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.

Saxon Mill Birding

 As of tomorrow, I will have been conducting weekly surveys of the Saxon Mill since 2004. That's 22 years! Longer than most prison sentences, and I have no intention of stopping yet. The turn of the year is a time to look back at what I have seen over the year and what it means in the context of larger changes.

So, let's start with some basic information. Over the last 12 months, I made 49 survey visits to the site and conducted my standard figure-of-8 surveys along the river and fields. Each visit lasted on average 80 minutes.

That's a total of 55.79 hours across the year spent birdwatching on my patch, a full 2.32 days of my life this year. In that time, I recorded 2065 individual birds of 49 different species.

The Saxon Mill is a site that just keeps giving, and I added two more species to the site list this year. The first was the identification of a Stock Dove during a survey, although I suspect they have been present in the past and were just dismissed as a pigeon. The second species to be added was a Yellow Wagtail, a lifer for me. I was lucky with this one; this species, along with Gadwall, Shoveller and Bar-tailed Godwit, were present on flooded land adjacent to my patch. I try to be rigorous in my scientific approach. Although these species, never before recorded on my patch, were about 100-200m from the site, they were outside my established visual envelope. They could not be counted! Luckily, the Yellow Wagtail popped over the river into the cornfield for a happy tick.

Now that I have aggregated and inputed the data for the year, what can I tell you about the species and conditions?

On the whole, the year was on average cooler than 2024 but still part of a trend of warmer years since 2019. The hottest day was in June at 25 °C and the coldest in January at 5.1 °C. This warmer weather, especially towards the end of the year, led to fewer winter visitors, such as Teal, Fieldfare and Redwing.

Compared to 2024 Crows, Long-tailed Tits, Mallard, Robins, Siskin and Swallows all increased in abundance, whilst Black-headed Gulls, Woodpigeon and Jackdaws were a lot less abundant.

Species List

Christmas Encounter

 

I have stated in my blog before that I am a lazy wildlife watcher. I find it hard to get up at the crack of dawn, and I would rather be tucked up in the warmth when it is dark. I am easily distracted by every living creature, and so staking out a particular species is always a challenge. In the past, I have tried to sit patiently at the bankside for Kingfishers, but this always failed; a buzzard behind me or a fox on the other bank would me draw my attention away from the Kingfisher, which would appear the minute I moved from my spotting spot.

I rely primarily on luck, providence and divine intervention when watching wildlife. I go out with no real intentions other than just a destination in mind, and let the wind take me and see what turns up.

On this Christmas Eve, I was not particularly inspired; the weather had taken a turn for the colder, and I was in a somewhat melancholic mood. My usual survey day is a Sunday; then I walk my standard route, recording all birds and animals seen or heard. Part of this walk includes the patch of land I manage, where I swap out the memory cards on my trail cameras. This Sunday, I was unable to collect the card from Otter Cam because the flood waters were too high for me to reach the camera.

With this in mind and knowing that a bracing walk is always a mood booster, I opted to pop down and collect that memory card. Despite the winter sunshine, there was a cold wind, and I decided to just take the most direct route to the camera and then head home.

As soon as I arrived, I spotted a Little Egret on the mill pond island and then a Cormorant on the river. By the camera, I spotted a buzzard and then spooked a deer in the undergrowth. At the feeding station, I saw a Great Tit and Robin. Each of these encounters lifted my mood so that by the time I reached the path, I was ready to stay out a little longer. I did not feel like walking downriver and instead opted for something I rarely ever do. I chose to carry straight on and walk by the mill pond on the peninsula managed by Saxon Mill Fishery.

It was this very whim that created a magical moment. As I neared the riverbank, I spotted a Kingfisher on a nearby branch. It was spooked by my approach and took flight, but my attention was drawn to something in the water, a dark flash of something moving behind a tree. I had a hunch, but I did wonder if it was a duck. I peered around the tree expecting to see the mallard, but there was nothing. Whatever it was had dived – a little grebe perhaps? I then noticed the telltale sign of small bubbles; my heart leapt. Otters often leave a trail of little bubbles when they swim underwater. I tried to follow the trail through the surging, muddy water, but soon lost it. I scoured both banks with my binoculars and caught a fleeting glimpse of a small otter emerging and then submerging by the far bank. I spent the next ten minutes tracking up and down the bank trying to spot it, rewarded only with the glimpse of a tail or the loud splash as it dived. Fairly soon thereafter, all went quiet, and I decided to head round to the mill and home.

At the mill, I peered across the mill pond, and in the distance, I spotted the distinct wake of something swimming in the water. Zooming in, I was treated to the sight of not one but two otters crossing. I quickly set up my camera and settled in to watch.

