The Bird and the Bystanders
A crowd had gathered around a washed up
Guillemot on Brighton beach. Frequent storms this winter have weakened many sea birds,
causing them to get stranded on beaches around the English coast. Many casualties were covered in oil. Rather than use their initiative and find a
solution, the bystanders faffed about. Some filmed the bird on their
smart phones; others talked at length about doing something, but then
failed to act. Humans may think they have freewill, but it is well established that they behave in highly predictable ways, especially when in groups. A phenomenon called the diffusion of responsibility causes individuals in a large group to refrain from helping a stricken person, bird or animal. This is regardless of personality, culture or socio-economic status. We are all capable of walking past someone who has collapsed in the street.
I decided to phone the RSPCA. It's fairly straightforward: one has to look them up on Google, tap the Call icon and navigate through a menu of options, before speaking to an advisor. In the meantime, a man stood by, allowing his son to threaten and throw stones at the stricken bird. I stepped in and shouted at them, but it was too late. The bird used its flagging energy to swim off into the sea. Seagulls hovered over the Guillemot, sizing up their potential meal. Nothing goes to waste in nature. That's just the way it is. The advisor informed me, if the bird had gone into the sea, there was nothing the RSPCA could do. I had to say something to the man, so I approached him for a word. For a moment, I wished a one-way plane ticket to North Korea on him. I explained that the bird now faced certain death. It wasn't his son's fault; he's only three, the man said. "But you're the adult, you should have stopped him", I replied.
I decided to phone the RSPCA. It's fairly straightforward: one has to look them up on Google, tap the Call icon and navigate through a menu of options, before speaking to an advisor. In the meantime, a man stood by, allowing his son to threaten and throw stones at the stricken bird. I stepped in and shouted at them, but it was too late. The bird used its flagging energy to swim off into the sea. Seagulls hovered over the Guillemot, sizing up their potential meal. Nothing goes to waste in nature. That's just the way it is. The advisor informed me, if the bird had gone into the sea, there was nothing the RSPCA could do. I had to say something to the man, so I approached him for a word. For a moment, I wished a one-way plane ticket to North Korea on him. I explained that the bird now faced certain death. It wasn't his son's fault; he's only three, the man said. "But you're the adult, you should have stopped him", I replied.
I had planned on photographing the starling murmurations, but the incident had upset me. After giving up on the starlings prematurely, I packed my camera away and nearly left, but for a last minute decision to walk along the beach on the off-chance that the waves had washed the Guillemot up again. Eureka! There he was, on the pebbles, trying to remove the oil from his feathers. With the first nice day in weeks, I knew I was in for a very long wait. It was a cold Saturday evening. Animal lovers had been out and spotted lots of creatures in distress. The RSPCA was experiencing heavy demand on their services. At 6.30pm, RSPCA Inspector Tony Pritchard called me to say he was 35 miles away in Bognor Regis and would be with me in an hour. I stood guard, asking people if they would keep away from the bird. I once stood for 90 minutes at the Chattri in temperatures of -13°C, so two hours on Brighton beach in February was easy. With me standing by holding a torch, Tony captured the Guillemot in seconds using a net on a pole and placed him inside a box. The bird put up a struggle, which according to Tony, was encouraging. Of course, I will never find out if the bird survived. All I can do now, apart from drink the beer in my fridge, is donate some money and hope all goes well.
Comments
Maybe the idiot will learn the hard way to respect nature. Someday, something bigger and nastier than a guillemot may extract revenge. We can but hope...
I was involved in a similar type of incident today on the bus. A young man with obvious mental health problems sat engaging in self-injurious behaviour. He was talking to voices and punching himself in the face. People were aware of him and made remarks about him being locked up and not allowed out. I felt myself succumbing to the Bystander Effect, as I am only human. But when I sat next to him and asked if everything was all right, the man calmed down and thanked me. When the man got off the bus, people changed and started thanking me. It shows that group rules prevent us from doing the right thing, even if people know they ought to intervene. When someone does intervene, people start following different rules. We are all capable of behaving this way. I just hope, that if I ever have a heart attack, it happens when I'm with just one other person and not in a large crowd!