The UK’s Topsy-Turvy
Wildlife
By Howard Youth
During the 12th century, the Royal Forest of Sherwood stretched up to 30 miles from Nottingham to Worksop, spanning at least 100,000 acres. The forest’s most famous denizen, the generous bandit Robin Hood, may have haunted the shadows of this exclusive hunting, timber, and grazing area. Many thieves did. While Robin Hood’s existence remains questionable, there is no quibbling over that of Sherwood Forest.
In November 2002, the British environment agency English Nature announced the establishment of the Sherwood Forest National Nature Reserve (NNR). At about 500 acres, the reserve is hardly big enough to hide a notorious bandit such as Robin Hood. But he probably would have felt at home in the shade beneath the reserve’s 500-year-old oaks. Most of these grizzled forest giants poked out of the ground after Robin Hood’s time, but a few may date back that far. Many of the forest’s characteristic creatures still live there, including patchily distributed birds, such as redstarts and nightjars, and bats, like the noctule.
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The existence of Sherwood Forest, no matter how fragmented, highlights how things in the United Kingdom may change, but often stay at least somewhat the same. Low on space and high on populace, the UK is an Oregon-sized country packed with 60 million people. As its population grows, few acres escape the notice of developers or businesses interested in turning green to pounds. This was not always so. Oak and ash forests once blanketed large areas of what is now England. Centuries ago, hunters stalked brown bear, wild boar, wolves, and European beaver, species that were either gone or on their way to local extinction by the time of King Richard the Lionhearted in the 12th century. Further back, Neolithic hunters also tracked moose, wild horses, reindeer, lynx, and cattle called aurochs (a wild progenitor of domesticated cattle).
After centuries of domination over the landscape, the British greatly appreciate and value their remaining countryside and wildlife. However, the fauna they enjoy watching or photographing is part teetering ark, part exotic menagerie. As the country’s population has grown through the ages, and as increasingly modern farming and construction transformed its forests, heaths, and moors, its characteristic wildlife—most obviously its mammals and birds—also changed, sometimes in surprising ways.
Wings of Change
Widely known as introduced pests in the United States, house
sparrows and European starlings receive more positive attention
in the UK, where they are appreciated as a declining part
of British natural heritage. In fact, for the first time,
both just hopped onto Britain’s list of declining
species. Over the past 25 years, British populations of
each species dropped by more than 60 percent. Many other
species have joined the troubled flock. In the journal British
Birds, a 2002 report listed 65 percent of UK species
(161 out of 247) as falling under some category of conservation
concern, rating either “red” or “amber”
status. Only 35 percent (86) fell under the “green,”
or steady and stable, category.
Other suburban birds seem on the wane. In 1906, Charles Stonham wrote in his 20-part treatise The Birds of the British Islands: “The hedge-sparrow is almost as well known as the robin and is met with in orchards, gardens, and shrubberies, but especially along the hedgerows in the neighbourhood of houses.” This smoky-gray and brown backyard bird, now called the hedge accentor or dunnock, has declined by more than 40 percent over the last 25 years. Even the blackbird—closely related to our American robin and occupying a similar niche—declined by 22 percent over the same time period. As British houses become more tightly packed together, gardens are shrinking and farmland is far less common. Even backyard and town birds seem to be feeling the pinch.
Declines in traditionally common farmland birds have been even more dramatic. For example, the populations of the once-common gray partridge have shrunk 84 percent over the last 25 years. That of the beloved skylark dove 55 percent over the same time period. These declines parallel similarly dramatic landscape changes. Southern England’s forests were largely cut during prehistoric times, replaced by botanically diverse meadows used to grow hay for livestock and, later in the year, crops. Hedges, often planted to mark boundaries and keep livestock contained, became another hallmark of the British countryside. A rich mix of field and woodland edge species thrived in these habitats for centuries.
However, after World War II, the bucolic British countryside came under attack: More than 120,000 miles of hedge fell to development or to clear the way for modern farm machinery. The switch from traditional countryside to densely packed suburbs, cities, and huge machine-harvested farm fields continues to fuel bird declines. Modern farms have become even less hospitable to birds thanks to heavy pesticide and fertilizer use, and the practice of planting in spring rather than in winter. Undisturbed, winter-planted fields provide ideal nesting habitat in spring.
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Some birds still common in mainland Europe have disappeared, or nearly so, from Britain. These include the red-backed shrike, a predatory songbird that before World War II—according to the Book of British Birds—“nested in almost every English and Welsh county; today there are only about 150 breeding pairs….” That was 1973. Today, only a few pairs nest in Great Britain, although across the channel these birds are still common, but declining due to similar land conversion. Bunched into small areas, island birds tend to decline faster than mainland populations. This factor likely came into play with the British shrikes and other birds that are now locally extirpated, including the nightingale and the great bustard.
