This week we're focusing on the plight of the curlew - a bird that would be at the top of many lists to be the UK's totemic bird - not just because our coasts and estuaries host internationally important numbers of them in the winter, not only because our hills and moors (and some lowland areas too) are places that are globally significant breeding areas for curlew but as much because their wild presence and evocative calls are part of  the soul of our countryside. They have woven their existence into our consciousness, our art and culture and yet they are in trouble. 

In this first blog, our Communications Manger for North England, Chris Collett, introduces Numenius arquata - the Eurasian curlew

There aren’t many things I look forward to in the winter months but curlews are one of them. The RSPB’s Newcastle office is conveniently located right next to the Tyne, which means from the end of summer to around February, we are treated to the sight of thousands of wading birds and ducks, feeding on the muddy edges of the river.

As much as I enjoy experiencing the lively assortment of lapwings, redshanks and shelducks, what makes me happiest is watching the nimble but slightly comical curlews.

For those of you who have yet to be introduced to this charismatic bird, the curlew is Europe’s tallest wading bird and is characterised by its long gangly legs, elongated down turned beak and a bubbling call.

If you have children, you may recognise it from Helen Oxenbury’s wonderful illustration of children squelching through mud in Michael Rosen’s We’re Going on a Bear Hunt.

While the curlew spends the winter along our muddy estuaries, it heads up to the hills in spring where it breeds on moors and farmland.

I’m not alone in my affection for curlews. The 18th century poet Robert Burns proclaimed he had “never heard the solitary whistle of curlew on a summer noon without feeling an elevation of soul. Ted Hughes, meanwhile, proclaimed the curlew “a wet-footed god of the horizons.” I’m not exactly sure what the poet-laureate meant by this but it sounds pretty good. 

 And it’s not just poets that appreciate curlews. Many hill farmers say they love the birds as their arrival heralds the start of spring.

But sadly, the curlew is in trouble. Over the past 20 years we’ve lost half of all our curlews in UK. Unless we take decisive action now, we may lose them. This is why we’ve decided to run Curlew in Crisis Week. Over the coming days we’ll be running a series of blogs talking about why curlews are declining and about how farmers, conservationists and politicians are working to save the bird for future generations.     

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