Ever since wolves were reintroduced into Yellowstone National Park in 1995 they have been intently observed by biologists and wolf enthusiasts. Amongst these, biological technician and park ranger Rick McIntyre has to be the most dedicated, having watched these wolves from dawn to dusk every day for around two decades now. The Redemption of Wolf 302 is the third book in the Alpha Wolves of Yellowstone series and tells the story of an unlikely hero.
Though this book can be read by itself, you will get more enjoyment out of the unfolding multi-generational story arc if you read the previous two instalments. Furthermore, McIntyre refers to earlier wolves quite frequently and this book picks up right where The Reign of Wolf 21 ended, meaning the earliest part of wolf 302’s life is not told here. However, a brief introduction brings you up to speed.
One thing this book makes clear is that wolves have individual characters. Whereas wolves 8 and 21 were devoted males looking out for their pack, the current protagonist is anything but. With the death of 21 in 2004, the second-ranking male 253 temporarily takes over but is quickly ousted by two neighbours from the Leopold Pack: 302 and his younger nephew 480. 302, however, is not a natural leader. An increasingly baffled McIntyre spends the first half of the book describing many instances of his unusual behaviour: he runs away during confrontations with other packs, quickly becomes subordinate to his much younger nephew 480, sneakily tries to mate with females when 480 is distracted, occasionally steals food from pups, and is easily spooked by prey carcasses moving when his packmates tear pieces of meat off them. When 302 snoozes on a nearby hill while the Druids battle a rival pack, ignoring their howls, McIntyre seems truly exasperated: “I had been rooting for 302 to do better in life for over four years, but his total noninvolvement as 480 rushed to confront these wolves made me think 302 was a lost cause” (p. 118).
Yellowstone National Park by NPS / Jacob W. Frank, via flickr.
As a consequence, the first part actually revolves around male 480 who steps up as the new Druid alpha male. Through the years 2005 and 2006 McIntyre witnesses the waxing and waning of power between the packs. Several Druid wolves are killed by the neighbouring Slough Creek pack in 2005 and the Sloughs expand their territory aggressively. The tide turns from 2006 onwards, though, when an unknown pack moves in from the north and subjects the Slough’s breeding den to a brutal siege and later kills its adult males. Subsequent accidents and poor breeding seasons for the Sloughs allow the Druids to regain much of their territory by 2008.
It takes until 2007 for wolf 302 to redeem himself, by which time he is over 6.5 years old, well beyond the average lifespan of wolves in Yellowstone. He finally starts helping the Druid females and pups, and assists male 480 during hunts and fights with other packs. By 2008 he leaves the Druids with a group of yearlings in tow and, together with a female from the Agate Creek pack, forms the newly-named Blacktail pack. In one example of stories coming full circle in this book, 302 takes up residence in the territory of the now-extinct Leopold pack, the same territory he was born in. Without giving away further spoilers, several other storylines come full circle at the end of 302’s life. Although not tugging on the heartstrings quite as much as the story of wolves 21 and 42, I was nevertheless so invested emotionally in the fully-lived lives of these wolves that by the end of the book I struggled to hold back tears. 302 ultimately transitions from a rebel to an alpha wolf deserving of that status.
If you read the previous books then you know what to expect: no embellished writing but a detailed rendition of McIntyre’s field notes that recounts the day-to-day lives of these wolves. This book retains the same structure as The Reign of Wolf 21: short chapters bundled into parts, one part for each year. McIntyre has reverted to putting just one map with home ranges at the start of the book, together with diagrams of the changing pack compositions over the years. The Reign of Wolf 21 put maps and diagrams at the start of each part, which was a useful convention that helped keep track of all the players. It looks as if McIntyre decided that was not necessary for this book as it follows fewer packs.
Like previous volumes, this book overflows with interesting biological observations on e.g. play behaviour of pups and interactions with other species such as bears and ravens. A notable problem is the outbreak of mange, a mite-caused disease that leads to fur loss. Research using infrared cameras has shown the substantial loss of body heat this causes, and the resulting deterioration of health in the subzero temperatures of Yellowstone winters. McIntyre furthermore uses one chapter to shortly summarize observations on wolf injuries and mortalities that he mentioned in this and the previous two books. His observations mirror those of Wolves on the Hunt which showed wolves regularly suffer serious injuries while hunting prey, from broken ribs to fractured jaws. Sometimes these are fatal, though more wolves die as a result of fights with other wolves.
Wolves in Hayden Valley by NPS / Ashton Hooker, via flickr.
As before, McIntyre rarely inserts himself in the narrative. He mentions notable visitors to the park and personal achievements such as his nine-year streak of daily observations, even when temperatures drop to lows of -44°C. There are two other striking examples of McIntyre’s detachment in this book. One is an incident where he leaves an injured wolf after several hours of observation and finds him dead the next day. McIntyre sticks to an iron rule that he is here to observe, not to interfere, and that means all facets of life and death in the natural world. The second incident is the start of the wolf-hunting season in Montana when wolves are removed from the endangered species list in 2009. The wolves in Yellowstone National Park are still protected, but those venturing outside are at risk. Despite expressing his concern for their safety, he refrains from giving his personal opinion on the hunting of wolves.
This series was originally going to be a trilogy, but by the end, McIntyre foreshadows the subject of the fourth book: the alpha females, particularly female 06. Named after her year of birth, 2006, she was a granddaughter of male 21 and was legendary for her fierce independence. Though she has been the subject of Blakeslee’s book American Wolf, McIntyre is uniquely placed to give an account of her life. For now, wolf aficionados can delight in The Redemption of Wolf 302. With each book, the payoff of following their story in this level of intimate detail is getting bigger – these books are in a class of their own.
The Redemption of Wolf 302 is available from our bookstore.
***** A balanced and non-judgemental account of people’s differing attitudes
As some of the world’s largest predators, orcas are both loved and loathed, though these sentiments sometimes come from unexpected corners. Danish marine biologist Hanne Strager has studied orcas and other whales for some four decades, working with a wide range of people. In The Killer Whale Journals, she plumbs the complexities and nuances of people’s attitudes, writing a balanced, fair, and thought-provoking insider’s account. Given the preponderance of research and books on Pacific Northwest orcas, hers is a refreshingly cosmopolitan perspective, taking in the experiences of people past and present in many other parts of the world.
Strager’s involvement with whale research started on a whim when she volunteered as a cook on a small research vessel going around the Lofoten Islands in northern Norway. This was in the 1980s and would, with some interruptions, be the start of a career in research and education that lasts to this day. Though she is fully qualified to write a scholarly work on orca biology, this is not that book. Rather, this is “a patchwork of stories I have collected over my years on the ocean about our relationship with the biggest predator on Earth” (p. 17). And what a wide-ranging, multi-hued patchwork it has become!
Some of these relationships are as you would expect. In her early days in Norway, both the whalers and fishermen she spoke to disliked orcas, considering them a pest species that frightens away other whales and eats all the herring. Similarly expected is the strong respect expressed by First Nations people in British Columbia. Other people hold attitudes you would not expect, breaking with stereotypes. When Scottish whalers emigrated to Twofold Bay, New South Wales, Australia in the mid-1800s, they continued the cross-species relationship established by the Aboriginal Thawa tribe, leading to an unlikely, century-long alliance between orcas and whalers. At the other end of the spectrum, Strager visits Inuit hunters in Greenland who continue to rely on the sea for their sustenance. They kill orcas on sight, convinced they eat narwhals. However, data from the Greenland Institute of Natural Resources do not back up this assertion: orcas rarely share the waters with narwhals, nor have narwhal remains been found in their stomachs. Hunting organizations disagree and stick to their narrative, continuing to kill orcas even though the meat is unsuitable for human consumption due to high levels of bioaccumulated pollutants. Strager is loathe to judge these people given their hospitality and willingness to talk to her, but she candidly admits that she is left troubled.
What further contributes to the book’s full-bodied picture is that Strager, as a Danish scientist, provides a non-US-centric perspective and has access to material written in other languages. With the help of a friend, she translates hundreds of newspaper articles from Iceland’s National Archive to puzzle together the story of how the US Air Force got involved in massacring orcas here in the 1950s, doing bombing raids on pods. Being plugged into the Scandinavian research community, Strager can furthermore draw on her connections to visit and speak to people in Denmark, Greenland, Russia, and various places in Norway.
Killer Whale (Orcinus orca) by Gregory “Slobirdr” Smith, via flickr.
Increasingly, the demonization of orcas has made way for a different understanding, seeing these as intelligent mammals, not unlike us. A new generation of fishermen in Norway is less hostile. The extra income generated by wildlife tourism and whale watching does not hurt, but, adds a Norwegian marine ecologist, there is also a sense of pride in one’s local patch. Having tourists visit from around the world and witnessing their awe can make people realize that their humdrum backyard is maybe not that humdrum after all. Captive orcas in aquaria and marine parks are another reason why public attitudes shifted from fear to fascination to concern over animal welfare, as has been so carefully documented by James M. Colby in Orca. Despite opposition, the capture and trade of orcas continues and one harrowing chapter delves into the infamous Russian “whale jail” that was exposed by journalist Mashaz Netrebenko in 2018.