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A
gray shrike. (©Kevin Scott /www.manxbirdatlas.org.uk) |
But the news about British birds is not all bleak. Some species are bouncing back and some have returned after long absences. British raptors, for example, have fared better in recent decades. A common scavenger during medieval and Elizabethan times, the agile red kite was ubiquitous, even soaring over London’s trash-strewn streets. Hunting, pesticides, poisoning, and habitat loss—along with a shorter supply of open dumps and dead livestock—sent populations of this reddish raptor into a tailspin. In the 1970s, only about 30 held out in remote sections of Wales. The situation is far different today. Thanks to better conservation, the return of some forested habitats, and better pesticide and poisoning controls, the red kite population has topped 400 birds. A ban on DDT and better protection from shooting and egg collecting, a fading hobby in Britain, also helped osprey, merlin, and marsh harrier populations more than double over the last 25 years. Buzzards—hawks closely related to our familiar red-tailed hawk—and sparrowhawks—bird-hunting hawks similar to our sharp-shinned and Cooper’s hawks—are also on the way up.
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For decades, British conservationists have been trying to protect the country’s rarest habitats and birds—wetlands, open habitats called sandy and shrubby heaths, and oak forests top their target lists. Government and nongovernmental organizations have set aside networks of protected areas and, as a result, populations of some struggling species started to rebound. Among the UK’s recovering rare birds are a meadow-dwelling rail called the corn crake and an odd, streaky, long-legged bird of dry stretches of eastern England called the stone curlew. Both species are making a comeback thanks to restoration efforts that have expanded their territory.
The ranks of the shy, wine-colored Dartford warbler, a resident songbird that lurks in southern England’s thorny heaths, doubled over the last 25 years. Ninety percent of this wren-sized bird’s population now falls within designated conservation areas, which may be either private lands or wildlife sanctuaries. The return of this non migratory species may be aided by recent warmer winters. Extreme cold can kill off a large portion of England’s Dart ford population, which sits at the northern limit of the species’ range.
Annual migrations mean that change is always in the air. Migratory birds, intrepid travelers and consummate opportunists, often drift to the British Isles thanks to strong air currents and storms. In fact, as British birdwatchers will tell you, the British Isles are a fantastic magnet for annual influxes of wayward Asian, European, North American, and African migrants. If conditions are right, some of these birds may even settle in to establish nesting populations. For example, a few common crane pairs now nest in England. Regular migrants, cranes have not bred in England since the 1600s. Today, European crane populations are rising, thanks to better protection from hunting and other conservation measures. The few English pairs also benefit from careful protection that was lacking centuries ago.
The widespread planting of tall, ornamental black poplar trees attracted another migrant to nest in the UK. For the last 20 years, up to 30 pairs of golden orioles (Oriolus oriolus) have thatched together their hanging nests in the columnar trees. The striking yellow and black songbirds are not related to the Baltimore oriole (Icterus galbula), but our species did get its name from the former.
Exotic Birds: A Mixed
Welcome
Some of Britain’s most common birds did not arrive
on their own steam. Now a symbol of the quaint British countryside,
the ring-necked pheasant actually hails from Asia. The Normans
probably introduced the first of these hardy fowl, although
some people discredit the Normans, claiming that Romans
introduced pheasants. Regardless, by the 1700s they graced
farmlands—and tables—across the country. Today,
about 1.6 million birds live in the United Kingdom—more
than in any other European country. Despite pressure from
hunters and predators, such as red foxes, ring-necked pheasants
continue to thrive, mainly from the efforts of interested
gamekeepers. Up to 15 million captively hatched pheasants
are released each year to provide hunters with quarry, ensuring
a good supply.
The ring-necked pheasant’s elegance pales when compared with the flash of the red, gold, yellow, green, and blue of the golden pheasant, a central Chinese native now found scattered across Britain. There, up to 1,000 pairs breed, mainly in pine plantations, which in many areas are an introduced habitat that replaced the native deciduous woods. Golden pheasant populations in China are probably declining due to habitat loss, leading some conservationists to write that Britain’s population is therefore of some conservation importance. A far smaller population of the spectacular Lady Amherst’s pheasant, also a native of Asia, lives in eastern England, thanks to its introduction in the late 1800s. These birds were apparently named for the wife of a governor general and viceroy of India, who sent some of these birds back to her homeland in the 1820s. Today, the British population of this elegant bird is barely self-sustaining.
