Malcolm Barker: Silence of the summer tells sad story of our vanishing birds, bees and butterflies

It was then that a dreadful thought dawned. Was the legacy of our so-called lucky generation, those born in the 1930s, to be this kind of sterile place, a land where no birds sing?

It could happen. Our garden at home is almost as bereft as the Rococo Garden near Painswick in Gloucestershire. Birds have diminished in numbers and variety, bees are rare, and butterflies, which once

fluttered in their hundreds round buddleia bushes, have all but disappeared.

We mourn the corncrake. Its persistent cry, "creux, creux", is no longer one of the sounds of summer. For all their noise, these were secretive birds that hid themselves in hay meadows, nesting on the ground, and hatching their young in time for them to be fledged before the crop was put to the scythe or reaper.

The cuckoo has also been silenced. The male birds' cries once chimed in woodland throughout Yorkshire. It is now years since I heard one, and that was at Darnholme, near Goathland, in the North York Moors, a precious but distant memory. A countryside writer suggested recently that the best chance of hearing a cuckoo was on the Isles of Scilly, but even there they were in decline.

By drenching the land with herbicide, and poisoning the air with insecticide, we are on the way to achieving a wipe-out in the course of 70 years or so. By getting rid of the insects, we have starved out the birds. A simple recollection from childhood brings home the point.

At one time, flies were everywhere. They performed endless aerobatics round electric bulbs, and their numbers seemed scarcely diminished by the fate of those who unwisely touched down on the sticky strips of fly-paper that our parents suspended from ceilings. Now flies are no longer considered a problem.

It is difficult to believe that the damage to our wildlife can be reversed. The BBC devoted a couple of hours last Sunday evening to drumming up funds for its World Wildlife fund. The programme was introduced by a woebegone David Attenborough, and we heard about the plight of any number of creatures, ranging from orang-utans to sea-horses. Perhaps charity should begin at home. Who speaks for the house sparrow?

An answer to that question is the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. In its latest mail-drop appealing for funds, the Society reports that its Red List of endangered species includes 52 British birds. In response, it is trying to achieve a bird-friendly change in farming practices, which may be an unattainable goal nationwide given the constant pressure on farmers to produce more food at a cheaper price. However, evidence that some progress may be made is provided by the recovery of the corncrake in Scotland, the result of the RSPB working with farmers and crofters. Now the Society is trying a discreet re-introduction to England.

The National Parks should have a part to play. The North York Moors Park has a budget of 7m a year, and employs 139 staff, a staggeringly large number. I remember when it seemed to be run by two men, Mr

Statham in the office, and Mr Bell, a ranger on the ground. It is currently engaged on the eradication of Himalayan balsam and Japanese knotweed on the River Esk, a task that necessitates the use of

herbicide.

In the Victorian age, Yorkshire was to the forefront in bird

preservation. The Sea Birds' Protection Act, which reached the statute book in June 1869, provided a close season from April to the end of July to species nesting on the cliffs at Bempton. This was aimed at the "sportsmen" who shot at the birds from boats.

The vessels, mainly from Bridlington, sailed close to the cliffs and sounded their hooters to scare the birds from their nests. When they rose, guns were fired indiscriminately into the white ascending clouds, and great slaughter was achieved. As a result, young birds starved, and eggs were left unhatched. It was mainly purposeless killing, although some plumage found its way into ladies' hats. Razorbills, fulmars, kittiwakes and all the rest found a champion in Christopher Sykes, who was an East Riding MP for 27 years, but made only six speeches, and

asked but three questions.

However, prompted by local naturalists, he did stir himself on behalf of the birds to good effect, for his Act put paid to pot-shot mariners at a stroke.

Alas, no such simple remedy is available to resolve the current threat to our wildlife. Perhaps we need a Royal Society for the Protection of Flies and other insects at the bottom of the food chain.

Malcolm Barker is a former editor of the Yorkshire Evening Post.