by Darryl Jones
While working on this book I have e-mailed, phoned, and Skyped with dozens of people from all over the world, but meeting them in person whenever possible always seems more comfortable. Many of these people didn’t necessarily know me that well and may have been at least a little wary of my agenda. Meeting face to face proved crucial in the development of this strand of the story. I tried to convey the essence of my mission as sincerely as possible and attempted to articulate my desire to understand. I think it worked; my query about the basis for the change in seasonal practice led in every case to a thoughtful pause, followed by a range of responses that might be summarized as: “That is an excellent question,” “I really don’t know but someone will,” and “I’m sure there is a report on that somewhere . . .” The reality of the time lag involved did prove to be an issue—these events really did seem to be somewhat historical and, given the more immediate concerns facing so many British birds, perhaps a little academic. It seemed a fair point.
I did find, however, real interest in this question among some of the RSPBs veteran researchers. Will Peach and David Gibbons generously discussed a wide range of feeding issues, including attempts to revive the fal-tering numbers of House Sparrows and recent research into the importance of grain supplies for many rural bird species (this work features later). As to the change away from winter-only feeding, both agreed it was a crucial though historical question, but could not pinpoint a particular study, event, or policy associated with the switch in the RSPB’s stance. They suspected that the BTO had conducted research into aspects of this issue. Finally, and independently, both Will and David said with almost identical wording: “Support for summer feeding? That sounds just like something Chris Mead might well have had a hand in!” I noted the name immediately: Chris Mead had been a popular and very public figure within the companion organization, the BTO, for over 40 years, and his name had cropped up in many conversations already. As I was leaving the Lodge, Will offered one additional suggestion: “I suspect that you will also find that a certain Chris Whittles is going to play an important role in your story as well!” As well as getting to know some of the researchers I had been reading for years, seeing the Lodge, and learning about the RSPB from within, this visit provided some tantalizing leads: a possible research report, and two very significant names. Chris Mead had been a legendary figure in British ornithology, a formidable combatant in the field of bird conservation, a bird ringer (bander) of international renown (having reportedly mist-netted over 400,000 birds), and most significantly, a well-known and respected spokesman for the BTO until his death in 2003, aged only 62. Chris Whittles, on the other hand, although recently retired, was still active. The founder of the huge and influential CJ Wildbird Foods company (described earlier), Chris was of a similar vintage to the other Chris; I wondered whether there might be a connection.
The Nunnery My next stop was unexpectedly close. The two organizations I was visiting, though entirely independent and distinct philo-sophically, are located only 56 miles (90 kilometers) apart in the middle of rural England. The BTO, founded in 1933 at Oxford, is now housed in a delightful converted nunnery (conveniently known as the Nunnery) on the edge of the Norfolk village of Thetford, an easy 90 minutes’ drive up the A14 from the RSPB. Despite what I knew to be frantically busy schedules, several key people agreed to meet with me to talk about feeding. Kate Risely was the coordinator of the BTO’s Garden BirdWatch, one of the largest citizen-science projects in the world, and an invaluable source of detailed data on garden birds and, of course, bird feeding. Using this massive collection of information to answer key questions was one of the tasks being pursued by Kate Plummer. This Kate had recently completed some of the most important experimental studies of the effects of diet on breeding outcome in birds16 (discussed further in a later chapter). For my project, Kate Risely and Kate Plummer were an ideal source of information and opinion, and we ended up talking for hours. This continued as a prolonged discussion when we convened at the Black Horse pub that evening, joined by a number of other BTO staff. The issue of the BTO’s change in stance on when to feed was especially fertile ground, although there was little in the way of concrete evidence that anyone could recall. Several people felt they could find something of value or interest, and Kate Risely declared that she would contact some of the individuals she knew from the era in question. Thoroughly invigorated by the debate, I finally headed back to my country hotel, quietly anticipating further developments.
