Bird School: A Beginner in the Wood

by Adam Nicolson

Step into the hide with the bestselling and award-winning nature writer Adam Nicolson for a glorious new encounter with the British wild.

Close to Adam Nicolson’s home in Sussex, there is a forgotten field overrun by bracken and thicketed by brambles. It is the haunt of deer and many birds – nightingales, the occasional cuckoo, ravens, robins, owls and in summer the sweet-singing warblers that come north from Africa to breed in English woods.

This gorgeous book charts his attempt to encounter birds, to engage with a marvellous layer of life he had previously almost ignored. He wanted to look and listen, to return to ‘bird school’ and see what it might teach him.

He built a small shed amongst the trees with nesting boxes and bird feeders. Cocooned inside, season after season, he got to know the where they nest, how they sing, how they mate and fight, what preys on them, what they are like as living things.

Beautifully written and woven through with philosophy, literature, science and a sense of wonder, always conscious that that this is an age in which the natural world is under siege, Bird School pulls back the curtain on seemingly ordinary birds, taking a long, careful and concerned look at our relationship with the wild.

Genres: Nature, Nonfiction, Birds, Science, Memoir, Animals, Natural History

416 pages, Kindle Edition

First published April 10, 2025

About the author

Adam Nicolson writes a celebrated column for The Sunday Telegraph. His books include Sissinghurst, God’s Secretaries, When God Spoke English, Wetland, Life in the Somerset Levels, Perch Hill, Restoration, and the acclaimed Gentry. He is winner of the Somerset Maugham Award and the British Topography Prize and lives on a farm in Sussex.

Reviews

[Stephen the Bookworm · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a truly special book ; a beautiful exploration into the world of birds.

A mediation on the world of our avian neighbours

Adam Nicholson decides to take a closer look at the birds around him on his Sussex farm and educate himself into their world.What follows is an incredible read ; the daily habits; the migratory patterns; nesting ; survival ; scientific and biological studies - composed with heart and vital details to educate and inform.

Chapters are broken down into specific birds and bird types - birds we are familiar with ( if you are of certain generations ) and the rise and decline of certain species.

The recognition of birdsong ( I’m now addicted to the Merlin app as well) and the beauty of every bird.

This is a book for beginners in birdwatching but I’m sure will provide further information for already established watchers.

The wonder and beauty of birds astounds but there is also a call to arms - a need for us to recognise the perilous nature that birds are under; the decimation of their habitats and food . The impact of climate change and man’s ever changing desires to control all around highlights further concerns for the future of birds - the statistics are horrifying

But at the heart of this book is the desire to help us all appreciate the special and fragile relationship we have with the feathered community around us.

Highly recommended - a natural history book of 2025

[Mir]

Not only are the "wood cuts" AI, they're not the correct birds.

[Kerry Pickens · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was written by a British farmer who purchased a piece of land that was no longer being worked. He built a bird observatory on the property, and documented everything he learned about birds complete with diagrams and maps. If you are seriously interested in learning about birding, this would be a good book to read.

[Tiarnán · Rating 5 out of 5]

An actual review of the book, since the others seem to be hysterical non sequiturs about the supposed use of AI art in a preliminary publisher' copy:

A brilliant book, a warm and gentle introduction to the hobby/obsession of birdwatching, outlining the habits, appearance and ecological status of various common or less-common English birds.

This work is a labour of love, with the author transforming his farm into a more wildlife friendly site over two decades, and constructing a unique bird hide from which to observe his subjects. At points overwritten, but that's expected given Nicolson's style.

A great, light read with both emotional and scientific depth, and an ideal gift (I received it for a birthday).

[Roger Morgan-Grenville · Rating 4 out of 5]

Detailed, diligent, fascinating and, very occasionally, frustrating. Any sentence that begins 'a conceptualised plea for de-conceptualisation may be paradoxical' seems strangely out of place in a nature book, but it gets better and better from that early point. Chapter 12 (on the effects of Man on birds) is one of the best summaries that I have read.

[yana]

Returning this one without starting it and I was so excited initially.

The ARC had ai generated image(s) that advance readers identified and gave the publisher crap for, rightly so. The publisher replaced the offending image for the general retail release, but I'm no longer interested in dedicating my limited time to a book that may or may not be using real images of birds. There's a few 'public domain' and 'stock' photos printed in black and white at such a close crop that I honestly cannot tell if it's a real photo or not.

You can find a bit of the discussion around this on bluesky if you look for the author's name, the book title, and the word images.

Considering the fortunes of the author and the publisher, you'd think they could have swung the cost of legitimate artists and photographers' work for a book about appreciating the natural world in its full context instead of falling for the trap of 'the tyranny of the view'. Oh, the irony. It's so loud, it's drowning out the dawn chorus.

