John Cantelo
Well-known member
It was back in the early sixties, when I went to the ‘big school’, that I realised that a dog-eared copy of the “Observers Book Of Birds”, “I-Spy Birds” and a the first volume of Fisher’s “Bird Recognition” really didn’t cut it as bird ID guides. In primary school my best friend, Peter, was a birdwatcher; hardly a coincidence as I’d pretty much bludgeoned him into it. Fortunately he too passed the 11+ and, better still, ended up in the same class in a prestigious grammar school. (Standards must have slipped). Even more remarkably we quickly became aware of another classmate, Phil, who was also a birdman and clearly some sort of prodigy - he’d actually seen Lesser-spotted Woodpecker! Naturally with this level of competition and forays together to exotic habitats, I had to do something to assert my superior expertise. So I saved up until I could buy a spanking new field guide. There were only two on offer and I got the one that was obviously better since it had much larger pictures, showed more plumages, had more flight illustrations – yep, I got ‘The Collins Pocket Guide to British Birds’. Apart from anything else, this, as the title indicated, only had British birds and I had no intention of nipping off abroad any time soon. The tought that foreign birds would play a dirty trick on me and come here never crossed my mind! The other guys got Peterson, of course, and after a year stoutly defending my choice I slunk off and got one too. This was the old version with plates liberally sprinkled amongst the text and, with use, gradually degenerated into a loose leaf collection of random pages!
And so for the next few years I marked time as no publisher seemed ready to question that all field guides should be suffixed by the word ‘Collins’. Then in 1970, following the success of their ‘Golden Guide’ in the USA, along came ‘The Hamlyn Guide to the Birds of Britain & Europe’. Not only was the double page spread a lot more convenient, but flying raptors stopped being black-and-white and emerged in interesting shades of brown. If we’d had this on our first trip abroad we wouldn’t have struggled over juv. Bonelli’s Eagle or thought any dark vulture with a diamond shaped tail was a Lammergeier. However, the text was pretty basic and Singer’s illustrations were, with few exceptions, dreadful. (The pipits suffered in particular and were grotesque misshapen excuses for birds). Sorting out the two stints, let alone vagrant ‘peeps’, was an impossible task using this book alone. The conservation movement back then was only in its infancy which probably explains the poor breeding success – hardly any birds appeared to be juveniles!
Shocked by the appearance of an entirely new field guide without their name attached, Collins quickly moved into action and, in 1972, came up with Heinzel et al. (the full title is far too long to type out). This not only had the double page spread of ‘Hamlyn’, but also tagged on, like those 25% extra offers, the birds of North Africa and the Middle East for free! Although Heinzel’s plates were much better Singer’s, they looked a bit rushed and, with limited space, the text was brief. I had to wait until 1995 for a vastly improved edition with bigger better illustrations. A pity they didn’t get it right 20 years earlier as by then a new guide outshone anything on the market.
I vividly recall browsing in W H Smith’s (never fertile ground for specialist books) in 1978 and pulling down, without much enthusiasm, a book called ‘Birds of Sea & Coast’ one of the new Penguin Nature Guides. If the birds on the cover looked interesting, those inside were electrifying; Lars Jonsson had arrived! I quickly snapped the thing shut before any of the lifelike creatures flew off and, opening it a crack, was relieved to see they were all still there. Not only that but breeding season had obviously been good ‘cos there were lots of juveniles! Unfortunately, Penguin repeated its history of failing to publish the whole series (cf ‘Bird Recognition’), but after a stutter Croom Helm published the last of the five books in 1982. Brillaint as Jonsson’s illustrations were, and his worst outshone anything anyone else was producing, lugging all five around was as impossible as it was useless just to have just one or two. Desperate for a single volume version, rumours began to circulate that one was on its way and after an interminable wait in 1992 Helm came up with the goods. “Could things get any better?” we wondered and as we did so rumours began to spread that, yes, actually, it could.
The late 70s and early 80s were obviously a good time for field guides for no sooner had Jonsson’s mulit-volume opus appeared than Peter Hayman’s meticulous artwork arrived in a field guide form in “Mitchell Beazley Birdwatcher’s Pocket Guide” . OK it was flawed by it’s haphazard coverage and other lapses, but it was both uniquely portable and pioneered the multiple image/notes on plate format (the first revolutionary approach to the genre since Hamlyn’s double page layout). Like that book, though ,we had to wait until the ‘noughties’ for it to reach its real potential. A more comprehensive, re-illustrated and rewritten version came out in 2001 and remains the best small truly pocketable guide around (though still flawed!). It was no small compliment that when the old Hamlyn guide emerged in it’s latest incarnation (Philip’s Guide to Birds 2007) it was liberally supplied with illustrations lifted from Hayman. Singer’s waders had been junked years before and, had they got rid of the remaining orginal plates, then with its sharp text, generally larger images and a focus on European birds it could have been a contender.