As mentioned earlier, this is not a scholarly book, so orca biology takes a bit of a backseat. Nevertheless, you will learn about, for instance, the different orca populations and their dietary specializations, and how they do not mix genetically, causing a headache for conservation biologists. This behaviour is a prominent example of culture in cetaceans as it is learned and passed on from generation to generation. Strager also discusses the recent spate of attacks by orcas on pleasure craft in the Mediterranean. A marine mammal researcher from Madeira admits that she does not know if this is retaliation or just rambunctious play, but its rapid spread in the region sure points to orcas learning new behaviours from each other. Conservation concerns are the main recurrent biological theme in this book. Reflecting on the situation in the Pacific Northwest and the tremendous efforts expended on returning one orphaned orca, Springer, back to its pod, Strager writes how: “saving one orphan whale is a trivial task compared to changing the conditions that threaten these whales” (p. 214). Overfishing, chemical and noise pollution, shipping, aquaculture, hydroelectric dams—the long list of environmental insults is a poignant reminder that, in the words of Michael J. Moore, we are all whalers, even if only indirectly.
Orcas in the Lemaire Channel by Pedro Szekely, via flickr.
The other aspect that takes a backseat is Strager’s personal story. This book covers some four decades of her life, from a young student in the 1980s to a seasoned researcher now. And yet, important life events are mentioned rather than elaborated upon. They help provide a sense of place and circumstance, but never play a central or even supporting role in her stories. The fact that she would have a child with the man who helped her onto that first research vessel all those years ago is one of those offhand, blink-and-you-miss-it comments. Nor does she mention that she is now working as a Director of Exhibitions, turning the local Whale Center in Andenes, Norway, where she worked for years into a world-class museum, The Whale, to open in 2025.
The Killer Whale Journals takes in an impressively broad range of people past and present. There are various other fascinating stories I have not even touched upon here. Strager remains mild-mannered and non-judgemental throughout as she carefully charts the nuances, inconsistencies, and complexities of people’s attitudes. If you have any interest in cetaceans or marine biology more generally, this absorbing book comes recommended.
**** A long overdue recognition of the female wolf
The wolves reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park in 1995 are some of the best-studied mammals on the planet. Biological technician and park ranger Rick McIntyre has spent over two decades scrutinising their daily lives, venturing into the park every single day. Where his previous books focused on three notable alpha males, it is ultimately the females that call the shots and make the decisions with lasting consequences. This book is a long overdue recognition of the female wolf and continues this multigenerational saga.
If wolf 21, the subject of the second book, was the most famous male wolf in Yellowstone, then his granddaughter 06 (named after her year of birth, 2006) can safely be called the most famous female wolf. This fourth book picks up where the third book ended, covering the period 2009–2015. It tells 06’s life story, her untimely death, and the fate of one of her daughters. To refreshen your mind, some prefatory sections give a brief list of notable matriarchs through the years and a short history of the Druid Peak pack, which were the ancestors of 06.
The fact that wolves have unique characters is again confirmed here: 06 is a gorgeous wolf that has many suitors but, until age four, she rejects them all and is a rare example of a lone female wolf. Lone wolves, quite rare to begin with, are usually males in search of a new pack with unrelated females. In 2010 she forms the Lamar Canyon pack with two brothers younger than her: 754 and 755. Three successful years follow in which she has a litter of pups every year. Through a combination of fearlessness and wise choices, all pups survive their first year. A particular challenge is the nearby Mollie’s pack, led by an aggressive female, that starts making incursions into 06’s territory. There is a long-running feud between the Mollie’s and the very successful Druid Peak pack and its descendants, which can be traced back to 1996 when Druids killed several wolves of Mollie’s pack.
This book has the task of both continuing the story but also looking back. Several chapters end with boxes that briefly tell the story of other notable female wolves past and present. If you have read all or some of the previous trilogy, you know that the writing might not win prizes for its style. Instead, McIntyre distils thousands of days spent in the field and as many pages of notes into a deeply informed, unembellished eyewitness account of the daily lives of these wolves. He always clearly indicates where he reconstructs likely events not observed first-hand or imagines the inner lives of the wolves. As before, The Alpha Female Wolf is divided into parts that each cover a year, usually subdivided into several chapters. This time there are unfortunately no family trees included, which I would have found helpful, though the cast of characters remains manageable.
My impression is that this book contains more references to scientific research than the previous ones. There are observations on chronic wasting disease, contagious to elk, and how wolves are likely limiting its spread by selectively killing sick elk. McIntyre asks a wolf geneticist just how different the introduced wolves from Canada are from the original wolves that lived in this area, and gives some deeper insights into the genetic history of US wolf populations. And he speaks to two researchers studying wolf howling and how each individual produces unique harmonic overtones by which the wolves might recognize each other, to which McIntyre contributes some informal observations later in the book. There are also numerous interesting behavioural and natural history observations. Food features in particular, with chance observations of wolves feeding on eggs of ground-nesting birds, fruit from a rosebush, and the occasional beaver. McIntyre observes hunting sequences that show the wolves using the local terrain to their advantage.
McIntyre is on form in the first two-thirds of the book, detailing how 06’s fierceness and intelligence help her not only to survive but to thrive. She carefully chooses her partners to form a strong, cooperative team, while her choice of denning site under a natural rockfall provides superior protection from a raid by the Mollie’s pack. At various points in the book, McIntyre highlights how the actions and choices of 06 and others show the important role of alpha females in shaping pack life and pack dynamics in the park. Inspired by the many military veterans that visit Yellowstone, he draws a human parallel, describing the alpha female as a commanding officer while the alpha male is an executive officer carrying out her agenda.
How cruel, then, is the sudden death of first 754 and then 06 when they venture just outside park boundaries and are shot, legally, by hunters. I have to admit that I found this twist of fate really upsetting to read. Both McIntyre and the book never really recover from the blow. While the first three years (2010–2012) take up two-thirds of the book, the next three years (2013–2015) are covered in the remaining one-third. McIntyre commits himself to documenting the fall-out of these killings, which sees 755 go through several failed attempts at establishing a new family, and follows the fate of one of 06’s daughters, 926. Although there are happy endings of a sort, the lives of both these survivors are shot through with hardship and loss. Where the threat of hunting was only theoretical in the previous book, here it becomes reality with the removal of wolves from the endangered species list. Remarkably, even though the events have an emotional impact on both him and other wolf biologists and spotters, McIntyre continues to refrain from voicing his opinion or discussing in any depth the reasons for, and problems with, the hunting of wolves. He hints at the why of this when talking to a group of schoolchildren: “being a National Park Service employee in uniform, I could not voice a political opinion about wolf-hunting regulations outside the park” (p. 233). There is much here that remains unsaid, and Nate Blakeslee’s book The Wolf offers an outsider’s perspective on the whole situation that is well worth reading.
Ecologists know how important long-term research is, but also both how hard and rare it is. McIntyre’s decades-long commitment to observing the Yellowstone wolves, and then turning these into books for the general public, is commendable. The Alpha Female Wolf succeeds in both celebrating 06’s remarkably successful life and in indicating the important role of the female of this species. In a conversation with McIntyre last year, he mentioned one more book is planned that will cover events up to 2021. There are yet more stories to be told about these iconic animals and I am looking forward to immersing myself one more time in their lives.
***** A wonderful graphical introduction to the inner workings of an ant colony
This one grabbed my attention as soon as it was announced. Not a comic or graphic novel, but an A4-format book about ant colonies that is chock-a-block with infographics? Yes, please! Showcasing the best of what science illustration can be and combining it with a genuine outsider’s interest in entomology, The Ant Collective makes for a wonderful graphical introduction that will appeal to a very broad audience of all ages.
This book was originally published in German in 2022 as Das Ameisenkollektiv by Kosmos Verlag. It was quickly snapped up for translation into French and Spanish before Princeton University Press published it in English in 2024, courtesy of translator Alexandra Bird. Armin Schieb is a freelance science illustrator based in Hamburg, Germany, and this book is derived from his master’s thesis in Informative Illustration at the Hamburg University of Applied Sciences. His portfolio shows infographics, 3D models, and cover illustrations for a range of clients, from magazines to newspapers to publishers, but this book represents his first published work to date.
Based on direct observations, sketches, and photos of red wood ants (Formica rufa), Schieb has designed 61 highly detailed computer-generated illustrations showing ants from a bug’s eye perspective that entomologists can only dream of. The eight chapters each contain a mixture of full-page spreads with naturalistic 3D renderings of landscapes full of ants, and pages with numerous smaller infographics that explain how colonies function. Annotations are scattered throughout to provide context to what you are looking at. Neatly, many of the full-page spreads continue overleaf, forming eight-page tableaux. One can only imagine what they would have looked like if the publisher had included them as gatefolds!
