Fighting for Birds: 25 years in Nature Conservation

by Dr. Mark Avery

Overview

Devoted to birds and wildlife since childhood, Mark’s early scientific research at Oxford, Aberdeen and the RSPB provided a solid background for his management, ambassadorial, and political lobbying activities which were to follow – and his larger than life, yet quietly humane personality has provided the final tools in his own, unique, nature conservationists’ toolbox.

In this book, Mark mixes a great many stories from his professional life at the RSPB with personal anecdotes and passionate arguments on past and present issues in bird and nature conservation. He shows us something of the many scientists whose work paves the way for conservation action, places domestic conservation into an international context, takes us behind the scenes to glimpse the politicians who have worked with him, or against him, along the way. Mark leaves us armed with practical tips and a guiding philosophy to take wildlife conservation though the troubled years that lie ahead.

A personal, philosophical and political history of 25 years of bird conservation, this book provides an instructive and amusing read for all those who would like a glimpse into the birds and wildlife conservation world – what the issues are, what must be done, how it can be done, and the challenges, highs and lows involved.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781907807299
Publisher:	Pelagic Publishing
Publication date:	08/12/2012
Pages:	324
Product dimensions:	5.10(w) x 7.60(h) x 1.30(d)

About the Author

Mark Avery spent 25 years fighting for birds working for the RSPB, from Research Biologist to Conservation Director and is an influential blogger on all matters nature conservation.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Early years

Bird on the horizon sitting on the fence He's singing his song for me at his own expense And I'm just like that bird oh oh Singing just for you

Bob Dylan

I was born quite early on the Saturday morning of Grand National day, 1958. Charles Avery, my father, telephoned my mother Megan's relations, the side of the family living in south Wales, to tell them the news. In those days few had telephones so the call went from my father to my uncle Peter who then spread the word of Megan's child through the terraced houses of the Pontypool mining community.

The message was passed concerning my arrival, gender, weight, number of fingers and toes, blue eyes and the general well-being of mother and baby. Uncle Peter then passed on the news through the day but soon realised that he and my father had dropped the ball somewhere in their conversation -what was this new baby's name? After quite a bit of censure and teasing from the female side of the family (as he told me over 40 years later) he made his annual flutter on the big race. Scanning down the list of runners there was one that caught his eye because of the morning's events, and he backed the winner of the Aintree National, Mr What, at 18/1 thanks to my birth.

Despite the fact that National Hunt racing has been a lifelong interest, that is almost the last you will hear of it in this book which is not an autobiography. Rather, it is an account of experiences and thoughts about the world of nature and nature conservation. This chapter takes you from the day of the 1958 Grand National through to 1 April 1986, when I joined the staff of the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB), and is a quick canter through the events that led to me working for the UK's best nature conservation organisation.

This chapter shows how random events - like a chance meeting in a pub - gave my life the nudge that sent it forward in a particular direction. It wasn't inevitable that 28 years after Mr What won the Grand National I would join the RSPB and work there for the next 25 years, but it was those apparently random choices and chances of friends and events that, looking back, and only looking back, made an RSPB career inevitable and just what I needed in life.

Early influences

All my early years were spent either in Bristol or nearby. My father was a Bristolian whereas my mother was a miner's daughter and nurse from south Wales. We first lived in the southern suburb of Brislington, close to where my father had been born, and then moved to almost within sight of fields in Whitchurch, and then further south again into the north Somerset village of Pensford, just seven miles from Bristol city centre but out in the countryside.

Our holidays were spent in places like the Lake District, New Forest or mid-Wales and Sunday afternoons usually included a drive in the countryside whether to the Mendips, the Somerset Levels or the Cotswolds.

I remember Dad pointing out the larger and commoner species such as kestrels, green woodpeckers and buzzards and we always thrilled when we saw a fox or a deer. But the countryside and the nature which lived in it were not in any way thrust upon me. They were on offer but no more so, as I can recall, than church architecture, cars, books, music, sport or a host of other interests. I collected stamps, made Airfix model aeroplanes, played war games and read voraciously from Enid Blyton through Conan Doyle to much of Hardy and most of Dickens, all by the age of 11.

You'll note that these were solitary pursuits. I was an only child and throughout my early education went to schools that were not those frequented by my neighbourhood friends, so was not surrounded by school friends at home. Instead of the local primary school my parents sent me to a small private school, Cleve House School, a short bus ride away, because they were worried that my youthful stammer would not be treated kindly by the fierce head teacher at the local primary. Cleve House gently slowed the pace of my speech so that my lips and brain were in synch, and gave me a good enough education to pass the exam to go to the Bristol Cathedral School a year early. But it was decided that I would take the entrance exam again the next year and stay at Cleve House rather than be a year younger than my new classmates.

We had moved from Whitchurch to Pensford by the time I retook and passed the entrance exam the next year, and had switched our target to the Bristol Grammar School - the largest of the three boys' direct grant grammar schools in Bristol. The move to Somerset at the same time meant that even though my exam results would have won me a free place at the Cathedral School, because we now lived in Somerset (rather than in the City and County of Bristol or Gloucestershire) my parents had to pay for my Grammar School education. I was the last generation of school children to take the 11-plus exam, and I passed, so the Cathedral School at Wells would have been another option but the Comprehensive system arrived and it was either the local Chew Valley Comprehensive or Bristol Grammar School for me. I'm so grateful that my parents, who were by no means well off, made the sacrifices to send me to Bristol Grammar School - it not only gave me an education that set me up for the rest of my life, but gave me the opportunity to make birds and nature a career too.

Bristol Grammar School

I made the daily journey to school, wearing my school uniform of a grey suit, school (or House) tie and cap (up until the age of 14, I think) on the 376 or 377 bus from Pensford, up the A37 Wells Road into Bristol Bus Station after which there was a calf-stretching uphill walk to the Grammar School's Victorian buildings which stood next to many of Bristol University's buildings at the top of Park Street.

Making its way through the rush hour traffic, the bus would be full of office-workers and a very few other school children (including some very fetching miniskirts from the Catholic girls grammar, La Retraite). I remember the bus windows being steamed up on winter's days as I did the remains of my homework (maybe Latin or physics) on the journey. On the return journey in the winter evenings I always looked up at the massive swarm of starlings circling above Brunel's Temple Meads Station.

