Curlew Song Download
Edmond Peralto
Four of the songs later to be incorporated into the cycle were performed by Gerald Cooper on 6 October 1920 at the Mortimer Hall in London. The first complete performance took place on 23 November 1922, sung by Philip Wilson. Warlock wrote to his mentor Colin Taylor: "for the first time in my life I really feel pleased with something I have written. Wilson buggered up the voice part completely but the instrumentalists were fine. It's going to be given again in January with another singer, John Goss, who will do it far better".[1] The performance with John Goss took place on 31 January, 1923 at the Hyde Park Hotel.
The Long-billed Curlew is North America's largest shorebird, seen here in its breeding habitat, a western grassland. They may be the largest, but they're also among the rarest. Their numbers are declining as arid grasslands disappear. Because curlews depend on very different environments for breeding and wintering, changes in either habitat affect them. The Nature Conservancy and American Bird Conservancy are both protecting habitat in the prairies of Montana. And in Mexico, they're working closely with Pronatura Noreste.
Curlews are returning to the local moors. This big ochre wader is one of the most obvious signs of advancing spring high above sea level, even though the weather can be very wintry; I have often seen curlew back on their breeding territories huddled up in a blizzard as they wait for warmer times. Their song needs little description, rich, fluty notes carry across the moors which are still very much in their winter garb. They often call during a song flight where the male rises up from the ground and slowly glides back onto the moor on wings held in a shallow V. Curlews often arrive at a similar time to lapwing which can be seen performing their incredible acrobatic display flights from now on. Soon golden plover, snipe, meadow pipits, wheatears and ring ouzels will join the moorland chorus.
I think we can all agree our shared love for these curlews. Seeing them gives pleasure to everyone from the most experienced enthusiast to a young child out for the first time. But I cannot help but raise the issue that surely the impact of the stance you are taking at Wild Justice with the General Licenses risks threatening the existence of these very birds that you are now celebrating.
It is clear that unless there is proper predation management then we will lose curlews, all genuine ornithologists recognise that. Surely we should be focusing our attention on this rather than risking their future?
I appreciate your point on foxes, but my focus is of course on the Carrion Crow. It may interest you to know every year I see pairs of magpies predating the nests of curlew and Lapwings and in every witnessed case at fledgling stage. I appreciate I am going slightly off course so I will return to your narrative.
This week we're focusing on the plight of the curlew - a bird that would be at the top of many lists to be the UK's totemic bird - not just because our coasts and estuaries host internationally important numbers of them in the winter, not only because our hills and moors (and some lowland areas too) are places that are globally significant breeding areas for curlew but as much because their wild presence and evocative calls are part of the soul of our countryside. They have woven their existence into our consciousness, our art and culture and yet they are in trouble.
About 10 days ago I was at Seasalter on the Swale in Kent and saw pretty good numbers of curlew on the intertidal mudflats there. I wonder whether these would be breeding birds or be first /second year non breeders.
As you say Andre, curlew are an iconic species and it is so important that the UK looks after its internationally very important population, with the Eskimo curlew and the Slender billed curlew having been lost to world wide extinction in living memory.
Above the brown bogland he pipes as he fly
The song of the curlew in the morning sky
Once heard unmistakeable so flute like and clear
In that old green Country many miles north of here.
The song of the curlew a beautiful thing
A familiar voice of the Northern Spring
It echoes so sweetly in the still morning air
Of his breeding borders he makes his own kind aware.
His wife lay her eggs by bog hole on damp ground
In a place where bog cotton and bracken abound
Four blotched brown cream coloured eggs the nest hard to be found
The female's drab colours blend well with the vegetation around.
The song of the curlew is a beautiful song
One cannot mistake the bird to whom the voice belong
Above the brown bogland he fly as he sing
When the old fields are dressed in their wildflowers of Spring.
I tried to contain my excitement, but I practically ran up the hillside. Several times I lost the bird as it slowly hunted insects in its wonderful tundra camouflage. Eventually I worked my way within 100 yards and I could feel my pulse quicken. I dropped my camera bag and went into a stealthy, low, walk as I slowly closed the distance. My bird photography experience helped me to read the behavior of this bird and carefully time my approaches. The curlew was wary, but it tolerated a few memorable photographs before I let it go on its way over the hillside. I was ecstatic.
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