Next to obligatory drawings introducing ant anatomy, the focus of this book is on colony-level behaviour, with chapters depicting nuptial flights, nest establishment and construction, seasonal cycles of nest maintenance, foraging, trail formation, food acquisition and defence, reproduction, nest defence, and the formation of new colonies. The clever use of cutaway illustrations reveals processes that normally play out unseen underground.
There are some memorable scenes in here showing e.g. green woodpeckers and boars raiding ant nests. The woodpecker illustration stands out in particular. Red wood ants defend themselves by spraying formic acid and are normally inedible. The birds, though, have turned the tables on the ants twice over, picking them up in their beak and rubbing them on their feathers where the ants discharge the contents of their poison glands. As an added bonus, the formic acid repels feather parasites. This whole story is illustrated by overlaying several semitransparent motion frames of a woodpecker twisting its head and is glorious to behold. Elsewhere, Schieb uses motion blur to good effect to highlight the action-packed nature of spiders and antlions catching hapless ants.
Needless to say, this book is full of fascinating titbits of information. Schieb explains the phenomenon of age polyethism that I first encountered in Ant Architecture. Young ants tend to stay inside or close to the nest, while older ants venture further out to do the dangerous job of foraging (though Ant Encounters for some criticism of this idea). Schieb (perhaps unwittingly) offers an excellent illustration of colony behaviour arising through interaction networks when he shows how foraging trails wax and wane as a function of behavioural interactions between ants. There is similarly a deft explanation of the anatomical details of the eyes that allow them to see both polarized and unpolarized light: straight or spiralling stacks of light-sensitive tubules. It is one of those concepts where a picture says more than a thousand words. The only criticism I have of this particular section is that I would have opened it with the otherwise excellent illustration explaining sky polarization. Additionally, I would have added an infographic that explains what polarized light actually is, as it is a surprisingly tricky phenomenon to explain. Michael Land’s book Eyes to See contains a good picture, whereas Schieb basically takes it as a given that readers will understand what he means when writing that “almost all photons in a polarized light ray vibrate in the same plane” (p. 64).
The promotional blurb for the book mentions it draws on the latest science though I was left somewhat confused when I finished it. Schieb is obviously not an entomologist but a graphic artist. There is no mention of the project having benefited from one or several entomologists acting as consultants to give the contents the once-over for scientific accuracy. There is no acknowledgements section where Schieb credits scientists for advice and input. There is not even a list of references or recommended reading included. Or is there? Since I do not have access to the German original I had to resort to some online sleuthing and found a preview on Amazon.de that includes the reference list on p. 126. This reveals that, yes, he has consulted books and scientific papers in both English and German, including that evergreen The Ants, an older edition of Insect Physiology and Biochemistry, and both specialist and general German books on forest insects. So, Schieb did his homework, Kosmos referenced it, but for some bizarre reason, Princeton simply omitted it, as the page between 125 and 127 is… blank! Did I just happen to receive a dud to review? Checking eight other copies at our warehouse confirmed that, no, this is a feature, not a bug. Hopefully, if there are future print runs, this is a detail that can be rectified, as it could easily leave readers with the wrong impression.
Over the years, I have reviewed some seriously impressive photographic books on ants, covering amongst others army ants, desert ants, and myrmecophiles. Despite being a slimmer volume written for a general audience, The Ant Collective rubs shoulders with the greats where visual content is concerned. This is a feast for the eyes that will lure newcomers into entomology but should also please seasoned myrmecologists.
A final thing to note is that this book tells the biology of a *single* species. Wood ants are well-studied as far as ants go, but as the subtitle indicates, this is a look inside the world of *a* ant colony. It would be a mistake to come away from this book thinking that this is how colonies of all ant species function. The world of ants is one of bewildering diversity, though themes and unifying principles are starting to emerge.
This beautifully illustrated book provides a comprehensive gardener’s guide to sustainable beekeeping. It reveals the pleasures and benefits of keeping bees in gardens of all sizes in both rural and urban areas, explains the practicalities of this widely enjoyed hobby and lists the top performing plants that will help your colony thrive. Beekeeping for Gardeners also discusses the hobby of beekeeping within the wider environment and questions how it can meet the needs of all species of pollinators, as well as it’s potential contribution to the local ecology.
Richard Rickitt is an award-winning author as well as co-editor of the UK’s best-selling beekeeping magazine BeeCraft. He has been an avid beekeeper for over 20 years, maintaining numerous hives for both commercial and private clients as well as his own, looks after the bees at the National Arboretum, and teaches beekeeping courses across the UK as well as abroad.
Richard recently took the time out of his busy schedule to talk to about Beekeeping for Gardeners, including what inspired him to write a book aimed at gardeners, what the future of Honey Bees in Britain looks like and more.
Firstly, could you tell us a little bit about yourself and what prompted you to write a beekeeping book aimed specifically at gardeners?
I grew up on a Somerset smallholding, so my heart is in the countryside. I always loved wildlife and my bedroom was like a miniature Natural History Museum filled with bird’s nests, animal skulls and a menagerie of frogs, newts, caterpillars and anything else I could catch and keep. One day I peeked through a garden hedge to spy on an old beekeeper at work. The white hives, sparkling clouds of bees and puffing smoker seemed mysterious and magical. I suspect that I have a very romanticised image of the scene in my mind, although even now when tending my bees I am often struck by what a bucolic activity it can be. Later, I learned beekeeping at my secondary school which had an excellent rural studies department – I’m not sure if such things exist anymore, which is a terrible shame. I went on to work in film and television special effects, but after moving from London to Wiltshire about 18 years ago, I took up beekeeping again. I became increasingly involved in the beekeeping community, eventually becoming co-editor of BeeCraft, the UK’s bestselling beekeeping magazine, which is now in its 105th year.
I wrote a book aimed at gardeners because many of the people attending my beekeeping courses are already gardeners and want to know more about the bees that they see visiting their flowers. By starting out as gardeners, new beekeepers are already doing one of the most important things that anyone can do for bees; providing them with the resources and habitats that they need. But sometimes a little extra knowledge and small changes in the way you garden can make a huge difference to the sustainability of your local bee populations. For example, some species of solitary bee depend on a single, specific variety of flower.
Keeping honey bees dovetails very nicely with gardening; it’s a seasonal activity done mostly in good weather in spring and summer. Time spent in the garden can be time spent tending both plants and bees, enjoying watching them develop and interact through the year. Gardeners enjoy choosing what plants best work in their garden and if you are a beekeeper there can be the added pleasure of planting specifically for bees and seeing them make use of what you have provided. There are practical benefits too; fruit and vegetable crops will be better pollinated, resulting in more and higher-quality produce. And, of course, there can be the reward of a crop of delicious honey and even wax with which to make candles or cosmetics. Like gardening, beekeeping is a lovely hobby to share as a couple or family – each person often finding their own areas of interest, and sharing the work, discoveries and pleasures.
So, my book is for anyone who loves gardens and is interested in learning about and helping bees of all kinds. They might want to create a beautiful garden with the most appropriate plants, habitat and nesting opportunities for wild bees, or take things further and keep a hive or two of honey bees.
I really liked how the book provided not only a comprehensive guide to beekeeping on a small scale but is also an exceptional resource of information on growing flowering plants and creating habitats for bumblebees, solitary bees and insects of all kinds. Do you think traditional beekeeping advice has tended to be very focused on the Honey Bee itself with less of an emphasis on providing the habitat it requires to thrive?
Beekeepers have always very carefully noted which plants flower near their bees,aswell as the quality and quantity of honey that their bees produce as a result. However, the presence of such resources has generally been taken for granted;the beekeeper only having to look after the bees while it was assumed that nature would provide the rest. Increasingly, because of habitat loss, climate change and pollution, the necessary resources aren’talways there. Today’s beekeepers therefore have to think not only about caring for their bees, but also about caring for the environment in which their bees live. That includes growing more of the right plants but also considering whether their bees might have a negative impact on the local environment and the other species it supports.Most beekeepers begin their hobby for environmental reasons and try have a positive impact.
How do you think beekeeping fits within the broader context of conservation, given that the honey bee isconsidered by some as not native to Britain and may spread diseases to or compete with other important wild pollinators?
This is a great question involvingseveral complex issues,soI’m afraid it requires quite a long reply.