The school week at Bristol Grammar consisted of three half days (Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday mornings) and three full days (Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays) with at least one of the half days also being a sports afternoon. So I would be playing rugby or cricket on a Tuesday or Thursday, and just occasionally on a Saturday too.

Sundays were free except that every other Sunday during term two masters, Derek Lucas and Tony Warren, would take a minibus full of teenage boys out into the Somerset or Gloucestershire countryside on a Field Club outing.

When I arrived at the grammar school as a callow and nervous 11 year old I looked through the list of clubs and societies and the only one that caught my eye was the Field Club. This was the school natural history society which had indoor meetings as well as the weekend excursions. I wanted to be a member and was aghast to discover that entry was only open to boys in their fourth year or above (Lower Removes or Removes - don't ask!) rather than first-years (Third Formers - I said, don't ask!) like myself. A group of us, Andrew Brown, Peter Davies and Ian Cree (from memory) all discovered each other and our shared desire to break into this select society in those first few days and persuaded Mr Lucas and Mr Warren to relax the age constraint and allow us membership. From then on, the Field Club was as important a part of my secondary education as were O and A Levels and Cambridge entrance examinations. When I hear talk of a grammar school education I think of A Levels, the Golden Hill rugby pitches and learning to tell bar-tailed and black-tailed godwits apart at Stert Point in Bridgwater Bay.

Over the years the friends I made in the Field Club were longer lasting, and more memorable, than those I made on the sports field or in the classroom. Steve Albon was a few years ahead of me and went on to be a joint editor of the UK National Ecosystem Assessment, after working at the Institute for Terrestrial Ecology and the MacAuley Institute. Hugh Brazier edited Irish Birds when based in Dublin. Peter Dolton now checks the golden orioles at Lakenheath RSPB nature reserve. My exact contemporary, Peter Fraser, is a joint author of a Poyser monograph and Tim Dee, who came up through the ranks a few years after me, is the author of a marvellous book about nature. And there were many others who made those Field Club meetings and trips a delight.

Imagine about a dozen teenage boys all piling out of a minibus with binoculars, notebooks, spots, telescopes, waxed jackets, wellies and masses of testosterone. If you didn't learn to identify birds in that company you were toast! Don't get me wrong, it was a friendly crowd, but a competitive one too - we were grammar school boys after all. If you identified a difficult or distant bird correctly, or spotted a good bird first, then your reputation for the day was made, all the more so if you were a youngster and were praised by the older boys, of course. But get it wrong, and you wouldn't be allowed to forget it for that day at least. Peer pressure is a great thing to encourage improvement. I started as a novice but rapidly developed into a pro (for my age, at least).

Our visits to local sites marked out the seasons: September and October was for high-tide visits to Bridgwater Bay; mid-winter took us to Slim-bridge for geese (hopefully including a lesser white-front) and the Somerset Levels for wildfowl and waders; while spring involved a trip to Brean Down for arriving migrants such as grasshopper warblers and an evening trip to Shapwick Heath for nightjars and nightingales. Throw in a few visits to the local reservoirs of Chew Valley and Blagdon, some dull woodlands and Sand Point or Avonmouth, and the year was more or less full. As time went on some longer trips were arranged too - to Exmoor and Dunkery Beacon, the boat trip to Lundy from Weston-super-Mare, a weekend to Dumfries and Galloway and trips to the Exe Estuary, the Berkshire Downs and Portland Bill.

Those trips taught me a lot about birds and a lot about being a teenage boy. They were bonding experiences and although some must have been rain-soaked and birdless, I remember the highlights not the low points. On what may have been my first trip we saw a purple sandpiper sitting on the rocks at Sand Point on the Severn Estuary, north of Weston-super-Mare, that was so close that I didn't see it for ages because I was looking too far away. It looked just like its picture in the field guide (the Peterson, Mountford and Hollom one) with its dumpy dark body and yellow legs. I didn't know much more about it and I certainly didn't know that less than a decade later I would be searching for purple sandpiper nests on the Hardangervidda plateau in southern Norway.

Sparrowhawks were unusual in those early 1970s' days and seeing one, particularly seeing one well, made the day notable by itself. On the other hand, farmland birds were pretty common and I clearly remember, at least it seems clear to me, a flock of a thousand linnets by the side of the road near Priddy, on the top of the Mendips, with a single greenfinch among them. The Somerset Levels in winter were alive with waders - crossing a splashy field on those flat peatlands might flush a hundred snipe or more with the chance of a Jack snipe amongst them and the lapwing and golden plover numbers were huge. And we saw some decent rarities too - sometimes we did find the lesser white-front amongst the thousands of white-fronted geese at Slimbridge and there were occasional pectoral or buff-breasted sandpipers on the coast or at the reservoirs in autumn.

Mostly though, it was a process of gradual accumulation of knowledge of birds from different habitats and at different times of year. It was a time before pagers and long before the internet. The first breeding atlas was published in 1976 - the year after I left BGS and I learned my birds mostly by seeing them in the field on those Sunday trips. I could not have got to all those places myself and nor could I have seen all those birds or gradually got to know what they looked like and sounded like without those Sunday Field Club trips.

Derek Lucas (who was my form master one year, taught me English another year, and was my House Master for many years, and so taught me rugby as well) and Tony Warren (who taught me Geography for a year or two) were lovely men. My companions and I owed them a lot for the opportunities they gave us all. They were civilised and cultured with a love of literature and opera and a remarkable tolerance of teenage boys growing into young men. I hardly remember them ever pointing out a bird and it would be pretty unusual for either of them to identify a bird ahead of the eager younger hordes. In fact, their interest in birds seemed pretty low-key. I wonder what they themselves got out of it all but I do know that they gave me and others a priceless opportunity to learn about birds. I am sure we thanked them politely but now looking back I wonder whether they knew quite how much they affected the lives of many of us.

And it is difficult to imagine two male teachers feeling able to devote this type of time to a bunch of pubescent schoolboys these days. They might neither dare nor be allowed. And that is a shame. Those days of local birding, in a friendly group, under the protection of two adults but with the freedom to be out and about away from parents (and to sneak a crafty first (and almost last) cigarette at the back of the group) were precious days of finding oneself and growing up, as well as discovering the diagnostic differences between marsh and willow tit and adding to one's life list. I would not have developed a strong love of birds, which spilled over into passion for the whole of nature as life went on, without those early Field Club experiences. Without them I cannot see that I would have ended up with the career I've had and I wonder where the next few RSPB Conservation Directors are discovering their knowledge of and love for birds and nature?

