Review – Page 2 – Hoopoe

Book Review: Blue Machine

***** An engrossing odyssey into oceanography

In a break from many other books about the deep sea that talk about animals, Blue Machine focuses on the ocean itself, revealing a fascinating planetary engine. Equal parts physical oceanography, marine biology, and science history, topped off with human-interest stories, Czerski has written a captivating book that oozes lyricism in places.

Czerski is an accidental oceanographer, stumbling into the discipline from a background in physics. She boasts a long list of science communication credentials as a TV presenter, podcast host, columnist, public speaker, and author. This is a big book with chunky chapters but Czerski keeps the flow going by alternating between scientific explanations, fascinating experiments, and remarkable historical episodes. I find the deep sea endlessly fascinating and have been drawn ever further into oceanography through my reviews, yet something was always missing. This book has finally scratched the oceanographic itch I have long been trying to satisfy. How so, you might ask?

Stormy sea and waves crashing against a stony beach. — Stormy Waters IMG_6958 by Ronnie Robertson, via flickr.

Start with that introduction. If you zoom right out, what sets a planet’s temperature, and with it the potential for life, is the balance between energy input from the sun and energy loss to the universe in the form of heat. From this grand, cosmic perspective, what the ocean with its circulating currents does is intercept some of that incoming energy and prevent it from immediately escaping again, instead “diverting it on to a much slower path through the mechanisms of the Earth: ocean, atmosphere, ice, life and rocks” (p. 5). From an energy point of view, “the Earth is just a cascade of diversions, unable to stop the flood but tapping into it as it trickles past; and the ocean is an engine for converting sunlight into movement and life and complexity, before the universe reclaims the loan” (p. 6). To me, this was such an awe-inspiring, attention-grabbing perspective on life on Earth, expressed so eloquently, that I wondered: is Czerski the new Ed Yong of oceanography? Tell me more, please!

What helps to understand the above perspective is the fact that the ocean is a vast three-dimensional environment that is constantly in motion, creating and maintaining differences at different scales. Heat and salinity create different layers of water that do not readily mix, meaning the ocean is stratified. This results in gigantic underwater conveyor belts and waterfalls. What makes these processes interesting is the shape of the container holding all this water: i.e. the continents and underwater topography. The local gravitational pull of the underlying rocks deforms the water surface, creating domes and holes over very large surface areas, a shape known as the geoid. Many more fundamental features and principles are described though she admits that she cannot squeeze the full complexity of the ocean into one book, treating other topics only briefly or not at all.

Bright blue, large wave tubing with splashes all around it. — The tube by Misty, via flickr.

Admirably, Czerski is equally at home in the marine biology department and she features some wonderful critters here. True, these abound in all good popular science books about the deep sea, but her physics background allows her to show how the physical and biological worlds intertwine. A beautiful example of this is the mesoscale eddies that are spun off by oceanic gyres: large islands of rotating water that become temporary havens for all the plankton and fish that find themselves inside. The formation of these wandering buffets is such a regular phenomenon that large ocean predators such as tuna can make a living by roaming the seas in search of them.

Another captivating element is the many ingenious experiments, both historical and current, that she describes here. We almost developed a method to collect a long-term dataset on the global ocean’s temperature by bouncing sound waves through the seas, but the idea stalled after a successful pilot experiment in 1991. More successful is the Continuous Plankton Recorder Survey which has been running for the last 90 years, deploying mechanical recorders towed behind ships that use elegant internal clockwork to capture plankton on long strips of mesh and have gathered valuable long-term records.

The physical world also entwines with human history. One example is the narrow northern half of the Indian Ocean where gyres do not form but seasonal currents flow eastwards and westwards. The 14th-century Chinese Ming Dynasty used these to send expeditions of large ships laden with valuables up and down the coast of Asia and Arabia, trading goods for political influence and prestige. I was similarly captivated by the poorly known story of the 18th-century Scottish herring lassies: bands of female contractors who travelled south along the English coast each summer, following the southwards moving herring fleet. While the men worked the boats out at sea, the women were ready in ports and at beaches to gut, salt, and pack each day’s landing before the freshly-caught fish could spoil. Hard-working, skilled, and independent, they were decades ahead of most other women in Victorian England.

Wave Breaking on rocks at Asilomer State Beach. — Wave Breaking Asilomer State Beach by Charlie Day, via flickr.

All of this is backed up by an attitude that, coming from a scientist, is refreshingly clued in to social issues. This becomes explicit in the final chapter where she addresses the environmental issues she has so far avoided. Though a popular mantra in politics is that we need to follow the science, she opposes this “for the simple reason that science does not lead. Where leadership comes from is a clear statement of values” (p. 381). Science can inform these, yes, but we have to decide what we care about for ourselves and our communities. Going down this path involves hard questions without simple answers, and nuance rather than binary “I am right, you are wrong” categories. It also means breaking with our perception of “the ocean as the end of a one-way pipe” (p. 289). There is no “away” on this planet for our trash. And it means breaking with a culture of infinite growth on a finite planet. Her thinking here is influenced by her contact with Polynesian cultures that value cooperation, openness, and teamwork, in contrast to the Western mindset of ownership and power play.

If I need to sound a critical note it is the lack of illustrations. Though the UK version features nice endpapers and a stunning cover, there are only two maps and two illustrations in the rest of the book. Especially some of the physical oceanography principles would have benefited from explanatory diagrams.

Blue Machine is an engrossing odyssey into oceanography. Czerski brings her substantial experience in science communication to bear on this topic and has written a transformative book. She brings to life the watery fabric of the ocean itself in ways I have not encountered before.

Book Review: Of Cockroaches and Crickets

***** An amusing and light read

Of all the insects that have a PR problem, cockroaches must rank very high. That, however, did not stop German entomologist, journalist, and filmmaker Frank Nischk from spending a year-long internship studying them. In this book, he regales the reader with stories of his time in the lab and the field studying first cockroaches and later crickets. A light and breezy read despite the serious undercurrent of biodiversity decline, Of Cockroaches and Crickets turned out to be an entertaining read.

This book was originally published in German in 2020 as Die fabelhafte Welt der fiesen Tiere by Ludwig Buchverlag and has been translated into English by Jane Billinghurst who frequently works with Greystone Books. Carl Safina contributes a short foreword that cracked me up and immediately set the tone. The book is effectively a memoir of Nischk’s early years studying for his undergraduate and doctorate degrees in the mid-nineties, told in 18 short chapters in two parts. His subsequent career pivot to documentary filmmaking only receives passing mention.

Cockroach photographed in Australia. — Cockroach by Patrick Kavanagh, via flickr.

