Bird Sense

Bird Sense, What It’s Like to Be a Bird, by Tim Birkhead &

What The Robin Knows, How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World, by Jon Young

Reviewed by Janice Riley

Most people like birds, some, ornithologists and birders perhaps, with more enthusiasm than others and will go to greater lengths in their pursuit. In this regard, two 2012 releases have recently joined the burgeoning collection of books on avian lore: Tim Birkhead’s Bird Sense, What It’s Like to Be a Bird, and Jon Young’s What The Robin Knows, How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World. I have conflicted feelings for these books, still, each has something of value to offer and their rewards far outweigh any lingering ambivalence. If you are a world traveled birder, or scientist, you might enjoy the former, as Birkhead’s tastes run toward the exotic, whereas a backyard birder may find the latter of more interest, for Young’s affinity lies with the more commonplace varieties.

I imagine the guillemot and the robin at fairly opposite sides of the family tree. The two birds can be seen as symbols of the books themselves. Birkhead’s rarely seen guillemot is clearly in possession of a different pedigree in the field of ornithology than Young’s commonplace robin. He is likely to be found high on a cliff top rather than in a tree and quite naturally attracts a different breed of observer. And yet, each bird, and author, has more in common than appearances might lead you to believe. It is just this commonality that drives the narratives. With a wide variance of style, the authors’ abounding enthusiasm for their subject matter aspires to teach, astound, inspire, and motivate readers toward a more informed relationship with the world we inhabit together.

By far, Birkhead’s is a more erudite read. The author is a professor at the University of Sheffield, England, where he teaches animal behavior and the history of science. He describes himself as “a behavioral ecologist first and an ornithologist second,” a finely drawn distinction that might elude the average reader. Nevertheless, he is an accessible writer who is clearly in love with his subject, one he has written extensively on. His unexpected flare for the dramatic and welcome dry wit, hidden like gems among the 200 pages of his text, bring the science alive. Research has made him a world traveler and when he is not in the lecture hall he can be found, more often than not (for 40 years) on an island off the coast of Wales, observing the common guillemot. His interests draw him farther afield as well, chasing the elusive kiwi and the diminutive zebra finch.

The book is divided into categories of bird sense, seven chapters in all: seeing, hearing, touch, taste, smell, magnetic sense, and emotions; each chapter heading is beautifully illustrated by Katrina Van Grouw, a former bird curator at London’s Natural History Museum. Apparently, the most “spectacular” recent discoveries in ornithology have been made in vision to which Birkhead devotes his best writing, seeking what he terms the ”truth for now” in the evolving science: “The closest we can come to imaging what it is like to process information as rapidly as a hummingbird or a hawk is the sensation of time slowing down that occurs during a near-death experience…and during traffic accidents. As you slam on the brakes…it is as if your brain is taking in every detail and each second is drawn out until it feels ten times longer than it really is.”

With each chapter, a history review ensues after an exciting extreme birding expedition, which can become a tiresome transition. His accounts can lapse, rather surprisingly, into the sensational, as if he delights in recounting the most lurid of tales; here and there, a questionable, if not offensive, choice of terms can appear. I attribute this formula to a survival skill he has adapted for the classroom to keep his students awake. There are some harrowing scenes, not for the faint of heart: the guillemot colony that turns on itself during a season of food scarcity, and the often bizarre and cruel laboratory experiments that have taken place over the centuries, and continue to this day. Birkhead may prefer field work but he is not adverse to carrying out some experiments of his own- plugging a geolocutor, still attached to a guillemot’s leg, directly into a laptop and downloading its data high on a Welsh cliff top; and there is that disturbing PG-rated incident with a young research assistant and a parrot, but enough said. The major part of the text has the assured, persuasive tone of a cautious and deliberate scientist.

Birkhead tells us he was inspired to write his book by an essay written in 1974 by the philosopher Thomas Nagel, one most readers may be unfamiliar with, entitled, “What is it like to be a bat?” It will be of interest for readers to learn that the 1970’s figures so prominently in avian history of the last half century, as a significant turning point in ornithological research. As was true of many other scientific disciplines, discoveries accelerated during this period with new bewildering revelations. Most of us may be familiar with the science of avian migration and that migratory birds use three systems of navigation- the sun, the stars, and the earth’s magnetic field- yet, there is much that is still a mystery. Recent science has uncovered this fascinating subtlety, that a bird’s “eye provides the compass, while magnetic receptors in the beak provide the map…The fact that a magnetic sense in birds was once considered impossible, and that discoveries about the senses of birds are still being made, is extraordinary.”

Although he holds the avian kingdom in the highest regard, Birkhead, as true scientist and educator, is careful not to anthropomorphize the object of his study. Certainly birds have intelligence and have adapted their behavior and biology over the millennia for survival. And some evolutionary adaptations display a particular consciousness, but akin to our own, to our intellect and emotion? He writes, ”I will leave you to decide whether, on the basis of the science I have described here, birds experience emotions. My impression is that they do…”

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If your tastes run more toward tracking birds in the local wilds, or observing them from your hammock, Jon Young’s What the Robin Knows, How Birds Reveal the Secrets of the Natural World, may be your preferred choice. I have a certain respect and an abiding affection for those who find the extraordinary in the ordinary. For those of us unlikely to ever see a guillemot in our lifetimes, Young’s book has an undeniable appeal. This author turns his eye and ear on the ordinary birds one is apt to encounter in the daily run of things. These casual encounters have a lot to tell an alert observer about what is going on in the natural world, or ecosystem, you call your neighborhood, if you care to listen- through this microcosm, the macrocosm is revealed.

Young promises that once your ear is attuned to the language of birds your world will be changed forever. You too can anticipate the arrival of a hawk, or that stealthy cat, coyote, or rambling bear sneaking up on your birdfeeder long before you see them. Young bases this promise on his extensive experience as a tracker, though more often in a “sit spot” off a wooded trail, his ear intent on listening in on the “deep language” spoken by the avian world. This is the connection he is after, one possible only with a still body, “honoring” spirit, and a mind quiet “like a deep, still pond reflecting the stars of the night sky. I believe this is the baseline for human consciousness, and I’m convinced that the birds are the best mentors in the natural world for bringing us to it.”

Young is an avowed naturalist, teacher, and workshop leader. His narrative style is enthusiastic and favors the anecdotal over the scientific, although he has a clear grasp of his subject. The book’s illustrations take the form of diagrams, useful for study, that are reminiscent of those found in a scout’s handbook or birding guide, with relevant auditory lessons available online. He gives admiring credit to Native Americans and other tribal elders with mentoring his own skill as a tracker and has devoted himself over the past 25 years to learning avian language and mentoring others in the tradition. He has co-authored several books on the subject, founded the Wilderness Awareness School in Seattle, and maintains an active lecture and web presence.

On the other side of the Atlantic from Birkhead’s “hide,” from which he can be found rappelling down the cliff side to snag another guillemot, reclines Young in his favorite “sit spot,” where a robin stands within easy reach of his listening ears. One can imagine that they are both still there furthering their knowledge as their books have furthered our own. With all that we have learned, so many questions remain. Can we ascribe an emotional life to birds? Just imagine, if you will, the exuberant flight of a swallow, the caring attention of a robin, or guillemot, for her young, or dawn’s joyful chorus. We may never know with certainty whether a bird’s consciousness resembles our own, or whether their sense of awareness is merely a function of the brain’s remarkable evolution, its sole purpose survival. The same question may be asked of our own. For now, and perhaps ultimately, that may depend upon one’s worldview, informed and enlightened by the questions we ask.