Pensford

But there were holidays too and weekends without sport or Field Club trips. I spent those times walking through the local fields along the River Chew. My favourite walk was down to Publow where the church formed part of the dowry of Anne Boleyn and where an ancient bridge crossed the river. Standing on the bridge at different times of year I saw my first redpolls in the riverside alders and watched a fisherman's line get unbelievably tangled as he pulled an eel out of the river. Those same alders once held my first lesser-spotted woodpecker, which was then a regular sight in that spot and along the river. Water voles were common and the sound of their 'plop' as they dropped into the water from the bank, or the sight of them making a V as they swam across the river was an encounter made at every visit. One day a strange bird was sitting on a branch over the river - grey and upright, it darted out after insects and returned to the same perch time after time. I didn't know what it was until I returned home and found it was a spotted flycatcher. This gradual unfolding of nature's secrets was the prize to be gained from a regular walk. And remarkably all those species I have mentioned are now so much less common. No-one would have guessed their fate back then.

The spring would be heralded by the bright buttery, male brimstone butterflies from March (or sometimes February) onwards - flying through the woods when there were still rather few leaves on the trees. Later the wood whites would fly the same way but by then the trees were fully green. The species that would always spark my parents' interest was the kingfisher, which I sometimes used to see perched and watch while it fished. But more usually, it would see me first as I rounded a corner of the river and my view was of its turquoise back heading rapidly away from me along the river course. There were human fishermen too, and just occasionally I would pass Pensford-born Acker Bilk sitting by the riverside. I cannot hear his Stranger on the Shore clarinet melody without being taken back to a slow-moving wildlife-rich river with its water voles and kingfishers.

Our house backed on to farmland and a 20-mile view east to the hills above Bath, and the knot of trees by Bath racecourse. While doing my homework I used to gaze out over that view and occasionally see a distant buzzard. Our garden fence was almost as likely to have a tree sparrow on it as a house sparrow and in spring we were occasionally woken by a singing cuckoo on the garden fence. I made a nest box in woodwork lessons which was later occupied by blue tits, and a pair of goldfinches nested in the American currant bush outside the kitchen window.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Fighting for Birds"
by .
Copyright © 2012 Mark Avery.
Excerpted by permission of Pelagic Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Foreword,
Preface,
Acknowledgements,
List of abbreviations,
1 Early years,
2 Flow Country days,
3 In the pink - roseate terns,
4 Counting, cubes and curves,
5 Is it ever right to be nasty to birds?,
6 Special places,
7 Hope for farmland birds,
8 Reintroductions: putting something back,
9 Nature reserves,
10 Climate,
11 The raptor haters,
12 Trying to change the world,
13 Advocacy in practice,
14 Snippets,
15 Whither the RSPB?,
16 The tangled bank,
17 What we need to do to win,
Index,

Editorial Reviews

This is an in-depth book that explores how the conservation world works and explains just how difficult it can be to save bird species. Avery worked for the RSPB for 25 years and became their Conservation Director, so he is in a pretty good position to talk about saving species. The book starts off with a tour of Mark’s formative early years getting into the world of birds but this is not an autobiography. It is about thoughts, opinions and ideas on how to work with, protect and keep species and special places alive and well. One gets the feeling that to truly express his views Mark could only do so once he had left the RSPB.

“We are often told that nature conservation is a luxury we cannot afford when it stands in the way of economic progress…”

Fighting For Birds is a book that lays out how NGO’s work, how politicians support or don’t support projects, who to speak to, how to speak to them and what to speak about once in a position to do so. It is a political business looking after our natural world with meeting after meeting, a watching of p’s and q’s, talk and counter talk and the smoothing of feathers between various parties. Avery’s views are opinionated and I like this. His thoughts on hunting and suggestions of how to stop the continual murder of birds of prey in the UK appeal to my sensibilities. The persecution of raptors is a disgusting sideshow that accompanies events like grouse shoots and the cultivation of grouse moors at the expense of all other creatures and habitat is genuinely sickening, although grouse moor managers will tell you a different story as to how their work actually helps biodiversity. Avery sets out many different options for the situation and ultimately indicates that the banning of grouse shoots may be the only way to save so many of our birds of prey, particularly the Hen Harrier, which is now down to the last breeding pair in England. He is probably right.

Fighting for Birds is an extraordinary work. It explains most aspects of conservation in a succinct, intelligible way that makes one want to pick up the gauntlet and do what one can to join the fight for birds. Inspirational and enlightening it may be but most of all it shows exactly where we are in our race to save our wildlife and urges us all to do more. You want to be a conservationist? Then read this book.

The Bird Effect Diary - Ceri Levy

This book's cover says it all - Mark Avery is in your face, explaining his view of how to look after Briain's birds, and our countryside, largely through a series of battles. Let me be clear, I'm reviewing the book, not Mark's approach.

Chris Packham read it from start to finish without stopping - I took only two or three sittings. It's a compelling read. A book of this nature, at its best, should inform, entertain, provoke thought, and even move the reader, and Mark managed all of these with me. He successfully transfers onto the page his passion for birds, for wildlife, for science, and for some people. He sets out, very clearly, the art and science of nature conservation, and explains the practicalities in a way that will improve understanding for any reader at any level. This is a personal perspective, with Mark's contribution as an RSPB Director writ very large. Its combative feel will make new enemies, as well as further polarise those with strong views, either way, on his approach.

Mark's story shares remarkably similar experiences to mine. Schoolboy mentors, early birding memories (do we all remember meeting Richard Richardson on Cley's East Bank?), scientific research, upland fieldwork, all leading to a long career in nature conservation. As a professional I learnt a lot from this book - how and why the RSPB picked issues for advocacy, ideas on mitigating climate change, and that Swifts nest in Abernethy's pines - I have to see that sometime! I laughed out loud, mostly when Mark was poking fun at himself and, yes, I was moved because his passion to do better for our planet and the life it sustains shines through - we all should take on at least some of his bullet-point manifesto for the future of a better world. Whether you are enemy or friend, reading this account of a particular life in conservation will be time well spent.