Given Nischk’s concern about biodiversity decline, and his desire to communicate to a broad audience why insects are fascinating and important, there is an irony to his undergraduate internship. He spent a year in the lab of Martin Dambach studying the aggregation behaviour of the German cockroach, Blattella germanica. By day, large groups of them bed down on their own excrement, likely attracted by pheromones released by the faeces. The irony? Nischk’s internship was funded by biotechnology giant Bayer which was hoping to isolate the chemicals responsible for putting the cockroaches in sleep mode to develop a pheromone-based cockroach trap: “the exterminator’s holy grail” (p. 25).

For his subsequent doctoral studies, Nischk got his conservation priorities in order. Staying with Dambach, he turned to crickets and spent time in Ecuador recording their songs. Next to discovering species new to science, this is his entry into the fascinating field of soundscape ecology or ecoacoustics. A small cadre of ecologists has been recording soundscapes of natural habitats. Bernie Krause (not mentioned here) is one particularly well-known example. By comparing recordings made years or decades apart they have shown how natural soundscapes are changing and often disappearing due to human encroachment. Others are hoping to train software to analyze recordings and identify species by their calls. If scaled up, the dream is to have passive acoustic monitoring stations in biodiversity hotspots around the globe.

This backbone of his research is livened up with personal anecdotes and interesting asides. A friend’s call about a wasp infestation in her kitchen drawer is an excuse to introduce the 18th-century French entomologist Jean-Henri Fabre who was one of the first European naturalists to systematically collect and study butterflies, beetles, and wasps. Getting stung by a bullet ant in the rainforest of Ecuador leads to an aside about the late entomologist Justin O. Schmidt, the man who got stung for science (and wrote a fine book about it too). Tracking down a particularly loud cricket in Ecuador is the starting point for an unusual case where entomologists helped to defuse international political tensions between the USA and Cuba (this story has a surprising twist that I will not spoil here). A botched attempt to eradicate cockroaches that escape his experimental setup backfires most spectacularly, while fieldwork in the tropics is always fodder for amusing cultural misunderstandings and sober reflections. There is a nice mix here that never dwells on any one topic too long and makes for a book that is hard to put down.

Cricket on a leaf in a garden. — Cricket by Dean Morley, via flickr.

The third and final part is, perhaps surprisingly, comparatively the weakest of the book. In four chapters Nischk muses on the biodiversity crisis, particularly the still poorly understood decline of insects, and discusses examples of individuals and organisations who are creating and protecting wildlife habitat. Probably most interesting are the little-known grassroots initiatives in Ecuador that are undertaken by villagers and farmers turning to ecotourism. But is this really the answer? Or does it merely perpetuate the idea that nature can only be protected if it has monetary value? You will not find a critical or comprehensive analysis of wildlife conservation here. There is also an odd focus on projects in the USA, e.g. the High Line in New York, the Xerces Society, Joan Maloof’s Old-Growth Forest Network, and the Yellowstone to Yukon Conservation Initiative. I wonder if this was added for the English translation. There is no mention of e.g. the European Natura 2000 network of protected areas or E.O. Wilson’s bold call to protect half the planet, and only passing mention of the German environmental organisation NABU or the practice of rewilding. Putting aside such nitpicking, none of this takes away from his genuine concern about the ongoing loss of biodiversity nor from his conclusion that the key to protecting species is protecting their habitat.

Overall, Of Cockroaches and Crickets is an amusing and light read that I devoured in a day. Nischk offers a nicely balanced blend of interesting natural history, amusing personal stories, and captivating scientific research. Whether it is flies, wasps, or rats, we need more books that celebrate those species we all too readily dismiss as pests.

Of Cockroaches and Crickets is available from our online bookstore.

Book review: The Mind of a Bee

***** Fascinating and information dense
Leon Vlieger, NHBS Catalogue Editor

It is tough being a social insect. When people are not trying to exterminate you, they might marvel at the collectives you form, but does anybody think much of you, the individual? Leave it to Lars Chittka, a professor in sensory and behavioural ecology, to change your views. The Mind of a Bee is a richly illustrated, information-dense book that explores a large body of scientific research, both old and new.

Chittka is very focused in his approach and The Mind of a Bee effectively summarises a large number of experimental studies in narrative form, with very few diversions. He cleverly avoids overheating your brain by having chapters flow logically into each other, but especially by dividing each chapter into short, headed sections. Each of these takes a particular question and discusses a few relevant studies in anywhere from one-half to three pages. Some of these are his own work but he ranges far and wide and includes both classic and recent research. The book is furthermore illustrated with numerous diagrams and photos that helpfully clarify experimental protocols and results. Honey bees are unsurprisingly the most intensively studied but Chittka discusses informative studies across a range of bee species and sometimes other insects as well. The book roughly covers three biological disciplines: sensory and neurobiology, ethology, and psychology.

Justifiably, the book opens with sensory biology. Before we understand what is in the mind of any organism, Chittka argues, we first need to understand the gateways, the sense organs, through which information from the outside world is filtered. These are shaped by both evolutionary history and daily life (i.e. what information matters on a day-to-day basis and what can be safely ignored). Chapter 2 deals with the historical research that showed that bees do have colour vision and furthermore can perceive ultraviolet (UV) light. Chapter 3 bundles together research on numerous other senses, including ones familiar (smell, taste, and hearing) and unfamiliar to us (perception of polarised light, Earth’s magnetic field, and electric fields). The antennae of bees, in particular, are marvels; Chittka likens them to a biological Swiss army knife, packing numerous different sense organs into two small appendages. Tightly connected to sensory biology is how this incoming information is processed in the brain, though Chittka postpones discussing neurobiology to chapter 9. He describes the discovery and function of different brain areas and highlights the work of Frederick Kenyon who would inspire the better-remembered Santiago Ramón y Cajal. Thanks to them, we now understand that brains consist of numerous specialised nerve cells. Though the bee brain is small, Chittka argues that size is a poor predictor of cognitive skills; it is the wiring of neurons that matters. Rather than be surprised that small-brained insects such as bees can do so many clever things, Chittka instead tickles the reader with the opposite question: “Why does any animal need as large a brain as a bee’s?” (p. 153).

