And The Fields Fall Silent
On the loss of birds from the British Countryside
The British Trust for Ornithology recently published a tool which shows the number of breeding bird species that have been lost from the place you live since 1970. Typing one’s postcode into the online tool brings up a list of now-extinct species from the 1 km square surrounding one’s home. The results of the BTOs research are dumbfounding - our “green and pleasant land” has 73 million fewer breeding birds than in 1970, with many areas (including my own) having lost more than 20 species. The same statistic is likely to be repeated for other industrialised countries the world over, such is the universality of modern-day biodiversity loss.
As a lifelong birdwatcher, the list of species lost from the 1 km square of my home city of Chelmsford and its surroundings was heartbreaking. I discovered that species I have dreamed of seeing used to grace the fields and woods around me, and birds that I now have to travel far to see once could be found on my doorstep - Nightjar, Redstart, and Red-backed Shrike - beautiful and charismatic birds whose presence brings joy to any nature lover. In order to see these birds now, I would have to travel hundreds of kilometres and in the case of the Red-backed Shrike, the English Channel would need to be crossed. The wild landscapes surrounding my home are a dim shadow of what they once were and what they once contained, and the dawn chorus that greets me as I awake each morning has lost many singers from its choir.
The sadness this brings is profound.
Many are the probable causes for these widespread local (and national) extinctions that have plagued the UK. Agricultural intensification post-World War Two is among the most pressing1. Traditional farm management regimes which provided many species with habitats and food have disappeared from the landscape, falling victim to agricultural intensification, the proliferation of big machinery, and ill-thought-out agricultural policies as James Rebanks outlines:
Across the country a great simplification had already taken place, and it was speeding up, as we all tried to keep up with the new intensive farming by copying it. I was witnessing the climatic stages of a great stripping away. Farms shed layers of rotation, specialized in certain crops and animals, applied artificial fertilisers and pesticides, bought new machines and used whatever other ideas and inputs were available to increase yields and keep up. It was a kind of arms race, with the large modern farms trying to swallow up the little old-fashioned ones like ours.2
This great simplification, as Rebanks aptly terms it, created barren landscapes of bare soil, monocultured fields, and short-grazed grasslands - inhospitable places for wildlife. Trees, hedgerows, ponds, and more were all viewed as impediments to productivity, obstacles that must be erased from the landscape. Little room was left for nature. Farmers were not solely responsible, the UK Government subsidised and encouraged a great ‘grubbing out’ of hedgerows3 - depriving Yellowhammers, Whitethroats, and Bullfinches of vital nesting habitats.
The arrival of the machine in the famed landscape hailed the arrival of a flood of agrochemicals. Pesticides and fertilisers bedecked our fields and washed into our rivers, exterminating “pests” and beneficial insects alike. The decline in insect biomass that has been recently documented is truly astounding with one study documenting a 76% decrease in insect biomass in 27 years4. The causes are multiple, but pesticides, climate change, and habitat loss are likely to be the leading culprits.
The expatriation of breeding birds is not just an agricultural phenomenon. Garden birds such as Blackbirds, Greenfinch and House Sparrow have also suffered immensely. Millions of domestic cats kill millions of birds every year, and our gardens have increasingly become inhospitable deserts for wildlife - covered not with grass, trees, and flowers but with concrete, paving stones, and artificial grass. Everywhere you turn in the British landscape, it seems, threats to birds and wildlife abound.
It is not all doom and gloom. Generalist species, species which can do well, and even thrive in our increasingly man-made environments have done well. Everywhere you look Woodpigeons and Magpies are multiplying. And it would be disingenuous to make no reference to the few success stories and new arrivals to the UK’s bird portfolio. But the overarching narrative is one of loss, a loss of beauty, diversity, and of ecological relationships. The great British countryside is the scene of one great tragedy - the Great Simplification of Biodiversity.
The tragedy is though, that this is not a tragedy - at least not for the great majority of British folk. A select few who experienced first-hand the diversity of yesteryear or who now long to see Nightjars hawking at dusk or to hear the melodious songs of Wood Warblers in woodland canopies (both species have suffered huge declines) will feel the tragedy intensely. But, most of us don’t realise anything is missing. We have lost the eyes to see the landscape and know its species by name. The diversity of nature that gave our forefathers so much delight has been replaced by other ‘diversities’ which now preoccupy us. These are the pseudo-diversities of chain stores, fast fashions, and smartphone apps - pitiful substitutes for the true diversity we have lost. Once we peel back the surface of these pseudo-diversities we find there is no real diversity here at all, with each product or store coming from the same mass-consumeristic mould. But never the less, they steal our attention, satisfy us with triviality, and render us insensitive to the loss of biodiversity plaguing our fields and woods.
The figures from the BTO should constitute a national crisis in this once nature-loving nation. These species make Britain Britain; they constitute a great part of our heritage, culture, and identity. What’s more, we have been entrusted as a nation to care for the plethora of species who call our nation their home. We are failing this duty. A successful and healthy society is able to coexist with a diverse and flourishing natural landscape. That we have lost so many species and don’t even seem to care or even notice suggests a deep and insidious malady has infected society.
