a Raspberry Pi board with an additional ultrasonic microphone. The unit was designed to open baseline monitoring of bats to landowners, researchers, and the wider public, aiming to be as accessible as possible. Requiring only the device, a micro-SD card, and either a USB-B battery pack or 3 AA batteries. Analysis is easy with the PippyG as recordings are formatted ready for the BTO pipeline, a free online platform for auto-analysis of ultrasonic bat calls, providing species ID, and even behavioural tags for each call (see table below).

Currently, there is no official waterproofing option. However, this leaves the option for experimentation open. A few makers have very kindly created freely available 3D print designs if you have access to a printer, otherwise, I have heard of people trying various options, from leaving them out as is to using a plastic takeaway box with a microphone-sized hole drilled in.

Unfortunately, I do not have access to a garden or any land to demo the PippyG; instead, I had to settle for the alleyway, which my flat backs onto. A Good test for urban environments where most of us (and some bat species) spend a large proportion of our time. I opted for a setup using a battery pack and a long USB-B cable, which I attached to the PippyG and used as an anchor to hang out of my window.

Choosing the settings is simple and easy using the Pipistrelle app available on both the Google Play Store and the App Store. I decided to test for 2 hours from 22:00 till 12:00, with the trigger setting at 72 (considered low, but I was wary of the rabble emanating from the pub garden next door). Once I decided on the appropriate settings, I held the speaker of my phone to the mic and “chirped”.

The concept of chirping was a new one to me, but it’s simple and fantastic. Rather than connecting directly to the device using Bluetooth to establish your desired settings, the “chirp” encodes the settings into sound waves that the Pippy G picks up using its built-in mic.

The device flashed, indicating it was ready and the “chirp” has been successful. Time to hang it out of the window and wait.

The following day I excitedly transferred the data from the PippyG onto my computer, ready to upload to the BTO pipeline.

And the results are in…

One species of bat, A Common Pipistrelle, most likely emerged from my upstairs neighbour’s roof. Looking at the results, it was in a feeding frenzy with 56 echolocation calls recorded in 2 hours. Interestingly, even though the device was set to record at the ultrasonic level, it still picked up a few bird calls, most likely the seagulls that like to occupy the rooftops on either side of the alleyway.

In the future, I would love to put it to the test with a longer deployment in a less urban environment with the hope of catching more of the 18 bat species the UK has to offer.

The Call of the Loon – pioneering seabird conservation research by kayak

NHBS was proud to support Roland Arnison and his 2025 Call of the Loon Expedition, providing him with monitoring equipment including trail cameras and audio recorders. Roland’s mission to document Scotland’s seabirds and explore innovative, low-impact survey methods aligns strongly with NHBS’ commitment to advancing field research and conservation. With so many seabird populations in sharp decline, we were pleased to contribute to this important work, which explores new ways to monitor and protect seabirds and could benefit future conservation projects.

We have really enjoyed following Roland’s progress and seeing some of the incredible photos and recordings he has captured, and we hope you will too.

I have spent the last two summers kayaking around the Hebrides in Scotland, on the hunt for seabirds. The heart of this solo expedition is my self-appointed mission to record the calls of all of Scotland’s seabird species. This has gone well and after kayaking 700 miles, visiting countless seabird colonies on remote islands, I have captured sound recordings of 25 of the 30 species on my list, including the bird after which the Call of the Loon expedition is named: the Great Northern Diver Gavia immer, aka the Loon.

The solo sea kayaking has been adventurous, challenging, and at times at little too perilous. In 2024, my kayak floated away from the shore (due to a momentary lapse of concentration!). My attempts to recover it by swimming in the cold waters off the Isle of Coll resulted in hypothermia, exhaustion, the intervention of the Coastguard- and no kayak. My precious kayak was later found off south Skye and I was reunited with it and able to continue the expedition. In 2025, the expedition took me to the Outer Hebrides and I grabbed the opportunity to paddle out to St Kilda, that magnificent compact rocky archipelago in the Atlantic with the tallest seacliffs in Britain, some 40 miles off the west coast of North Uist. St Kilda is a haven for seabirds, a World Heritage Site, managed by National Trust for Scotland and an obvious destination for me on my seabird expedition. But it did involve a memorable 14 hour, 60km epic solo paddle to get there.