What clever things do bees do, you ask? That is the subject of the preceding five chapters where Chittka surveys a large body of behavioural research. Honey bees are famous for their waggle dance by which they communicate the location of flowers but also, this was news to me, the location of potential nest sites when the swarm relocates. But Chittka discusses more, much more: how bees navigate space using landmarks, show a rudimentary form of counting, solve the travelling salesman problem, learn to extract nectar from complex flowers, learn when to exploit certain flowers (and when to ignore them), and learn new tricks by observing other bees. But what about instinct, something most behaviours were traditionally ascribed to? He has some insightful comments on this: “even the most elemental behavior routines need to be refined by learning: instinct provides little more than a rough template” (p. 50). What really made me fall off my chair is that bees have long been outsmarting researchers in choice experiments. Many behavioural experiments take the form of choice tests, where bees need to pick between two locations or objects that differ in e.g. colour or shape with one option containing a sugary solution as a reward. Bumblebees would simply be lazy and check out both options in random order. Until, that is, protocols were modified by adding a bitter-tasting solution to the wrong choice as a penalty.

The final two chapters explore bee psychology. One chapter shows how, in a hive full of bees, the members are not anonymous and interchangeable. Rather, they show individual differences in e.g. their preferred order in which to visit flowers during foraging or how fast they learn to solve problems. The final chapter makes the case that bees have a form of consciousness, though Chittka clarifies he is not arguing it is as rich and detailed as that of humans. That said, they show a slew of behaviours that scientists will label as evidence for consciousness when exhibited by bigger-brained vertebrates. Chittka is happy to play devil’s advocate: sure, theoretically, all the behaviours described in this book could be replicated by an unconscious algorithm. However, the required list of specific instructions is growing long and, increasingly, the more likely answer seems to be that bees possess “a consciousness-based general intelligence system” (p. 208).

As mentioned above, this book is focused. If you enjoy reading about the facts and the study system with minimal (autobiographical) diversions, Chittka has got you covered. The only digression he allows himself is to include biographical details of older generations of scientists. This includes inspiring tales such as Karl von Frisch who described the honey bee waggle dance and later barely escaped being dismissed from his post by the Nazis. And look out for repeat appearances of Charles Turner, a now largely forgotten African American scientist who published pioneering work despite having been denied a professorship based on his ethnicity. But there are also tragic stories such as Kenyon’s, who snapped under pressure of not securing a permanent job and was incarcerated in a lunatic asylum where he died more than 40 years later, alone and forgotten. Chittka includes occasional quotations from historical literature to show that “many seemingly contemporary ideas about the minds of bees had already been expressed, in some form, over a century ago” (p. 15).

The Mind of a Bee makes for fascinating reading, convincingly showing that bees are anything but little automatons. The tight structure and numerous illustrations make it accessible, though be prepared for an information-dense book.

In The Field: Browning Strike Force Pro X 1080

At NHBS, we offer trail cameras from a range of different manufacturers. Among these is Browning, who offer high quality at a reasonable price. The Browning Strike Force HD Pro X was one of our most popular cameras, and we regularly recommended it to customers. It offered ease of use, affordability, and excellent daytime and night-time photography. Browning regularly update their range of trail cameras, and given that the Strike Force has been on the market for several years, it has likewise been upgraded to a newer model, the Browning Strike Force Pro X 1080.

Trail camera with camouflage facing the camera with white background. — The Browning Strike Force Pro X 1080.

We wanted to test out the new Browning Strike Force trail camera to ensure it lives up to the standards of its predecessor. Here we will detail how we tested this camera and what we found.

Set up

To test the Strike Force, we headed to an estate in Devon that is managed to improve the condition of wildlife.

The set-up was relatively simple; we found a clearing between two areas of scrub where we suspected that animals would pass through, and secured the camera to a small tree at around waist height using a Python Lock.

The Strike Force comes with a camera strap included which works excellently, but we would recommend purchasing extra security options like a Python Lock if you are placing your camera in a public place. The strap and Python Lock can fit around a tree or a fence post and be tightened to hold the trail camera in position.

I set the camera to default settings and then changed it to photo mode and set the multi-shot option to three photos. I wanted to leave the camera out for a significant length of time, and I knew that videos would drain the battery and fill up the memory card rapidly. The multi-shot mode would hopefully allow me to get a few pictures of an animal moving through the frame.

Results

After three months in the field, the results yielded surpassed our expectations. We knew from talking with the conservation manager at the estate that we might get some decent pictures, but the range of species was unexpected.

The trail camera captured pictures of a range of bird species including one of a buzzard in flight.

Buzzard in flying past bushes. — A buzzard in flight.

We were lucky enough to get an amazing shot of a deer reaching for a leaf from the swaying branch of a willow tree as well as an excellent night time photo of a deer.

Deer reaching for a willow leaf. — A deer reaching for a willow branch.

Deer in a field at night. IR image. — A night-time image of a deer using IR photography.

A herd of Belted Galloway cattle were spotted passing through the clearing.

Cows with white stripe walking through a field with bushes around. — A herd of Belted Galloway cattle pass by the camera.

A herd of striped cows pass by the camera with calves in tow. — A Belted Galloway calf.

This herd of cows were curious and ended up nudging the camera with their noses, causing the camera to face towards a bush. We then caught a glimpse of a fox with the infrared camera mode. The image is a bit overexposed due to the vegetation in the foreground.

IR image of vegetation in the foreground and the faint image of a fox in the background. — A fox passes through the clearing.

Despite the overexposure, many of the IR pictures were excellent.

IR picture of vegetation in the foreground with two deer in the background passing through a clearing in the vegetation. — Deer at night.

We even managed to get a picture of what looks to be a Barn Owl on the ground at night. While not very clear due to the overexposure, it certainly confirms its presence in the area.

Vegetation with a barn owl on the ground in the background in IR photo mode. — A sighting of a Barn Owl on the ground.

The cows came back and pushed the trail camera even further to the right so that it was pointing into a bush. Fortuitously, we managed to get pictures of a mouse, a Robin and a Wren.

An IR photo of a mouse climbing a stick in foreground to the right of the image and vegetation in the background. — A night-time photo of what looks to be a Field Mouse.

Robin sitting on a branch surrounded by vegetation. — A Robin sitting in scrub.

A wren sitting on a branch in scrub. — A Wren sitting in the same spot as the Robin.

In addition to the species featured above, we also captured pictures of butterflies, squirrels, pheasants, Wood Pigeons, a thrush and a Great Tit.

Performance

When sorting through the 5,500 photographs captured, I found that the vast majority didn’t show any animals. I suspect that this could be remedied by better camera placement, although this may be unavoidable if there is a lot of vegetation around the area you wish to monitor. The major downside of taking so many photographs is that it takes a long time to sort through, and could potentially fill up your storage too quickly if you set your camera to video mode.