The first point is the erroneous but increasingly commonly held belief that the honey beeis not a UK native species. The oldest fossil of a true honey bee(Apis species) comes from Germany and is about 25 million years old.The distribution of such bees, along with all species of plant and animal, will have fluctuated drastically over the millennia in response to changes in geography,environment and climate. However,when the ice retreated at the end of the last ice age, some 10,000 years ago, what is now called Britain was still connected to the European continent. This allowed the spread northwards of animals and plants. Honey bees naturally live in tree cavities and undoubtedly would have spread into Britain as trees began to grow here.Then, when sea levels rose about 6000 years ago, Britain became an island. This is the cutoff point at which species alreadyestablished and subsequently isolatedhere are generally consideredto be native.That would certainly have included honey bees as well as the hundreds of other species of bumblebee and solitary bee that we now consider to belong here. So, I think there is no doubt that honey beesarein fact native. Indeed, there is archaeologicalevidence of the presence of honey bees in Britian dating backthousands of years. For example, the remains of venison cooked with honey were found in Bronze Age artifacts recently unearthed in Peterborough. There is no such archaeological evidence for the presence of any species of solitary bee or bumblebee in Britain at that time, although I wouldn’tquestion that most of those are also native. For more about the evidence of the honey bee as a native species, I would recommend reading anacademic paper by Norman Careck of Sussex University.
Many of the bumblebeeand solitary bee speciesfound in Britain are also foundon the continent and are considered native in both places. However, thehoney bee, also naturally present on both sides of the channel, is currently claimed by a few people to be non-native in Britian.This contradictoryclaim only seems to have come about in the last decade or so and isperhaps partlybecause of ahistory of commercial importation of honey bees from the European mainland into Britian.Such imports have been made for three reasons; firstly, because in the early twentieth century many of our wild and managed honey bee colonies died as a result of a disease then known as the Isle of Wight disease – so much so that the production of pollinated farm crops was thought to be threatened; secondly, it was thought that the slightly different genetic traits of honey bees from elsewhere could be used to produce more disease-resistant and productive honey bees in the UK; and thirdly, because commercial beekeepers whose bees pollinate crops in spring often require new queens to replace those that have died overwinter – and the British climate makes it impossible to raise new queens here until later in the season.The result has been an influx of honey bee queens from Europe. These bees are the same species as has existed here for thousands of years (Apis mellifera)but they have evolved into regional subspecies because of the slightly differing environmental conditions where they live.Honey bees living in Italy will experience a very different climate and flowering plants to those living in Scotland, for example. The result is that many of our honey beesnow have a mixture of genes hailing from different places.
Some hobby beekeepers today are against the importation of honey bees and increasingly favour what are known as local bees.These are bees raised from colonies that survive and thrive in a relatively small geographical area, without the addition of new genetic characteristics from bees imported from abroad or elsewhere within the UK – they are ecotypes.The actual genetic makeup might be a mixture of all sorts, depending on what is already in an area, but studies have shown that, over time, the native genetic element tends to dominate.There are some areas of the UK where the genetics of local honey bee populations are very highly native.However, as climate change worsens, adaptability will be key to the survival of all species of animal and plant; it might be that genetic traits from imported honey bees are what eventually give our honey bees the ability to survive in unstable climatic conditions.In my book, I urge beginner beekeepers to buy new bees and queens from a local beekeeper who has kept the same bees in the same place for decades, these honey bees will probably be best suited to your area.
Now for the second part of the question, which is also complicated but I will try to keep things brief.There are several diseases that appear to be shared in one form or another by various types of bee. Research into these diseases, their effects and transmissibility, is at the early stages with very few definitive conclusions at the moment.One disease, called nosema, is a kind of fungus that affects the gut of a bee. This is found in both honey bees and bumblebees. It is thought that this first evolved in butterflies, and has since been passed on to bees, which can be spread from one species to anotherperhaps by sharing the same flower resources.One of the biggest threats to honey bees is the presence of varroa, a tiny parasitic mite that can spread various pathogens when feeding from the bodies of developing honey bee pupae. It’s not yet clear which of these pathogens can spread to other species of bee which are not in themselves hosts to varroa.
There are a lot of uncertainties, and it is by no means clear that honey bees are a significant disease danger to other species of bee, or the reverse. However, it highlights the importance of beekeepers fully understanding the biology and lifecycle of honey bees, andtheir diseases and predators. This will enable them to keep healthy bees that are better able bothto resist diseases and minimise the chances of spreading them to other species. Reading my book is a good way to begin understanding how to keep healthy honey bees, and indeed if beekeeping is really for you. After that, I strongly suggest joining your local beekeeping association and signing up for a training course.
Finally, and referring to the first part of your question, you asked about where beekeeping fits into conservation more broadly. The fact is that because beekeepers generally do a good job of looking after them, honey bees are not currently under threat – despite being subject to many of the same pressures as solitary bees and bumblebees. There was a great deal of worry some years ago when huge numbers of honey bees died for largely unknown reasons, but those problems are now generally under control. We shouldn’t be complacent, however; there are still a great many threats to honey bees and the climate crisis poses lots of potential problems.
I consider honey bees to be the ‘gateway bee’. Many people who have never had a very close relationship to wildlife or the natural world are attracted to beekeeping as a fascinating and rewarding hobby – sometimes at first they don’t even understand the difference between honey bees and other bees. Once they are acquainted with honey bees, such people often want to learn more about the other species of bee, ultimately taking part in conservation measures and becoming bee ambassadors, spreading the word about the importance and fragility of bee populations generally and appreciating the importance of plant life and biodiversity in general.
Beekeeping within the UK appears to be a thriving pastime and, throughout the Covid pandemic in particular, it seems that many were inspired to take it up as a hobby. Could we reach a situation where we have too many beekeepers?
It’s thought that in the UK there are about a quarter of the number of honey bee colonies there were in the 1950’s, and far fewer than might have been present naturally a few thousand years ago – a natural density of about one colony per square kilometre is estimated by renowned bee scientist, Professor Tom Seeley. But although we may have fewer honey bees now, we also have a hugely degraded environment that is much less capable of supporting bees of all kinds.
There was a huge drop in the number of beekeepers and bee colonies in the mid-1990s, with membership of the British Beekeeper’s Association (BBKA) dropping to just 7000. When the media began to highlight the problems being experienced by honey bees, particularly due to so-called colony collapse disorder, the number of beekeepers began to rise again. As you say, numbers increased somewhat during the pandemic, too. Today there are about 27,000 members of the BBKA. That number seems to be levelling off and I wouldn’t be surprised if it has reached a peak. There are new beekeepers every year, of course, but people also drop out of the hobby at about the same rate as they join.
I think it is unlikely therefore that we will have too many beekeepers overall, but I do think that the distribution of beekeepers and their bees is a matter of possible concern. Beekeeping has become popular in large cities, and although suburban areas with their dense patterns of small gardens containing a wide variety of plants – not to mention parks, allotments and railway embankments – can provide plenty of bee habitat, city centres are often extremely poor places for supporting bees and other pollinators. The trend for putting beehives on top of city centre office buildings is highly questionable when there are so few flowering plants nearby. There are also a few rural areas with particularly fragile populations of rare bee species where it might be unwise to keep honey bees. A very high density of honey bees in any area could increase the chances of disease transmission – as discussed in the previous question. These are all issues discussed in my book.
Overall, I believe that thoughtful beekeeping is environmentally beneficial. Although you can place bee hotels in your garden and plant gardens to attract bees, there is nothing quite like learning about and witnessing the extraordinary lifecycle of a honey bee colony for opening people’s eyes, minds and hearts to the breathtakingly complex and beautiful natural history of bees and pollinators in general.
With constant monitoring in place for the arrival of pests such as Tropilaelaps mites as well as the current spread of the Yellow Legged Hornet (commonly referred to as the Asian Hornet), are you broadly optimistic for the future of Honey Bees in Britain?
It seems likely that the Asian Hornet (Vespa velutina) might finally have a toehold in the UK and we could have a small breeding population. Until now, APHA (Animal and Plant Health Agency) and the National Bee Unit have done a great job tracing nests and destroying them, but if the population increases exponentially, it will be impossible to control – as has been the case in France and other places.
It is hard to say exactly how the arrival of the Asian Hornet will affect British beekeeping although, as with the arrival of Varroa Mites in the 1990s, I suspect there will be a steep decline in the number of people keeping bees. Chris Packham recently said that having Asian hornets might only mean the loss of a few teaspoonfuls of honey, but I strongly disagree with this sentiment. One nest of Asian hornets can consume 11.5 kg of insects in a season – that’s hundreds of thousands of insects. Perhaps people don’t mind if those insects are honey bees, but when the honey bees run out, other bees, wasps, flies, butterflies and so-on could become the target prey. Imagine how that might affect birds and other animals that rely on those insects – not to mention the crops that they pollinate. And bear in mind that one Asian hornet nest can produce 300 queens resulting in hundreds of new nests the following year.