BTO News - Andy Clements

This is a terrific book, and a great read – an account of Mark’s years working with the RSPB but more than just the tale of one man’s work and interests. This is a clear appraisal of many of the conservation issues of recent years and will be invaluable for anyone interested in wildlife, ecology or conservation. Mark is an engaging writer and tells many amusing anecdotes along the way – as a regular reader of his excellent blog I knew that I would enjoy his book, but I was genuinely and pleasantly surprised by the sheer scope of the issues covered here.

The book looks back at conservation work from the last 25 years, but also looks forward to the possible future of organisations such as the RSPB. I found this section particularly interesting, (as an RSPB member), and I feel that I shall be awaiting – and perhaps helping to influence – this future with a much better informed viewpoint than before. Anyone who cares about the future of wildlife conservation in the UK should give this book a try – I will be dipping back into many of the chapters regularly.

I would thoroughly recommend it to everyone, and will be singing its praises at work too – my ecology students would find it very useful! Hopefully I can influence our college library to stock a few copies….

Localheroblog

There are some websites I try to look at every day.  One that is always worth reading is Mark Avery’s blog ‘Standing up for Nature’. A former Director of Conservation with the RSPB, his articles are written with passion and humour, so I was curious to see if he could he sustain his usual quality over 300 pages or more.

The tone is set by the title.  This isn’t ‘Managing for Birds’ or ‘Caring for Birds’ or ‘Working-in-Partnership-with-Stakeholders-for-Birds’, although Avery does plenty of all three.  It’s ‘Fighting for Birds’.  It’s ‘in yer face’ nature conservation.  It’s assertive, uncompromising and outspoken.  Few prisoners are taken.

It starts slowly with chapters describing Avery’s youth, and his entry into the RSPB.  I warmed to this, if only because his memories of ‘Peterson, Mountford and Hollom’, ‘The Selfish Gene’ and ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ are mine also.  There are chapters on early experiences in the Flow Country and working with roseate terns.  You could be forgiven for thinking this is one of those rather worthy ‘my life with birds’ books.  

But it gathers pace with a chapter on the vital importance of sound data for bird conservation, before moving on to nature reserves, climate science, farmland birds and the value of reintroductions.  Avery provokes the reader at every turn.  Was it right to shoot ruddy ducks?  How would a reintroduced white-tailed eagle fair in Norfolk?  What was Prince Harry really up to, that evening two hen harriers were shot at Sandringham?  Do egg collectors suffer from sexual inadequacy?  There’s a lot to ponder.

But despite the combative tone, it’s Avery’s candour that makes him so persuasive.  Nobody in nature conservation really thought hen harriers could affect grouse populations.  But Avery readily acknowledges that the science is undeniable: they do.  As a Labour Party member, he praises Michael Meacher, but also has warm words for John Gummer.  The RSPB’s experiment with farming has been a qualified success, but far from plain sailing.  At every turn he emphasises being honest with ourselves.  In an age when, from climate change to badgers, opinion drives evidence rather than vice versa, this attitude is so refreshing it could make you cry.

It would be hard to make any criticism, but the reintroduction chapter makes no mention of the osprey project 20 miles from Avery’s home which, incidentally, led to the species breeding again in Wales.  The section on politics is also a bit thin.  It’s so much more complicated than a simple left/right question.  What of differing shades, from one-nation Tory to neoliberal Thatcherite?  What of the Liberal Democrats, UKIP, the Greens, Plaid Cymru, the SNP, and Northern Ireland parties?  Maybe that is another book. 

After a delightful ‘light relief’ chapter of anecdotes (my favourite: the opening “Unleash hell!” scene from the film Gladiator was filmed next to the RSPB reserve at Farnham Heath) the book comes to its conclusion on the future.  Whether you agree with Avery’s views on a ‘super NGO’ or not, it’s inspiring stuff.  His message, that you don’t have to be a victim, that if we choose to be passive then we collude in the environment’s degradation, is compelling.

If you are a young person, maybe starting out on a career in nature conservation, ‘Fighting for Birds’ should be in your induction pack.  No one, perhaps except Peter Marren, writes better. But anyone who cares about the future of wildlife in Britain should read this book.  And if you enjoy it – and I bet you will – there’s more at markavery.info/blog. 

Natur Cymru - Dr Andrew Lucas

Dispatches from a quarter century on the frontline

Memoirs of people's professional careers tend to be boring – the single most boring book I've ever encountered in my life was one such – but a memoir that is anything but is the newly published Fighting For Birds, Mark Avery's account of his 25 years at the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, the last 12 of them spent as Director of Conservation.

Dr Avery, now Britain's premier wildlife blogger, was thus at the very heart of all the conservation and wildlife protection battles of recent times, from windfarms to persecution of birds of prey by landowners. Indeed, he was a prime mover in many of them, and his spiky and opinionated account – there are quite a few people he doesn't like – is not only immensely instructive, but gripping.

These 300 pages, with their relaxed and fluent prose and the constant presence of wild birds with all their beauty and wonder, slip by in an instant. This is a book not to be missed by anyone in Britain seriously interested in the natural world and its conservation.

Michael McCarthy

Larger than life, loud, pugnacious and deeply committed to the cause, Mark Avery spent a quarter of a century and almost half his lifetime working tirelessly on behalf of birds for the RSPB. Now, having left that excellent organisation, he is free to speak his mind. And he certainly does that.

Fighting for Birds is part memoir, part history of this crucial period for Britain’s birdlife, part manifesto for the future of bird conservation – and all great fun to read.

It begins with a whistle-stop tour through the author’s early years: schoolboy birding adventures around Avon and Somerset, university expeditions to far-flung places, and frequent visits to his other love, the racecourse. For anyone who hasn’t met the author, this helps them to understand his forthright but deceptively complex character.

But the real meat of the book comes once he has embarked, in his late 20s, on his career at the RSPB. In each chapter he takes a single topic – farmland birds, reintroductions, nature reserves and so on – and burrows deep into the subject. Arguments are laid out, facts and figures are marshalled and colourful anecdotes are told with great enthusiasm.

The result is far more enlightening than a straight chronological approach could provide. Avery also understands that other people may hold different opinions, and is scrupulously fair in giving room to their arguments, though by the end of each chapter you are always well aware of his own deeply held beliefs.

Having read the book, I gained a far greater understanding of the difficult issues facing bird conservationists today: from wind farms to the effects of climate change, and the labyrinthine maze of our political system to the perennial conflict over Hen Harriers and grouse moors – for which, incidentally, he offers an eminently sensible solution which both sides could potentially be happy with.

