There are always stories about the loss of wild life we are suffering all around us. Some are on such a scale as to make national and international news - as with the corncrake. Others may be local, as with changing habitat. Modern agricultural methods; the spread of towns, the massive new roads. Take one modest area in middle Ireland, with a couple of small, but formerly fruitful rivers. Also, great spreading fields - showpieces for hares in the mating season. It was then not unusual to see perhaps a dozen gambolling and boxing, loping around. - Then last year one was seen. One. There are notices on field gates: "No hunting dogs", but the damage is done. For some time anyway. Maybe in a decade there might be a revival. There was, for long, an otter pair. You could see the mother, presumably, sporting with a pair of cubs. Always, summer and winter you could see the marks of their paws at several little shores along the water. And prints in snow. Also their spraints.
For a couple of years local mallard seem to have been shot out or died out. It used to be a joy in spring to see a dozen little balls of grey wool come swinging round the bend where the fast water ran; mallard chicks, with the proud mother all stately behind. You do get sudden increases, quite unexpectedly. Early in the winter came a horde of blackbirds, driven south, it was said by . . . exceptionally harsh weather in Northern Europe. After a while, most seemed to have moved on. The dipper is gone. One of them, anyway, was seen drowned and being washed down the river. Lower down, it is believed a pair exists. The most colourful of all birds, the kingfisher, seems not to breed any more on this stretch. It's not so long since three were seen just below the house, sitting very near the water's surface on a willow branch. Maybe they, too, have just moved headquarters. One was seen a few months ago. Hardly a flycatcher this summer. Shortage of flies? Fewer warblers in the reeds. Fewer reeds. Not one recent grey wagtail. Is it in any way a cyclical matter? Keep watching.
Major Robin Ruttledge did. In his recent programme with John Quinn he gave many instances of his lifetime of studying, admiring and loving - and respecting - birds. Did one hear correctly that his favourite bird was the curlew? It has surely the most haunting of all calls - among the heather of the hills or on the sloblands where it feeds near coastal cities. Keep watching and hoping. Birds are clever creatures. They knew how to navigate before humans did. They are indeed a life study.