Barred Wobbler
Well-known member
I'm not making judgement on the rights or wrongs of zoos. Although I'm not at my most comfortable visiting them, I realise they have a value in conservation as well as the 'entertainment' aspect. Peter Scott was a childhood hero of mine and his 'Look' TV series was instrumental in helping develop both my interest in birds and in art, with a mixture thereof. I remember his programmes concerning the setting up of Slimbridge and I recall its value for overwintering Bewick's swans, which I'd not heard of until then. I think it was also that programme that described how the individual bill markings, the 'fingerprints' were catalogued by resident artists to build up a record of how often they returned on migration and how the population was faring.
I do wonder about this 'happiness' aspect and other anthropomorphisms when applied to wildlife, especially birds.
I've often wondered whether happiness even exists in their lives as it does in ours. We as a species may be almost unique in how we view our lives and happiness, and this must be largely down to the safety we enjoy on a day to day basis.
From my observations of birds I gain the view that their lives alternate for the most part between great worry and abject terror.
I was watching a large flock of waders at close range recently, feeding busily on the mud of a Spanish estuary. Dunlins, ringed plovers, curlew sandpipers, sanderling, a couple of knot, the odd ruff, etc, all feeding busily and with ample reward. Apart from just watching them I was also photographing them and it was clear from both watching and photos, that although there was plenty of food for all and they quickly gulped down the invertebrates as they found them, happiness wasn't something I would suggest they were feeling. As they fed their heads kept tilting, so that between looking down for food, they always had an eye on the sky, on the lookout for any marauding peregrine, harrier, or other predator that may pass by and notice the unwary or straggling ones.
If an avian raptor did come by, that extreme wariness was replaced in an instant by abject fear as they rose in a mass. If they had any feeling beyond fear, I'm sure that they would be hoping that if a bird was taken it might be the one they had been feeding or flying with, rather than themselves, so they could get back to filling their crops before the tide flooded.
Such is the life of birds. They are all on the lookout for what is going to end their lives, always, every second of the day, even when roosting. They never have that happy feeling of just relaxing.
This applies to predators as well as the smaller birds such as waders. Photographing booted eagles and other raptors migrating, I am struck by the close eye they keep on the sky above them, occasionally tilting their heads on the lookout as they go. I remember being shown a photo, taken I believe on the Strait of Gibraltar, of a booted eagle that wasn't quite wary enough. It was being plucked from the sky by a golden eagle at the time the photo was taken.
It's a bird eat bird world out there and wild birds are too busy staying alive to be happily putting their feet up and relaxing. The ones who do that tend to end up dead very quickly.
If happiness or any other human emotion does exist in the bird world, may I dare suggest it might be being felt more by the ones with pinioned wings that are tucked away safely at night, that are fed regularly without any extra effort, that also don't have to keep one eye constantly on the sky for the eagle in the sun.
I do wonder about this 'happiness' aspect and other anthropomorphisms when applied to wildlife, especially birds.
I've often wondered whether happiness even exists in their lives as it does in ours. We as a species may be almost unique in how we view our lives and happiness, and this must be largely down to the safety we enjoy on a day to day basis.
From my observations of birds I gain the view that their lives alternate for the most part between great worry and abject terror.
I was watching a large flock of waders at close range recently, feeding busily on the mud of a Spanish estuary. Dunlins, ringed plovers, curlew sandpipers, sanderling, a couple of knot, the odd ruff, etc, all feeding busily and with ample reward. Apart from just watching them I was also photographing them and it was clear from both watching and photos, that although there was plenty of food for all and they quickly gulped down the invertebrates as they found them, happiness wasn't something I would suggest they were feeling. As they fed their heads kept tilting, so that between looking down for food, they always had an eye on the sky, on the lookout for any marauding peregrine, harrier, or other predator that may pass by and notice the unwary or straggling ones.
If an avian raptor did come by, that extreme wariness was replaced in an instant by abject fear as they rose in a mass. If they had any feeling beyond fear, I'm sure that they would be hoping that if a bird was taken it might be the one they had been feeding or flying with, rather than themselves, so they could get back to filling their crops before the tide flooded.
Such is the life of birds. They are all on the lookout for what is going to end their lives, always, every second of the day, even when roosting. They never have that happy feeling of just relaxing.
This applies to predators as well as the smaller birds such as waders. Photographing booted eagles and other raptors migrating, I am struck by the close eye they keep on the sky above them, occasionally tilting their heads on the lookout as they go. I remember being shown a photo, taken I believe on the Strait of Gibraltar, of a booted eagle that wasn't quite wary enough. It was being plucked from the sky by a golden eagle at the time the photo was taken.
It's a bird eat bird world out there and wild birds are too busy staying alive to be happily putting their feet up and relaxing. The ones who do that tend to end up dead very quickly.
If happiness or any other human emotion does exist in the bird world, may I dare suggest it might be being felt more by the ones with pinioned wings that are tucked away safely at night, that are fed regularly without any extra effort, that also don't have to keep one eye constantly on the sky for the eagle in the sun.
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