All hope is not lost. Britain can retain its place as the proving ground for naturalists, and nature lovers, and retains its biodiverse heritage. But it will require a deep change from all of us to open our eyes and push for change. I sadly though remain a pessimist that this will ever happen.
The world watched in horror as Notre Dame Cathedral burnt a few years ago. It captivated our attention as we collectively realised something of outstanding beauty was being consumed in front of our eyes. However, what we have lost from our countryside is an even greater tragedy, for extinction concerns creatures of immense beauty, which once lost, are gone forever (or in the case of localised extinctions are gone for many years). And it is not just us who are affected. With the departure of each species, our ecosystems become less rich, less healthy, less resilient, and more fragile. Why then did we stop and notice the tragedy of Notre Dame, but fail to notice the great simplification which is going on all around us every day?
Perhaps it is the imperceptibility of the process of loss. Species become rarer, less familiar, and less noticed each passing year until they vanish. Only birdwatchers and scientists notice the declines and this after hours spent out in the field. Society, on the other hand, remains oblivious. Perhaps this dynamic was behind the most shocking of recent times extinctions - that of the passenger pigeon, the loss of which remained (perhaps) imperceptible until it was too late. Today we can scarcely believe how a creature that numerous was hunted to extinction. Surely people could see what they were doing? But we are no better. The same question will one day be asked of us by our grandchildren: “Couldn’t we see the great diversity we were losing with each passing year?”. I think the answer tragically is "No we couldn't". We were too distracted, too unobservant, and even beyond caring -suffering from a case of “disaster overload”5. We failed to see the signs of a landscape and ecology in distress, and could scarcely name the species we saw each day let alone the rare and declining ones.
When we fail to realise what has been lost, we become satisfied with occasional strolls in the (nature-depleted) countryside and with the limited selection of generalist species that frequent our bird feeders. We will not lament for what has been lost, and will not press for change to protect what remains. And even when the loss is starkly brought to our attention - we say “Oh no!”… and then thoughtlessly move on to the next depressing news story. Society, it seems, has accepted that localised and even globalised extinctions are the collateral damage of our consumeristic pseudo-diversity-filled lives. But a species cannot be replaced. Once it is gone, it is likely gone forever. We have lost part of the diversity of life, a unique creature entrusted to our care, and the handiwork of its Creator. There are few more precious and valuable things than this.
But they are vanishing, and vanishing fast.
What then to do?
I am mindful that my essays often have a quite negative and gloomy tone and sometimes lack practical steps to address the maladies I write about. Therefore, I want to leave you with two steps that you can take to help address the great simplification tragedy.
Get out and observe! If we are to know which species are in trouble we need to collect data. Armed with this data scientists and policymakers can enact targeted measures in place to help address the declines. What is more, by getting out and observing the species around you, you will develop a love for them and a desire to do your bit to stem the loss.
Pay more for your food. Farmers are the main custodians of our landscapes. Often they are on meagre incomes and it is tempting for them to intensify their practices further in order to make ends meet. If we all paid more for our food this would give farmers the time, money and resources they need to steward their lands better for the good of nature. Most farmers wish to farm this way, they just need to be given the chance to do so.
See The Death of Rural England, Alun Howkins; English Pastoral, James Rebanks, for more.
James Rebanks, English Pastoral. Page 120-121.
The Death of Rural England, Alun Howkins. Page 196.
Hallmann et al. (2017) More than 75 percent decline over 27 years in total flying insect biomass in protected areas. PLoS ONE https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0185809
Disaster overload is my term for the modern-day phenomenon of being constantly exposed to disastrous stories and narratives that we become desensitised to disasters that affect us. To a great extent, this is a result of the 24/7 news we are exposed to.
“Perhaps it is the imperceptibility of the process of loss.”
Nature requires a quieter sort of attention, the kind that struggles to compete with civilization. We are losing that quiet attention, and nuance of perception. Your reflections highlight well not only the loss of diversity in nature, but its interconnection with our own mental numbing.
This is indeed a sad essay, but you always manage to draw the gaze outward. I think as parents we can help to redirect focus on nature around us by re-learning to name things. I had forgotten many plant, tree, and bird names until I had to teach them to my children. I appreciate that you added some practical steps we can take. The more children spend time in nature and are able to identify what they see, the more they will care.
When we still lived in a more suburban setting, I would walk far distances with my kids, along roads that were not particularly pretty, but some were bordered by farm fields. There we would see some rare coyotes, hawks, or starlings clustering on a giant oak tree. The time came when they brought the bulldozers in to rape the land, and the kids were terribly saddened to see the field ripped up. My son (9 at the time) decided that he wanted to write a letter to the newspaper, and expressed his sadness that the remaining beauty around him was being built over with townhomes.
I hope readers will feel encouraged to spend more time outdoors with their children so that they will learn to name the natural beauty around them, and to care for its protection.