What also marks this book out is Avery’s eye for a telling phrase to describe a key moment in his life, whether the unusual sight of a Bald Ibis feeding on the corpse of a dog in Morocco, or his silent face-off with Prince Philip – something to do with the mysterious shooting of Hen Harriers at Sandringham, perhaps.

Fighting for Birds is a must read for anyone who cares about the future of birds on this crowded island - a future that, had Mark Avery not pursued a career in conservation, would have looked far bleaker than it does today. For that, he deserves our gratitude.

Birdwatch Magazine - Stephen Moss

Mark Avery worked for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds for about 25 years, starting as a research
scientist and leaving, in April 2011, as Director of Conservation. As such he was at the forefront of many of
the major then-current conservation issues facing birds, and indeed other wildlife, and was often called upon by
the media, policy makers and many others for comments and to make decisions which affected conservationists
generally and the RSPB in particular. Many of these decisions will continue to have effects for many years to
come. 

His views on some of the issues have been aired on his blog (www.markavery.info/blog) since 2009, but
only since he left the employment of the RSPB has he been able to be completely frank and not necessarily follow the RSPB line. Fighting for Birds follows on from this and sets out to clarify and summarize many of these
major issues, to put forward Avery’s own take on them, and to note how far some of them are from being resolved.

He states early on that the book is not an autobiography but you would be forgiven for disagreeing when
reading the first four chapters. These describe his formative years and how he got into birdwatching and natural
history and then became a professional ecologist, studying bats (Chiroptera) as well as birds and working
with several leading scientists in the process. However, this is really just setting the scene for the other 13
chapters which are the meat of the book, and should be required reading for anyone with aspirations to be an
advocate for conservation, and especially for anyone who has any influence on environmental policy. Also of
course, anyone interested in conservation and the environment will get a lot of information and some forthright
views both on the issues themselves and on how they should be tackled in the corridors of power where
it matters.

Chapters labelled such as ‘Is it right ever to be nasty to birds?’, ‘The raptor haters’, ‘Trying to change the
world’, ‘What we need to do to win’ and ‘Climate’ show that he tackles some of the main issues facing bird conservation and indeed the worldwide environment. We get a personal view which at times can be very hardhitting and critical of both people and organizations, many of whom purport to be ‘doing good’. Many ordinary birdwatchers and conservationists will certainly not agree with him at times but, with such cases as the Hen Harrier Circus cyaneus controversy in the Southern Uplands of Scotland, he clearly states the various opposing views, accepting for example that Hen Harriers do eat quite a lot of grouse and that therefore there is a major issue to be tackled. Compromises have to be made at times, though in this case his own stance is clear: he is opposed to driven grouse shooting. 

Not all is polemic though. There are chapters on the role of nature reserves and special places, on reintroductions, on advocacy (how and how not to do it!) and on farmland birds, and he does not flinch from the RSPB with a chapter entitled ‘Whither the RSPB?’ which describes both its current state and what are his hopes for its future – he is a life member. There are tensions and conflicts, both within and between organizations and often with those seemingly on the same side. The trick for all of them, having weighed up the evidence, is to come out at the end with a clear direction. I suspect nobody will agree with everything he says, but there is a lot of common sense here as well as what amounts to a history of the conservation movement over the last 25 years or so. Some of the major issues have a separate chapter – see above – but several bits which did not quite fit into any other chapter are collected together in Chapter 14 as ‘Snippets’.

There are one or two minor errors, but they do not detract from what is a mighty good read. Chris Packham in his Foreword says he read it in one go and I know he is not alone in that. However, reading it like this is not essential and indeed dipping into specific chapters on particular topics usually produces a useful summary of a major issue, spiced with Mark’s general good humour and interesting and often amusing anecdotes.

IBIS - Peter Lack

This book might be described as an analytical autobiography. It is intensely personal, presenting many details of the author’s life but woven around a discussion of the development of RSPB policy on conservation of birds where the author played a central role, and drawing lessons for policy from personal experience. Each chapter finishes with a summary of the main points made; not what one would normally expect in a personal history and making the book more like a text on conservation policy. In the author’s mind I think the book is both these and other things besides. It is simultaneously didactic and messianic – the final chapter is entitled ‘What we need to do to win’. There is evidence that the work was originally intended to be a more conventional autobiography. Thus witness a chapter with the title ‘Snippets’ containing stories and anecdotes that couldn’t be fitted in the main text. Samuel Becket had something similar in his novel Watt; words and phrases thought of but not used. In that case however they were included as an addendum.

But to say that this book is idiosyncratic is in no way to condemn it. I couldn’t put it down. It is a damned good read packed with interesting information and insider insights into some of the classic conservation battles of the period. All students of conservation should read it. I would particularly recommend some of the case studies in chapter 13 (although not that on the Peatlands Campaign where I seem to recall RSPB wasn’t centrally involved) the chapter appropriately titled ‘ The raptor haters’ and his assessments in chapter 16 of the conservation industry.

The author spent 25 years working for RSPB and remains deeply committed to it as the ideal model for a conservation NGO containing the optimum mix of advocacy, political pressure, direct action and scientific analysis. In his view all other conservation bodies fall short of the ideal. The Wildlife Trusts have lost their way, placing too much emphasis on people and too little on wildlife (the reviewer is sympathetic on this one).Greenpeace and FOE have other concerns, certainly no less important than wildlife conservation but to a degree in conflict with them at least in terms of resource allocation. The nearest to the RSPB perfection are recent specialist bodies: Plantlife; Butterfly Conservation and Buglife; but these bodies are too small, lacking the membership and therefore the clout of RSPB and the last chapters speculate as to whether RSPB should extend its remit to take over their territory or otherwise help to strengthen them and how far it should become a multi-national extending the RSPB experience overseas. Undoubtedly RSPB is the largest and most successful wildlife NGO in Europe with a reach now extending outside of the continent. It is to be congratulated on its success and Mark Avery to be thanked for the pivotal role he has played in it. However it falls to the reviewer to pour a touch of cold water on the author’s enthusiasm.