The image quality was impressive, with high-quality images and limited motion blur. The most notable issue was the level of exposure in the images, mainly at night. This was largely an issue because a herd of curious cows nudged the camera so it was facing the edge of a bush. This is unlikely to be a problem in the majority of cases and, prior to this, the night pictures were excellent.

Longevity

We placed the camera in the field in mid-July and collected it in mid-October. As such we were able to get around three months of footage. Image quality was set to 24MP with 1.5–2.5MB of storage used per image and around 5,500 images in total. This meant that we only used around 11GB out of a total of 32GB of storage available on the SD card. Remarkably, when the camera was collected it registered 94% battery, demonstrating the longevity of the Strike Force in the field, especially when set to photo mode. I suspect that this camera could have been left for another three months in the field without running out of storage or battery power.

Verdict

Overall, our experience demonstrates that the Strike Force Pro X 1080 is an impressive trail camera with high-quality day and night footage and impressive longevity. While it perhaps doesn’t quite reach the heights of the Browning Recon Force Elite HP5 or the Bushnell Core DS-4K in terms of picture quality, a more affordable price and impressive performance make this camera highly recommendable for both professionals and hobbyists.

No-glow alternative camera – Browning Dark Ops Pro X 1080

The Browning Strike Force Pro X 1080 is a low-glow camera meaning that the glow from the IR bulbs can be seen by both humans and animals. A no-glow camera may be the best option if you are looking for extra security or photographing an easily alarmed species. The Browning Dark Ops Pro X 1080 is an ideal no-glow alternative to the Browning Strike Force Pro X 1080. While a little more expensive, it is stealthier, and humans are less likely to notice it due to its no-glow flash. The only disadvantage is the shorter 24m flash range of the no-glow bulbs compared to the 36.58m flash of the Strike Force.

Trail camera facing towards the camera with camouflage coating with a white background. — The Browning Dark Ops Pro X 1080.

Accessories

The Python Lock is an ideal accessory for your trail camera. It won’t stop your camera from being damaged but it will prevent theft and keep your camera securely fastened to a tree or post. The lock is anti-picking, weatherproof and vinyl-coated. We used a Python Lock, and it held the camera in place until a herd of cows decided to turn it.

Image of a coiled up python lock. — Python Lock.

Spare memory cards and batteries are also highly recommended, especially if you are planning to use your trail camera on video mode. These additions will help you keep your camera operational for longer. Lithium batteries are highly recommended as, even when they have low charge levels, they supply sufficient power to the trail camera. Users of alkaline batteries may find that their trail camera isn’t performing well at night; this is because the batteries are not supplying sufficient power for the IR bulbs to function correctly.

Get your Browning Strike Force Pro X 1080 from our online shop.

Hawke Digi-Scope Smart Phone Adapter

Getting into nature photography can be a daunting prospect. What camera do you buy? Which lenses do you choose, and what size should they be? How much should you spend? These are all questions that require a good bit of thought, and rightly so. However, what if you wanted to dip your toe in at the shallow end and use equipment that you may already have lying around to take decent photos at a fraction of the price? That’s precisely where the Hawke Digi-Scope Smart Phone Adapter comes in. I decided to put it to the test by taking images of local wildlife at a variety of ranges with two of Hawke’s spotting scopes and a pair of Kite binoculars. To do this, I used the Hawke Nature-Trek 20–60 × 80 and the Nature-Trek 13–39 × 56 scopes, and a pair of Kite Ursus 8 × 32 binoculars.

Hawke have established a name for themselves as producing reliable and rugged optics for the entry to mid-level markets and this optical adapter fits nicely into that niche, giving anyone with an optical device the option to transform their optics into a camera lens, when combined with a smartphone camera.

Out of the box – first impressions

The adapter comes packaged with a small instruction manual and some small foam sticky pads to place around the aperture clamp and prevent damage to the ocular lens of the optics you are using. Made from lightweight ABS plastic, the adapter feels light in the hand but not fragile. Stated compatibility on the box is for eyepieces 23–50mm in diameter, so make sure that the optics you plan to use meet these specifications. There is also a minimum and maximum size for compatible phones (width 66–95mm), but most currently produced models should fit fine.

Ease of use

The adapter is a simple piece of kit that is designed to fit around the ocular lens of a spotting scope, microscope, telescope or, most commonly, a pair of binoculars. The spring-loaded clamp then allows you to place your phones rear camera to the eyepiece and align them, in essence creating an inexpensive camera and physical lens arrangement. This will then allow your smartphone to take photos at ranges that the vast majority of devices on the market wouldn’t be capable of. Getting this alignment right can be quite fiddly but once found, the adapter holds fast, and the point of focus doesn’t drift. It’s important to try to remember to reduce/disable the auto focussing on the device as this can be at odds with the manual focus of the scope itself. Likewise, make sure to zoom the phone camera slightly to avoid giving a ‘scoped’ view to your photos, with a circular black border (see below).

In the field

Testing the adapter involved setting it up on the window ledge of a bird hide and using it while combing along the River Dart, allowing tests over variable distances to look and capture at different focus points and ranges. I often found that target acquisition with the scopes was a bit of a lesson in trial and error as any hand movement through high magnification lenses will be exacerbated massively through the screen. However, this will be greatly reduced by using a lesser magnification or a stabilising structure such as a tripod (or a handy fence post). The use of a phone in this case proved crucial as the post- processing from the device helped to mute the amount of disturbance to the final image from this unavoidable shaking. While there was some aberration introduced to the final photos, it didn’t mar the result too much or overly distract from the images (see below).

Using the adapter with a pair of binoculars was where the Hawke Digi-Scope really shone. Quick to acquire and quick to capture, the photos produced were, in my opinion, superb, making this an ideal tool for an enthusiast beginning their journey into nature photography. (see images below)

While the adapter itself is a lightweight bit of kit, whatever you mount within it will add weight to the back of your optics and upset any built-in centre of balance – much as I found out when, after attaching the phone, the scope made a determined attempt at see-sawing off the bird-hide window ledge. When not attached to the optics, however, the adapter is small and portable, fitting easily into a pocket without any discernible bulk or weight.

Taking pictures with the adapter was as simple as hitting the camera button on the phone and snapping away, making sure to adjust the focus using the scope/binoculars as needed (this took a bit of practice to get used to). I didn’t manage to get any images of animals moving at great speed (something a dedicated nature photography camera would have no issues doing) while using the scopes, as acquiring and holding onto the target while also focusing using the scope lent itself to more stationary birds (see image 9). The binoculars, on the other hand, were great for reactive type photography, albeit at much reduced ranges (e.g. image 10).