Tropelaelaps, and particularly Small Hive Beetle, are two other potentially very problematic invasive pests. They haven’t been found here yet and there are import controls and a system of sentinel apiaries to try to prevent or detect their arrival. There are contingency plans to prevent their spread should they arrive but there are a lot of unknown factors. Climate change makes the possible arrival and spread of these exotic species more concerning.
I’m broadly optimistic about the future of beekeeping in the UK but there will be challenges and changes.
Finally, although I’m sure your job as editor of BeeCraft magazine, as well as your public speaking engagements must keep you incredibly busy (alongside the actual beekeeping of course!), we’d love to know if you have plans for further books?
I have lots of ideas for other bee-related books, some practical and some a bit more esoteric. Whether I’ll ever find time to write them, and in particular take the photographs for them, is another matter. At the moment,I’mglad to have finished this book and I am enjoying watching bees and visiting gardens without feeling the need to make notes and take photos – although my camera is never very far away…
The Orchid Outlaw tells the tale of author Ben Jacob’s mission to save some of the UK’s rarest, native orchids. With many facing extinction due to land use change and the climate crisis, while also not being protected by environmental and planning laws, Ben took it upon himself to rescue these threatened plants and grow them in his own kitchen and garden, rather than losing the plants all together. In doing so, he placed himself on the wrong side of the law. This part memoir, part natural history piece shows us how we can all save the world one plant at a time.
Ben works as a University lecturer by day, and as a clandestine ecologist, conservationist and Orchid-saviour by night. It is always a pleasure to meet the authors behind our books, particularly those who are adopting their own approach to nature restoration and conservation, and we were delighted to have the opportunity to talk to Ben in person about The Orchid Outlaw and have him sign our books. We discussed how he first became interested in Botany, his thoughts on the Right to Roam movement, what he hopes the reader can learn from his book and more. Read the full author interview on the Conservation Hub.
Firstly, can you tell us about yourself and how you first became interested in both Botany and orchids?
By day I’m a mild-mannered lecturer (in a subject which has very little to do with science or botany); by night I am a guerrilla conservationist with a focus on rescuing, conserving, and bringing back to the land, our native orchids. The Orchid Outlaw explains the journey I took from a chance encounter with a tropical orchid in a garden centre as a child, which led me, when I was older, to trekking through jungles to look for tropical species, then, and older still, via a mugging, an enforced return to England and a broken back, to encounter Britain’s – and Europe’s – native orchids. As I learned more about these species, I realised that my preconceptions about our native orchids and the state of our natural environment were wrong. I became aware of the significant recent decline in orchid populations… and began my unorthodox means of saving them. I tell this story alongside (hopefully) entertaining diversions through history, medicine, man’s changing relationship with nature, Charles Darwin’s discovery of evolution, and a critical exploration of the laws which exist to protect wildlife in this country – but which are so full of huge holes that battalions of construction vehicles can rumble straight through, crushing all life before them. Which they do. Daily. Without any legal consequences.
In contrast, a well-intentioned conservationist (like me) rescuing wild flora or fauna from private land which is about to be turned into a housing estate, without first going through the hurdles required to gain permission from the landowner, risks fines of £5,000 per plant or six months in prison. Do these laws make sense? No. Are they helping sustain a healthy and diverse population of native species? No. So, like any laws which don’t work, someone should stand up to them and do what needs to be done.
Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera) by Oli Haines.
In the past week, the European Council has formally adopted the Nature Restoration law. Do you think this law could have any influence on conservation policy here in Britain, and to what extent do you think it will change people’s attitudes towards our responsibility to protect the natural environment?
In Britain (as elsewhere) 2024 is a national election year so any impact on British political attitudes of a European law will depend to an extent on which party wins. Unfortunately, none of our main political parties have a good track record when it comes to protecting our natural heritage for us and future generations – we have seen a rapid decline in numbers across all species and native habitats over many decades presided over by both main parties and a coalition. Of course, for the sake of everyone’s future, I’d like to think this European Council law marks a shift in geo-political will which will pull all national policies into its orbit (fingers-crossed)… but the realist in me suggests that unless meaningful, accountable, well-policed penalties accompany laws, those laws tend to make little concrete difference (consider for example international laws around freedom of expression, asylum, and war crimes, which are broken all around the world every day).
The Orchid Outlaw highlighted how pre-industry anthropogenic land use is intertwined with orchid distribution, particularly in the UK. How do you think rewilding (which is currently a very hot topic) can be implemented in a way that supports these species that may have benefitted from traditional land management rather than being left to nature?
The Orchid Outlaw looks a little bit at how native orchids thrived in the habitat niches created on a large scale by man, including hay meadows, and how centuries of people-managed woodland (the clearing of underwood and occasional felling) provided conditions which helped many native orchid species to thrive. Of course, these habitats had existed long before people (meadows had been formed, for example, by large, now extinct cattle, naturally falling trees, and wildfires) so, in many ways, mankind took on the role of these natural forces for his own benefit and, in the process, allowed many other species – not only orchids – to benefit too. In this sense, ‘rewilding’ is not simply a case of letting an area go wild without any human intervention – ironically this kind of habitat is completely ‘un-wild’ unless it is stocked with the right range of creatures which are going to complete the tapestry of life (and death) needed to reach a healthy, natural, sustainable equilibrium.
Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza) by Jo Graeser.
How can we mitigate orchid loss in a practical conservation framework when vital species-specific symbiotic relationships with fungi are not considered, so these species may not be protected under current schemes?
There are all kinds of gaping holes in our awareness of the world – and what really goes on in the soil, which sustains everything, is one of them. Because of this particular hole, soil health has fallen through the gaps of wildlife conservation laws, even though soil, like the sea, is a vast, living, environment containing more life than we can see and it is an environment upon which the world depends. Orchids in particular have a very complex, as yet only partially understood, crucial relationship with certain soil fungi (mycorrhizae). This is because orchid seed germinates unlike that of any other plant. It creates a symbiotic relationship with a specific mycorrhiza in order to then form a kind of hairy blob (a ‘protocorm’) which, eventually, sometimes after many years living underground sustained only by fungus, becomes a flowering plant. This makes orchids important indicators of soil health, because it seems that the mycorrhizae they need are adversely affected by artificial fertilisers and herbicides. In a way then, our orchids have taught me that any conservation framework has to start from the ground – literally, the dirt – up, because that is the secret to success. If the earth and the microbes in it are right for the plants there – and, of course, plants are crucial to any rewilding project – then insects, birds, mammals will come and the tapestry of life which orchids introduced to me will weave itself.
The right to roam movement is growing, especially close to home here in Devon. What are your thoughts on trespassing for the purpose of immersing and enjoying nature that is legally out of reach for the majority of citizens? Following this, if the laws were to change do you think it would affect attitudes towards nature with more people having the chance to be exposed to nature?
Let’s be honest, this is ‘our’ land. Our ancestors built it, fought for it, died for it, are buried in it; it is deplorable that we do not have the right to roam – considerately and with respect – upon our land. The right to roam exists in Scotland without any major detriment to anybody and the fact that it does not exist in England and Wales says a great deal about the sway the old class system still holds here – after all, 0.06% of the population owns half of rural England and Wales and much of this land distribution extends back to the days of feudal lords. For centuries, no one has done much to change this status quo.
Obviously, allowing people the chance to experience nature is a great way of changing attitudes to it… but a lot of the land we can roam in Devon is still unavailable to those in inner city areas, so a shift in awareness towards our natural world – our natural heritage, formed over thousands of years and which we should be proud to pass on to our children –– is not solely about opening up rural land. The recent pandemic made many people far more aware of how important being outside in nature is to our wellbeing – whether in a park or allotment or an uncut verge with a bench to sit on and wild flowers buzzing with insects and flickering with butterflies. So, while the right to roam is important, I think wider appreciation of the real value of nature will be helped by allowing nature to be more present everywhere in everyone’s life – from green roofs, wild parks and county farms, to unmown verges and tree-lined streets smothered in bird boxes…
What do you hope the reader can learn from The Orchid Outlaw?
On the one hand, I like to think that The Orchid Outlaw takes a reader on the same journey of discovery I went on, with orchids as my guide, opening my eyes to so much I hadn’t known. One of the biggest wake-up calls orchids gave me was the inadequacy of our wildlife laws and the massive, underreported decline of some our native flora. Orchids also taught me about the important microfauna all around us, the complex nature of soil, the history of botany and herbalism, and of course the fascinating world of native orchids themselves – the magical co-evolution that has occurred between orchids and their pollinators, the fact that some species never need sunlight, that others grow a metre tall and smell of decay, and some can live to be over a hundred years old… and a great deal more.
On the other hand, and perhaps more importantly, I’d like to think that what I do, as unorthodox as it is, shows that you don’t have to be a scientist, researcher, or working for an official institution to make a positive impact for the other living organisms on our planet.
Can you tell us what’s occupying your time at the moment? Do you have any other books in progress that we can hear about?
