The name Maurice Bird might not the most instantly recognisable, but it may be familiar to anyone who has read the author James Parry’s 2020 work (co-written with former BTO Director Dr Jeremy Greenwood) Emma Turner: A Life Looking at Birds.

At first glance, this book might appear to be another volume exploring the declines of bird species, as a result of Anthropocene activity. But reading beyond the title, it soon becomes clear that the eponymous gulls are disappearing in name only.There is currently a great deal of debate surrounding the names of birds, much of which is focused on the controversial announcement by the American Ornithological Society that it will be renaming species which bear names honouring historical figures. Developments in taxonomy too have impacted on scientific and common names as orders, families and species become redefined and renamed in the wake of genetic insights. But bird names have long been the subject of change, for one reason or another, and many birders find this an engaging and fascinating topic.With so much interest in the nomenclature of birds, Ray Reedman’s latest book provides a timely addition to the genre. Personally, I love these kinds of books, and, like many birdwatchers, I have several titles on my shelves which explore and celebrate the etymology of bird names, both vernacular and scientific. The Vanishing Mew Gull seems to combine the best parts of these existing volumes, also adding to them, providing a very accessible, informative, and genuinely enjoyable read.The book follows modern taxonomic standard, starting with wildfowl and ending with buntings, followed by a small number of American blackbirds, warblers, and grosbeaks. Each family section is prefaced by a general overview of the origins of the scientific name of the group, followed by individual species accounts. Both scientific and common names are dealt with, and Reedman also treats us to occasional historical names and those found in folklore.All birds recorded in the Western Palearctic are covered, including such soon-to-be-renamed Nearctic vagrants as Wilson’s Warbler and Swainson’s Thrush. Both widespread and locally common feral species and frequent escapees are also included, for those who like that kind of thing.While one could sit and read this from cover to cover, for me the beauty of this book lies in its value as a source of frequent reference and as something to simply dip into. Opening the book at random pages, the reader is likely to be met with something that raises an eyebrow, or a smirk, or solicits an involuntary noise that implies “well I didn’t know that.”For example, I was rather charmed to discover that the name Linnet (and indeed the Linaria component of the bird’s scientific name) is derived from Linum or Flax, a plant whose seeds are favoured by the finch (the second part of its scientific name cannabina, refers similarly to hemp for the same reason). And I was greatly amused, perhaps childishly, to discover that Stercorarius (skuas) means ‘dung eater,’ after the birds’ proclivity for carrion and regurgitated food items.My only slight gripe was not in the written content but the actual book itself. The ivory-coloured pages and rather old-fashioned layout and monochrome images somehow lend the book a sense of ‘first draft’ rather than completed work. But, that minor aesthetic consideration aside, The Vanishing Mew Gull contains a wealth of information that is certain to educate and entertain anyone with an interest in birds and language.Book reviewed by Jon Carter 

Abdul Jamil Urfi’s latest work on his beloved Painted Storks takes us to India and provides an accessible but richly informative account of the lives of these globally Near Threatened birds. Urfi has a deep association with the wild colony of Painted Storks that breed within the Delhi Zoo, and the chapters draw on his years of careful observation of this interesting urban population. He also takes us to humid swamps, marshes and woodlands in the wider Indian countryside, where as well as Painted Storks, a cast of other long-legged birds; herons, ibises and other stork species, wade through the pages. Far from being a single species account, Urfi paints a picture of Indian wetlands and the wildlife that inhabit them through the eyes of storks and the people who work to understand and conserve them.The introduction alone shines with Urfi’s enthusiasm for the species and gives his rationale for choosing Painted Storks as a single species to study. Using the stork as an example, Urfi walks the reader through concepts in ornithology such as nesting behaviour, foraging ecology, and why some large waterbird species like storks form colonies. I particularly enjoyed the chapter on storks and people, which was not just limited to how Painted Storks are received and the folklore surrounding them in India but gives an Asian perspective of European stork folklore as well. Arguably the most important chapter is the last, devoted to conservation. Although Painted Storks appear to be adaptable birds that have in places gone along with increasing urbanisation, there remain many challenges to both the storks and the wetlands that they depend on.While the book is very nicely laid out, with high-quality pictures and illustrations, I had one small gripe; the text is peppered with interesting and informative boxes that present asides from the main body of the chapter, but sometimes these are quite long, and in at least one case a text box extends over three pages! That makes it pretty much a section in the book in its own right, and by the time I had finished reading it I had forgotten what I was reading before.This book mixes carefully conducted field research and intimate knowledge of single species’ ecology, with a wider appreciation for Indian natural history. The book serves as both a detailed account of the lives of Painted Storks, and also as an introduction to Indian wetland ecology that will appeal to professional ecologists and students in India, and those with an enthusiasm for Indian wildlife.Book reviewed by Anthony Wetherhill 

