The quality of life is in question as never before. Intuitively, or by direct experience, we are aware that all is not well, that life does not hold as much for us as it should. Despite modern technology, or because of it, we are becoming more and more enslaved, less free. There are numerous signs of a vast and growing discontent. We see it in the hippies, the drop-outs, in youthful vandalism, in the abandonment of drug addiction. We find it in the upsurge of armed violence, in the widespread despoliation of streets and pavements, and in the countryside. It is exemplified in the absorption with pornography and the present attitude towards sex.

 

Largely, the population explosion is to blame, but there are other contributory factors. from too little communication, we suddenly find ourselves with too much. Quietude is no longer sought as a boon, and yet it remains as ever a fount for renewal and inspiration. There is a growing invasion of privacy and a plethora of petty lawmaking. Overall, there is a deplorable dearth of individuality. With our wealth of little differences, we are not meant to conform, but we are made to conform.

 

Where, then, can we turn for relief from the snares and delusions of life?

 

Let my story speak for itself. It cannot provide all the answers, but it will point a way. For I am convinced that we must come to see ourselves and the whole of creation as one. Failing this, we shall go on contributing to our own downfall. It is as though, little by little, we are lopping off our own limbs. Each time we kill needlessly, we are killing something of ourselves. We pay immensely for our follies, for our lack of sympathy and understanding.

 

The truth, which we have yet to learn, is that we are no better, and have no more right to life, than the four-legged creatures and the birds and fishes, or the trees and flowers and grasses. As a form of life, we are more powerful, that is all. To our discredit, we do not use our power aright, and there is a growing awareness that our doom is assured unless we change our ways. And time is running out for us.

 

As human beings, having dominion over all creatures, we fail to realise our fullest potential while reserving for ourselves any form of exclusiveness. Our human aspirations, our claims to love and affection, go only so far as we permit them to go.

 

So where do we stand, singly and collectively? Before going on to elaborate and give the reasons for my own attitude towards non-human life, to the birds in particular, there are a few points of primary concern that I should like to place in their right perspective.

 

Firstly, there is the essential time factor, most important to us because of the strong emphasis we place upon time in our lives of ceaseless hustle and bustle.

 

"Time is money", it is said. Or, "We cannot find time for the birds or anything of that sort". Yet hours are frittered away daily in pursuit of worthless aims. And so, it is said, with some justification, that time is the destroyer of the people.

 

Yet time has an elastic quality, as I know for myself. In the years of which I shall be speaking, I held a responsible job in industry. In addition, I helped with the housework and gardening, and contrived to keep two cars serviced and on the road. Meanwhile I baked breadloaves, cakes, scones, biscuits, and delighted in making jams and marmalades - a 'glamour cook', so my wife called me. Then there was a long-legged dog pestering me for walks at all hours of the day, every day. Also, I kept my hand in with writing, in preparation for later years, when it would become a full-time occupation, preserving me from retirement.

 

So, every hour, every minute, was filled with activity, from rising at early morning until going to bed. But not so filled that there was no time left over for my wild bird friends, who gave so much in return.

 

Despite the enormous pressures to which we are subjected, ever increasingly, we can find time for anything if we really wish to do so, if the desire is there and the will is strong enough.

 

There are others who say bluntly that they do not have the time to waste on birds or anything else of the kind. For myself, I do not count the time a waste. Whatever I give of my precious, monied time, comes back to me with something akin to compound interest.

 

This I can say in all truth: my life as a whole has benefited immensely from my deep and active interest in nature; for there is not a single thing in life that is so important that it can stand alone, or so all-absorbing that it cannot do with the enrichment of contrast.

 

As for the birds, they have no conception of clock time, but they have a wonderful sense of basic time and know, in all seasons, when I am due to put in an appearance. I have to be gone from the house at early morning, and they know this. I return when the day is spent, and they know this also. They have a sun-told, heat-told awareness, which we lack.

 

Apart from the time factor, there will be all sorts of discouragements and disparaging remarks aimed against those who would align themselves with nature. It is a distressing thing about the common populace that there are so many who take exception to what other people do, especially if there is seen to be any unspecified gain accruing.

 

For myself, I do not mind what aspersions are cast, as long as I am left free to go my own way, irrespective of the opinions of others. However, I should not like the young, or any who are easily influenced, to be dissuaded by the derisiveness and intentional hurt of others. If you do not follow the common line, you are said to be ‘queer’. In an earlier era, the term ’cissy’ would have been used.

 

Do not be misled. For the sake of impressionable youngsters, I will state my own case clearly, not from any sense of self-aggrandisement, but so that my motives shall not be misinterpreted. Otherwise, there may be some who are lost in a maze of bewilderment, not knowing who to believe. Also, if I do not make this point abundantly clear, then the birds may lose the support of those who, as a result of outside influence, believe that close intimacy with creatures of the wilds is non-U, and definitely OUT at a time in history when the accent is upon organised games in the rough and tumble of the playing fields.

