Praise for predators
‘PREDATOR’, Mary Colwell tells us, comes from the Latin for ‘plunderer’. The allusion is an important one. Animals which eat other animals have been much maligned by human culture, castigated in folklore, persecuted as vermin and categorised as pariahs. Colwell’s book, Beak, Tooth and Claw, however, seeks to redress that balance by presenting carnivorous beasts and birds as vital parts of the ecological and cultural landscape of Britain.
In the introduction, we learn about the ‘predator paradox’ which, as Colwell explains, means that we only see certain species as predators, based largely on how we feel about the prey they consume. After a scene-setting chapter that takes in a nocturnal bee study in Africa and a trip to the caves of Kents Cavern in south Devon, Colwell turns to explore a menagerie of critters: from foxes and badgers to corvids and eagles.
The choice is, by the author’s own admission, biologically arbitrary, but, as she explains, these happen to be species with which humans have had an especially intense relationship. The chapters are lively, personal and informative, as Colwell fleet-footedly tracks her quarry through different geographies, histories and habitats. We learn that the greatest density of foxes in the UK is in Bournemouth and that Red Kites will grab all manner of chintzy goods to furnish their nests. Along the way, we also meet a diverse cast of humans, from gamekeepers to ornithologists, biologists to philosophers, each of which live entwined lives with the species they pursue.
Colwell’s vignettes nicely combine natural and human history, picking out the habits of the furred and feathered, population trends, cultural encounters and contemporary conundrums – threaded through which, sadly, is a frequent tale of endangerment. The last chapters take a slightly different turn, focusing in on endeavours to restore threatened species – wildcat, lynx and wolf – and at habitat wilding schemes in Scotland. Finding ‘hope in a time of extinction’, Colwell argues, demands that we as a species remember how to live with predators, which involves a moderation (some might say transformation) of human approaches to leisure, diet, consumption and landscape access.
Beak, Tooth and Claw certainly does not shy away from taking a position on such issues as grouse shooting, intensive population management, disease control and rewilding. Colwell’s prose is always lively, passionate and informed. At times the pace can feel a little broad-brush, but this doesn’t take anything away from what is an engaging study of the importance of predators in the British landscape and (especially) of the value of conversation in biodiversity conservation.