The Society for the Protection of Birds (SPB) was founded in 1889 by women. Two groups – led by Eliza Phillips in London and Emily Williamson in Manchester – soon numbered thousands of paid-up female supporters and activists.
It is a story of almost entirely female courage and defiance but intriguingly – from the very first meeting hosted in London – one man was present. He would remain involved for the rest of his life. 'His influence was in a curious way both lasting and potent,' RSPB leader Etta Lemon would later reflect.
At the time his beloved 'Bird Society' (as he called it) was formed, with the merger of the London and Manchester organisations in 1892, William Henry Hudson was 50 years old. He was only just beginning to establish himself as a writer after 15 years of toil and sometimes grinding poverty, cooped up in smoky London. To add further intrigue, Hudson had spent the first 33 years of his life in the Pampas of Argentina. He arrived in England in 1874 with a half-formed dream of making a living from natural history, but with little knowledge of Britain's birds, and no schooling.
What follows is a long and eventful saga, from nights he spent sleeping in Hyde Park until the acday, half a century later, when the Prime Minister opened a bird sanctuary in his memory on or near that very spot, where the homeless Hudson had 'kipped down'. His collected works run to 24 volumes.
W H Hudson in the New Forest (Smithsonian Institution).
Standing up for birds
Hudson's driving passion was to end the relentless slaughter of wild birds. His gifts were put to good use by the women who ran the early SPB, writing pamphlets to articulate the cause. One of these short publications was called Lost British Birds, in which Hudson described the species already gone – or on the brink of disappearing – from these islands.
Fast-forwarding to the years immediately following the First World War, Hudson knew his days were numbered. He was almost 80 years old, and his always delicate health was more precarious than ever. Despite this he was still working feverishly to finish a range of publishing projects, and still petitioning politicians at all levels for effective bird-protection laws. Like so much else, the latest of many Bills to create a Plumage Act had been stymied by the war and was being resurrected.
Literary success and renown had come late for Hudson, particularly in the US. Having at last been 'discovered' there, his books were rapidly reissued. He was determined to amass as much money as possible: not for himself, but for the cause of bird protection.
One of his late book projects was an enlarged and updated edition of the Lost British Birds pamphlet. Hudson even commissioned and paid for the colour plates himself. But he ran out of time. Not long before he died, he asked his colleague Linda Gardiner – his closest surviving friend and soulmate where the love of nature was concerned – if she would complete the book, using information from his copious notes.
It would be a labour of love for Gardiner. Hudson's handwriting was never easy to decode, in part because of the sheer volume of his writing, and the pace at which he poured his words onto the page. 'I have transcribed every word with the greatest care, and every reference has been looked up and completed,' Gardiner writes in the preface.
First published in 1923, Rare, Vanishing and Lost British Birds conveys Hudson and Gardiner’s undying passion for Britain’s birds and their anger at the destruction of the natural world.
A lasting legacy
Rare, Vanishing and Lost British Birds is an important book. It conveys Hudson and Gardiner's undying passion for the birds and their anger at the shocking waste and wilful destruction of the beauty of the natural world. Above all it was a clarion call that 'we must do something about it', in the face of overwhelming odds.
The society's watchers worked courageously and diligently in often remote localities to keep guard over our most threatened surviving species and thwart the trophy hunters and egg collectors, and their hirelings. The pressure on them was relentless.
As far as wider legal protection for birds was concerned, the cogs of change were slowly grinding. The government was continuing to ponder the need for stronger bird-protection laws. A committee was in place. An effective Wild Birds Protection Act was a protracted work in progress.
Hudson lived just long enough to see the Importation of Plumage Act become law in April 1922. He also witnessed the first meeting in London of what would become BirdLife International, chaired by Dr T Gilbert Pearson of the US Audubon Society. Pearson expressed a wish to meet Hudson, who was such a big name in America by this time that former President Theodore Roosevelt had contributed forewords to his books. It would be typical of Hudson to have found an excuse not to meet Pearson. He was that type of character – shy of 'big names' and the limelight.