I spent the following day in the Chris Mead Library at the Nunnery, looking through every issue of the dully titled but fact-packed BTO News Magazine. As this excellent source of news and views had started in 1964 and continues today, it seemed a logical place to search for evidence of changing practices. Although various birdseed companies were advertising from the earliest editions of the magazine, and there were plenty of “how-to” articles on bird feeding and wildlife gardening, I could find no mention of nonwinter feeding. While I was engaged in this task, I was pleased to meet the magazine’s editor through much of its life, Derek Toomer, who just happened to be passing through. When asked about whether he could recall any articles or editorials or anything at all, he suggested that I was unlikely to find a specific statement or event to mark the change; in his opinion, it has been under way since the late 1990s. Derek, who had been closely engaged in monitoring the trends and fashions among feeders, also suggested that it was likely that summer feeding grew indirectly as a result of the increasing availability of feeding products and new types of seeds. “I would say that the arrival of the seed companies, especially CJs, was significant, as was their involvement with both BTO and RSPB.”
Meanwhile, Kate Risely’s overnight networking efforts had yielded some fascinating—and familiar—opinions from several people involved with BTO during the period of interest: “I seem to remember it only as a pronouncement by Chris Mead. There might be a press release or BTO News article that would give you a clue.” “Probably it was something that Chris Mead came up with, but I don't know the specifics. But if Chris Mead said it, then . . .” “My recollection is that we were prompted by bird food entrepreneurs to question the previous wisdom that summer feeding was a bad idea, at about the time when bird food started to become big business.”
I may not be much of a detective, but even I could detect a pattern emerging here: an influential BTO personality and a “bird food entrepreneur.” Sadly, the larger than life Chris Mead was no longer available, but Chris Whittles certainly was; it was time for a visit to Shropshire.
There was one more exhibit to be considered, however. A few days after my visit to the Nunnery, I received an e-mail from Kate Risely. At-tached to the message was a BTO internal report by Patrick Thompson dated October 1987. “Looks like it could be useful,” Kate added tentatively. It was titled The Seasonal Use of Gardens by Birds with Special Reference to Supplementary Feeding.17
I have to admit, I was not expecting much from this rather dated report. I already had found several studies from this period that were really just food trials, comparing preferences for different types of seeds; this was probably going to be something similar, I thought. Besides, my expectation was that surely the change in position by the BTO and RSPB had been linked to significant research of some kind. Many of the people I had spoken to felt the same, yet no one seemed to remember anything specific. This apparently forgotten report, which I had never seen cited, did not seem promising. It was late one night before I got around to actually reading it. And let me admit that my perception was just plain wrong. This work may have been overlooked, but it was exactly the kind of critical and focused research I had assumed must have been undertaken. And this was back in 1987.
The Thompson study was built on an existing (and pioneering) citizen science program—the Garden Bird Feeding Survey—instigated by the BTO 17 years earlier in 1970. (Interestingly, the report was produced for a company, Pedigree Petfoods, though their role is not described.) A dedicated group of a
bout 200 people had been recruited for the survey to systematically record the birds visiting their feeders. It goes without saying that this was during winter; as we have seen, the official position was adamantly “winter only” at the time. Everyone was aware that feeder food was inappropriate for nestlings. Nonetheless, the BTO sent out letters to all the participants, inviting them to extend their feeding into the spring breeding season, a rather radical suggestion. Indeed, while the researchers were able to sign up over one hundred participants for the new part of the study, Pat Thompson also records that they received a number of letters expressing serious misgivings as well as several “seasoned participants who refused outright,” stating that feeding nuts and other starchy foods had “been proven to be bad for nestlings.” Receiving such feedback— faithfully reiterating the BTOs own advice—must have been at least a little perplexing.
