A cultural history

I spent Saturday participating in a workshop on the cultural history of birds, held at Castle Museum as part of a wider exhibition based around the subject. My own contribution centred on our relationships with owls, a topic that has been at the centre of a book project that I completed last year. Owls illustrate the many different ways in which we interact with birds through our culture and beliefs. They are also familiar and easily recognised, making them an engaging topic for the would-be researcher.

The cultural roles of owls may vary between societies, both across continents and over time, and it has been interesting to chart our changing relationships with them over the course of human history. Some of the earliest evidence of a cultural relationship with owls can be found in the bone fragments of snowy owls recovered from archaeological digs at cave sites dating back many thousands of years. These western European cave sites, which were inhabited by Late Magdalénian hunter-gatherers, contain the bone remains of many different bird species. Many of the bones show butchering marks, underlining the use of birds like bustards, ducks and geese for food. The presence of owl bones is surprising, however, because they carry little meat and are unlikely to have been used for food. Instead, the pattern of the butchering marks indicates a different use. The owls were being butchered for their feathers which, not being waterproof, are likely to have been harvested for a symbolic rather than practical use. We know from more recent cultures that bird skins and plumage may be used for ceremonial dress.

Owls have continued to have a symbolic role down through the centuries. To the Romans a calling owl foretold an approaching death but the Athenians saw the owl as a good omen, indicating the presence of the goddess after which the city-state of Athens was named. English literature makes frequent reference to owls, the birds often introduced to add dramatic effect. It is the owl’s association with the dark of night and with remote places than bring with it the hint of fear. Today, however, as our understanding of their lives has increased, so we are rightly less fearful of these beautiful birds.

Going Native

The global transportation of goods has a long history. As we have moved around the planet so we have transported with us many different plants and animals, introducing them to new regions. Some have been taken unwittingly, stowing away on ships, in timber or in foodstuffs; others have been deliberately introduced to remind us of home.

Within the UK we have seen countless examples where introduced species have gone on to become a problem within the wider countryside; American mink, signal crayfish and Japanese knotweed all spring to mind. There are, however, many instances where an introduced species has simply filled a vacant niche and established itself without having any impact on other species. One of the most interesting aspects of the debate about these introduced species has been the extent to which something is considered native or introduced. Some of the creatures that were deliberately introduced many centuries ago are considered as natives, while recent colonists arriving unaided are sometimes treated as unwelcome invaders.

Our own perceptions of particular species cloud the debate and we even see conservation practitioners arguing with each other about whether or not a species should be controlled. The ruddy duck privides a good example. This species was introduced to Britain by the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust in the 1950s, when individuals escaped from Slimbridge. An expanding population saw individuals move into Europe, where they came into contact with the related white-headed duck, a globally-threatened species. The solution seemed simple enough, cull the ruddy ducks to save the white-headed duck, but there was stiff opposition from many quarters, including from birdwatchers who liked seeing these birds here in Britain. The West Midlands Bird Club, for which the ruddy duck was a special species, even managed to smuggle a subtle image of the species into their new logo once the ducks profile switched to that of unwanted alien.

For other species the problem comes from uncertainty over whether it is native or not. Our slowly expanding eagle owl population almost certainly stems from aviary escapes and deliberate releases. There is, however, a very small possibility that an Eagle Owl from elsewhere in Europe might reach our shores. This uncertainty is used by some as an argument against culling the pairs breeding here now, even though some bird carry the jesses that reveal their captive origins. You might wonder if it really matters; you might even argue that it is better to accept that our activities will result in introductions and that conservation money is better spent elsewhere. Perhaps the most pragmatic solution would be to remove definitely introduced species as soon as they appear, accepting that other species may be too well established now to manage effectively.