Aside from the usual rescuing and reintroducing native orchids, at the end of The Orchid Outlaw I talk about moving to the countryside to an old house which needed – and continues to need – a lot of attention. So, the garden (which was essentially a forest of nettles) and the lab I started building at the bottom of the garden to propagate orchids (so I no longer need to turn the kitchen into my lab) is largely what occupies my spare time. In any spare moments I am working on a couple of book proposals, both of which relate to elements of The Orchid Outlaw, but, for now, they’re closely guarded secrets!
The Orchid Outlaw has been published by John Murray and is available from our online bookstore.
This tale of rat catchers, crumbling buildings and back alleys delves into the complex linkages between humans and rats, questioning why some animals are accepted while others are cast aside. Joe Shute follows the course of this intricate relationship through history, from those in the trenches to the present day, where an estimated ten million rats live in Britain alone.
Joe Shute is an author and journalist who has a keen passion for the natural world. He is the long-standing author of The Daily Telegraph‘s Saturday ‘Weather Watch’ column, is currently a post-graduate researcher at Manchester Metropolitan University and lives in Sheffield with his wife and pet rats.
We recently had the opportunity to speak to Joe about his book, including his most unexpected lines of enquiry while writing Stowaway, how his own relationship with rats has changed over time, what he plans to do next and more.
What initially drew you to focussing on rats for this book?
I am particularly attracted to the less fashionable corners of nature writing, I suppose. In particular I have a soft spot for scavengers, of which rats are obviously the greatest of them all. I find it fascinating that wild rats are creatures which have adapted and thrived in our shadow over centuries of human history and yet we still don’t know much about them. I wanted to unpick the rat stories and mythology and folklore attached to rats and see them as an animal in their own right. Because the history of rats is so bound up in our own, I also hoped that focusing on rats would help change my understanding of how humans interact with the world.
Wild Rat – Rutland Water by Airwolfhound, via flickr.
What were some of the unexpected lines of enquiry the writing of this book opened for you?
I knew about the intelligence of rats beforehand but until I started writing the book I hadn’t appreciated the complexity of the inner lives of rats. Numerous studies have shown that rats feel empathy, regret, possess the power of imagination and even enjoy dancing. I also hadn’t appreciated until writing the book how little is known about rats in the wild. Despite being such a familiar animal, we really have little idea about the size of rat populations or exactly where and how they live in cities. Also, I hadn’t fully appreciated just how clever rats are. I visited a project in Tanzania where rats are taught to detect landmines. In the US, scientists have even taught rats how to drive cars.
Rats have pretty badPR and this book does an illuminating and erudite job of portraying them with a nuanced and sympathetic appreciation. Why is it important that we scrutinise our relationship with rats?
It’s important to redress our relationship with rats because I believe we are entering a new era of history alongside them. The 20th century was marked by a ‘war on the rat’ with countries committing huge resources to eradicate populations with mostly limited success. This has also had a terrible impact on the natural world, with toxic rodenticides poisoning animals throughout the food chain. This is now changing and various cities such as Paris and Amsterdam are asking whether we might be able to better co-exist with rats. In the UK and elsewhere greater restrictions are also being placed on the indiscriminate use of rodenticides. There are certainly settings where rats are destructive and cause great harm, for example in important seabird colonies where they can devastate nesting populations or indeed when living in someone’s house. But why should they not share our parks and gardens with us?
What are some ways in which rats, and our misconceptions of them, hold mirror up to our own behaviours?
I argue in the book that rats thrive where humanity has failed. Industrial farming, where wildness and natural predators have been lost and monoculture of crops exist, provide the ideal conditions for rats. Similarly in urban areas rats flourish among poor sanitation and low quality housing stock and lots of litter. War, waste and a devastated natural environment are all places where you will find rats. If we address these very human problems and behaviours then rat populations will automatically be kept more in check.
What are your hopes for what rat appreciation can offer us?
I think an appreciation of rats can offer all of us a different perspective on how we interact with nature. When you look at a rat out foraging for food and put aside the cultural baggage attached to it, you see a supremely adaptable creature that can also be very cute!
How has your own relationship with rats changed throughout the process of researching and writing this book?
I started writing this book as someone with an innate fear of rats. Once I started interrogating this, however, I came to realise that so much of this is cultural – the books I read as a child and urban myths about rats which we all grow up with. To conquer my fears I adopted pet rats, Molly and Ermintrude, who revealed to me so much about the inner lives of rats and are the little beating hearts of my book. So much so in fact that I dedicate Stowaway to them.
Finally, are you currently working on any other projects that you can tell us about?
I am currently based at Manchester Metropolitan University’s Centre for Place Writing where I am undertaking a research project on rivers – specifically a lost urban river called the Irk in Manchester. I am doing a lot of work with communities, running writing workshops to connect people to the river and the urban flora and fauna which flourishes there. Unsurprisingly, there are a lot of rats along the Irk, but Kingfishers, Dippers and Grey Wagtails too. It is exactly the sort of contested and overlooked environment rich in human history which I love writing about and where I always feel most inspired.
Stowaway has been published by Bloomsbury and is available via our online bookstore.
The latest volume in the New Naturalist series, Stoats, Weasels, Martens & Polecats focuses on the four species of ‘small mustelids’ – highly specialised predators and ubiquitous assassins, some of which were once hunted to near-extinction. This delightfully rich text details their physiology, distribution, daily lives, significance in UK history and folklore, while also intertwining the authors own experiences working at the forefront of mustelid conservation across England and Wales.
Jenny MacPherson managed the Pine Marten Reintroduction Project for many years before taking over as the Principle Scientist at The Vincent Wildlife Trust. She has a longstanding background in zoology and research, holds an MSc in Conservation at the University College London and a PhD from Royal Holloway.
Jenny recently took the time out of her busy schedule to talk to us about the book, including how she first became interested in mustelids, how she thinks these animals will fare in relation to the current climate and environmental challenges and more.
Can you tell us a little about your background and what first interested you in mustelids?
I studied zoology at university as a mature student, having worked as a theatre costume assistant in London when I left school. Actually, my first experience of mustelids was the rather unflattering portrayal of the Stoats and Weasels in the National Theatre production of The Wind in the Willows that I worked on, back in 1990! – I was responsible for getting Otter into his costume, a 1920s style knitted bathing suit. Then, as an undergraduate at Royal Holloway University, I planned my dissertation project on Pine Martens, having been captivated by them on holidays in Scotland, where it was such a rare treat to see them. Since then, mustelids, and especially Pine Martens, have been a major interest of mine.
It is very difficult to study elusive, nocturnal animals that live at low density and are patchily distributed. It certainly tests our ingenuity. Thankfully some of the rapid advances in technology are helping, as I describe in the book.
How do you think small mustelids in the UK will fare in the face of climate and environmental change?
It is difficult to predict and it will likely vary between species. Pine Martens might ultimately benefit from increases in afforestation for carbon storage, but in the meantime existing forests are coming under multiple pressures from recreation, timber harvesting and emerging plant diseases. The impacts of environmental change on prey populations shouldn’t be underestimated either. Some long-term studies have already shown declines in the abundance and diversity of small mammal communities linked to climate change, which is of concern for all of our native carnivores.
Historical opinions held by some across the UK favour culling of mustelids. For instance, Pine Martens in Scotland are at risk of predator-control trapping due to a perceived risk to livestock and game birds. What can we do to challenge these long-held, traditional ways of thinking in relation to UK predators?
We need to raise greater awareness of natural processes, including predation. Predators have a number of important functions and play a key role in supporting our ecosystems. In Britain, these have been out of balance for centuries as a result of human intervention and we have become used to ‘controlling’ any animals that cause us an inconvenience, rather than working together to find practicable ways of living alongside predators.
Citizen science projects are a great way for people outside of the field to get involved with conservation research. Are there any resources where the public can submit sightings? And how can citizen science benefit the conservation of this group?
Citizen scientists and volunteers are crucial to conservation research and we have a long history of their involvement in Britain. Vincent Wildlife Trust collect sightings and other records of Pine Martens and are currently also carrying out a two-year national survey of Polecats. More information can be found on the website at www.vwt.org.uk. The collective effort of citizen scientists makes it possible to gather huge amounts of information over large areas and time frames, which helps to focus conservation efforts where they are most needed for these species.
Are you working on any other projects you would like to share with us? Can we expect more books from you in the future?
I am currently working on a number of projects in my role at Vincent Wildlife Trust, including a feasibility study for reintroducing European Mink to the southern Carpathians in Romania, and I have just started writing another book.
Stoats, Weasels, Martens & Polecats is available to pre-order from our online bookstore.
This is the first comprehensive guide to bird pellets showcasing a wide range of pellets produced by different species, including owls, hawks, waders and various garden birds. Author Ed Drewitt offers a methodical introduction to pellets, outlining what they are, how they’re formed, dissection methods, analysis and common findings, accompanied by an array of detailed illustrations and photographs. Bird Pellets provides a closer look at those produced by each species in turn and outlines how to identify the remains of small mammals, which can be an important tool for discovering what a bird feeds on, understanding dietary change over time and other aspects, making this an invaluable resource in ecology.