Although this spring trial was conducted only once (I can’t help but wonder how many participants kept it up afterward), it yielded a considerable amount of data showing that many species would indeed take advantage of feeders during spring. That was hardly a surprise, but it provided important confirmation that birds did use these additional resources. The crucial question, however, remained: Did the adults supply feeder food to their nestlings? The second part of the study involved an equally provocative proposition: provide peanuts for breeding tits and observe closely what happened, an experiment actually testing the central nightmare scenario of a nestling choking on a peanut. The ideal setting was readily available: Chris Mead (of course) just happened to have been ringing Great and Blue Tits near his home in Hertfordshire for over 10 years. To improve the chances of catching these birds, Chris had set up feeders offering peanuts next to his mist nets. Again, this feeding had been limited to the colder months, but for the sake of the study, he too agreed to keep feeding into the spring. (Is it possible that this was the critical moment for Chris Mead?)
Mead had already established a large number of nest boxes throughout the area, and his almost continuous presence nearby resulted in thoroughly habituated birds who could be observed from close quarters. Pat and his assistants patiently recorded hundreds of birds bringing food to their babies in the nest boxes, carefully noting what was on the menu. These valuable observations confirmed, despite the availability of peanuts nearby, that almost all—well over 90%—of the items delivered to the nestlings were instead insects. Some peanuts were, however, brought too—sometimes by Great Tits, extremely rarely by Blues—but no chicks succumbed as a result. While a very small number of nestlings were found to have died during the study, this was attributed to starvation, an unfortunate but entirely normal result noted in virtually every study of breeding birds. Crucially, none of these chicks died because of the peanuts. Finding sufficient insect food to raise a nest full of baby birds really does seem to be a major constraint on reproduction among tits. Feeding nestlings large items such as peanuts may be a sign of desperation on the part of the parent birds, and Pat Thompson’s work suggested that this was likely to be extremely rare. Other studies have confirmed this finding and the fact that nestlings have on rare occasion choked on peanuts.18
The Thompson studies were indeed significant, providing important findings of direct relevance to the critical debate about the risks and potential benefits associated with nonwinter feeding. His report would surely have been influential at the time. It’s just that no one seems to be able to recall his landmark research today.
Whittles’ Wisdom The chance to meet Chris Whittles in person was something I had not really thought would be possible. Although I had met Chris briefly in 2010 at a symposium on bird feeding in London, there was no reason why he should remember me. Besides, he had since sold his share in the giant bird-food company he had founded, CJ Wildbird Foods, and, I had learned, was far from pleased with the direction the new management were taking the renamed CJ Wildlife. Why would he want to discuss any of this with a stranger? Would he be aggrieved when he learned that I wanted to visit the CJ factory itself (as described earlier), only a couple miles away from Chris’s home in Shrewsbury, a place he had built from scratch but now refused to visit?
These concerns, of course, proved entirely unfounded. At my colleague Jim Reynolds’s prompting, I contacted Chris myself. Whittles was well known for being forthright and opinionated; if he didn’t agree, I would hear about it. I received an immediate response to my e-mail: “It will be delightful to see you again. Do come up to my home and leave plenty of time for talk—and lunch!” That seemed fairly positive. Jim and I drove up to Shropshire from Birmingham only a few days after I had been at the BTO, recent developments prominent in my mind. I also had no il-lusions about what I was about to experience: “The gospel according to Whittles!” as some were quick to suggest when they heard of my proposed visit. All agreed, nonetheless, his was an insider’s view of the British and international bird-food industry that was simply unsurpassed. I knew it would be a biased view; I just didn’t expect it to be so delightfully so.
Chris met us at the door of his spacious suburban home on the edge of Shrewsbury. After a firm handshake, we were ushered into a large lounge looking out onto a conservatory. In clear view through the glass panels was an expansive and well-maintained garden, festooned with bird feeders of numerous designs. Even though it rained steadily throughout the day, groups of tits, nuthatches, Blackbirds, and Woodpigeons continuously drifted by. It was an ideal if distracting setting for the conversation unfolding inside.