The Call of the Loon expedition has a particular relevance due to the ecological state of Britain’s seabirds. Most of our seabirds have seen significant declines in the last 20 years, due to climate change, overfishing, and the impact of invasive predator species amongst other factors. Of the 25 seabird species that regularly breed in Scotland, 21 are on the Red or Amber lists of Birds of Conservation Concern. In Scotland, over twenty years, puffin populations have dropped by 32%, Arctic Skua numbers fell by 66% and the rare Leach’s Storm Petrel is now classed as ‘critically endangered’ in the UK, with its Scottish population crashing by almost 80%. The bird flu epidemic in recent years has also hit some species such as Gannets and Great Skuas very hard.

The Call of the Loon expedition has broader research aims beyond the quest to record the sounds of seabirds. One, disarmingly simple, research question I have been trying to answer is: is it possible to carry out transect surveys of seabirds from the cockpit of a sea kayak while paddling along coastlines and across the open sea? So far, my practical trials have shown some successes, recording both digitally (on a tablet or phone in Aquapac waterproof cases) and through use of waterproof notebooks. More specific research aims include using remote recording equipment to identify the presence of particular seabird species or to reveal certain behaviours, while minimising disturbance of the birds. The Song Meter Micro 2 remote audio recorder has been an essential piece of equipment, allowing me to capture recordings of seabird calls that I would not otherwise have been able to achieve, and providing evidence of the presence of nocturnal seabirds – notably European Storm Petrel Hydrobates pelagicus and Leach’s Storm Petrel Hydrobates leucorhous. Like many seabird species, these petrels spend most of their time at sea, only visiting land for the summer breeding season. In Britain, they only nest on remote rocky islands, far from humans (and rats). They only come and go from their crevice or burrow nests on dark nights, as a predator avoidance tactic. So, you can appreciate that these seabirds are not easy to find. Leach’s petrel is especially rare in Britain, only a handful of known colonies nest on offshore islands off the Outer Hebrides, with around 90% of them on St Kilda. The use of a sea kayak to reach their remote colonies and the deployment of the Song Meter Micro 2 have been powerful tools to find and record their calls.

A Browning Recon Force Elite HP5 trail camera has also been useful. I have used this remote camera to record images of puffins as they visit their burrow nests. The initial idea was to capture photos of Puffins carrying fish in their beaks to feed to their puffling chicks. These photos can be used to identify the type and quantities of fish that puffins are catching, as researched by National Trust for Scotland’s ‘Puffarazi’ citizen science project: https://www.nts.org.uk/stories/seabirds-camera-action But use of the camera trap outside a puffin burrow also revealed simpler data: how often the puffins visit their nests and at which times of day.

Experimenting with the Song Meter Micro 2 and Browning Elite has opened up new possibilities in potential applications in seabird research, and I am currently developing a plan for a future seabird research expedition using remote recording devices. Anyone interested in collaborating with me on this can contact me on roland@shearwater.me.uk

NHBS has been a very supportive partner in the Call of the Loon expedition, through supplying the research equipment and their technical advice and I would like to thank them hugely for their support.

The Call of the Loon expedition is also supported by Sea Kayaking UK, Celtic Paddles, Sennheiser, Whetman Equipment, Reed Chillcheater, Aquapac and the European Nature Trust.

If you are interested in the Call of the Loon expedition, you can read more and sign up to the newsletter on the Call of the Loon website: https://rolandarnison.co.uk/call-of-the-loon-expedition/ and support the expedition through the Crowdfunder: https://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/p/call-of-the-loon-expedition-2025 You can read and subscribe to the expedition blogs: https://rolandarnisonadventures.wordpress.com/category/call-of-the-loon-2025/ and follow the expedition on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/roland.arnison and Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rolandarnisonadventures/

Author – Roland Arnison