 

Therefore, with modesty, and not with the least trace of bombast, I can state that I have taken part, and still take part, in real adventure out of doors. At one stage in my life, I climbed all eight of the Virunga mountains of the Congo, going alone and without transport, and lacking knowledge of the native languages. Resulting from the success of this outlandish venture, l set out for Everest while it was yet a virgin peak and managed to reach the mountain and climb a fair way up it after a long and arduous journey on foot through Sikkim and a remote part of the forbidden land of Tibet. Later I became well known in South Africa for my exploratory treks along the extremely rugged Tzitzikama Coast, between Port Elizabeth and Cape Town. I have taken part, too, in the hurly-burly of South African politics, in the dangerous years following the Sharpville Masacre. These are my credentials, as it were.

 

Especially for the young, let me say; Do not be influenced away from your innermost promptings. If you feel inclined toward nature, then go out and fulfil the urge to live with nature; if you consider it more ennobling to save life rather than to kill unnecessarily, then go and do, accordingly; if you feel like keeping company with birds and animals as well as humans, then cultivate such friendships without fear or favour.

 

The important thing is for us to be ourselves, unaffected by the whims and fancies, the taunts, and jibes of others. For we cannot be other than what we are without causing distress to ourselves. Only that which is solidly based in truth, set upon bedrock, has lasting quality. So, we who feel disposed to go along with nature should not heed others when they deride us and seek to turn us from our true inclinations.

 

Of course, it may be said against nature lovers that we are anti-social. Here again we need to be sure of ourselves and clear as to our intentions. One does not have to turn away from people in order to turn towards nature. In fact, I am distrustful of those who do so. People may hurt us, they may cause us distress in many ways, but we should hold a balance in all things. Indeed, it is possible and desirable, in a well-ordered life, to live with people and at the same time-cultivate friendship with the birds and animals around us.

 

Nevertheless, it is a fact; and not a descent into cynicism, to say that lasting human friendships are rare indeed. They are rare because of the common propensity towards self-interest, and the leaning toward criticism, which are specifically human failings. On account of them, few are the friendships that survive. What do we want to friend who are critical of us, who will not accept us as we are?

 

This makes it all the easier to accept the fact that friendship with wild birds, especially those that are migratory or seasonal in their habits, may last only from one breeding season until the next. It is enough to know that in this brief span of life there can be an uncritical acceptance of one another and never an unkind word or a cruel hint - only a measure of give and take, if not of sheer unadulterated joy which can be retained through the years, helpfully, providing only that the essential sincerity of purpose is there to serve as a binding agent.

 

Before gong any further, I wish to make it clear that the object of my many wild bird friendships has not been for the purpose of impressing others, but to satisfy a purely personal urge. My so-called Bird Diary has been turned to use in these talks, but this was not the original intention. Like most diaries, it set out to be a personal and private recording of events too good to be left to the vagaries of an unsound memory.

 

When endeavouring to transcribe events into words, it is impossible to convey the absolute depth of feeling stirred by the original experiences. For this reason, there can be no entire sharing of emotional experiences, no substitute for direct participation.

 

Nevertheless, you can, if you will, enter into the spirit of things with me. The actual experiences were mine, but now there is the desire to share them, as far as sharing is possible. I count them too sublime to be kept hoarded away in miserly fashion.

 

At this point, l wish to make it clear that I do not approve entirely of the term ‘bird watching‘. I will use it this once, and not again. It smacks too much of something done by halves. If we are to know the wild creatures intimately, then we need to do something more than watch them with desultory, half-hearted interest. We have to give something of ourselves if we are to get anything in return, and this we cannot do easily or flippantly. Our approach must be without reserve. It is not a case of expecting-something in return, but of working towards a healthy reciprocity. '

 

Ours must be the first move, because we have so alienated ourselves that fear stands between us and the wild creatures. We have to restore tolerance, gain understanding, which then rebounds to our benefit, comes back to us as ample reward.

 

For real intimacy we need to come to terms with them and live at their level. Not at a lower level than our own, but at their particular level. The ‘lower animals‘ - this is another term which I refuse to use.

 

Birds are necessarily shy and timid, the small ones because of their physical frailty, the large ones because they present tempting targets to man, the incorrigible hunter. It should prompt our shame that in nearly every instance it is man who is the principal enemy, and not the species whose allotted role it is to prey upon others.

 

No matter what some hunters may claim to the contrary, true kinship is not gained by extending one hand in friendship while holding in the other a gun. These are our only real weapons of strength – tolerance, sympathy, understanding. Although friendship with the wild creatures is something intangible and rare, it can be a splendid and intensely stimulating experience, as I shall set out to prove in subsequent talks.