Ed Drewitt is a professional naturalist, wildlife detective and broadcaster for the BBC who specialises in the study of birds and marine mammals. He studied Zoology at the University of Bristol, before working at Bristol’s Museums, Galleries and Archives for numerous years. He is now a freelance learning consultant who runs bird identification courses, provides wildlife commentaries on excursions, writes for wildlife magazines and is involved in bird ringing studies. Ed is also the lead researcher in a study focusing on the diet of urban-dwelling peregrines in the UK and author of Urban Peregrines.
Firstly, can you tell us a little bit about yourself and how you came to write a book about bird pellets?
I have been interested in wildlife, particularly birds, since I was six or seven. Back then I would love collecting feathers and skulls, and bird pellets. I remember being excited at finding a Sparrowhawk plucking–perch in the woods where I lived in Surrey and finding small pellets – packed full of small feathers – from the hawk. Much of my career has involved developing and delivering learning workshops and resources for school-aged students and my public engagement work involves communicating science in plain English. Therefore, I am well versed in writing a book that appeals to families, schools and researchers alike. For several years I worked part-time in the teaching laboratory for the School of Biological Sciences at the University of Bristol. Each spring I would help oversee students dissecting several hundred Barn Owl pellets; I also arranged for a live owl and Kestrel to come in, to bring the practical ‘alive’. I have also been studying what urban-dwelling Peregrines eat (and am author of Urban Peregrines and Raptor Prey Remains) over the past 26 years. Therefore, I was in a brilliant and timely position to tap into my own pellet and bone collection, and source more material from others across the country and beyond, to write the ultimate bird pellet book!
Most people are aware that owls and raptors produce pellets, but are there any pellet-producing species that we’d be more surprised to hear about?
Absolutely – any bird that eats something that is indigestible and unable to pass through the intestines and out the other end, will produce a pellet. People are always surprised when I explain that even Robins and Blackbirds produce pellets, often made up of bits of woodlice and beetles. Interestingly though, two raptors, that you might expect to produce pellets do not: the Osprey and the Honey Buzzard. Both eat foods that either are digested or picked at, meaning harder parts, such as bones, are not swallowed.
I was interested to read in your introduction to the book that pellets can be used to study what birds were eating thousands or even millions of years ago. Are bird pellets generally well represented in the fossil record?
The brilliant thing about pellets is that, while their general structure may break down, their contents, for example, mammal and bird skulls, may accumulate in one area, even if they get buried over time. While some bits will slowly decay or move over time, others may remain in situ and intact. Palaeontologists and archaeologists often study how animals decay; it is known as taphonomy. It can also be applied to pellets. While complex, researchers can work out which species has produced a pellet and what happens to its contents with time. In turn, researchers can determine previous assemblages of prey species, such as small mammals, and how these have changed over time depending on environmental and ecological conditions. This type of study can also work out which species are more (or less) likely to be found in such accumulations and therefore how the fossil record may be biased towards particular prey species.
Many of us will be familiar with the technique of using the visual observation of bones and other remains in pellets to study what was in a bird’s diet. But are there more advanced laboratory methods that are now being used to study them in more detail?
Yes, although I don’t think they are quite as fun or smelly! In essence, taking swabs from pellets can reveal the DNA of what has been eaten, including things that may not otherwise be detectable, although some of these items may have been eaten by the prey itself, if the DNA is intact enough. It can work the other way though; well digested food remains may mean the DNA of prey is undetectable or so degraded it cannot be assigned to a species or taxa, while traditional visual techniques may be able to confirm its identity.
Can pellets be useful for studying the presence of pollutants in the environment, such as plastics and microplastics?
Absolutely, and this is not a new thing, although it is now more topical in the media. Some seabirds, such as terns and gulls, have been producing pellets with polystyrene particles going back to the 1970s. However, now we have a better idea of just how much plastic is in our environment, we are now looking for it more in the stomachs and pellets of birds. Dippers are a very good example. Small invertebrates, such as stonefly larvae, ingest microplastics. They are then eaten by Dippers and the plastics accumulate in the pellets they regurgitate. Of course, the cumulative health effects that ingesting plastic has on birds such as Dippers is difficult to ascertain. Even Barn Owl pellets may contain microplastics, ingested from the stomachs of small mammals they are eating.
What is the most surprising or unusual thing you have found in a bird pellet to date?
Gull pellets are often the most interesting, mostly because of the litter they contain, from plastic particles and bags to condoms! On a more natural note, the most spectacular pellet I have found was on the Flannan Isles, a remote island west of the Isle of Lewis, Scotland. The pellet was from a Great Skua, and it contained a whole Leach’s Petrel, which also live on the island. The petrel had gone down into the stomach where it had been digested. It was then regurgitated as a pellet, pretty much as a whole bird including intact wings, just minus any flesh! Skuas and Great Black-backed Gulls will also do the same thing with young rabbits and Puffins. Pellets can also be useful for finding the rings of wild birds and discovering that a bird has eaten another bird with an interesting origin of ringing, such as Norway or Russia!
Finally, what’s keeping you occupied this summer, and do you have further books in the pipeline that we can look forward to?
During the summer I am busy taking people out to see wildlife, especially in the Forest of Dean, where I live. I especially love birdsong and helping others to hear it. I am also working with the RSPB on the Gwent Levels, doing some training courses on identifying saltmarsh plants and wildlife. My wife, Liz, and I have two children, aged four and seven, so we will also be busy keeping them occupied! They love the outdoors and enjoy seeing wildlife just like we do. I have some papers in the pipeline as I am halfway through a part-time PhD at the University of Bristol. My 26-year study of the diet of urban-dwelling peregrines has given me plenty of data to analyse and write into chapters for my PhD.
Bird Pellets will be published by Pelagic Publishing and is available to pre-order from our online bookstore.
In this bracing yet hopeful exploration of the future of the ocean, Helen scales relays the fascinating, deep history of our seas and reveals how prehistoric ecology holds lessons for the oceans of today. In light of the current challenging climate conditions, she offers innovative ideas to protect our coastlines and the species who live there, highlighting the importance of ethical and sustainable fisheries, the threat posed by deep-sea mining and more. This inspiring tale urges us to fight for a better future for the ocean before it’s too late.
Helen Scales is a marine biologist, author and broadcaster who teaches Marine Biology and Science Writing at the University of Cambridge. She regularly writes on ocean discoveries for National Geographic Magazine and The Guardian, is an avid scuba diver, cold-water surfer and trained free diver who has lived and worked around the world, and is currently spending her time between Cambridge and the wild Atlantic coast of France.
We recently had the opportunity to talk to Helen about her most recent book What The Wild Sea Can Be, including how she first became a marine biologist, how we can secure a better future for our oceans, her current projects and more.
Firstly, can you tell us a little about yourself, your career, and how you came to be a marine biologist?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved nature and being outdoors. My family spent a lot of holidays in Cornwall, so my training grounds as a marine biologist were windswept Atlantic beaches. This is when I began my lifelong love of rock pooling, shell collecting and rummaging around in seaweed to see what I can find.
As a teen, I became a committed environmentalist. I was outraged by the issues of the day, including deforestation in the Amazon, and became vegetarian. Around the time I was beginning to contemplate a career as an environmental scientist, a school friend and I decided to take up scuba diving. We lived in land-locked, suburban Surrey – not an obvious place to learn to dive – but there was a friendly dive club that met each week and trained at the local swimming pool in an enclosed sea of eye-stinging chlorination. Our open water training dives were mostly back down in Cornwall, and that’s where I truly fell in love with the ocean and knew that I wanted to become a marine biologist. Instead of running off to save the rainforests, I wanted to save the ocean. I often say that was when my vision for my future turned from green to blue.
So I left school, diving licence in hand, and immediately headed off on adventures to explore more of the seas. I’ve been incredibly lucky to travel to many corners of the ocean, studying and researching, and taking every opportunity I could to get myself underwater. For my PhD, I went to Borneo and studied the lives and loves of one of the biggest and I think most beautiful fish on coral reefs, the Humphead Wrasse.
Over the years, I’ve worked for various conservation organisations, including WWF in Malaysia where I mapped marine life around an archipelago of coral islands. Later, I worked on efforts to control the global trade in endangered marine species. Then, quite out of the blue, I discovered a previously unknown passion for writing and presenting, and decided to focus on sharing stories with people about the wonders and troubles of the living ocean.
This book is cautiously optimistic about marine conservation. What have been the most impactful positive actions that have helped the recovery and management of our oceans?
A big part of my optimism for the future is the fact that ocean life has an incredible capacity to recover and heal, given a chance. Often all it takes is for people to stop hunting and killing so many animals.