[Mark · Rating 4 out of 5]

Adam Nicholson is a nature writer and lives on a large, sprawling farm in Sussex. He enjoys the wildlife on his farm but one day realizes he doesn’t know much about the birds that live and pass through his little world. He builds a shed in a wooded area, populates it with bird feeders and bird houses and proceeds to put himself though his own “bird school”. Nicholson literally lives in this shed for nearly a year, studying and taking notes. This book describes his experience and he goes into massive detail about birds, along with the many environmental challenges that our bird friends deal with every day. The author is a fine writer and researcher but reading this account can sometimes be exhausting, so be forewarned if you only have a casual interest in birds and nature.

[Kate Yates · Rating 5 out of 5]

An important book - lots to takeaway from it! Primarily that bird feeders aren't helpful and possibly contributing to the decline of some bird species. Also - if you don't have much outdoor space it's about stopping unhelpful practices, if you have land it's about doing the helpful things. Ideally of course we'd do both!

[Bookhuw · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not quite my thing this, but the section on bird feeders has given me pause for thought

[Julia Eisenstein · Rating 2 out of 5]

I looked forward to reading this as I am an avid avian fan. But this book was a slog to get through. It was disjointed and provided only tidbits of interesting information about very few varieties of birds. The book begins with the author building what amounts to a large tree-house through which birds come and go while he is present in their midst. Just his presence interferes with the natural movements of the birds which is problematic. The author adds literary components (e.g. poems) throughout while he is describing the birds and their habitats. Why no mention of Poe when he is writing about ravens?

[Paul · Rating 3 out of 5]

An engaging book about all aspects of many common UK birds' lives written using literary references and descriptions that give useful insights. However, it is a book to dip into over time rather than read cover to cover.

[Julie Stielstra · Rating 3 out of 5]

British writer Adam Nicolson is a polymath of some privilege. A graduate of Eton and Cambridge, he is also a baron (though he prefers not to use the title). He has written admirable books on landscape, nature, the making of the King James Bible, whaling, and the lives of small creatures who live in the tidepools. Among other things.

He confesses to having overlooked one class of wild beings much closer to home: birds. He decides he wants to learn more about them, knowing the process will be “long, slow, and bitty.” For birds “move too fast, are too far away…. [they are] a “flickering, transient, uncertain presence.” Or, as one birder I read about cried out in dismay: “First I couldn’t see it, then it disappeared!” Nicolson takes us along on parts of his journey to watch, identify, and hopefully understand the birds; specifically, the birds who inhabit his family farm Perch Hill. He has what he calls “The Birdhouse” built on his property: a neat little hexagonal hide with narrow windows all the way round, from which he can peer at the birds who swoop in and out of the trees, shrubs, and the multiplicity of feeders he sets up around it.

First he must come to some serious understanding of the land, the woods, the fields and meadows of Perch Hill. He goes down a rabbit hole of the history of the place; he locates maps from 1600, the names of the individual fields, and a copy of the deed of ownership of his farm dating from 1419, during the reign of Henry V (the “Once more unto the breach, dear friends” king).

Enter the birds. Nicolson starts with wrens, the tiny brown, flitting creatures easy to spot from his birdhouse and who seem to acclimate to his presence and even move into the hide when the weather is harsh. He launches into the details of a wren’s life: courting, breeding, nesting, parenting, singing, living and dying. The narrative is interspersed with snatches of poetry: John Clare is a favorite, plus Shakespeare and Dickinson. This establishes the pattern of the chapters: each devoted to a particular type of bird: songbirds (which encompasses many different species), robins, owls, ravens, buzzards (we call them hawks in the U.S.), tits, and blackbirds. American readers may find some of the birds unfamiliar, even though some are related to species that we do know here: tits are similar to chickadees, but Nicolson’s robins are a type of flycatcher, and very different from ours, which are thrushes.

Two final chapters are devoted to the effects humans have on the world’s birds, and Nicolson’s own consideration of what he can do with his own piece of the world to be as hospitable to birds and the natural world as possible. This might include how his woods are managed, whether he can replant the hedgerows that offer food and shelter (very expensive!), and whether putting out birdfeeders is always a good idea. His wife, gardener Sarah Raven, contributes a chapter on plantings that are especially helpful. Finally, there is a “Roll-Call of Birds in Hollow Flemings, Perch Hill,” a selection of field-guide-type notes of physical description, habits, songs, and current status of the population in the UK. These are often charming, and idiosyncratic: his note on the call of the Carrion Crow says this bird “finds it difficult to stop talking.”

