G is for Goldfinch

Goldfinch (Carduelis carduelis)

Who can resist the allure of the goldfinch? Its glorious plumage, with the namesake bright yellow wing-bars and crisp white spots on black wings;the smart face mask of scarlet, black and white, and its delicate ivory bill offsetting a body the colour of golden sands.  Its voice is befitting of its appearance, with a tinkling contact call and a song described as “a liquid trickling ramble”¹.  Best of all they are rarely found alone, and a flock of goldfinch is called a ‘charm’ , defined as ‘the blended sound of many voices’ from their constant calls to each other rather than the character trait². The cheerful intermingled chorus of several goldfinches is one of my favourite bird songs.

The goldfinch is yet another bird that has expanded its range in Britain in recent history.  Its UK population status went from Amber in 1996-2001 to Green from 2002 onwards*.  Traditionally a bird of the open countryside in open grassland, fallow fields and weedy margins, it has now won the hearts of many a suburban dweller. This is largely due to people feeding the birds in their gardens and the increase in variety of bird foods offered. Nyger seed is often recommended as a specialist food for these finches, since it is small and narrow, emulating their natural diet, but those in my garden far prefer the plumper sunflower hearts. Despite their small size, they will hold their own against the larger sparrows and chaffinches on the feeders.

The goldfinch is famous for its natural diet of teasle and thistle seeds, indeed the scientific name Cardeulis comes from Carduus for thistles.  They also forage on other small seeds such as knapweed, dandelions, and alder and birch trees as well as a few insects.  Bouncing flocks will descend on fields of these plants, with individuals daintily poised on and acrobatically reaching around a chosen seed head.
Their narrow bills are well suited to prising food from these, but there is more going on than meets the eye. Instead of simply plucking the seed, these finches have stronger jaw muscles to open their bill than other species, which they use tp prise the seed sheath apart. They then pick out the seed with their tongue. Fascinatingly, studies have shown niche separation between the sexes. Males have slightly longer bills to feed on teasles, whilst females prefer thistles¹. Therefore you can judge the sex of a goldfinch flock by what they are feeding on (which is otherwise difficult as both sexes are equally showy).

Goldfinches have peculiar nesting habits for a finch. Rather than tucked away in a hedgerow, they prefer to build on the ends of a thin branch, out of reach of larger predators. The nest is stereotypically cup shaped with high sides to prevent the eggs or chicks from falling out in branch-shaking winds. Less charming is the offspring’s habit of caking the outside of the nest with droppings to deter predators!  This is another opposite to the normal passerine strategy, as most species carry off droppings to avoid predators detecting the nest.
As with most birds, young goldfinches are not as striking as their parents, being a streaky grey with no head markings. They are still recognisable by their wing bars.

Perhaps unsurprisingly,  goldfinches were highly- prized cage birds and especially so in Britain during the 1800’s when the capture of native birds was at its peak. Millions were collected to supply this industry, to the point that wild populations were seriously affected.  In Worthing, Sussex alone, an estimated 132,000 goldfinches were captured in 1860³. The forerunner to the RSPB, The Society for the Protection of Birds made the protection of goldfinches one of their main missions.
Though capturing these birds was already illegal under the Protection of Birds Act (1880), the law was cemented by the Wildlife and Countryside Act (1981) and capture has largely stopped (Though unfortunately they are still illegally caught by some).
The legal practice of keeping captive-bred, ringed and registered goldfinches continues. This includes the breeding of ‘goldfinch mules’, hybrids between goldfinches and canaries which combine the goldfinches’ colouring and sound with the canary’s’ singing prowess. A goldfinch mule in full song can be seen here.

Whilst I’m sure these caged goldfinches bring great joy to many, I’d rather watch this gem of a bird living free on my garden feeders and flying in charms across Britain.

The European goldfinch is not the only species. There are three more types in America. The American goldfinch,  a handsome bird of bright yellow with a black cap and wingtips,  the Lesser goldfinch, which is greener and rather like a male siskin and Lawrence’s goldfinch which is grey with a yellow breast. In my opinion, none of these are as stunning as our own!

*What does this mean? Go here

References

1-Dominic Couzens. (2012) Garden Birds Confidential. Bounty Books.

2- Fransesca Greenoak. (1979) All the Birds of the Air. A. Brown and Sons.

3-Ian Newton. (1975) Finches. Collins. Cited by: Mark Cocker. (2005) Birds Britannica. Random House.

F is for Fulmar/Fulmarus

Fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis)

At first glance, the fulmar appears to be a gull. It’s wide grey wings, white body and yellow bill and general behaviour are certainly very similar, but it is a tube-nose, related to shearwaters, petrels and the famous albatross. On closer inspection the fulmar glides on stiff, straight wings with occasional rapid wing-beats, unlike the graceful tapering, swooping wings of a gull, and has a charmingly dumpy body, round head and stubby bill. And of course, the bill has a tube nostril, which excretes salt from its diet and the seawater it drinks.  Like gulls, fulmars also have a ‘furrowed brow’ look, which helps protect their eyes from the sea’s reflective glare.