Our engaging little owl

Despite its small size the little owl boasts a big personality, much of it expressed through the piercing yellow eyes with their black ‘eyeliner’ rims. This owl can be seen across the county, though it is rather thinly distributed compared to its status in certain other counties. To see one on a walk or while out birdwatching is, therefore, a real treat. Sometimes the bird may be flushed from some unseen perch, flying away with a deeply undulating flight. On other occasions the owl will remain perched, watching intently and occasionally bobbing its head in comedic fashion. These pronounced head movements are a feature of owls more widely. Known as motion parallax, the movements artificially change to the location of an object being viewed on the owl’s retina, something that increases the owl’s ability to estimate the location, distance and motion of an object.

The presence of the little owl in Norfolk owes its origins to introductions that took place during the 1800s, the owl successfully established in Northamptonshire and, later, other counties. A few Norfolk records pre-date these introductions and probably refer to genuine vagrants, arriving on the coast after a long sea crossing. In 1862, for example, one was found on a fishing smack 10 miles off Yarmouth. Birds first bred here in the early 1900s and by the 1930s the species was commonly noted breeding across the county.

Little owls seem to do well on the large Norfolk shooting estates. Not long after the little owl became established here concerns were expressed that it might take gamebirds and their chicks. However, a detailed study by Alice Hibbert-Ware at the BTO revealed the diet to be dominated by invertebrates and small mammals, suggesting that the owl was a beneficial addition to our avifauna. Nevertheless, on some shooting estates the little owl remained the unfortunate victim of traps set for other birds of prey.

Although it is not unusual to see little owls during the day, they are essentially crepuscular in nature. Activity peaks in the hours immediately after dusk and again just before dawn, matching the period when favoured prey are most active. Hunting from a perch is a favourite means of locating large beetles, small mammals and earthworms, the owl dropping onto its prey with a short flight. Sometimes the owl will hunt while on the ground and may run short distances to grab at an unsuspecting worm or other delicacy. They can be very adaptable however. A pair living on an offshore island specialised in taking storm petrels from their burrows, much to the consternation of the warden. Even he was struck by their personality, solving the problem by relocating the birds to the mainland.

What to do about non-natives

The other week I attended a conference in Peterborough on non-native birds; species that had become established within Britain, not through natural colonisation but as a direct result of our own actions. Typically, these were birds that had either escaped from captivity and established feral populations, or been deliberately released by those who thought that they would make a good addition to our native fauna. I was presenting a paper on Eagle Owls, looking at the potential impacts of this large predator on other species now that it had established a small breeding population in the north of England.

Some of the introduced species are obvious, notably many of the exotic ducks and geese that have become established over many decades. Species like Canada Goose and Egyptian Goose are now well established and, while seemingly innocuous, bring with them their own problems. Then there are other species, like Ruddy Duck and Ring-necked Parakeet, which give greater cause for concern. Introduced from North America, Ruddy Ducks now breeding in Britain turn up in Spain where they interbreed with the endangered (and native) White-headed Duck, threatening its very survival. Ring-necked Parakeets now have a population numbering many thousands of birds, centred on London and threatening native species which rely on the same types of nest site. Additionally, the parakeets damage the economically valuable horticultural industry with its heartland in Kent.

As well as such obvious and high profile additions to our fauna (and flora – think of Rhododendron, Japanese Knotweed and Buddleia) there are many hundreds of other species that have become established, many of which we think of as native simply because they were introduced such a long time ago. Included within these are creatures like Fallow Deer, Little Owl and Brown Hare, the latter seemingly an Iron Age introduction from Denmark or the Netherlands. Because we tend to think of these species as being native this clouds the issue of what to do about other introduced species. Is it right to wish to eradicate one particular introduction but tolerate another? Purists might argue that any species that has been introduced to a new area by Man should be removed, but what if the species in question has been here for many hundreds of years without any negative impact on our native wildlife? Others might argue that we should accept that such species are here, would be difficult to remove and so we should just learn to live with them.

There are clear cases, however, where an introduced species is a real threat and should be controlled. For example, the eradication of introduced cats, goats, pigs and rats from British Overseas Territories is essential if we are to prevent the extinction of several endemic bird species.