As an irregular but enthusiastic birder myself, “charming but idiosyncratic” sums up my thoughts on this. I found the title a bit misleading: this is not necessarily a book that will instruct or guide a reader with little to no experience in observing birds. Nicolson’s chapters are deeply researched and detailed: there is a wealth of information to be gleaned by people who already know a wren from a chaffinch, or one blackbird from another. It may be a bit too much for those who don’t. It’s not “Birds for Dummies,” nor upper-level academic work, but somewhere in between, and for that audience, Nicolson is a pleasant and knowledgeable teacher.

I thank NetGalley for an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

[✨️ Louise Allen ✨️ · Rating 5 out of 5]

🐦 Bird School: A Beginner in the Wood — A Quiet Revolution in Feather and Thought

Adam Nicolson’s Bird School is a masterclass in attentiveness — a lyrical, philosophical, and quietly radical exploration of what it means to truly see and honour the birds that share our world. Set in a forgotten field in Sussex, overgrown with bracken and brambles, Nicolson builds a modest hide and returns, season after season, to observe, listen, and learn. What unfolds is not just a study of birds, but a transformation of perspective — a shedding of human arrogance in favour of humility, curiosity, and care.

The writing is exquisite: poetic without pretension, grounded in science yet alive with spirit. Nicolson weaves literature, mythology, and ecological insight into a tapestry that feels both timeless and urgently contemporary. He doesn’t simply describe birds — he invites us to enter their world, to understand their songs, their migrations, their rituals, and their fragilities. In doing so, he reminds us that birds are not background noise or decorative flourishes, but sentient beings with agency, memory, and meaning.

One of the book’s most powerful undercurrents is its moral stance. Without polemic, Nicolson makes it clear that killing birds for sport is not tradition — it is cruelty masquerading as culture. It is a relic of entitlement that has no place in a world facing ecological collapse. Such acts not only brutalise the birds themselves, but also rob other animals of food, disrupt delicate food chains, and perpetuate a mindset of domination over stewardship. The book urges us to move beyond outdated practices and embrace a more compassionate, intelligent way of living with nature.

Bird School is not just a celebration of birds — it is a call to action. It asks us to feed them, shelter them, protect their habitats, and above all, to respect their right to exist free from harm. It teaches that conservation is not a distant policy but a daily practice, rooted in love and attention. To watch a robin build its nest, or hear a warbler return from Africa, is to witness resilience, beauty, and the sacred ordinary.

This book is a gift — for bird lovers, for nature writers, for anyone who has ever paused to listen to the wind in the trees and wondered what lives within it. It is a reminder that the wild is not elsewhere; it is here, and it needs us — not as conquerors, but as kin.
❤️✨️🪺

[Ailsa · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a lovely introductory book to birding and the birds of Britain. Beautifully written, if at times a bit over-the-top in its prose (it was beautiful; I enjoyed it even as I had to work hard), the author shows just how much attention he pays to the nature world and to his precious birds. Reading long chunks of it at a time, one gets a bit frustrated by the many slow, intimate descriptions of the same forest, but they're also delightful, and wouldn't be an issue at all if it's the sort of thing you were reading more periodically. The amount of information about birds conveyed is extraordinary - I will not look at birds the same way again - and, already knowing a fair bit about some of the key avian players in this book, I felt my fondness for them only grow with how the author described and wrote about them.

Each chapter looks at a specific theme or aspects of birds' lives - surviving, singing, flying, etc. - and several were incredibly insightful. Not keeping up with the research done into bird biology, I learnt a lot. Likewise, the references to literature kept this from purely being about the biology of birds; their histories alongside us, and how we respond to them, are just as important. The last chapter, on man's impact on the natural world, was a bit trite in the way all nature books can't avoid the elephant in the room, and the reverent tone of the overall book meant that that specific part was a bit preachy. But the author still found new things to say, such as looking at the impact of bird feeders, not just human interference.

Overall, it was a lovely book to read while sitting in the garden, watching the blue tits and collared doves flutter in the trees above my head, or overlooking the garden while the rooks came down to dig for worms. Educational journey aside, reading it was just a lovely experience. The writing is beautiful, the illustrations are engaging, and the story of the birds is surprisingly intimate, in ways that will change how I look at them in the future.

[liz · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really liked this book! I didn't learn as much as I hoped but the writing was so good :) also love how it pointed out the problems with feeding birds as unhelpful charity and advocated for rewilding and leaving nature to feed itself. I have always been suspicious of manicured gardens and bird feeders only encouraging specific kinds of birds.

As someone who lives in London, I find the lack of bird diversity in the nature that we do have creepy. Well, I am outraged that I have grown up in a time of massive bird decline and long for a biodiverse Britain where birds have habitat and space to exist and do their own thing. This book highlighted the rise of the overhunting of songbirds in Europe which is impacting migratory bird numbers in Britain, and just how many birds here are African migrants.