While he crammed a lot into that final summer in London, Hudson knew he was dying. He passed away a few weeks later, leaving almost everything to his beloved 'Bird Society' and the cause of nature protection to which he had devoted most of his life.
W H Hudson passed away in 1922. He lived just long enough to see the Importation of Plumage Act become law (Smithsonian Institution).
Then and now
So, what happened next for the species covered in his book? The short answer is quite a lot, with the help of targeted conservation made possible by the organisation that Hudson helped to establish, and others.
'Our island is an inn for the wayfaring of birds,' the far-sighted Hudson wrote of Britain, ever mindful, with his outsider's eye, to keep things in perspective, and making the point that most of the birds lost as residents and breeders would be making regular attempts to revisit and possibly re-establish themselves, if only society would let them, and help them. Sadly, this was a big challenge in the early 20th century.
Many birds of conservation concern in 1922 have responded well to changing values, for which Hudson would be overjoyed to know. Avocet, described as 'too conspicuous' and 'slain wherever it is seen' by Hudson, is on a rapid upward curve following its initial return to Suffolk in 1947. In Hudson's time, wintering Eurasian Bitterns used to arrive from the Continent, but were 'no sooner seen than shot' – nowadays, more than 230 booming males are to be found across the country.
Eurasian Bittern was heavily persecuted in the time of W H Hudson (Nándor Veres-Szászka).
Common Crane and Eurasian Spoonbill had also been lost as regular breeding species due to hunting and habitat pressures – Hudson cited records of the former species being shot in 1869 and 1908. Both are now doing very well, with spoonbill's stronghold on the north Norfolk coast, where Hudson spent many happy autumn hours watching the geese return.
Attempts had been made in the early 1900s to reintroduce the lost Great Bustard, which last bred in Britain in the 1830s, but as soon as the birds strayed beyond the release estate, the inevitable happened – they were shot. 'It is hardly likely that there will ever again be English bustards to protect,' wrote Hudson and Gardiner, forlornly. They would be pleased to know that the species has been reintroduced on the Wiltshire plains he knew and loved.
In Hudson's time, Eurasian Goshawk had been lost as a resident breeder, but he noted occasional visiting birds and even nesting attempts in Gloucestershire in 1903 and 1904. He would be gratified to learn that the species is back and appears now at last to be beginning to spread from our remotest state forestry plantations.
Another raptor, Western Marsh Harrier, would occasionally attempt to breed but so often ended up shot and collected – however, there had been successful efforts to protect the odd pair in the Norfolk Broads. Today, its population is flourishing and it has reclaimed large swathes of the country that it had been lost from for centuries. Hudson would likely scarcely believe the contemporary status of Red Kite, which is now so common in some areas that the sky is rarely not decorated by the species.
Hudson would be blown away by the modern-day recovery of Red Kite in Britain (Ian Bollen).
Uncertain future
On the other hand, other birds have not bounced back in such a manner, despite attempts to help them over the years. Kentish Plover, which was still hanging on in the early 20th century, was protected by the RSPB in Kent from 'prowling scoundrels', wrote Hudson. It is now very much lost as a breeding species in Britain.
Hudson described Eurasian Dotterel as 'on the brink', and while populations recovered during the 20th century they are now dwindling again, as climate change and disturbance take their toll.
Once a common breeder in parts of eastern England before the Fens were drained, Ruff has not improved its fortunes on the occasional breeding attempts witnessed by Hudson. In a similar vein, Black Tern was 'once excessively abundant in the fen country', wrote Hudson, although occasional breeding attempts in the mid- to late 19th century ended in failure. It remains a passage bird to this day.
Find out more
The fascinating life of William Henry Hudson can be explored in greater depth in Conor's recently published book, Finding W H Hudson, which presents the untold story of Hudson’s pioneering role as a campaigner, supporting the women who founded the RSPB. Buy it now from the Bookshop for £15.99.