Luke Western was inspired to produce this charming book, which he wrote and illustrated, upon introducing garden birds to his baby daughter. The book itself is aimed at slightly older children – aged four to eight. Fortuitously enough, I have a six-year-old son who was on hand to help me write this review.First impressions were good. My son could confidently identify all the birds from the illustrations, which include examples in the author’s signature ‘geometric birds’ style. I found the accuracy of the details a refreshing change from many of the illustrations in books for younger children, which often have generic ‘birdy’ images, or perhaps even worse, biologically misleading ones. For example, I remember once flicking through a book designed to engage children with nature published by none other than the National Trust, and noticing a depiction of Blue Tits raising chicks in an open nest on a tree branch. I returned it to its shelf.In terms of the text, my son enjoyed the “my nest is the best” refrain, and appreciated the rhymes. It was pitched just right for children of his reading age and understanding. Having said I valued the book’s accuracy, I did have a few minor gripes. On one page for instance, a male Chaffinch is shown sitting on a nest, when nest building and incubation in this species is carried out exclusively by females. On another, there’s a mention of Blackbirds’ nests being mud-lined, when this is the case for the closely-related Song Thrush.Speaking of Song Thrushes, this was my son’s only criticism. Admittedly, he’s not the most typical six-year-old, having been coming out nest recording since he was a babe in arms. However, he said he was disappointed that Song Thrush and Dunnock didn’t feature in the book, as those are his favourite species to look in the nests of. He also asked why the Barn Owl and House Sparrow were simply called ‘owl’ and ‘sparrow’ respectively! That said, he did love the story and the artwork, especially the picture of the Chaffinch nest with eggs, and the jewel-like Jay’s eggs.All in all, The Best Nest Contest is a brilliant idea, and we wish the author luck sending copies to schools around the UK to spark children’s interest and educate them about nesting birds.Book reviewed by Viola Ross-Smith

Ed Drewitt Softback https://www.nhbs.com/bird-pellets-book £ 258 26.99 2024 Pelagic Publishing, Exeter 9781784274719 Rob Jaques 

Conor Mark Jameson Softback https://www.nhbs.com/de/finding-w-h-hudson-book 360 pp £21.99 2023 Pelagic Publishing, London ISBN 978-1-784273-28-6

Back in 2002, one of my first jobs in conservation was being part of a four-person RSPB team that monitored and protected the nests of Stone-curlews in the Breckland area of Norfolk, and my love of Stone-curlews is still as strong today. The patch I was assigned to was an estate farmed by Chris Knights, which had a well-trained team of gamekeepers and farm staff who were very adept at finding and protecting the nests. This patch is the inspiration for his book, which looks at Chris’s lifelong interest in these fascinating birds.With their cryptic plumage and large yellow eyes, Stone-curlews are curious birds with very interesting behaviour that most people only get to see distantly in the heat haze at Breckland reserves such as Weeting Heath. As a photographer, Chris is fortunate to farm on a large estate which has a very healthy population of Stone-curlews, and so has easy access to these birds where he can erect hides close to nests and bring to life all aspects of the intimate life of these birds. The book is written with a real passion for both the species and the Breckland landscape. It is a real labour of love from over 60 years photographing them, with stunning photographs throughout which capture many postures and behaviours, often quite comical, that most people would never see, and really endear you to them.I have thoroughly enjoyed reading and reviewing this book, and it has brought back lovely memories of that summer spent with these special birds, and anyone with an interest in not just Stone-curlews but birds and wildlife in general will enjoy it.Book reviewed by Neil Calbrade 