Chris Whittles, as he himself would readily agree, is not a man lacking in self-confidence or ambition. The personal characteristics that led him to become one of the undisputed champions of the international wild bird–feeding industry were soon evident: clear goals, decisive leadership, visionary risk-taking. But along with the entrepreneurial instincts was a sincere affinity for the birds. An agronomist by training, he had always been convinced of the necessity of a strong scientific and rigorous approach to business decision making. From its very earliest days in 1987, selling peanuts as bird food, the embryonic CJ Wildbird Food Company was characterized by an uncompromising attitude to the quality of its produce and a dedication to evidence. At the time, the typical wild bird products were low-quality mixes dominated by cereals such as wheat, striped sunflower seeds, and “rubbish” fat balls. CJs (according to its founder) revolutionized the industry in Britain by conducting some of the earliest preference tests where wild birds themselves were able to choose among a variety of offerings. A critical early breakthrough was the discovery of a clear preference for peanuts sourced from China over those from India or Argentina. Detailed nutritional analyses showed that the difference was in the fat content; the preferred nuts had much more oil. They were also more expensive to procure—and therefore sell—but Chris made the decision to go for the higher quality despite the additional cost. This commitment to highest-quality products was to become a defining characteristic of the CJs brand for many years to come.
Many other breakthroughs were to follow: the importation into the UK of the first black (high-oil-content) sunflowers in 1991; the development of the “ideal” table birdseed mix (less cereal, a variety of small seeds, and the important addition of kibbled peanut hearts); “peanut cake” (“the perfect winter fat source product”); and live and dried mealworms. The guiding philosophy was always that these items needed to be nutritious alternatives to the bird’s natural foods. “Seeds, beech-mast, insects, and berries—these will always be the bird’s first choice,” but they can also be unreliable. “The substitution of well-balanced high-quality foods is the next best thing,” Chris explained forcefully.
As the range of offerings expanded, they were all available via mail order. While CJs has at various times supplied products to supermarket giants such as Tesco and Sainsbury—as well as directly to BTO and RSPB outlets—overall the bulk of the business has been through mail order. That may seem fairly standard in these days of Amazon and eBay, but CJs was doing this in a big way de
cades earlier. That’s brown wrapping paper, handwritten addresses, and individually licked stamps.
My Wi-Fi, Internet, Google-dependent mind was reeling. “But how did your customers know what was available?” I asked, naively. Chris responded with a knowing look. “Ah, our catalogs!” he said with a quizzical wink. “Would you like to see?” He disappeared into a nearby room and emerged with an armful of colorfully printed documents that he de-posited on the table in front of me. “Every year since 1987. Have a look. You can see clearly how these evolved over the years.” I picked up some of the older issues, more out of politeness, but as I began to flip through the pages, I was immediately engaged. These were far more than routine presentations of items for sale; right from the start they were glossy, full-color, and carefully designed. Obviously a wide range of products was featured, but the pages were also full of original artwork, gorgeous pictures of the birds that prospective consumers would have been interested in and attracted to. More than that, there were hints, bird-watching highlights, suggestions, and guidelines on how to assist the birds themselves. They were more like a magazine for bird lovers than a catalog of products. “I am very proud of these publications,” Chris admitted. “I am convinced they were fundamental to our rapid success.”
I had to agree. The immediate impression of the catalogs was of high design and production standards with clear rapport with other bird lovers. I picked up the beautiful 1994 issue, with a radiant inverted nuthatch on the cover, and flipped it open to the center pages. Under the heading “All about Feeding” I read: “For many years it has been recommended NOT TO FEED birds between April and July. The latest research shows this to be incorrect.” A large chart displayed the twelve months of the year with horizontal bands of varying colors indicating when several common species—tits, Greenfinch, Chaffinch, Siskin—were most likely to visit British gardens. The message was sophisticated and convincing: the abundance of birds at feeders fluctuated in relation to their natural food sources, and suggested that they visited when they needed help, especially “in spring and summer when natural seeds are in short supply.” The source of this particular information? “CJ Wildbird Foods test gardens, where all-year feeding has been carried out.”
