Birdwatch: Red-backed shrike

http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2013/sep/22/birdwatch-red-backed-shrike

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As soon as the bird flew up onto the fence, I knew it was something special. The long tail and black highwayman's mask, combined with a pearl-grey head and russet back, made it easy to identify as a red-backed shrike.

I was excited – not just because this is always a lovely bird to see, but because after six days on the Greek island of Rhodes I was beginning to despair of ever seeing any birds at all, apart from a few collared doves and house sparrows.

Rhodes is, of course, a very good place for birds – at the right time of year. Spring and autumn see huge numbers of migrating birds stopping off on their way south from northern Europe to Africa. But in one of the hottest weeks of the year, late in the summer, the baking heat meant that our holiday resort was more or less a bird-free zone.

In compensation, the shrike was very obliging: allowing my children to take a good look at it through their binoculars, before it flew off into the scrubby area next to our hotel. They have not seen a red-backed shrike before: although it was once common in southern Britain, its numbers went into freefall during the middle of the 20th century. By the time I began birding in the 1970s it was already a very rare bird, just managing to cling on in the south and east.

I can still remember going to see the very last breeding pair: at Santon Downham on the Norfolk Brecks, one of the few places dry and warm enough to produce enough insects to feed the shrikes' hungry brood. It felt like visiting a loved one on their deathbed: a pilgrimage to honour a species on the eve of its departure.

Fortunately, in the past few years, the red-backed shrike has gained a toehold here once again, with several pairs breeding on Dartmoor. They are under 24-hour guard against the menace of egg-collectors, whose mindless vandalism threatens to nip this recolonisation attempt in the bud. But along with everyone else, my fingers are well and truly crossed that this little gem of a bird will make a permanent return to our shores.

Back in Rhodes, I found myself feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the almost total lack of birdlife. I have experienced this strange sensation before, on oceanic islands such as Tenerife and Jamaica, where hours can go by without you seeing a single bird. Even more disturbingly, the reassuring sound of birdsong is also missing.

It made me appreciate the number and variety of birds I see and hear back in Britain, wherever I happen to be. But it also served as a timely warning: a preview of what the world would be like without birds.

We take their presence for granted, as the most obvious and permanent manifestation of nature in our lives. But we must not be complacent: for our birds – and the rest of our wildlife – are under threat as never before.

<em>Britain's Big Wildlife Revival, produced by Stephen Moss, ends on Sunday 29 September on BBC1.</em>

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