Why Waders? - by Max Wright

A peewit, a green plover, a tewit, a chewit, a peasie, a pyewipe, a lappy or a peasiewheep?

Globally wildlife is in crisis, from tigers to turtles, wildlife populations from vastly different environments and areas are disappearing fast; with habitat loss, climate change and disrupted ecosystems all driving declines. The UK is no exception with 173 of 235 assessed species (73.6%) now classified as Amber or Red on the UK’s Birds of Conservation Concern List. In some ways more worrying, is our growing disconnect from the natural world; a poll from songbird survival in 2023 found 1 in 4 primary school children couldn’t identify a Robin. So, given fewer and fewer people can probably identify wading birds, why do they matter so much and why are we all so passionate about them?

Waders are an incredibly diverse group of birds, covering a huge range of habitats across the UK, from wetlands and saltmarshes to arable farms and heather moorland. They can also provide a range of ecosystem services, ranging from pest control to nutrient recycling and acting as biological indicators. But many of these waders used to be far more common and widespread, and this is reflected in the huge cultural impact they left, albeit one that sadly much of our population has forgotten. Even in places where they are now almost non-existent; you don’t have to dig very deep to see how deeply woven waders are into our cultural history. The legend of St Beuno (dating from the 7th Century) for example, tells the tale of why it is so hard to find curlew nests. The story goes that when St Bueno lived in Clynnog Fawr in North-West Wales, he would walk across the sea to Llanddwyn with his book of sermons to preach. One Sunday he dropped these into the water and couldn’t recover them, however, upon reaching land he found a Curlew had recovered the book and the supposedly pious bird was standing guard over it. Overwhelmed with relief St Bueno prayed for the protection of the bird evermore, which was supposedly granted, leading to the birds now famously cryptic nests.

Similarly old, is some of the surviving folklore surrounding curlew, although, perhaps unsurprisingly given their mournful call, they have often been considered a bad omen. This is in stark contrast to the Christian depiction of the bird typically representing resurrection and hope (a more accurate representation to my mind). Nonetheless, folklore dating from at least the 16th Century, tells that hearing calling curlew in the night, aka the ‘seven whistlers’, were wailing spirits foretelling of death or calamity. Although in the Old English 10th Century poem The Seafarer, the protagonist speaks of seeking comfort in the ‘voice of the curlew, instead of the laughter of men’. But clearly, curlew calls resonated deeply with many of our ancestors on this island.

Another of our charismatic waders, the northern lapwing, was once so abundant and widespread it has the most common names of any bird (and probably any species) in the country. Depending on whereabouts you are they could be called: peewits, green plovers, tewits, chewits, peasies, pyewipes, lappys or even peasiewheeps (to name just a few!) They were such a prominent part of the countryside that there are still places named after them, like Pyewipe in Grimsby. But these enigmatic birds didn’t just capture the imagination of people naming the places they were found; they are also featured in the works of some of the greatest writers from our history. Chaucer wrote of lapwing being ‘full of treacherye’ in a Parliament of Fowls back in 1381, and they are also regular features in the works of Shakespeare in the late 16th and early 17thcenturies, turning up in The Comedy of Errors, Much Ado About Nothing and Hamlet. As anyone who’s witnessed a lapwing’s spectacular, tumbling display will tell you, it is not a sight (or sound) you easily forget. Nor is it a surprise they left such an indelible mark on the likes of Shakespeare, it is, however, a stark reminder of what is at stake if we lose such species. A bird that was once such a staple part of our countryside that it was mentioned in the 16th Century Geneva Bible, (as a historically ignored feature of the ‘do not eat’ list). That lapwing should begin to be forgotten by much of the public is not just a tragedy for nature and our connection to it, but also for our cultural identity and links to our history.

But it isn’t just curlew and lapwing, all our waders are an incredibly special part, not just of the natural world but of our cultural identity in the UK. When people think of wildlife and conservation, they often think of exotic animals from afar, but just as incredibly special species can be found here at home. Everybody deserves to be able to experience a displaying lapwing, hear a melancholy ‘Curleee’ as a curlew drifts away, or witness a roding woodcock croaking like a frog with wings while it flies overhead. Those experiences shape you for a lifetime, and if we can give more people that opportunity, perhaps we can not just recover our wader populations but maybe start to repair our cultural connection to our native wildlife as well.

Max Wright

GWCT