Many Britons have taken another colorful group of birds—waterfowl—under their wing, collecting individuals of many species found worldwide. In some cases, this hobby provided a springboard for exotic geese and ducks that settled in and became troublesome additions to the avifauna. Canada and Egyptian geese breed in many parks, clipping grasses short, littering the area with their abundant droppings, and sometimes discouraging other species from nesting near them.
But a grapefruit-sized North American duck has caused an even greater stir. The ruddy duck (Oxyura jamaicensis) escaped UK waterfowl collections in 1953 and established itself in the wild by 1960. Since then, it has emigrated to mainland Europe, where it now hybridizes with threatened, and closely related, white-headed ducks (Oxyura leucocephala) in Spain. More than 500 ruddy pairs now nest in the UK. The birds disperse widely after nesting, popping up in many European nations. New European legislation aims to curb ruddy duck numbers through hunting. In Spain, ruddy ducks have been shot on sight for years to protect fragile white-headed ducks from genetic swamping.
Some British conservationists squabble over the worth of their exotic additions. One example is the mandarin duck, a close relative of our wood duck. With a glowing orange face and shield-like ornamental feathers jutting from its sides, the male mandarin is among the world’s most dazzling ducks. Some Britons celebrate the presence of these dapper ducks in their country. In 1997, biologist Christopher Lever wrote of the British population of gaudy mandarin duck: “The British population is of major conservation importance, the total of circa 3,500 breeding pairs…equaling that of Japan, and surpassing that of the rest of Asia.”
But many British conservationists don’t agree with Lever, claiming that exotic species can harm native species and should not be encouraged. In “The Population Status of Birds in the U.K.,” a report published in the journal British Birds in 2002, the compilers wrote, “We see no compelling reason to attach conservation concern to [introduced] species in a UK context. Indeed, if these species have conservation problems, then the appropriate response is to address the causes of these within their native ranges.” They specifically place the mandarin and the pheasants in this category.
FURRED FOREIGNERS
As in the United States, many Britons attract and feed backyard
wildlife. As American wildlife enthusiasts complain about
how introduced house sparrows, pigeons, and starlings hog
their offerings of seed, British bird feeders berate introduced
American rodents. According to British mammalogist Keith
Laidler in his 1980 book Squirrels in Britain,
prior to the introduction of the gray squirrel (Sciurus
carolinensis), the European red squirrel was the only
herbivorous, arboreal mammal native to the British Isles.
Writers often describe the retreat of the native red (Sciurus
vulgaris) and the advance of the introduced eastern
gray squirrel as an unfair battle. Laidler is no exception:
“The reds were faced with a competitor bigger and
stronger than themselves, and probably also more able to
adapt its behavior to suit changing circumstances.”
Eastern gray squirrels naturally occur through much of the
eastern U.S. and some of southeast Canada. A forest-and-edge
maverick, this species seasonally exploits a wide variety
of foods, including mushrooms, buds, flowers, apples, acorns
and other nuts, and birdseed. In general, gray squirrels
have much less finicky palates than the reds.
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Eastern gray squirrels were introduced to Britain repeatedly between the late 1800s and 1920s. Finding Britain a fair and fruitful land, they multiplied and spread, thriving even when seed and nut shortages drove down the smaller red squirrel’s numbers. Eastern gray squirrels also rip the bark off deciduous trees while seeking the salty tissue below. This habit hardly wins the animal any fans in Britain. While the gnawing power of an estimated 2.5 million gray squ3irrels may seem formidable, the rodents don’t seem to cause serious damage to forests. Eastern gray squirrels have also been introduced to Ireland from England, and to northern Italy and South Africa.
The planting of pine plantations—which hold little attraction for gray squirrels—may have saved the UK’s red squirrels, most of which survive in or near Scotland. “…without these sanctums,” writes Laidler, “the red squirrel might already have become extinct.” He adds that it would be “a zoological tragedy if we had to substitute our delicate—and unique—subspecies for the heavy-set and less attractive grey.”
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In the past, red squirrels also frequented deciduous woods, but gray squirrels have usurped them. In some areas, managers try to curb gray squirrel populations through hunting, poisoning, sterilization, and other measures. The British Parliament has even debated and adopted a nationwide Strategy for Red Squirrel Conservation, an effort to boost red squirrels and discourage the disreputable grays. The aim is to control the introduced rodents’ numbers, not to eradicate them.