From its inception, and written into its charter, the RSPB has been restrained from attacking the interests of the landed gentry; most obviously preventing any challenge to the upper class obsession with killing animals and birds, categorised as hunting or vermin control. These constraints remain and Avery confesses to wanting to launch a campaign against grouse shooting but knowing that within RSPB he could not do so. But the interests of the landed classes extend beyond the slaughter of innocent raptors, game-birds and Mustelids; they are reflected in received understanding, or lack of it, of the economics of farming and forestry. While regarding the NFU as part of the enemy, Avery none-the-less subscribes to the hoary old lie that intensification with its resulting monocultures is the consequence of economic pressures facing farmers. It isn’t. It is the result of the reduction and distortion of risk brought about by agricultural support and protection. If this support were wholly withdrawn the farming community would perforce shift back to crop rotations, lower intensity of cultivation and mixed farming as a rational strategy to minimise financial risk. Ricardo demonstrated this in the nineteenth century; that in adversity agriculture would retreat on both the intensive and extensive margins. But you don’t have to be an historian of economic thought to understand it. It was explained to the conservation community in the late 1960s and in the 1970s and 80s I was explaining it to the RSPB. I’m afraid that I failed; the message was well understood in what was then known as Conservation Planning but the constraints on the organisation meant that it was never acted on. The reasons are obvious. Agricultural support does not benefit tenant farmers who simply face rising rents and land prices; it enriches their landlords. But the principal social cost of our obsession with looking after farmers and wealthy landlords is the destruction of wildlife habitat and the decimation of birds and other taxa. Any realistic programme to reverse these trends has to start from there.

The economics of forestry is subject to a similar fallacy and this one too has been repeatedly demonstrated. It is not economic to grow trees for commercial purposes in the UK – which is not to say that we should not maintain and manage semi-natural woodlands. Commercial forestry exists to supply tax concessions to the wealthy and increasingly to multi-national companies with a by-product of providing shelter for pheasant rearing. What Mark Avery saw in the Flow Country where the trees would often not even properly grow is equally true in the lowlands. The starting and finishing point therefore of any forestry policy as with agricultural policy therefore is the interest of those who pay the piper.

But despite the constraints facing RSPB it has come a long way and has done a lot at least to mitigate the environmental consequences of land-holding. Avery’s book explains and celebrates this progress The hope for Buglife and the other conservation bodies that Avery admires is that their power base is urban not rural. Let us hope it remains that way. Meanwhile I look forward to meeting him on the picket line on August 12th.

ECOS - John Bowers

This is a book everyone should read, be they already an ardent conservationist or, equally, perhaps more importantly, if they have no particular sympathies with wildlife or environmentalism. There are a number of reasons why I personally enjoyed it so much. I worked for the RSPB for much of the period within which the narrative takes place, I admit to sharing the same opinions presented within the book and I also know the author!! Such being the case I suppose it's hardly likely I would find fault with its contents ( I don't! ), indeed it's slightly embarrassing to admit I agree with virtually all which is said in its 300 or so pages. I'd actually go a step further and suggest that its title should be a necessary reference source within every current academic conservation and environmental course due to its pragmatic style and up to date treatment. Additionally it would behove many whose managerial duties and responsibilities touch on the above subject areas to read it,  indeed,and in particular, it could be considered a compulsory text for those within Government, DEFRA and Planning Authority staff  and many within the agricultural industry!!

So why such unqualified support?

The reader will soon find that the pragmatic and logical approach taken towards some pretty hefty issues is consistent and is combined with a writing style that is light and entertaining, educational and presents summarized information which leads the reader to a better understanding of the various subjects under examination. I certainly appreciated certain matters better than I had done previously and I'd worked within "the industry"! Such success is not an easy one to achieve within a "factual book", but is something the author repeats with admirable ease.

Much of this is accomplished by the issues being set out in a personal context that ensures the "journey", which also embraces the beginnings of the author's interest in natural history, coupled with his more critical involvements in later years, is recounted in a very direct way.  There's humour too. The stories linked to the Reverend Gilbert White's research on bats and the observed activities, by the author, of biologically enthusiastic Bee-eaters on the Camargue are just two amongst many which made me smile. But there is much, much more which is equally as entertaining within the book. Aspects of contemporary conservation "history", cameo stories of personalities who themselves have played major parts within both research and policy advocation undertaken over the years and explanations related to the outcomes of various practical initiatives applied to different conservation challenges are all presented in an informative and engaging way.

In short this is a book that must  be read as widely as possible. As an extremely well constructed foundation dealing with the challenges confronting conservation, and the choices and approaches we might apply to them, this is a "blueprint" that should steer our thoughts and actions for some time to come.

On a more light hearted note I have also to mention the following!! I purchased my copy of the book last year, but then had two-three months with eye trouble within which time I did little or no serious reading. Throughout that time I had left the book out on a table as a reminder that I must return to it at an early stage. As you can see the book's cover carries a superimposed photograph of Mark Avery himself. During the whole of that time I was conscious of a gaze which followed me when passing, as if in mild rebuke for being ignored, but it served as an additional reminder that I should read it at the earliest opportunity!!  Well, it's been worth the wait and I've also every intention of reading it again at some point such is the overwhelming value of its contents. A real pleasure, a great read  and something I have no compunction in recommending to everyone, particularly birders. The various subjects presented in separate chapters, themselves replete with endless examples relevant to the case being considered, serve to illustrate why we should all find time to "Fight for birds", a mission that the book more than successfully achieves.

A Birding Odyssey - John S Armitage

A former RSPB conservation director, today Mark Avery is a troublemaker - but in a good way. His passion for conservation and his combative style under the Fighting for Birds title demonstrates his recognition that we can’t afford to have comfortable conversations about conservation on our crowded isle. This is fundamentally a positive thing and this book reflects Avery's wealth of experience of someone not afraid to raise the wildlife voice. As a scientist by training, he soon learns that by flexing muscles and facts, wildlife conservation can be moved on to a new level.

Avery says the book is not an autobiography, but you do get an awful lot of him. He influences how birds are counted, he faces up to the establishment and talks about farmland birds, biofuels, raptors, the reintroductions of various species, genetically modified foods and how to capture the attention of those who matter.

He has arguably succeeded in putting birds on the agenda, even if he's unable to resist bashing farmers, wanting to ban grouse shooting and showing little inclination at times to delve too deeply into complex issues. Indeed, some indulgent chapters could have been cut to allow him space to challenge us, the consumer, on the impact our desire for cheap food has on wildlife.