The fulmars name is a corruption of the Norse ‘Foul Maa’ meaning foul gull¹, from their infamous defence strategy of projectile vomiting  fish oil onto their attacker, apparently up to five feet away! Unsurprisingly, this sticky, smelly defence is an effective deterrent against any predator with a sense of smell or cleanliness.  If you really want to see it in more detail, go here. Unbelievably, the people of St Kilda island, Scotland, once used ‘fulmar oil’ as a medicine²!

For good or for bad, fulmars are full of character. Once, at pendennis castle, Cornwall, I witnessed their excellent flying abilities as a pair were gliding backwards and forwards on the wind  next to the ruins. At the last second  they would switch direction or push off with their feet, narrowly avoiding being dashed against the stones.  Whether it was for pure joy or flying practice, it certainly looked like they were having fun!  I witnessed this again with friends on the cliffs of the Pembrokeshire coast, and we almost suffered a fulmar to the face as we watched from the ledge.
On a very different side to their character, the fulmar is surprisingly high in the pecking order for its size, possibly due to it’s defense. On a sea fishing trip being trailed by a fulmar and several gulls, even the great black backed gull gave way to the fulmar when offal was thrown overboard, despite the gull being almost twice the fulmar’s weight.  They have also been photographed fighting off skuas for food.

Asides from oily fish fulmars also feed on squid, crustaceans and carrion, either from the surface or by diving to a depth of 3 meters in the open sea³. Hence they are mainly pelagic (open ocean) birds though they may be found along the coast most of the year. They are not fussy nesters, favouring cliffs but also using burrows, walls, roofs and even open ground, sometimes a little inland from the coast. Here they will raise just a single chick in a bare nest. This breeding strategy pays off as fulmars are one of the longest-living birds, reaching 30-50 years, though they only start breeding at around 10 years old³.

The fulmar has an interesting history in Britain. In 1870, the only British breeding fulmars were on the remote North-west Scottish islands of St Kilda. Here they were a staple food for the islanders. By the 1970’s they were breeding over almost the entire British coastline ^1,3,4! Oddly enough, this wasn’t a spread of st Kildan birds, but a population explosion of the more adaptable Icelandic fulmars. Increased food resources from fishing vessels and whaling is likely a major cause of this spread, but the warming of the North-East Atlantic and even genetics have been suggested as other factors. So next time you’re holidaying on the coast, look out for this pugnacious yet playful bird among the gulls.

E is for Egretta

Little Egret (Egretta garzetta)

If I was typing this just a few years ago, the little egret wouldn't have featured on this blog, yet it is now one of my favourite British birds. As any birder will know, the Little Egret is a newcomer to the UK within living memory, and one that has been welcomed with open arms. Once a rare visitor from the Mediterranean, they rapidly spread North under their own power during the nineties and noughties and are now common as pristine white muck in our wetlands. They are the bird which has shown the largest increase in the UK in the past decade or so ¹. Despite being so commonplace now, they still bring a touch of the exotic.

They are undoubtedly very beautiful birds. They are dainty compared with grey herons Ardea cinerea , with pure white plumage, delicate trailing display feathers and gracile proportions giving them an angelic appearance. However, they still portray the dinosaurian nature of all herons as soon as they open their beak!

The reason why egrets suddenly chose to recolonise Britain isn't wholly understood. Climate change leading to milder winters, and greater protection under the EC birds directive allowing them to spread across Europe have both been proposed.  They've certainly fit in. This may partly be due to their separate habits to grey herons (our only other common heron species).  Egrets pluck small fish and aquatic invertebrates from the water. They won’t be seen gulping down a prize carp or small mammal. This more common diet may explain why they are often seen in company, though it doesn't stop them squabbling. They are also more specialist in habitats, preferring to fish in shallow water with a sandy or silty bed, in standing water, large rivers, estuaries and coasts. The reason for this is their feeding behaviour. A strutting or flying little egret shows its bright yellow feet on the end of black legs. They shuffle their flashy toes along the bottom to startle hidden prey into fleeing and showing itself.  They will also chase after more obvious prey, such as shoals of fish fry, in short bursts of gangly-legged jogs.

Whatever the reason for the little egret’s re-invasion of Britain after such a long absence, it seems to have set a trend among the heron family. It’s cousins, the Great Egret Ardea alba * is being seen increasingly frequently in Britain (Including by me and some friends in Ham Wall, Somerset in 2012 and 2013, and magnificent birds they are too!), along with the Cattle Egret Bubulculus ibis . The purple heron Ardea purpurea, night heron Nycticorax nycticorax and little bittern Ixobrychus minutes have bred here. Fortunately, our other long-standing resident, the Bittern Botauris stellaris, is still increasing. Obviously this is exciting for birders, even those by now bored of the little egret.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that the little egret is new to our waters, so what’s all this talk of ‘recolonising’ after ‘absence’ then? 

