From Blue Tits to Great Tits: Rethinking bias in conservation

 It’s interesting how we often attribute distinct personalities to different bird species, drawing on stereotypes shaped by their appearance and behaviour. These impressions are rarely about individual birds, but rather about the collective image we form of a species. For example, Blue Tits and Great Tits are two of the most common birds I encounter, both frequent visitors to gardens and parks. Yet I realise I view these species through the lens of stereotypes, sometimes unfairly.

Stereotypes about birds are deeply ingrained in our culture, think of the elegance of swans, the wisdom of owls, or the ill fortune associated with magpies. In my own experience, I’ve always seen Blue Tits in a positive light, perceiving them as friendly and cheerful. Their small size and vibrant plumage give them an approachable air, and their chirruping calls seem engaging and pleasant. At the bird table, they flit about energetically, often appearing non-confrontational, and are often bullied by larger birds, especially their bigger relative, the Great Tit.

Great Tits, on the other hand, strike me as more assertive. Their stocky build and bold black markings remind me of a mask, almost like a burglar’s disguise. This impression is reinforced by their ability to mimic the calls of other species and their tendency to dominate at the bird table. I sometimes think of them as boastful, puffing out their chests and showing off their striking uniforms, perhaps the very model of a modern major general. Words like pride and conceit come to mind when I observe their behaviour.

However, I recognise that these descriptions reflect my own biases. The reality is more complex: Blue Tits can be aggressive towards smaller species such as Long-tailed Tits and Coal Tits, while Great Tits themselves may be bullied by Robins. Watch Great Tits for long enough, however, and you will find them as endearing as Blue Tits. They share many traits but fill very different niches. They are less flighty and more confident in their actions. Unlike Blue Tits, they will feed openly on the ground and will take to prominent treetops to sing. Thinking about Great Tits now, I realise they often herald the approach of my favourite season, spring. Their calls change subtly and become more strident.

Reflecting on these tendencies, I’m reminded of the importance of questioning our assumptions—not just about birds, but about all living things. By acknowledging our biases, we can strive for a more nuanced and accurate understanding of the natural world. It has long been a problem in nature conservation that it's far easier to raise money to save a species of cuddly animal like a bear or rodent than it is for a species of spider or snake. Some of our revulsion for certain species is biologically ingrained; we have an aversion to species less like us, bilateral species, those with radically different body shapes. The BBC ran an article on this back in 2012 and Green Earth explored it in 2024

Both articles describe the innate human bias that affects our efforts to defend biodiversity. This aligns with my growing sense that nature conservation should focus primarily on habitat protection and creation. We need to ensure ecosystems are stable and functioning and allow nature to take the lead. Species recovery will follow. I recall several Dormouse reintroductions in the early 2000s that failed because too much effort was placed on releasing individuals and boosting the local population before the habitat was repaired enough to support them. Of course, habitat protection is part of species reintroduction, and the lion's share of funding comes from species conservation, but we need to find an effective way to protect all species, regardless of their appearance or our own perceptions.

A Notter - When is an otter not an otter?

 Species identification can be a minefield, and one of the most common complications regards the differences between a mink and an otter.

In actual fact, once you have seen an otter, it is clear what it is, and the difference between it and a mink is pretty clear, but it is rare to see both together, and weather conditions can make things difficult.

Earlier this month otter cam recorded some great clips of both species, and I thought it would make a nice teachable moment.

Mink and Otters are both mustelids and exhibit similar body shapes. They are also both aquatic species and are found in similar habitats.

First of all, look at the video clip below:

It shows an animal emerging from water and then scouting around a little. It is definitely a mustelid, and aquatic. We can rule out Weasel due to its size and the lack of a white/cream chest and underside like a Stoat. Its back doesn't arch as much as a Polecat, and it's the wrong colour for a Pine Marten.

It's either a Mink or an Otter. What do you think?

What about the next clip?

This clip shows two animals running across the screen before entering the water. Look at the tail and muzzle.

Now that you have seen both species in the same location, you should be able to identify which is which.

Clip 1 shows a North American Mink, and Clip 2 shows a pair of Otters.

It's understandable to think that the individual in clip one is an otter. It is quite a large Mink and obviously a similar colouration to an otter, but note the following telltale signs.

The tail - Otter tails are much sleeker and rudderlike. They slim to a point, whereas Minks have broader tails that are a bit fluffier.

The head: Mink have thin heads that are taller than wide, but otters tend to be wider than tall. Eye placement is slightly different, with Mink eyes pointing more forward. 

Ears - Otter ears are much sleeker and do not stick out much from the line of the head, whereas Mink ears seem larger and are more noticeable.

Another key diagnostic feature is how they swim. Sadly, I do not have an image of mink swimming, but they do so in very different ways. Mink are only partially aquatic and not as well adapted. They tend to sit higher in the water and paddle quickly. Otters, when swimming, often only show their heads. They are highly evolved to swim; they are more agile and playful in the water. They use their tails to steer and propel, and will dive much more often.

Otter swimming

If you want to know more, then BBC Wildlife Magazine has a nice article here

Getting to know you

 One of the highlights of the past few years was getting to know a female Roe Deer and her offspring. I saw them regularly, and she became quite used to my presence. Last summer, although pregnant, she disappeared from the area, leaving last year's does to take over her territory. In addition, the formerly dominant Buck, an impressive specimen with antlers sporting three tines, has also disappeared. Antlers are not always indicative of individuality, as they shed each year and may not regrow in the same way.

Over the past few months, two new bucks appeared, both with single-horn antlers, although one of them has only one. In the last couple of weeks, two does have been regularly seen in the company of a buck with antlers in velvet, essentially fur-covered bumps from where the antlers will grow. This new little group are certainly not sure of me, and most of my views are of their white rumps bounding away from me.

Back in 2023, I wrote a post on habituation, and I realised today that I may need to employ these techniques to better watch these amazing animals in the future. Enjoying the winter sunshine, I popped down to my patch to see if the bad weather of Storm Goretti had blown in any interesting birds. It hadn't, I was hoping for Goosander, Teal, Wigeon, maybe some Tufted Ducks, but the snowmelt had swelled the river and flooded much of my patch. As I waded through the water, I flushed the deer. Roe Deer I find will often run off and then pause to look back at you, whereas Muntjac just tear off and disappear.

Rather than just freeze, I decided to show that I was one of them. I stood stock-still and then reacted the same way they did. I tried to look panicked, and I dashed into the undergrowth, stopping and then looking back. I found the deer staring back, bemused. I made my actions fearfully responding to any bird song around me. I avoided direct eye contact and continued to look about as if looking for a predator. Within moments, one of the does and the buck started grazing comfortably, and I was able to remove my camera. I took a few shots so that they could see me with the camera, and it was nothing to be feared and then pretended not to be interested in them at all, looking around me and pawing at the earth as if looking for food.

This tactic seemed to work; all three visibly relaxed, and so I waited until they moved off at their own pace, happy and comfortable. I did not want to push my luck or stress them further, so I left them to it and carried on with my walk. 

That two-minute interaction helped build trust with them. They will never fully accept me, but over time, they won't bolt at the sight of me and will let me sit openly. It takes time and patience, and I do not want them to completely lose their fear of humans. Fear is built into prey species like Roe Deer. It is innate. Roe Deer haven't had a natural predator other than us for hundreds of years, and to breed out such fear will take possibly thousands.

When watching wildlife, always do so on their terms, never sacrifice their comfort for your pleasure or to just get the perfect picture Do not dominate nature, be part of it.