Little Owl

As I lifted my gaze from the ground I became aware of a round, pale-brown object bouncing its way towards me through the air. As it approached it gained height, its buoyant flight taking it up and over my head into the mature oak by which I was standing. Turning around to follow its trajectory I was greeted by the piercing yellow rimmed stare of an adult little owl, now perched on one of the thick lower limbs of this majestic tree. This was my first little owl of the year and, perhaps surprisingly, the first seen here at Kilverstone.

Despite its familiarity, the little owl is not a native of the county but established itself here as a result of deliberate introductions carried out some 140 years ago. The first attempts to introduce this delightful owl into England took place in 1842, when individuals collected from Italy were released into Walton Park, Yorkshire. This release, and several other early attempts, failed to establish the species but two successful introductions did take place in the 1870s, one to Edenbridge in Kent and one near Oundle in Northamptonshire. By 1925 the species was established across most of its current British range, including Norfolk.

Although most active from dusk through to dawn, little owls can often be seen during the daytime, perched in a tree or, occasionally, seen in flight. At this time of the year they are well into their breeding season and many local pairs will have already initiated egg laying. Vocal activity over recent weeks will have reflected this upsurge in breeding behaviour, with male little owls proclaiming ownership of their territories through a ‘hooo-oo hooo-oo’ call, answered by the female through a series of short shrieks and yelps. The little owl has quite an impressive vocal repertoire and, in addition to the territory calls, a plaintive ‘kiew kiew’ call may often be heard. The breeding pair will spend increasing amounts of time around the chosen nest site, the male demonstrating its suitability to his mate and also presenting her with choice items of prey. These behaviours serve to cement the pair bond and strengthen the association with the nest site.

To many people the little owl is a welcome addition to our avifauna and, even though introduced, we should be concerned by the decline in numbers seen over the last 50 or so years. Loss of nesting sites and a fall in populations of favoured prey are behind the decline. Equally worrying is that a similar pattern can be seen elsewhere in Europe, in countries to which the species is native, and it is for this reason that the little owl has been flagged as being of conservation concern. 

Our smallest owl

The bird hide at Flitcham Abbey Farm is a hidden treasure, overlooking, as it does, a grazing marsh, complete with pond and areas of more open ground. The range of habitats attracts an impressive array of species and provides some excellent bird (and mammal) watching. The site is perhaps best known for its breeding little owls and this is why I made a special visit over the weekend. Although it is a site that I sometimes stop at on my way back from the North Norfolk coast, on Sunday I chose to make an early morning call instead. Morning is not the best time to visit because the hide faces east and the late winter sun can be a problem. However, I did have the hide to myself and there was plenty to see.

Two family parties of Egyptian geese were noisily seeing off any birds that came too close, their cream and brown youngsters oblivious to the hollerings of their over-protective parents. A dozen or so late redwings intermingled with grazing rabbits and thrushes, while a curlew went quietly about its business along the edge of the wetter ground. There was no sign of the kingfisher which nests in the exposed bank at the back of the pond, nor the tree sparrows that sometimes appear. There was also no sign of the little owls, at least from where I was sitting. These usually frequent a large tree in front of the hide but it was only the jackdaws that were active, busily cramming sticks into the available cavities. I decided to change position and left the hide to move further along the road so that I could look back towards the tree, with the sun behind me. This proved to be an excellent decision, for no sooner had I raised my binoculars to the tree than I spotted a squat shape sitting within the roots of the fallen trunk. This was a little owl, sat with piercing yellow eyes half closed but ever alert.

Little owls are fascinating birds, full of character and with an attitude that belies their tiny stature. First introduced into England during the mid-1800s, they really became established following introductions near Edenbridge in Kent and Oundle in Northamptonshire during the 1880s. Today, although widely distributed, they have declined somewhat, especially here within eastern England. The loss of suitable hunting and nesting opportunities may be to blame, so it is fortunate that Flitcham Abbey Farm has both in abundance. Flitcham is just east of King’s Lynn, off the A148, so do pop in and take a look. Make sure that you leave a donation in the box to support and acknowledge the efforts of the landowner.