[karissa✨ · Rating 5 out of 5]

"birds don't easily offer themselves up and in that way differ from our modern experiences in which the wanted or desired is almost constantly available. birds move too fast or are too far away. we summon their alarm. their concealment is occasionally interrupted only by a flickering, transient, uncertain presence. 'nature likes to be hid', heraclitus wrote in Ephesus 2,600 years ago and as such birds are the opposite of a landscape view that lays itself out in a kind of horizontal, placid seductiveness. birds refuse that subjugation. they are often on the run, intent on a life in which the human observer is merely a threat or annoyance."

[Michele · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fine book, a mix of the author’s story, bird information, literary essay and conservation needs and perspective. I listened to the audio, in part because reviewer said the book is illustrated with inaccurate woodcuts. Even so, although I really enjoy audiobooks I think this should be read because so much of it deserves a bit of “steeping.” I also did not care for the performer, whose tone I felt came off as pretentious. That said, it is a fine book for anyone who cares deeply about birds.

[Debbie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great read. UK focused book about all things birds and what have done and could do to improve (or not) the environment for bird life. A beautiful read.with a sense of wonder and digressions into history, philosophy and more. Thank you to the author. Thank you to #netgalley and the publisher for an ARC.

[Ninemiki · Rating 5 out of 5]

It took me a little while to get into the (audio)book, but if you are a bird geek and can hardly wait in spring for the first songbirds to start singing or for the swifts to return, then this is exactly the book for you.
I especially loved the examples of bird songs in the last chapter - really helpful!

[Geraldine]

A DNF for me. There was some interesting stuff in here, but it was just too much hard work wading through the long flowery descriptive passages and excerpts from other books.

[Amanda · Rating 5 out of 5]

After a bumpy start with the first two chapters, I absolutely loved this book! I borrowed it from the library, but will be buying my own copy!

[Jan Kapoor · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found it poetic and scientifically informative at the same time. Someone needs to write a book like this about birds in areas of the United States.

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hardly a beginner. He seems to know his local birds already. I was hoping for something a bit more practical, as the title suggests.

[Pierke Bosschieter · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Bird School, Adam Nicolson embarks on a deeply personal and richly detailed exploration of birds and their place in a rapidly changing natural world. Known for his lyrical prose and immersion in place, Nicolson turns his gaze upward — and inward — as he seeks to overcome a lifelong indifference to birds and develop a deeper relationship with them. This book is part memoir, part natural history, and part cultural reckoning, told from the vantage point of a specially built hide — his “absorbatory” — in the rough fields of Perch Hill, Sussex.

The premise is deceptively simple: Nicolson wants to learn about birds. But the execution is anything but ordinary. Using a curriculum of his own making, he draws on a range of influences, from the diaries of Gilbert White to the ecological theories of Timothy Morton, weaving together science, poetry, music, and philosophy. Each chapter uses specific bird species to delve into broader themes — robins and territory, tits and breeding, ravens and intelligence — in what becomes a poetic study of avian life and its intersections with human culture.

One especially engaging element is Nicolson’s use of modern tools such as the Merlin bird ID app. He describes its transformative role in helping him recognize and connect with birds, calling it “a modern miracle.” For many readers who use Merlin themselves, this inclusion resonates with the familiar experience of technology enhancing a deeper engagement with the natural world. It’s a subtle reminder that birdwatching, once considered a solitary and analog pursuit, is now assisted by crowdsourced data and machine learning.

Yet Bird School does not shy away from the darker context in which it is set. The book is haunted by absence: the birds that never arrive, the missing voices in the dawn chorus, the devastating statistics of species decline. Nicolson lays out the losses with clarity — a 90% fall in turtle doves, halved populations of tawny owls and song thrushes — and addresses the multifaceted threats: habitat destruction, climate change, intensive agriculture, and even well-intentioned but potentially harmful bird feeding.

This last issue, bird feeding, is handled with particular nuance. Nicolson reflects on the £250 million spent annually in the UK on bird food, and how such practices may, paradoxically, harm the very creatures they aim to help — by spreading disease or favouring bolder species over the shy and ecologically vulnerable. The question emerges: do our actions, even those born of love, always serve the birds’ best interests? His answer is not prescriptive but reflective, encouraging a more thoughtful and ecologically attuned form of stewardship.

What elevates Bird School above many contemporary nature books is Nicolson’s refusal to insert a personal crisis into the narrative. While his transformation is central, it is not framed as therapy but as education. He is not seeking healing, but understanding — and the result is both intellectually and emotionally satisfying.