Photograph of a brown duck standing on one leg scratching the underside of its wing with its beak stood on a log taken through a lens. — Image 9

Motion photograph of a crow taking off in flight from a patch of grass scattered in autumn leaves. — Image 10

Conclusions

While using the Hawke Digi-Scope, it is important to remember that the phone you use, the post processing that it does, and the settings you enable will all modulate the end result in some way, and this is an unavoidable part of using your phone to take images with a non-attached magnification device. Unlike an expensive camera with light meters and other tools, this setup will never quite produce a true to life image with no introduced imperfections.

In terms of optics, the scopes performed well and were great in their own right; however, both the models I used were technically 1–2mm over the maximum specified eyepiece diameter. This was surprising as the mount seemed to fit fine (a little snug if anything), but also surprising as it begs the question as to why this adapter doesn’t fit the full range of Hawke products. This was not an issue with the binoculars as they have a much smaller ocular aperture.

It is just as important to stress this wasn’t a test of the optics used but rather the adapter itself and, in that role, it performed very well. It held the phone securely and the rubberised touch points prevented slippage, keeping both the scope and phone lenses aligned. But, as stated before, this was a bit of a fiddly procedure.

I do think that this adapter helps to bridge the gap between the more professional nature photography market and the more casual enthusiast who wishes to go and get some decent photos of what’s living in the area around them, and it will help to extend the reach of the average person’s smartphone camera by quite a distance. The speed of setup and lack of any frills really helps to make this adapter a portable, reliable workhorse or a spur of the moment image capturing tool. If you’re looking for an inexpensive bit of kit to add to your usual birding/hiking/survey gear alongside your pick of optics, this is the adapter for you.

The Hawke Digi-Scope Smart Phone Adapter is available at www.nhbs.com/digi-scope

Book review: The Rise and Reign of the Mammals

***** Epic in scope and majestic in execution
Leon Vlieger, NHBS Catalogue Editor

Imagine being a successful dinosaur palaeontologist and landing a professorship before you are 40, authoring a leading dinosaur textbook and a New York Times bestseller on dinosaurs. Imagine achieving all that and then saying: “You know what really floats my boat? Mammals.” After the runaway success of his 2018 book The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs, palaeontologist Stephen Brusatte shifted his attention and now presents you with the follow-up, The Rise and Reign of the Mammals. Taking in the full sweep of mammal evolution from the late Carboniferous to today, this book is as epic in scope as it is majestic in execution.

Mammals shared our planet with the dinosaurs throughout their long reign, from the initial split of our amniote common ancestor into synapsids (us) and diapsids (them), to their extinction at the end of the Cretaceous. Over the course of some 100 million years, a parade of lineages evolved—archaic mammals all—piecemeal developing the traits we recognise as mammalian today: pelycosaurs, therapsids, cynodonts, mammaliaformes, docodonts and gliding haramiyidans, multituberculates, and therians who gave rise to today’s placentals, marsupials, and monotremes. However, the above must not be mistaken for a linear march of progress. “[M]ammals were a still unrealised concept, which evolution had yet to assemble” (p. 20). Simultaneously, it does not behove us to call these now-extinct groups evolutionary dead ends. “In their time and place, these mammals were anything but obsolete” (p. 88).

With the extinction of the dinosaurs, the rise of mammals turned into a reign. Isolated on various land masses after the supercontinent Pangaea had fragmented, they were poised for a slow-motion taxonomic starburst that would play out over the next 66 million years. In the northern hemisphere, placental mammals replaced multituberculates and metatherians and rapidly evolved into primates and the odd- and even-toed ungulates. The latter two evolved giants: brontotheres, chalicotheres, and cetaceans.

Brusatte’s strength is to bring to life the above flurry of names. What kind of creatures were they? And how can we deduce this from fossil evidence? Somewhere between chapters 6 and 7, I became awestruck by his narrative as the enormity of the mammalian evolutionary trajectory started to come into full view: bats, elephants, South American native ungulates (origins: uncertain), metatherians migrating to Australia and spawning a spectacular marsupial radiation, grazers diversified as grasses went global, and somewhere at the end, hominins evolving and repeatedly spilling out of Africa, contributing significantly to recent megafauna extinction. What a wild ride!

The macroevolutionary story is fascinating in itself, yet Brusatte makes it even better with some interesting observations of his own. We usually think of the dinosaurs as dominating the mammals, but, he suggests, this went two ways: “While it is true that dinosaurs kept mammals from getting big, mammals did the opposite, which was equally impressive: they kept dinosaurs from becoming small” (p. 95). Furthermore, DNA studies suggest that many modern mammal lineages originated back in the Cretaceous. But where are the fossils? Could some of the poorly understood archaic placentals such as condylarchs, taeniodonts, and pantodonts be the missing fossils that we have not yet been able to link to modern groups because of the lack of signature anatomical features? Excitingly, Brusatte is part of a research consortium that is building a master family tree based on both anatomy and DNA.

As in his last book, Brusatte excels at explaining complex research methods and scientific concepts. One example is Tom Kemp’s concept of correlated progression. Several times during early mammal evolution, a whole suite of anatomical, behavioural, and functional traits were changing together, making it hard to unravel what was driving what. For instance when cynodonts shrunk in size and changed their growth, metabolism, diet, and feeding styles. Then there is the revision of the mammal family tree based on DNA sequencing. The classic tree, championed by zoologist George Gaylord Simpson in 1945, was based on anatomical features. By the early 2000s, DNA-based genealogies suggested that many supposed relationships were actually cases of convergent evolution, resulting in a new classification that reflected geographical patterns rather than anatomy. The new groupings came with some tongue-twisting names: Afrotheria, Xenarthra, Laurasiatheria, and Eurarchontoglires. A final example is tooth morphology, an important diagnostic trait in this story.

What helps with these explanations are some excellent illustrations. B/w photos show amazing fossils, Todd Marshall contributes both decorative chapter headings and explanatory artwork, and Brusatte’s former student Sarah Shelley adds b/w diagrams, illustrating for instance the remarkable changes in jaw bones and how some of these were repurposed to become our inner ear bones! Woven throughout are stories of the people behind the research. Brusatte introduces both young scientists and many past scientists that are not widely known.

In what is surely a hallmark of his love and enthusiasm for the field, Brusatte’s bibliography has again been written as a narrative. It is like a chatty literature review in which he recommends books and papers, indicates where literature has become outdated, adds more technical details or clarifications, discusses where there is active debate and disagreement, and shortly touches on topics that he had to omit from the main narrative. Yes, this takes up more space than a regular reference section, and I am sure it is more time-consuming to write, but it is ever so useful. You could not wish for a better starting point if you wanted to read deeper into the technical literature.