The book gets more entertaining towards the end as Avery unfetters himself from
RSPB bonds and moves from dry wildlife science to juicier campaigning conservation. Emotionally, this is probably more effective, but did I detect less time for the science?

I relish his rocking the status quo, though his views are not always tempered by hearing what the other side has to say. For example, when herons, once an irritant to residents, became a useful tool to block development, he believes he's on "the right side of the debate". There are inconsistencies, too. He says: "some NGOS [non-governmental organisations] don't set out philosophies for the public to see", whereas he's happy to see the RSPB wield its influence behind closed doors. Finally, in a flash of reality while discussing forestry, he notes that "the truth lies in between... as often in the real world".

Fighting for Birds is a stimulating read. Suitably encouraged by the author, we
must not let views go unchallenged and so do not let Avery predate your mind into
thinking his way is the only way. This is a campaigner laying out his own brand of wildlife conservation; so engage with it and debate.

The Biologist - Rob Yorke

I knew I would enjoy this book and learn a thing or two and I did. I knew that Mark is a passionate conservationist, what I hadn’t really taken on board is what a fluent writer he is too. When we have chatted in the past his passion for birds comes through for he is a birder as well as a scientist. I should have realized that, to do the job he did, you also need a keen political sense and this too i9s a strong theme of the book. Mark is no tree-hugger, his larger than life presence and amiable personality is one thing, but his practicality is what gets results.

This is a very enjoyable read and one to fuel one’s own passion. Now independent he can certainly ‘say it like it is’ but he is not loose-lipped or rash now that he can see it from the outside, his commitment to preserving and enhancing the environment is still paramount and it shows.

Chris Packham described this as an enjoyable ‘must read’ and I concur.

http://www.fatbirder.com/reviews/index.php?article=541

Fatbirder

In Fighting for Birds author Mark Avery draws upon his 25 years at the RSPB (most recently as conservation director) to illustrate some of the challenges facing conservation.

He takes a down-to-earth approach on some controversial topics, including the culling of ruddy ducks to protect white-headed ducks, and whether it would ever be justified to control the numbers of birds of prey. He is not afraid to criticise or name and shame, and questions in particular game keepers and shooting sports.

Fighting for Birds is informative about the life of a conservationist, and about the legal and social context in which environmental organisations work. For example, he puts into context terms such as Species Protection Area, which previously existed as isolated phrases floating in my head. He also discusses individual examples of birds he has studied or worked with, such as roseate terns and red kites, plus everything from managing a nature reserve to influencing Government.

Avery’s passion comes through very strongly, and it is hard not to feel motivated about conservation after reading the book. If you know an aspiring young conservationist, this book will be a perfect present.

The Biologist - Rebecca Nesbit

I am not sure what category to file this book under. Mark Avery, former conservation director of the RSPB, insists that his account of 25 years working for the charity is not strictly an autobiography, and I agree. It could be History – the RSPB’s more than the author’s – an impression that is reinforced by the cover, which looks as if it belongs on a World War I memoir.

Or perhaps it should be filed in Reference. Certainly, if you are baffled by acronyms, conservation jargon or the structure of local or national government, then much-needed enlightenment lies within the book’s 324 pages.

Avery, a writer with serious intent but a deftly light touch, leads the reader expertly through the society’s dramatic development – from protests about feathers in women’s hats, via the statutory uniform of tweeds and brass binoculars, to fuzzy film shows at the village hall and the five-year presidency of broadcaster Robert Dougall.

He also brings us right up to date, with communications conducted in cyberspace, agendas dominated by politics, and my old Springwatch comrade Kate Humble as the second female president in the society’s history.

Fighting For Birds is not for nyone seeking a thrill or laugh (though it is full of revelations). But it should be read by RSPB members past, present and potential – which means anyone interested in British conservation.

British Wildlife - Bill Oddie

Did you see the Black-winged Pratincole at Cley in 1974? No, me neither, but Mark Avery was one of the three finders. Not many people know that! But I think most people know that he spent 25 years working for the RSPB, much of it as Conservation Director, where he was instrumental in shaping the way the Society protected birds. In fact there are 17,000 internet references to his work there - an indication that he had a lot to say. And so he should – the last two decades have seen major changes in the way our countryside has been managed and the way that those in authority have responded to the implications.

Often a controversial figure in the media, he could always see both sides to an argument but he did not let that weaken his position. Having observed him in action during my own time on the RSPB Council I would say he had a rare knack of being prepared to say what everyone in the room was thinking, particularly when they were lost for words. That last attribute can be a strength or a weakness, and one rarely displayed by those whose first interest is in their career path. Perhaps that is why he decided to change his own career path last year to become a freelance writer and consultant?

In this book we learn about his early interest in birds and wildlife, followed by research at Oxford and Aberdeen and his early days at the RSPB. But for me the most interesting chapters are those that outline his views on some the key issues in bird conservation – namely hunting, loss of protected areas, agricultural intensification, reintroductions, establishing nature reserves, climate change, persecution of raptors, understanding the infrastructure of conservation and lobbying those in power. He also gives his view about the future of the RSPB. There are a great many stories in each chapter, with personal anecdotes from interactions with various organisations including the Royal Family, and I know for sure that Mark could have written at least as many again, although perhaps his lawyers advised him not to!

When you read a chapter entitled “Is it ever right to be nasty to birds?” you immediately sense that those who carry a gun in preference to binoculars are likely to find themselves under unfriendly fire in this book. Indeed Mark states clearly “A person goes down in my estima­tion a little if they derive pleasure from killing things unnecessarily”. On the other hand he is in favour of Ruddy Duck control because there does not seem to be an alternative solution to the con­servation problem that they pose. Hunters would describe that as double standards, although to me it makes sense if you can really justify the conservation threat.

He is worried about our protected areas as often these are paid for by wildlife NG's who receive money not only from the public but also from agri-environment schemes that come and go with political changes. In these tough economic times both sources of income are under threat, and so too our treasured sites. With so many “conservation” organisations in the UK it is hard to make progress without stepping on toes. Mark thinks there is a need for fewer organisations and more resources to come to their aid. On the whole issue of farmland he says that the declines in bird numbers are real and the most striking sign of ecological change that we have seen in the UK in recent decades – the cause being changes in farm practices. His solution is to overhaul the current payment systems and find ways of working with farmers who are warm to wildlife and working with decision-makers to make the whole system more wildlife-friendly. Meanwhile on reintroductions he is quite positive although recognises that we need time to see whether some will work – but he is dead against deliberate or accidental introductions of non-native wildlife. He thinks that big nature reserves are better than small ones and gives his own views on some of the RSPB’s prime sites – and he is very worried about climate change, as left unchanged it will ruin much that we value in the natural world.

