The great Apus

A traditional herald of summer in folklore, Common Swift’s screams and speedy, sickleshaped manoeuvres around our suburbs and landmarks mean that its presence escapes the attention of few, and most birders appreciate the poetic augury and backstory of this otherwise common, though declining, highly aerial bird.

Now we have two new books, each excellent and distinctive in their own way – and each exploring the species’ history of myth, research and observation, and decline and conservation.

Sarah Gibson’s volume is the most factual and objective, and concentrates on conservation efforts across the species’ range. However, first we are led through expositions on the fragility of swifts, their evolution and close relationship to hummingbirds, an overview of the genera in the family Apodidae, ancient beliefs about their lifestyles and their physical adaptations to constant flight and very infrequent perching. Early observations and studies from Socrates to Gilbert White and David Lack are covered in engaging detail, right up to Derek Bromhall’s Devil Birds documentary about the Oxford Natural History Museum colony.

Much of the book is given over to the story of modern research and conservation efforts. The author’s route is straightforward, but we get the opportunity to savour many wayside fruits along the way. We learn about the almost 200,000 swifts that have been ringed in Britain (5,000 in Oxford alone), the lifecycle of their parasitic louse-flies, the mating on the wing and the “soft and hushed intimate cries” swifts make while doing so. We discover the still-scant details of what the 65 million plus Eurasian swifts get up to during their African winter, and the helpful preservation actions taken by advocates in London, Scotland, Italy, Switzerland, Northern Ireland and Wales, with digressions into the gradual spread of Little and Whiterumped Swifts in southern Spain.

I would have liked more on Beijing’s dynamic tracking and conservation efforts, and the black-and-white photos are interesting enough to have warranted better reproduction, but this is a useful and up-todate tour through Common Swift’s current status under the watchful eyes of humans.

Charles Foster’s pocket-sized volume is a more personal evocation of the wonders of

I first heard about naturalist and scientific illustrator Maria Merian via a Calm sleep story (yes, really). This remarkable woman carefully documented the process of metamorphosis in butterflies, describing the lifecycles of 186 insect species. Yet today she is largely unknown.

Merian doesn’t feature in this new title by Rosemary Low – there is a limit to how many women could be included, after all – but there are many more stories like Merian’s own that are here.

These women – most of whom I’ve never even heard of, let alone know much about – are true pioneers. The book is broadly divided into two sections: heroes of the past and heroes of today. The latter were on the forefront of conservation in its infancy, fighting to protect species before people even realised the need to do so. They were also battling sexist attitudes and dangerous situations.

Many things have changed today, but many things haven’t. Women still face dangers in the field and female representation is still lacking throughout conservation – otherwise that second section wouldn’t be needed.

All the women here deserve to have their stories told in full, as do many more who didn’t make it into the book. By necessity each entry is short, providing a snapshot of lives covered. But it provides a place to start and I’ve already downloaded books by or about many of the women here.

Women are still fighting for proper representation in conservation – and all areas of society – but things are changing for the better.

This book goes a small way to redressing the balance. Rebecca Armstrong