Finally, you might be left wondering how this book compares to Elsa Panciroli’s Beasts Before Us which covered early mammal evolution up to the K–Pg extinction. There is overlap here in more than one way; Brusatte co-supervised her PhD project describing the docodont Borealestes from a Scottish fossil. I was therefore mildly surprised that he does not mention her book. There is some inevitable overlap as both books walk through the same groups, though Brusatte provides a fuller picture by covering mammal evolution up to today. Panciroli’s book stands out for its fantastic writing, though, so you cannot go wrong by reading them both.

The Rise and Reign of the Mammals is a more-than-worthy successor to The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs. Brusatte convincingly shows that the evolutionary story of mammals is just as fascinating—if not more so—as that of the dinosaurs.

Book review: What an Owl Knows

***** A hoot of a book
Leon Vlieger, NHBS Catalogue Editor

Owls are one of the most enigmatic groups of raptors, in part because there is so much we still do not understand about them compared to other birds. Nature writer Jennifer Ackerman previously wrote the critically acclaimed The Genius of Birds. In What an Owl Knows, she reveals the creature that hides under that puffy exterior, peeling back the feathers layer by layer to show our current scientific understanding of owls. She has interviewed scores of scientists and owl aficionados as part of her background research, making this as much a book about owls as about the people who study and love them. A captivating and in places touching science narrative, this book is a hoot from beginning to end.

Owls are everywhere in the human imagination and, Ackerman argues, have always been: “We evolved in their presence; lived for tens of thousands of years elbow to wing in the same woods, open lands, caves, and rock shelters; came into our own self-awareness surrounded by them; and wove them into our stories and art” (p. 235). For all that, their nocturnal lifestyle makes them hard to study and they have long been—and in many places still are—wrapped in superstition. Ackerman dedicates a chapter to such beliefs and the harms that frequently flow from them. Fortunately, the tide is turning. Thanks to the tireless efforts of a dedicated cadre of scientists, conservationists, and numerous volunteers, a far more fascinating creature emerges from the contradictory tangle of ideas that humans have held about owls.

A red thread that has been subtly woven through this book is the importance of understanding animals on their terms. Ed Yong’s An Immense World is one recent example of this welcome trend amongst science writers and Ackerman appropriately starts with a chapter on owl sensory biology. What is it like to be an owl? Though this question can never be fully answered, that should not stop us from trying our hardest. Vision and hearing are obviously important to owls but the book has plenty of surprises up its sleeve once you start digging into the details: from the magnificent facial disk that acts somewhat like a parabolic reflector to gather sound, a hearing system that does not seem to age, to the fact that owls can see ultraviolet light. At night. With rod rather than cone cells (like pretty much every other bird).

The same question motivates research on owl vocalisations as “a hoot is not just a hoot” (p. 81). Owls utter a profusion of yaps, squawks and warbles and Ackerman paints a lively portrait in words. Barn owls have “a raspy hiss that sounds like a fan belt going out on your car” (p. 82), while the tiny Flammulated Owl breaks the link between body size and vocal pitch, sounding like “a big bird trapped in a small body” (p. 82, quoting ornithologist Brian Linkhart). These sounds can reveal an awful lot about the individual owl and its relationship with other owls in the landscape. Ackerman criticises some of the research on owl intelligence. They cannot pass the string-pulling test, a common test in ethological research in which an animal has to pull on a rope to reel in food that is out of reach. The idea is that it tests an animal’s understanding of cause and effect. But is this a fair test or does it “point to the limitations of our definitions and measures of intelligence” (p. 261)?

The most intimate insights have come from rescued owls that can no longer be returned to the wild. Many researchers have ended up caring for an individual and becoming intimately familiar with them. Gail Buhl, a leading authority on training rehabilitated captive owls, here explains five important things that she has learned. One particularly poignant observation is that owls might appear calm and stoic around humans, but having paid close attention to their body language, Buhl concludes that “they’re experiencing the same stress as other raptors, but they’re internalising it” (p. 228). This has major consequences for how even well-intended trainers and rehabbers ought to behave around owls. “We need to treat them not as mini-humans in feathers, but as their own entity” (p. 231), Ackerman writes, before throwing in a beautiful quote from naturalist Henry Beston. In his words, wild animals “are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time” (pp. 231–232).

Following on directly from her last book on bird behaviour, there are fascinating chapters here on the behaviour of owls: their courtship and breeding, their parental behaviour, their roosting, and their migration. Yes, many owls are migratory and some species can cover surprising distances. Ackerman makes a fantastic case for the value of long-term monitoring programmes to establish reliable population estimates. This is vital data for conservation efforts and is often missing. And sometimes what we think we know is wrong, as in the case of the Snowy Owl. Where initial estimates put the global population at some 200,000 birds, satellite tracking has revealed that they are actually a single population moving around the whole Arctic Circle, resulting in duplicate counts. Revised estimates now put the figure at a mere 30,000 birds.

Ackerman relies on the input of numerous scientists and volunteers. As such, this is as much a book about the people who study owls. I was delighted to hear more from Jonathan Slaght (his book Owls of the Eastern Ice is magnificent). Other stories tug on the heartstrings and none more so than that of Marjon Savelsberg. A Dutch musician trained in baroque music, her dreams came crashing down when she was diagnosed with a heart condition that consigned her to a mobility scooter. When she stumbled on the website of the Dutch Little Owl Working Group, she quickly became one of their most active volunteers, revealing a skilled ear for analysing owl calls. Suddenly, she had a new career and a new group of appreciative ecologist colleagues: “[I] realised I was still a musician. All the skills that I learned, all the talent I have, I can still use, just in a different way” (p. 105). It is a powerful story of redemption-by-owl.

Ackerman carefully balances these two facets: the scientific insights that she has carefully distilled from research papers and interviews, and the personal stories of those who study and love owls. As a result, What an Owl Knows is compulsively readable and readily accessible for those who lack a scientific background in ornithology.

You might also be interested in reading our Q&A with Jennifer Ackerman in which we discuss owls’ reputation for wisdom, the incredible research that is shedding more light on their lives, and the mysteries that still remain.

Book review: Otherlands

***** A spine-tingling debut
Leon Vlieger, NHBS Catalogue Editor

Our planet has been many different worlds over its 4.5-billion-year history. Imagining what they were like is hard – with our limited lifespan, deep time eludes us by its very nature. Otherlands, the debut of Scottish palaeontologist Thomas Halliday, presents you with a series of past worlds. Though this is a non-fiction book thoroughly grounded in fact, it is the quality of the narrative that stands out. Beyond imaginative metaphors to describe extinct lifeforms, some of his reflections on deep time, taxonomy, and evolution are simply spine-tingling.