I suspect many people will turn first to the chapter entitled “The raptor haters”. A précis of this might be that too many raptors are killed by gamekeepers who are under huge pressure to maintain ridiculously high numbers of grouse on driven moors for shooters to aim at every August. You can count the number of Hen Harrier breeding pairs in England on one hand when you should really need dozens of hands. The only solution is to ban driven grouse shooting. (This is where lines of beaters flush the grouse towards the guns, rather than shooters taking a pot at the odd grouse as it flies past. It could be described as the shooting equivalent of factory farming). This chapter will once again divide readers into two camps.

I was particularly interested in Mark’s views of the RSPB. He thinks that it should do more to canvass the opinions of its members concerning its work, and he wonders if most of them would wish to retain the benefit of a Royal patron – and indeed it might be renamed. As always he is controversial, and in that way I suspect he will find life as an independent commentator much to his liking. If you care about conservation you should read this book. I found myself agreeing with about 80% of his views, but regardless I learned a lot from his experiences.

Birding World - Keith Betton

Mark Avery has been fighting for birds for most of his adult life.

As Conservation Director with the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB), Europe’s largest conservation NGO, Mark has been at the forefront of some of the most iconic conservation issues to emerge over recent decades. Naturally the book has a UK focus, but the issues Mark tackles – things like rampant forestry expansion, ill-advised development proposals, the huge decline in farmland birds, raptor persecution and many others all echo the plight birds and other wildlife face here in Ireland.

Fighting for Birds charts Mark’s journey in nature conservation, from boyhood outings with his school birding club around Bristol, through early days as a volunteer on RSPB reserves,  to working as a scientist on the ground on RSPB projects and going head-to-head with government ministers on policy issues as RSPB Director of Conservation. It’s a fascinating tale that tells us a lot about the passion, commitment and resolve of a remarkable man.

That in itself would make Fighting for Birds a worthwhile read, but this is a book with more to offer. A lot more….

On the surface it’s a book about Mark Avery: there’s a big picture of him on the front cover, and it looks and feels very autobiographical. Delve into the content though and you soon find that it goes well beyond personal reflection on a fascinating career. The real value of this book is in its subtext, which charts the evolution of nature conservation in the UK over several decades. For anyone interested in nature and its preservation understanding that evolution is pure conservation gold.

At first glance it also looks like a book mainly about birds. It’s true there is a strong bird bias running through the text, and that’s only to be expected, but the conservation issues Mark covers, and the “conservation toolkit” he outlines, apply to all sorts of wildlife. Protecting and managing habitat is never (or almost never) about a single species, or even a single taxonomic group. Conservation almost invariably works in favour of a broad church of plant and animal species, from microbes to macro-fauna. “Fighting for Birds”, more often than not, equates to fighting for wildlife… or even, just to get the buzzword of the moment in, fighting for biodiversity.

Although vociferous enough when he worked for the RSPB, there were naturally some thoughts and opinions that Mark had to keep to himself. Not so in Fighting For Birds. While he doesn’t actively court controversy, this is a remarkably candid book that highlights flaws and weaknesses in conservation policy and practice as well as celebrating successes and lauding strengths. It also shines a not altogether flattering spotlight on some of the barriers that obstruct conservation – from vested interests and industrial lobby groups to the seemingly endless red-tape and bureaucracy of the political system, and perhaps the biggest conservation challenge of all: public indifference and apathy.

Peppered throughout with entertaining and poignant anecdotes, Fighting for Birds brings conservation to life in a way that a dry, text-book style book never could. If you work in nature conservation, or simply love nature and wildlife, buy it and read it. It’s an education!

Ireland's Wildlife - Calvin Jones

Nature conservation in Britain has a disappointing literature. In contrast with the United States, most British writers give the subject a wide berth. Conservation has long since become the domain of the bureaucrats and charity PR folk whose way with words varies from the nursery to Newspeak. Despite the obvious wonder and excitement of nature itself, the products of the conservation industry read as though they are put together by a committee, or maybe one of those internet things that offer you a "translation": the formulaic plans, the dead-eyed "strategies", the magazines bursting with pretty pictures which you lay aside after ten minutes with the feeling that you've just been given the run-around. Where's the energy, where's the passion, damn it where's the guts?

It's all right here. I am a big fan of Mark Avery's blog, which was pretty outspoken even when he was the head conservation honcho for the RSPB, and quite outstanding now that he can say what he likes (actually there's no great difference in his views, only an upgrade of the polemic). Perhaps it is because he has such strong opinions and is unafraid to express them with candour and wit that this is the first conservation book I have read with pleasure from start to finish since Richard Mabey's The Common Ground, more than 30 years ago. Avery has worked for bird conservation for about that long, and his new book combines his ornithological autobiography with a wide-ranging overview of attempts to conserve birds in a crowded country. It is wise, it is punchy, it is funny, it is thought-provoking, and, best of all, it lives up to its title in showing how every inch of the way has, indeed, been a fight.

Perhaps you need to focus narrowly on our feathered friends to perceive this. Somehow, arguing for habitat preservation and ecological principles, as we used to do, lacks the moral force of a bird in distress, a shot hen harrier hitting the heath (followed by the mysterious disappearance of the corpse), a lone pair of red-backed shrikes under siege by egg-thieves, a swan pegging out on the saltings with a gizzard full of lead.

The RSPB has the confidence of knowing exactly what it is here to do, which is why it has a million members and is, by a considerable distance, the most professional conservation body in Britain, if not Europe. I wish that there was a similar body which sticks up for all our wild plants, other animals and fungi, but we may as well be realistic. It's bird issues that get you the ear of the cabinet minister (many of whom Avery seems to know). Birds are what count in this country.

Mark Avey is a tonic to anyone who thinks conservation is essentially a grey study. He fights, all right, but he is also a good listener, and perhaps more sympathetic to those of a contrary standpoint than many of us would be. In his ability to argue and persuade while retaining the respect of others, he is probably the best ambassador we've got. The RSPB was mad to lose him, but its loss is our gain.

British Wildlife - Peter Marren