The pair of otters was known to me as an adult female and her cub. I see them quite regularly on the trail camera. This late in the year, the cub was nearly the same size as the mother, distinguished only by a smaller face and lighter throat markings. The pair swam together across the mill pond, diving frequently.

Interestingly, as they dove, you could see their arched backs, which looked a lot like the serpentine movement of a monster. Some suggest that this is what people see when they think they have seen the Loch Ness monster, and I believe that this has some merit—trying to spot the otters in the wind-swept muddy waters.

It was obvious that the pair were foraging. The dives were deep, and there was no evidence of play behaviour. The river is full of fish but with the water still high it is heavily silt laden reducing visibility considerably. It is in these conditions that the otters’ strong whiskers come in useful, which they use to sense prey. Despite their skills they did not appear to catch any sizeable fish. I did see them eating something, but it was small and unidentifiable. Other than crossing the mill pond they tended to keep to the banksides, foraging along the edges and around the driftwood. I watched them from a comfortable distance for 20 minutes until they drifted off downriver and disappeared.

This encounter is proof that you never know what you are going to find when out in the great British countryside. Were it not for that split-second whim to try the other path, I would never have seen these two otters, my fourth-ever live sighting of Otters in the UK. Be it Lady Luck or the lord himself, providence definitely shone on me today.

Reflecting on a Year of Birding and Looking Ahead

As the year draws to a close, I find it’s the perfect moment to reflect on what I’ve experienced and set my sights on new goals for the coming year. This year, I made greater use of BirdTrack to log my sightings and took a deeper dive into analysing my data and what it reveals.

The local birding group, which I’d join more often if I weren’t such a solo soul, follows the “Warwick 100”—an annual quest to spot 100 species. Bird Watching magazine sets the bar even higher with their “#My200Bird” challenge. My own efforts, focused solely on Warwick and its surroundings, reached a respectable 72 species as of December 12th—just one shy of last year’s total.

A highlight of the year was spotting a ‘lifer’: my first-ever Yellow Wagtail, which appeared in July in a cornfield. Other memorable sightings included Bar-tailed Godwit and Gadwall. I also noticed an increase in sightings of Stonechat, Little Egret, Peregrine, and Red Kite.

Yellow Wagtail

Looking ahead to 2026, I have a few targets in mind. I hope to capture good photographs of a Yellowhammer, Water Rail, and Peregrine, and to finally spot a Cetti’s Warbler at Kingfisher Pools, where they’re known to frequent in summer. On my own land, I’d love to see the return of Willow Tit, Bullfinch, and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker.

My “holy grail” challenge is to photograph a Snipe. Thanks to conservation work at Warwick Racecourse, wintering Snipe numbers are improving—five individuals were seen this year, up from previous years. It would be incredible if they could be encouraged to stay into spring and summer, with the long-term hope of successful breeding.

Writing and publishing my book took up much of my time this year, so in 2026, I want to refocus on the patch of land I manage, especially my goal to create a series of scrapes beside the river. After meeting with Warwickshire Wildlife Trust for advice, I’m eager to put their ideas into action and move the project forward.

Of course, I can’t neglect my beloved camera traps. By the end of this month, I’ll have collected five years of data from Otter Cam. I plan to spend time analyzing this data, comparing the diversity along the river to that in the hedgerow.

Challenges and goals keep life interesting and give us direction, but it’s essential not to be beholden to them. Set some fun targets to help you get the most out of the next 12 months, decide how many species you want to see or perhaps focus on that one bird that has eluded you.

Here’s to another year of discovery and growth, both for the wildlife and for myself.

Camera Trapping - A Practical Handbook for Wildlife Researchers and Enthusiasts is Published!

 Following a year of hard work, my handbook is now complete and available to buy.

This has been a labour of love, and given its niche nature, I have chosen to self-publish via the website Lulu. This is an excellent website for producing written materials.

I have taken my time over this book and toyed with the idea of providing the material free of charge via a website. I went back and forth on this and opted for a paperback because that's how I like to work. I like printed matter, and when I am studying or learning new things, I find nothing better than having a text to thumb through rather than flipping between windows on a laptop. Call me old-fashioned.

This is not my first self-published book, but this time I approached it more professionally. I had it professionally reviewed by a science editor and had an artist design a front cover, both contracted via Reedsy. I rigorously checked my maths, which was tough given my difficulties with the subject. I enjoy maths, but only when it works!

The book was published this week and is currently only available on Lulu from this link:

Camera Trapping - A Practical Handbook for Wildlife Researchers and Enthusiasts

The book is priced at £19.99, which I hope people feel is a suitable price given the content. I have not written this book to make a pile of money; in fact, I will be happy to just break even. This is about sharing my experience and, hopefully, encouraging people to take up a fantastic hobby.

Eventually, it will be available via Amazon and Barnes and Noble, but may be priced higher due to their pricing structures.