As the title suggests, this book is presented as an atlas of the wildlife on our ‘Atlantic Archipelago’ from roughly 1519 to 1772. The term ‘wildlife’ covers a range of vertebrate species (from mammals to fish) together with a scatter of predominantly marine invertebrates, which together cover 151 species or grouped taxa. The mapped records and accompanying text draw on a few dozen key regional texts, largely produced by gentleman naturalists, such as Thomas Browne’s Notes and Letters on the Natural History of Norfolk, supported by material from a significant number of other sources.While the species accounts provide some fascinating insight into the challenges of securing an identification for a species from these historical sources, it is difficult to see the value of the maps or the statistical treatment of what are typically very sparse data. In some cases the maps are misleading; that for Grayling, for example, shows records at river level by shading every county with similar topography which that river runs through. With so few records, it might have been better to use some of the 398 pages to provide more detail on the sites mentioned within the original records. The attempts to provide information on the trend since 1772 for each species also feel unwarranted, largely because most of these simply say ‘uncertain’ or ‘probably increased/decreased’. In some cases it is difficult to see how the stated trend since 1772 aligns with data from other sources. How valid, for example, is the use of ‘No change’ for Eel, when there is documented evidence of Eel fisheries from the Domesday Book through to the 19th century, and a decline of c.70% in numbers since the 1970s in our remaining fisheries?The book provides valuable insight into how individual species were identified, named and viewed during the period of interest. You learn, for example, that the spelling ‘capercalze’ for Capercaillie in older texts stems from printers not having access to a separate character to represent the Older Scottish letter ‘yogh’ (derived from a ‘g’ but pronounced like a ‘y’). At times, however, the text sections are frustrating, either lacking additional detail on the records mentioned or including unhelpful and unsupported throwaway comments like ‘... possibly with a small year-round population in the Norfolk wetlands.’ (White Stork) and ‘It may have been a common vagrant.’ (Eagle Owl).Overall, this book feels like a missed opportunity. The period in question is of interest and importance to those looking to re-establish lost species, and I feel that had more of the book been devoted to exploring the individual records and the nature of the sources, then it would have been far more helpful in this regard. A more rigorous academic treatment, much like the approach adopted by Michael Warren in his Birds in Medieval English Poetry, would have delivered a more useful book. The sloppy unsupported statements and attempts to apply a statistical rigour to such sparse data suggests that a stronger editorial hand might have helped to steer this book to a more helpful place. Further evidence of this comes from things like the Great Grey Shrike account being accompanied by an obvious Red-backed Shrike illustration, and the Wheatear by what appears to be a Jay. This is a shame, particularly given the author’s clear knowledge of the central subject, as evidenced by their peer-reviewed publication record.Mike Toms 

Following the author’s journey along the River Nene at Oundle in Northamptonshire, this book is set out in specific months of the year. The reader can fall into step with the writer as he explores the river habitat, along with explorations further afield, and watches the unfolding lives of Kingfishers over the changing seasons.As a musician, it may not be surprising that the author has added an element of audio into his work. Throughout the book there are numbered speaker icons that allow the reader to listen to the birdsong described that the author recorded himself. This can be done by either visiting the Bradt Guides website or scanning the QR code included within the book on a smartphone. The recordings cover specific species and events like the dawn chorus, with the richly recorded birdsong allowing you to appreciate the environment the author is writing about. It is a novel way to experience the sounds of birds and not be confined to the silence of a paperback book. The addition of this audio element also opens accessibility of the experience for readers who cannot access the countryside or who may not know what the birds’ songs mentioned sound like.This book would suit readers who enjoy the nature writing style of prose, with this work dotted with quotes and experiences from other writers and naturalists throughout history too, including Gilbert White, John Clare and Peter Scott. It may be of particular interest to those who are drawn to riverine habitats, local history and of course Kingfishers.Book reviewed by Alice Johnson