For instance in the 1980s, commercial whaling was banned following the successful Save the Whales campaign, and now we’re seeing many whale populations doing a lot better. Back in the mid 20th century, whalers had killed around 99% of the Blue Whale subspecies from Antarctica, the biggest animals ever known to exist. Just recently, hydrophones stationed in the Southern Ocean have been detecting the songs of Blue Whales, a good sign that their numbers are on the rise.
Recoveries are happening in many other ocean species. After being gone for decades, Bluefin Tuna are showing up again around Britain, in part because catches have been better controlled in the Atlantic. Populations of oceanic sharks, like Great Hammerheads and Great White Sharks, are gradually increasing in the western Atlantic following years of overfishing. Up until the 1990s, the United States had a policy that actively encouraged shark exploitation. These wild animals were classified as an underutilised resource. That didn’t go well for sharks and their populations crashed. Finally, attitudes shifted, and the government rolled back the shark killing incentives and introduced measures to protect them in commercial and recreational fisheries.
Another proven way to let the ocean recover is to leave parts completely alone. That means no fishing or exploitation of any kind. People have been trying out these kinds of highly protected marine reserves for decades and showing that this is a powerful way to let nature in the ocean heal, grow and proliferate – not just inside the watery reserve boundaries but outside too.
Some of these reserves are quite tiny, and some are enormous. At both big and small scales there can be tremendous benefits for wildlife and for people when these kinds of reserves are well designed and well enforced. In Scotland, a tiny reserve off the island of Arran has helped seabed ecosystems recover and flourish from years of trawling; Lamlash Bay is now home to lots more big lobsters and scallops, and the fragile habitat-forming seaweed called maerl. And in the middle of the Pacific, the vast Papah?naumoku?kea Marine National Monument covers more than 1.5 million square miles of sea, including the spawning grounds of migratory Yellowfin and Bigeye Tuna whose numbers are increasing.
The entire ocean will never be strictly protected. What’s needed are more of these kinds of carefully located and well–enforced reserves – to protect important places like the spawning grounds of rare and endangered species, and safeguard deep sea mounts covered in rich coral and sponge gardens – combined with wider measures to sustainably manage the rest of the ocean.
What the Wild Sea Can Be discusses possible solutions to the big problems that humanity will face in terms of future oceans. Are you aware of any lesser-known or less popular solutions that could be beneficial in securing a sustainable ocean?
Certain solutions for a sustainable ocean tend to be unpopular among powerful people who are creaming off profits from the seas, often at huge industrial scales. Take the factory ships that head to Antarctica to extract krill. These finger-sized crustaceans are hunted by truly massive ships. One recently built in China is 140m(460ft) long– longer than a football field. The technique for catching krill involves lowering down giant nets and pumping up hundreds of tonnesof krill every day, working nonstop for weeks at a time. The krill is processed on board, mashed and ground to make fishmeal and oils, and most of it is destined for fish farms to be fed to livestock like salmon.
Krill are fantastically abundant in the Southern Ocean. The snag is that the places where fisheries target krill in their densest, largest shoals are the very same places where Antarctic wildlife flocks to feed on them. Whales, seals, penguins and seabirds depend on krill. Studies suggest that fisheries depleting local krill populations can make it tough for other animals to find enough food, especially penguins during their nesting season.
To make matters worse, krill and their predators are also in the firing line of the climate crisis. The Antarctic Peninsula is one of the fastest heating places on the planet. Sea ice is retreating, upsetting the life cycle of krill that depend on the ice.
Proposals to protect more of the seas around the West Antarctic Peninsula and restrict where fishing can happen are being met with strong opposition from nations with major krill fishing interests. There are many other examples where vested interests and powerful lobbies are blocking progressive changes to the way people use the ocean.
In chapter ten you discuss the idea of futuristic, ocean floating cities in the Maldives. Do you think highly engineered solutions such as these have a place in a sustainable future? And how realistic do you think these innovative adaptations are as a long-term solution?
It’s only going to be rich nations that can afford expensive, engineered solutions at a large enough scale to be significant. Perhaps there are people in the Maldives who will be able to afford this, but I’m guessing not an average fishing family whose island homes are disappearing beneath the waves. The situation in the Maldives is grim and it’s hard to know what to do in low-lying, island nations that have so little time, so I understand why people are exploring ideas of floating cities and other extreme measures.
Elsewhere, more realistic and frankly exciting solutions involve working with nature, not against it. Wetland habitats, like salt marshes and mangrove forests, are excellent at protecting against flooding and storms, and they bring heaps of other benefits too, from carbon sequestration to supporting local fisheries.
A priority for living with the future ocean is to protect and nurture existing wetlands, especially those near big cities, and to find smart ways of weaving those green solutions into more conventional approaches to protecting coastlines.
This book is a realistic, yet hopeful exploration of the future of our marine environment. Where do you think we should focus our attention over the next ten years to secure a better future for our oceans?
There are a few key things that I think need attention in the ocean in the years ahead. It will be critical to turn off the tap of plastics entering the ocean. To do that, plastic production needs to be limited globally. Currently, the amount being made annually is skyrocketing, and recycling rates have stagnated at around 10%. A global treaty on plastics is being negotiated at the United Nations which could pave the way to turning around the plastics juggernaut.
There needs to be a cultural shift away from treating the ocean as a resource to exploit and squeeze profit from. A new mindset is beginning to take hold embracing an alternative view, one of cultivation and investment. People are producing low-impact, ethical seafood, for instance growing shellfish and seaweed. Governments need to support initiatives like these, instead of propping up damaging industrial fisheries. The ocean has the capacity to provide sustainable food for millions of people, especially in food-insecure nations who have no alternatives and depend most on the seas, but not if damaging industrial fishing continues to dominate.
New ways to recklessly exploit the ocean need to be stopped before they start, in particular deep-sea mining. Mining corporations want to extract metal-rich rocks from the seabed many miles beneath the waves, in the process destroying vital deep-sea habitats and species, potentially causing widespread pollution and disrupting the health of the ocean.
The argument for deep-sea mining is that this would be a better way to provide materials for a green economy, in particular to build electric car batteries. For many reasons, this logic is deeply flawed. For one thing, the EV market is fast moving, and companies are constantly inventing new technologies in the race to build lighter, faster-charging batteries. Increasingly, the types of metals that could come from the deep, such as cobalt and lithium, are likely to be replaced by more readily available and less problematic materials.
There’s growing pushback from civil society, governments, indigenous groups, scientists and industry leaders who agree that deep-sea mining is not vital for green economies and would permanently harm the ocean.
What’s next for you? Do you have any current projects that you would like to share with us?
A few years ago I began writing books for younger readers and it’s become a part of my work that I treasure. I have a lot of fun telling stories about the seas and sea life to younger audiences, and I love collaborating with super talented artists who make such incredibly beautiful books. So, I have several more books for little ones in the pipeline.
There are also some spin offs from the books I’ve already written. When I set out on my career as a marine biologist, I never imagined one day I would have my own jigsaws!
What the Wild Sea Can Be is available to order from our online bookstore.
**** Tells the story of an unlikely hero
The promotional blurb for the book mentions it draws on the latest science though I was left somewhat confused when I finished it. Schieb is obviously not an entomologist but a graphic artist. There is no mention of the project having benefited from one or several entomologists acting as consultants to give the contents the once-over for scientific accuracy. There is no acknowledgements section where Schieb credits scientists for advice and input. There is not even a list of references or recommended reading included. Or is there? Since I do not have access to the German original I had to resort to some online sleuthing and found a preview on Amazon.de that includes the reference list on p. 126. This reveals that, yes, he has consulted books and scientific papers in both English and German, including that evergreen The Ants, an older edition of Insect Physiology and Biochemistry, and both specialist and general German books on forest insects. So, Schieb did his homework, Kosmos referenced it, but for some bizarre reason, Princeton simply omitted it, as the page between 125 and 127 is… blank! Did I just happen to receive a dud to review? Checking eight other copies at our warehouse confirmed that, no, this is a feature, not a bug. Hopefully, if there are future print runs, this is a detail that can be rectified, as it could easily leave readers with the wrong impression.
Richard Rickitt is an award-winning author as well as co-editor of the UK’s best-selling beekeeping magazine 
Ben works as a University lecturer by day, and as a clandestine ecologist, conservationist and Orchid-saviour by night. It is always a pleasure to meet the authors behind our books, particularly those who are adopting their own approach to nature restoration and conservation, and we were delighted to have the opportunity to talk to Ben in person about The Orchid Outlaw and have him sign our books. We discussed how he first became interested in Botany, his thoughts on the Right to Roam movement, what he hopes the reader can learn from his book and more. Read the full author interview on the Conservation Hub.
Joe Shute is an author and journalist who has a keen passion for the natural world