But the gray squirrel is not the only foreign mammal causing mischief in British habitats. Just as with birds, the British have long chronicled and collected odd and interesting mammals from other parts of the world. Some they brought home and made their own. Reeves’ muntjac, a German shepherd-sized Asiatic deer, hails from eastern China and Taiwan. This chestnut-colored mammal, known to science as Muntiacus reevesi, is named for British naturalist John Reeves, who studied wildlife in China from 1812 to 1831. Reeves sent many specimens back to British museums, but perhaps he never dreamed that the exotic deer he described in Asia would haunt the rolling English countryside by the thousands. Yet that’s what happened around the turn of the 20th century, after some escaped from a herd imported by the Duke of Bedford. By the 1920s, the species had a firm hoof-hold in England.
Today, more than 40,000 Reeves’ muntjac live in the United Kingdom, most of them in England. There, they quietly move through woodlands, scrub, and occasionally large gardens. In some areas, you can find up to 100 per square mile. Such density has a chilling effect on other deer populations, particularly the native roe deer and another exotic, the Chinese water deer, which now inhabits marshes in eastern England. In a 1986 article in International Wildlife magazine, British biologist Oliver Dansie called Britain’s muntjacs “…an almost innocuous asset to the countryside,” adding that “they give pleasure to thousands and pain to few.” Dansie enjoyed visiting with the muntjacs that lived in the woods beside his backyard. Seventeen years later, they have fallen out of favor in areas plagued with dense populations. In some areas, wildlife managers cull them, branding the Asian deer garden-chewing, flora-damaging pests.
The well-established and increasingly numerous muntjac is a newcomer compared with the fallow deer (Dama dama), which many Britons incorrectly consider a native species. These impressively antlered, spotted deer probably found their way to Britain thanks to the Romans or Normans. Fallow deer were also introduced to most of the other European countries, although they originate from Turkey and areas east through much of Asia.
The UK’s largest terrestrial herbivore, the native red deer (Cervus elaphus), also ranges across much of the Northern Hemisphere. We in the United States call “our” members of this species elk (not to be confused with what Europeans consider “elk”—what we call moose). British red deer live in a variety of wooded and open habitats. Over the centuries, their bloodlines have been muddled here and there by introductions of red deer from other parts of the world. In the UK, they face a further genetic challenge from a smaller Asian elk called sika deer (Cervus nippon). Sika deer thrive in parts of Britain after introductions there. In some parts of Scotland, sikas are about as common as red deer. They hybridize with the native reds, further confusing genetic matters. Sika deer have also been introduced to other parts of Europe, New Zealand, some Pacific islands, and parts of the United States, particularly Texas and the eastern shores of Maryland and Virginia. If you visit Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, you may spot a dozen or more.
In case you lost count, that’s six deer species now calling the United Kingdom home. In some areas, British conservationists seek to control large deer populations that destroy wildflowers and young tree saplings, endangering forest regeneration. Unfortunately, no large native carnivores survive to check deer numbers. Some groups lobby to reintroduce wolves to Scotland, but livestock and hunting groups, as well as local communities, rise up against them. Wolves disappeared from Scotland by the late 1700s and seem unlikely to return.
While deer thrive in the UK, the future of another exotic herbivore—the Australian red-necked wallaby—is far less secure. These small marsupials live in a few scattered feral populations in Britain, none numbering higher than 80 individuals. Between habitat fragmentation, road kills, and disturbance by livestock and people, these curiosities will likely vanish in coming years. That might be a good thing, considering that red-necked wallabies became abundant, forest-damaging pests in New Zealand after their introduction there.
From wallabies to waterfowl, the UK’s exotic menagerie reflects the former reach of the British Empire and the folly and danger of introducing animals to new places. Today British conservationists do their best to balance the old with the new in the snippets of native wilderness—areas like the Sherwood Forest NNR.
There, some things remain the same. The area, at least for now, is spared the munching pressure of muntjacs, and the shy, native roe deer minces through the woods as always. However, the squirrel dashing up the sturdy oaks is not the red but rather our familiar gray. “The most visible naturalized mammal now present within the NNR is the gray squirrel,” says Steve Clifton, Sherwood Forest reserve’s local conservation officer. With the reds long gone, Clifton and others don’t have much bad to say about their new neighbor. “The gray squirrels at Sherwood Forest NNR do not pose a threat to the wildlife interest of the NNR, although there will be some localized damage to the woodland trees such as oak,” he says. Such acceptance of the new order eases the way for visitors and conservationists alike to enjoy Sherwood Forest—and the rest of the remaining wild UK—for what it is now, as well as for what it once was.
—Contributing editor Howard Youth keeps watch of the British wildlife situation from his current home base in Madrid, Spain.
ZooGoer 32(3) 2003. Copyright
2003 Friends of the National Zoo.
All rights reserved.