Bucking the trend of more means better, in 1983 along came the “Shell Guide to the Birds of Britain & Europe”. Well, if faintly illustrated by Ian Willis, this remains the best British field guide ever written. Not only did it have detailed British distribution maps and population figures, but it also covered all the rarities. A terrific and neglected book. Hopes of a European version were raised by ‘Vogel Mittleeuropas’ (the Dutch version) that covered many continental species but one never materialised. After the disappointment of the Collins New Generation guide (1987) – a good mini-handbook, but not a true a field guide – the decade closed with the brilliant ‘MacMillan Guide’ in 1989. This superb adjunct to a field guide was joined in the 1996 by the better illustrated but less readable companion volume. I at last had something to really get my teeth into other than various birding magazines.
The 1990s began with another damp squib – ‘Birds by Character’ – which, interesting though it was, just wasn’t a practical alternative to the ‘real thing’. For the dreamer things sharply improved with Lewington et al’s Field Guide to Rare Birds’ – an excellent text and the best ‘traditional’ field guide plates yet published. Jonsson quickly came storming back with his single volume guide in 1992. With even more stunning plates this book might have been the ‘last word’ had not the text lacked a certain edge and the continuing rumours circulating that something really exciting was underway. In 1993 the now rather geriatric Peterson guide appeared in its 5th edition and, despite improvements, really began to show its age. Clearly the publishers knew what was on its way since they all started to shovel out new editions of their work; Heinzel et al were quickly followed by a revamped version of the Kingfisher guide by Gooders’ (Larousse). Somehow the sum of Gooders’ parts never quite reached expectations – perhaps because it was simply overdesigned. Although embracing NW Europe Kightley, Madge & Nurney’s Pocket Guide (1998), seems to have taken over the Shell Guide’s mantle as the best British only guide. Nice big illustrations, which are adequate rather than brilliant, and a good text make this my favourite book to carry when taking a non-birder out. If they can’t see the bird, at least they can see the illustration!
Then in 1999, as we all know, the world changed. The long rumours and aching anticipation finally began to take shape as various magazines carried articles using illustrations from Collins’ final attempt to reassert their dominance. For the second time ever I was stunned – they were absolutely brilliantly executed – at last Jonsson had a rival. The excitement surrounding the books eventual appearance might have lacked some of the razzamatazz the Harry Potter currently evokes, but for the true devotee their first glance at Mullarney, Svensson, Zetterstrom & Grant is a ‘what-were-you-doing-when-you-saw’ moment on a par with all those iconic moments of history. Just as Sellar & Yeatman (“1066 and all That”) stopped when Britain ceased being top nation, so does this narrative with the emergence of the ‘Collins Bird Guide’.
John
And so for the next few years I marked time as no publisher seemed ready to question that all field guides should be suffixed by the word ‘Collins’. Then in 1970, following the success of their ‘Golden Guide’ in the USA, along came ‘The Hamlyn Guide to the Birds of Britain & Europe’. Not only was the double page spread a lot more convenient, but flying raptors stopped being black-and-white and emerged in interesting shades of brown. If we’d had this on our first trip abroad we wouldn’t have struggled over juv. Bonelli’s Eagle or thought any dark vulture with a diamond shaped tail was a Lammergeier. However, the text was pretty basic and Singer’s illustrations were, with few exceptions, dreadful. (The pipits suffered in particular and were grotesque misshapen excuses for birds). Sorting out the two stints, let alone vagrant ‘peeps’, was an impossible task using this book alone. The conservation movement back then was only in its infancy which probably explains the poor breeding success – hardly any birds appeared to be juveniles!
Shocked by the appearance of an entirely new field guide without their name attached, Collins quickly moved into action and, in 1972, came up with Heinzel et al. (the full title is far too long to type out). This not only had the double page spread of ‘Hamlyn’, but also tagged on, like those 25% extra offers, the birds of North Africa and the Middle East for free! Although Heinzel’s plates were much better Singer’s, they looked a bit rushed and, with limited space, the text was brief. I had to wait until 1995 for a vastly improved edition with bigger better illustrations. A pity they didn’t get it right 20 years earlier as by then a new guide outshone anything on the market.