The 16 chapters in Otherlands, each accompanied by a gorgeous illustration from Beth Zaiken, step back in time by millions or even tens of millions of years to visit a place on Earth and describe its ecosystems and organisms. Halliday includes well-known sites such as end-Cretaceous Hell Creek (66 million years ago, or mya) or Lagerstätten such as the Cambrian Chengjiang biota in China (520 mya). Far more interesting are the little-known eras and places such as the Italian promontory of Gargano during the Miocene Messinian Salinity Crisis (5.3 mya), the sweltering warmth of Seymour Island in Antarctica during the Palaeocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum (41 mya), or the underwater life around the Silurian Yaman-Kasy vent in Russia (435 mya).

Stylistically, Otherlands is a narrative non-fiction book. What that means is that, though everything is grounded in fact, Halliday does not get lost in the details. Where competing hypotheses exist he picks one and runs with it, rather than detailing the academic debates and different schools of thought. It is a stylistic choice that I can get behind given the quality of the writing that follows.

Because make no mistake, Halliday knows how to craft captivating prose. He won the Hugh Miller Writing Competition in 2018 and the John C. Marsden Medal from the Linnean Society for the best doctoral thesis in biology in 2016. Reading Otherlands, it is easy to see why. I do not know what they feed Scottish palaeontologists, but I was reminded of Elsa Panciroli’s Beasts Before Us. Let me back up my enthusiasm with some quotes that can only touch on a fraction of what is on offer.

There are the obvious imaginative metaphors to describe animals. The Triassic gliding reptile Sharovipteryx mirabilis (225 mya) is imagined looking rather inelegant once landed “with its membrane retracting and limbs thrown all directions like a collapsing deckchair” (p. 159), while the Ediacaran sedentary animal Dorothy’s Rope (550 mya) resembles upright towers “composed of bulges like knotted rope, as if Gaudi had designed an industrial town” (p. 277). Other descriptions are more poetic. Basilosaurids, the first fully aquatic whale ancestors in the Eocene (41 mya), have yet to evolve the melon organ. They “can listen to the music of the oceans, but they have not yet learned to sing” (p. 86).

Particularly powerful are his reflections on deep time. A recurrent theme in this book is that of impermanence: “gatherings of species in time and space may give the illusion of stability, but these communities can only last as long as the conditions that help to create them persist” (p. 18). Some ecosystems never return. The long-lived Jurassic crinoid colonies (155 mya) that made a home on floating logs blown into the sea during storms disappeared when the evolution of shipworms made “this way of life impossible, something that can and will never be replicated in quite the same way again; wood just doesn’t float for as long as it used to” (p. 151). And while the world feels old in our day, it is easy to forget the world was already old in the deep past. The mountains of the Triassic (225 mya) “are built from the deep sea”, within which can be seen “the coils and shapes of the long-extinct creatures of the Carboniferous seas, well over 100 million years old even now” (p. 158).

What made my hair stand on end were Halliday’s reflections on phylogenetics, the evolutionary relationships between animals. I love how he drowns scientific concepts in poetic language. Take the Paleocene Baioconodon (66 mya). Beyond one of the earliest placental mammals, we do not really know what it was. “Their anatomy is too non-committal, too similar to and yet too distinct from too many living orders to be placed with confidence. […] They are an unspecialised, Platonic placental, a lump of living clay from which all others are stretched, pinched and pulled into shape” (p. 105). We cannot even describe its young as kits or calves: “it does not yet make sense to talk of cattle or dogs, of monkeys or horses. None of these groups exist yet […] names lose tangibility in the depths of the past, and our language has no description for the young of common ancestors” (p. 104). You start to see why Halliday wrote his way backwards from the present. He makes a similar observation about the Ediacaran biota. Alien to us, “they are aberrant only from a modern perspective” (p. 282). Our confusion is partially because “we are trying to define them the only way we can: on the basis of those few survivors to have found paths to the present”, while the dead-end branches “by the simple fact of having not survived, forfeit a common name” (p. 283).

Similarly spine-tingling are his explanations of evolutionary processes. Species names are artificial designations for a continuous phenomenon. The way palaeontologists deal with this can be compared to rivers. Just as a river can split and its two branches be called by two names from that point in space forward, so can a species that spatially separates be called by two names from that point in time forward. And why did so many higher taxa appear during the Cambrian explosion? One idea is that, once in place, fundamentals cannot be changed easily: “evolution today can only be played within the constraints set by the past”. Another idea is that “there is nothing intrinsically impossible about a new body plan developing today, were it not for the existence of others”. Gould wrote of filling the ecological barrel and Halliday puts it thus: “establishing the basic roles within an ecosystem is like adding large rocks into a barrel […] evolutionary processes […] adding in finer and finer divisions of ecological processes, pebbles and sand falling into the barrel between the gaps left by the larger stones, structures built on other structures” (p. 258). Not only does this ring true, but it is also truly beautiful language.

Otherlands is an exceptional debut that can be savoured like a fine wine. I found myself reciting passages to anyone within earshot. Beyond a fascinating tour of extinct lifeforms, Halliday’s carefully crafted yet poetic descriptions of scientific concepts are a masterclass in spellbinding science communication.

You might also be interested in our Q&A with Otherlands author Thomas Halliday where we discuss the book and the process of writing it, our endless fascination with dinosaurs and the lessons we might learn from studies of deep time.

Thomas Halliday. Credit: Desiree Adams ,Penguin Random House

In the Field – Hawke Endurance ED Marine Binoculars 7 x 50

Introduction.

Choosing the right binoculars for either your hobby or work is something you should spend time on. While using binoculars on dry land sometimes has challenges with poor weather conditions, if you then wish to use a pair of optics out at sea, you should consider some additional points.

Wind, changing light conditions and weight are amongst the deciding factors on what makes a good pair of optics but add variable movement and changing landscapes to the list of elements to assess a pair of binoculars and you need to review your selection even more carefully. I’m very lucky to be able to have access to a boat for cetacean spotting and surveying. With that in mind, I decided to put the Hawke Maritime 7 x 50 binoculars through a test. But one thing that always makes it a challenge is the sea state, coupled with fast-changing light and weather conditions. Many of the points outlined below still form part of the normal considerations for use on land, but I’ve tried to extend the thoughts to the case of ‘at sea’.

What to look for in a pair of marine binoculars?

