One for sorrow, two for joy….
Magpies are some of Oxford’s smartest residents. Resplendent in iridescent black and white, they can often be seen swooping in pairs above the High Street or in Christ Church Meadow. But they’re not just a pretty face. They have an exceptionally large brain-to-body size ratio, exceeded only by humans. Magpies have been known to use tools, hold funerals for their dead and even recognise themselves in the mirror – an ability shared by only a handful of species.
Sadly, these clever birds have been much maligned throughout history. According to legend, magpies were the only bird that refused to board Noah’s Ark, preferring instead to remain in flight, cackling with glee at a drowned world. This vilification continued in 18th century England, where a solitary magpie was associated with bad luck – albeit a fitting superstition for a bird that mates for life. Soon, a whole folklore of rhymes developed based on how many birds you saw. There are many different versions, but my favourite is:
One for sorrow,
Two for mirth,
Three for a funeral,
Four for a birth,
Five for England,
Six for France,
Seven for a fiddler,
Eight for a dance!
Unfortunately, this folklore has had real-world consequences. Magpies were heavily persecuted in the Victorian era, recovering their numbers only in the 1970s. This recovery happened to coincide with an intensification of agriculture which led to the decline of many of our songbirds. Rather than blame the toxic pesticides, many pointed the finger at the newly common magpie’s habit of stealing eggs from nests, and many were shot.
Luckily, today we know better. I think magpies are truly beautiful birds, and we should appreciate their beauty all the better knowing they are harmless and charming parts of our ecosystem.
Where? There!
As some of us know all too well, spotting a kingfisher is tricky. There are only 3,800 pairs across the entire UK, and their fast, low flight means the most you are likely to see is an azure flash. However, Oxford’s watery landscape means that there is still quite a high chance of spotting one here. Try looking down Iffley Lock or searching around Christ Church Meadow.
Kingfishers are members of a large and colourful family with a global distribution, the Coraciiformes. Our own common kingfisher, known as Alcedo atthis on formal occasions, is no exception, with its electric blue wings and orange breast. Or is it? Surprisingly, analysis of kingfisher feathers has found no blue pigmentation at all. The brilliant blue colour is instead the result of the 3D arrangement of holes in the feathers’ keratin scattering light at a wavelength of precisely 211 nanometers, creating an azure hue. When these holes were artificially filled in as part of an optics study, the feathers appeared a dull brown. This phenomenon is called structural colouration and is also the reason why soap bubbles appear rainbow-coloured.
The UK sits at the northernmost edge of the common kingfisher’s range, but the species can be found as far east as Japan, in the tropical forests of Borneo, and at the edge of the Sahara in Morocco. Kingfishers suffer in harsh winters – when rivers and streams freeze over, they are unable to fish. This is bad news for a bird that needs to eat 60% of its body weight in fish every day. Historically this limited their numbers in the UK, but climate change has resulted in a large range expansion into northern Scotland.
Speaking of fishing…if you’ve ever tried to tickle a trout, you’ll know it is a lot harder than it looks. Kingfishers sit high above rivers and streams, and plunge vertically into the water when they see a fish. But water has a different refractive index to air, making it difficult for most animals to judge distances from one medium into the other. However, the kingfisher is unusual in having two foveae (a sensitive, high-resolution region) in each eye. This allows the bird to switch from monocular to binocular vision underwater, which generates much better depth perception.
Like the kingfisher, humans have very good optical resolution compared to the rest of the animal kingdom. This should come in handy in your search for these beautiful, yet elusive birds….
Screaming for summer….
This bird is not actually here, so don’t try looking now. Whilst we shiver in Oxford’s freezing streets and chilly libraries, swifts are enjoying the warmth of the Congo basin, swooping over endangered forest elephants and pygmy hippos in the heart of Africa.
The swift is as close to an airborne life as anything gets. Once they fledge – perhaps from a nest on Cowley road – juveniles do not land for three years, not until they build a nest of their own. Like dolphins, swifts exhibit unihemispheric sleep, where one half of the brain rests whilst the other prevents the bird from crash-landing. Unlike many birds, they have no territory but may range as far as 200 miles to get food for their chicks during bad weather. Flying such distances requires some serious power, and indeed swifts are the fastest bird in level flight, reaching speeds of up to 69 mph. They certainly don’t hang around, either – they can complete their spring migration from tropical Africa to England in just five days.
But where and when is best to see swifts? They arrive late, during the first few weeks of Trinity term, and leave early, in mid-August. In Oxford, your best bet is the rooftops of Cowley and Iffley, where they nest. Huge flocks gather in the evening above Port Meadow too – hundred-strong screaming parties hurtle around before spiralling up into the sky to sleep.
Sadly, swifts have had a tough few years. Tighter building regulations have led to many of the roof cavities they nest in being blocked up. Like swallows and house martins, swifts are totally dependent on human buildings for nests, so this is a serious problem. Another issue is a lack of insects caused by industrial farming. These birds, seemingly immune to anything on the ground, are in fact acutely sensitive to the health of our ecosystems. Oxford, with its old buildings and plentiful green spaces, is one of the swift’s strongholds and a great place to appreciate them!
If you want to do more to protect these declining birds, Oxford Swift City runs a nest monitoring scheme which you can get involved in here. The organisation also runs talks. And if you want to learn more about swifts (of course you do), Oxford Professor Charles Foster’s book The Screaming Sky is a stunning account of the swift’s epic migration, and our relationship with these incredible birds.
Oxford is a very stressful place, and it is easy to lose perspective. Even as a biology student, I often feel that I have no time to seek the very creatures I am studying. But, in the darkness of Hilary, a glimpse of a magpie chattering on a rooftop, or even an azure flash of a kingfisher down the Thames reminds me the world is bigger than labs and essay crises. Western culture and capitalism has done its best to divorce us from the world we evolved in, and in our separation we have destroyed vast swathes of Earth’s biodiversity. Nowhere is that more true than Britain – with the exception of Ireland, we are the most nature depleted country in Europe (Tree, 2018). Clearly, Britain’s wildlife urgently needs help. However, we will only protect what we love, and we can only love something if we have experienced it. So, this Hilary, why not go out into Oxford’s green spaces, turn off your phone, and open your eyes. You might be amazed by what you see.
Tree, I. (2018). Wilding. London: Picador.