I vividly recall browsing in W H Smith’s (never fertile ground for specialist books) in 1978 and pulling down, without much enthusiasm, a book called ‘Birds of Sea & Coast’ one of the new Penguin Nature Guides. If the birds on the cover looked interesting, those inside were electrifying; Lars Jonsson had arrived! I quickly snapped the thing shut before any of the lifelike creatures flew off and, opening it a crack, was relieved to see they were all still there. Not only that but breeding season had obviously been good ‘cos there were lots of juveniles! Unfortunately, Penguin repeated its history of failing to publish the whole series (cf ‘Bird Recognition’), but after a stutter Croom Helm published the last of the five books in 1982. Brillaint as Jonsson’s illustrations were, and his worst outshone anything anyone else was producing, lugging all five around was as impossible as it was useless just to have just one or two. Desperate for a single volume version, rumours began to circulate that one was on its way and after an interminable wait in 1992 Helm came up with the goods. “Could things get any better?” we wondered and as we did so rumours began to spread that, yes, actually, it could.
The late 70s and early 80s were obviously a good time for field guides for no sooner had Jonsson’s mulit-volume opus appeared than Peter Hayman’s meticulous artwork arrived in a field guide form in “Mitchell Beazley Birdwatcher’s Pocket Guide” . OK it was flawed by it’s haphazard coverage and other lapses, but it was both uniquely portable and pioneered the multiple image/notes on plate format (the first revolutionary approach to the genre since Hamlyn’s double page layout). Like that book, though ,we had to wait until the ‘noughties’ for it to reach its real potential. A more comprehensive, re-illustrated and rewritten version came out in 2001 and remains the best small truly pocketable guide around (though still flawed!). It was no small compliment that when the old Hamlyn guide emerged in it’s latest incarnation (Philip’s Guide to Birds 2007) it was liberally supplied with illustrations lifted from Hayman. Singer’s waders had been junked years before and, had they got rid of the remaining orginal plates, then with its sharp text, generally larger images and a focus on European birds it could have been a contender.
Bucking the trend of more means better, in 1983 along came the “Shell Guide to the Birds of Britain & Europe”. Well, if faintly illustrated by Ian Willis, this remains the best British field guide ever written. Not only did it have detailed British distribution maps and population figures, but it also covered all the rarities. A terrific and neglected book. Hopes of a European version were raised by ‘Vogel Mittleeuropas’ (the Dutch version) that covered many continental species but one never materialised. After the disappointment of the Collins New Generation guide (1987) – a good mini-handbook, but not a true a field guide – the decade closed with the brilliant ‘MacMillan Guide’ in 1989. This superb adjunct to a field guide was joined in the 1996 by the better illustrated but less readable companion volume. I at last had something to really get my teeth into other than various birding magazines.
The 1990s began with another damp squib – ‘Birds by Character’ – which, interesting though it was, just wasn’t a practical alternative to the ‘real thing’. For the dreamer things sharply improved with Lewington et al’s Field Guide to Rare Birds’ – an excellent text and the best ‘traditional’ field guide plates yet published. Jonsson quickly came storming back with his single volume guide in 1992. With even more stunning plates this book might have been the ‘last word’ had not the text lacked a certain edge and the continuing rumours circulating that something really exciting was underway. In 1993 the now rather geriatric Peterson guide appeared in its 5th edition and, despite improvements, really began to show its age. Clearly the publishers knew what was on its way since they all started to shovel out new editions of their work; Heinzel et al were quickly followed by a revamped version of the Kingfisher guide by Gooders’ (Larousse). Somehow the sum of Gooders’ parts never quite reached expectations – perhaps because it was simply overdesigned. Although embracing NW Europe Kightley, Madge & Nurney’s Pocket Guide (1998), seems to have taken over the Shell Guide’s mantle as the best British only guide. Nice big illustrations, which are adequate rather than brilliant, and a good text make this my favourite book to carry when taking a non-birder out. If they can’t see the bird, at least they can see the illustration!
Then in 1999, as we all know, the world changed. The long rumours and aching anticipation finally began to take shape as various magazines carried articles using illustrations from Collins’ final attempt to reassert their dominance. For the second time ever I was stunned – they were absolutely brilliantly executed – at last Jonsson had a rival. The excitement surrounding the books eventual appearance might have lacked some of the razzamatazz the Harry Potter currently evokes, but for the true devotee their first glance at Mullarney, Svensson, Zetterstrom & Grant is a ‘what-were-you-doing-when-you-saw’ moment on a par with all those iconic moments of history. Just as Sellar & Yeatman (“1066 and all That”) stopped when Britain ceased being top nation, so does this narrative with the emergence of the ‘Collins Bird Guide’.
John
Reference to the Swedish original is made in the intro.