Crisp image

I have found that some binoculars are let down, not by the amount of light going through the lens elements, but by the overall quality of the image. While a bright image is important, chromatic aberrations can cause issues with the identification of surface or flying objects, especially when they are near the edge of the field of view. When the sea state is above 1 (calm or glass-like), there is more movement in the wave height and the amount of time you have to determine the object on the far side of the wave is reduced. Is it a bird, or a dorsal fin? At certain times of the year, it becomes even more of a challenge when you have adult guillemots on the surface of the water with their black and white bodies that can look like the dorsal fins of cetaceans.

This is also important with the large field of view. Maritime binoculars are all about the amount of vision you have. If you are a skipper on a boat and need to make decisions that affect the safety of your vessel, then seeing more of what is at a distance from you is critical. The choice of a BaK-4 Roof prism also plays into the quality of the image as this design of prism is reserved for higher-end products, and it shows with the quality of the image.

Brightness

The overall brightness of the image in all weather conditions is a big help. Timed survey periods for cetaceans rely on the confidence of the surveyor in deciding what they have seen. Whether the light is behind you or in front, the subject brightness needs to be enough to see markings, details of any dorsal fin damage (nicks, cuts), and for the assessment of age. Typically, the youngest calf will have fetal folds on its body, and a bright image will assist in making out those factors to allow assessment of age as they lose these folds after about six months. The Hawke Endurance ED Marine binoculars come in two sizes of front element, the larger giving a brighter image, but at the cost of weight (see below) with the larger binoculars being over 50 per cent heavier than the smaller version. I tested the 7 x 50 version which did not disappoint in brightness and, in my opinion, worth the cost in weight.

Wide field of view

The difference between the two main pairs of binoculars in the range from Hawke is dictated by size. The smaller version (not tested) is lighter in weight and contains a smaller front element (less brightness compared with their larger version) but with a greater field of view. This may be part of your decision for the selection as it is worth remembering that the amount of extra view may not be as much as you first thought. A useful tip to remember is that one degree of field of view equates to about 17.5 meters at a distance of 1000 meters. So the difference between the two versions of the maritime product is just under 23 meters of view!

Waterproof

The binoculars have been rated IP67. Technically they are waterproof and can be immersed in water for a short period of time without any problems. Hawke have given consideration to this by adding a set of float-assisted neck straps. Coloured bright yellow, it makes it easy to spot should you accidentally drop them over the side of the boat. The strap will keep them afloat. Needless to say, I didn’t test this benefit! It is also worth keeping a cloth with you for wiping away the salt water as, no matter how durable a pair of binoculars can be, sea spray will eventually damage the product.

Weight

The 7 x 50 binoculars compared with many others are no heavier than the average. However, my view on weight is reflected by the circumstances of use. If you intend to use them on a boat, and the conditions are less than calm, then holding them with one hand while using your other hand for stability is a great test. Long periods of time holding them in one hand can start to strain the wrist. Using the neck strap is important.

Conclusion

I found the 7 x 50 binoculars to be a joy to use. Overall, the specifications have been well thought through, and provide the majority of what you would need to survey. They even produce a version with a compass built in, which I can imagine would be a further benefit for recording the sighting direction when surveying. They are comfortable to hold and generate a bright image, making it easy to identify the subject matter. It should also be noted that Hawke provide a lifetime warranty on product defects, which I feel is an outstanding part of the manufacturer’s services.

The Hawke Endurance ED Marine Binoculars can be found here. Our full range of Hawke Optics binoculars can be found here.

If you have any questions about our range or would like some advice on the right product for you then please contact us via email at customer.services@nhbs.com or phone on 01803 865913.

Book Review: Cry of the Wild: Eight Animals Under Siege

Cry of the Wild: Eight Animals Under Siege is a unique take on nature writing, blurring the lines between non-fiction and fiction and harking back to Henry Williamson’s Tarka the Otter and Richard Adams’ Watership Down. Written by the author of several loved books such as The Screaming Sky and Being a Beast, it is an original and creative book that aims to change our perspective on how the way we live is impacting animals. The book is split into eight chapters (plus an epilogue), each following a species ‘under siege’, beginning with foxes and ending with eels. The chapters follow the stories of anthropomorphised individuals as they try to navigate life impacted by the human world.

The Living Planet Report, published in October 2022, highlighted the impacts of the interlinked threats of human-induced climate change and biodiversity loss. Using datasets from almost 32,000 populations of 5,230 species across the planet, this comprehensive report shows that populations have declined by an average of 69% between 1970 and 2018, with land-use change being the most significant driver of biodiversity loss. Human activity is having a profound impact on the environment and ecosystems, and Charles Foster shows us this impact through the perspective of the animal, from an orca whose pod tries to survive in a polluted, overfished ocean to a gannet struggling to breed.

The third chapter is on humans, with the narrative following a child as they try to navigate and come to terms with a world that is being degraded by human activity. Foster is clear in the introduction that he views humans as also under siege, that we are part of the animal kingdom and therefore also suffering due to the declining health of our planet. Foster wrote Cry of the Wild as a way of introducing fresh storytelling to combat the fatigue many of us are experiencing when faced with the barrage of news about climate change and environmental destruction, which often leaves us numb and in denial. This chapter is a heartfelt representation of the struggles we face when trying to remain engaged with what is happening to our natural world.

Mayfly by Johan J.Ingles-Le Nobel via Flickr

Many of the species covered in the book are freshwater species or those that rely heavily on freshwater habitats, such as otters, mayflies and eels. Our freshwater environments, especially those in the UK, are heavily degraded, facing a wide range of constant threats such as pollution from sewage discharges and agricultural runoff to canalisation and invasive species. The mayfly is a particularly interesting species to pick, as insects are often overlooked in favour of more charismatic species when trying to encourage more people to act and empathise with conservation projects. However, there are 51 species of mayfly known in the British Isles, and they play a vital role in the freshwater ecosystem, providing a food source for many species such as trout, salmon, woodpeckers and dippers. Their larvae are opportunistic feeders, consuming detritus, plant matter and other insects. They are also used as an indicator species, as they are impacted by poor water quality. Chapter four highlights the fragility of their declining populations, showing how one single landowner practising poor management along a river system could devastate that ecosystem.

Throughout the book, humans are portrayed as villains and saviours, invaders and carers, showing the complicated and multifaceted ways we interact with nature. Cry of the Wild is a distinctive and engaging book that explores the impacts of our society on the environment in a novel, accessible way. By inviting us to experience the consciousness of his eight protagonists, Foster creates a poignant warning about how we treat animals and their habitats.

Cry of the Wild: Eight Animals Under Siege
By: Charles Foster
Hardback | May 2023