A couple of weeks ago I was in Norwich at a shopping centre and it’s been bothering me ever since. Because as we walked through the car-park there was a murmuration.
Not a big one as these things go: a couple of thousand starlings, doing all their wonderful circling and spiralling and shape-shifting above the city centre. Naturally my family and I stopped and admired, passing amiable remarks with a few others doing the same thing.
But most people didn’t stop. Maybe a quick glance upwards – wondering why we were looking at the sky — and then they moved on. As if nature – as if one of the great miracles of British wildlife – didn’t matter a jot to them.
But I know that’s false. Last year, Sky TV did an advert featuring a murmuration and everybody loved it. Talked about it. Wanted to see it again. Wondered if they’d ever see such miracle for themselves.
And I thought: have we reached the stage when people only value wildlife when it’s on telly? Do we only accept wildlife as a wonderful thing when somebody else points it out, endorses it and showcases it? Do we no longer trust our own ability to go phwoar at the ordinary and the marvellous things of the wild world?
It was a dismaying notion. Perhaps televised wildlife doesn’t lead us to the wild world at all: perhaps it just leads us back to more television. We’re always being encouraged – by television adverts – not to leave sport to professional athletes but to get up and take part ourselves.
I think we should have the same sort of campaign for the wild world: don’t leave it to professional TV naturalists, go out and do it yourself. Good for the body. Good for the heart. Good for the soul.
Regrettably I think you are right. That’s partly the fault of TV ‘documentary’ makers. Everything is condensed, and only the action shown, all the best bits. But nature isn’t like that. Most of the time nothing happens, and when it does, it is often best appreciated over a long period of time. As I cross the bridge over the River Blyth most days, I look for a grey wagtail. I might pause and wait, but it’s only about once a fortnight I actually chance to see one. Walking in the rainforest is full of expectations, the majority unfulfilled, and never likely to be — as Simon has so frequently pointed out — despite many days of walking in rainforests all over Central and South America, I have never seen a Jaguar. But it doesn’t mean they are not there. But a TV programme about not seeing Jaguars — who would watch it? But in a strange way, this is what wildlife is all about.
John is absolutely spot on, not seeing wildlife – but being in the place where wildlife is, is one of the most important, and for that matter enjoyable ways that humans interact with the wild world.
Hi,sometimes the most outrageously wonderful television wildlife fails to interest me,but a hedge sparrow on a bush does.It is special when it is real,media dilutes the experience for me.
Amen to that. That’s why the real wild world is like watching live sport – you don’t know what’s going to happen next. It may be the best match in the history of sport, but it probably won’t. But you don’t know and that’s what makes it vivid.
And if you know anything about the sex-life of the Dunnock, they are even lore interesting and also have one of the most under-rated songs of all common birds.
Well said…..tv should be the catalyst to go find and look.
Absolutely right.
Don’t despair, Simon. Keep fighting.
Wildlife and cities can still go together. Here is a place for you and your readers-
Yesterday, Liz and I went round the Guadalhorce Nature Reserve in Malaga, just half a mile from a soccer stadium and in sight of the city’s endless apartment blocks.
The river forks into two near the sea, and the reserve sits between. It is possible to walk round the reserve, including about 800 metres along the beach and stopping in at four hides, in well under two hours.
We didn’t see too much yesterday, at the end of the afternoon, but thoughts of you abounded as we saw and heard the cetti’s warbler. Black winged stilts patrolled the lagoon alongside greater egrets and black tailed godwits. Around the rushes were sissiness, countless warblers and little things I did not recognise. A roost of several hundred cormorants was settling down for the night.
Quite magical, and within the city limits.
That’s sounds brilliant, Bob. I love that sense of discovery that comes with totally unexpected moments of wildlife in unpromising places.
Hear hear: nothing like looking out of the window at seeing a blue tit or a jay (even a “common or garden” blackbird) on the feeder having a go at stocking up for the next day or so. Even better when a small flock of long-tailed tits comes foraging down along the back gardens.
I suspect that too many people have just forgotten how to look, even when they’re not in a hurry.
Sad, really.
Yes indeed, I hate it when I find myself guilty of that.
I’ve noticed this as well – I remember admiring a Kestrel while at a National Trust property and hardly anyone even bothered glance their head up to see what’s I was watching.
Looking at and listening to nature totally enhances pretty much everything I do, especially when it comes to mundane everyday activities. I was driving down the M11 on Friday and I spotted a Buzzard sitting in a tree no more than 40 yards from the road and it lifted my mood instantly. I bet very few other people noticed it.
My home-based job is fairly dull and computer based, but when I hear the local Long Tailed Tits making their twice-daily journey into the garden, I instantly forget the tedious work and watch them going about their business on our fat-ball feeders. It’s always one of the highlights of my day and always puts a smile on my face.
Yes indeed, it’s all about tuning in. When I point out some bird to non-birders, they tend to say ‘you’ve got good eyes.’ Actually, what I’ve good is a good brain, that is to say I’ve trained it to respond to the wild world. I have spent a lot of words trying to help people put pull off the same trick.
My friends are probably tired of me pointing stuff out to them; wherever and whenever you are there is always something to be amazed by. My recent favourite was in the Sainsbury car park adjacent to the A47 (Norwich also!) when 2 Red Kites glided across as shoppers strolled about, oblivious to the astonishing sight just above their heads. I tend to make exaggerated pointing movements to make sure at least a few people raise their eyes to the skies (or cause them to wonder why I was allowed out without my carer…….).
Just so. After a walk around a local reservoir, having lunch, I noticed a tree creeper going up a tree and pointed it out to the table. My friend (the walk leader and a great birder) told the others what was significant about the bird, and complimented me for spotting it. As I’ve noted elsewhere on Simon’s blog, no big deal for those of us who turn to see what caught our eye or look up when a bird suddenly calles from a tree.
Good try, and at least a great car park tick!
I like my bird table because we are always getting new birds turning up. In addition to the bird feeders, we put a large circle of bird food on the floor and we now have ducks, pheasants, deer, partridges and yesterday a beautiful stray white cockerel turned up.
Good on you Mel! Keep feeding them birds. x