This is because it was once as common here as it is today. It was only during the Medieval Period in the 1600s that little egrets became extinct from Britain. Like other big birds that Britain lost during this time, such as  the Bittern, Common crane Grus grus  and Great bustard Otis tarda, they were eaten into oblivion at prestigious banquets.  A banquet to celebrate the enthronement of George Neville as Archbishop of York at Cawood Castle in 1465 included 1,000 egrets²! Climate change during the little ‘Little Ice Age’ (a cold period during Mediaeval times), also did not help this bird at the Northern edge of its range.

Egrets continued to be hunted in Europe, not for eating, but for that most sickening business of decorating humans with bits of animal. Their beautiful display plumes, and even whole skins, were highly prized for ladies hat-making. So highly prized that egret plumes became more valuable than gold, fetching about £875 in modern terms per ounce or 28 grams. Each egret only produced around 1 gram ³.Though another graceful wetland bird, the avocet has fame as the RSPB’s symbol, egrets were the reason the charity was started in the first place in 1889 when women rightly protested against this brutal and unnecessary practice. It was providential that the first major influx of egrets to the UK was in the RSPB’s Centenary year⁴.

This little white heron has acquired a contradictory status in our islands, being both an exotic newcomer to birders and a re-established native with a place in human and conservation history for natural historians.  I think I speak for us all when I say we are glad to have them back!

In desperation to compile enough information, this is the first article I've written where I had to use Wikipedia (God help us all!), and for similar reasons is also the longest article so far.

^*Though, as recently recognised, not a particularly close cousin. The term “egret” just refers to a white heron, it doesn’t refer to a particular related group.  Interestingly, the species name “garzetta” translates literally into “a little white heron” in Italian.

References

1- Louise Grey. (2013). Little Egret arrives in Britain thanks to global warming. The Telegraph Online. Available from:  www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/earthnews/6872249/Little-egret-arrives-in-Britain-thanks-to-global-warming.html

2-Stubbs, F. J. (1910). The Egret in Britain. Zoologist 14 (4): 310–311.

3- Robert A Robinson. (2013)Profiles of birds occurring in Britain and Ireland-Little Egret Egretta garzetta  [Linnaeus, 1766]. Available from: http://blx1.bto.org/birdfacts/results/bob1190.htm

4-Southend RSPB. (2013) Little Egrets in Southend . Available from: http://www.southendrspb.co.uk/egrets.htm

D is for Dunlin

Dunlin (Calidris alpina)

The dunlin is one of our commonest waders in both freshwater and saltwater habitats. It is a callidriid sandpiper, meaning it has the short legs and bill and dumpy body which characterise this group. This, combined with its skittering gait make it frankly adorable. The dunlins diminutive nature is well illustrated by some of its local names; the sea mouse (Lancashire and Dumfries) and the Sand mouse (Westmorland)¹.

This small wader is quite distinctive in its bright summer plumage, with golden-brown wings flecked with black “V’s” and a smart black patch on its pale belly. In winter, however it becomes the delicate grey of most wintering sandpipers and is more difficult to distinguish. If you want to confound yourself even further, there are several races of dunlin which visit Britain, each with slightly different markings and body proportions. The race C.a.arctica simply passes through Britain in autumn on migration to West Africa; The race C.a.shinzii breeds here;  whilst the race C.a. alpina overwinters^2,3.

Dunlins spend a lot of their time frantically feeding to fuel their high metabolisms, plucking insects, curstaceans and other small invertebrates on or near the surface of sand, mud and shallow water. My wonderful first experience of a dunlin was watching it dodge the surf along a sandy beach in Cornwall, almost at our feet and completely focused on feeding.
When resting they huddle together, often with other waders for safety in numbers and to conserve body heat. Indeed, another local name, ‘the plover’s page’ refers to their habit of following flocks of golden plover Pluvialis apricaria, especially during the breeding season¹.

Despite being so common most of the year, the dunlin is very restricted in its breeding habitats, nesting only in sphagnum peat bogs and machair grassland, both rare habitats in the UK which have suffered historical declines due to changes in man’s land use. As a result, the majority of Britain’s dunlins are migrants from mainland Europe.

Perhaps surprisingly for a wader, breeding dunlins ‘sing’, with a scratchy, almost croaking character (recordings of which can be heard here ), and they join in the dawn chorus on their breeding grounds.

So there you have it, a whistlestop tour of the dunlin. A common, unassuming, yet quirky little wader skittering across our shorelines.

References

1-Fransesca Greenoak. (1979) All the Birds of the Air. A. Brown and Sons.

2-Dave Appleton. (no date) Dunlin Calidris alpine. Available from: http://www.gobirding.eu/Photos/Dunlin.php

3- Robert A Robinson. (2013) Profiles of birds occurring in Britain and Ireland-Dunlin Calidris alpina   [Linnaeus, 1758]. Available from: http://blx1.bto.org/birdfacts/results/bob5120.htm

C is for Cormorant

Cormorant (Phalocrocorax carbo)

This common seabird appears to be a relic from the time of the dinosaurs. Whether it’s standing upright on a rock showing it’s reptilian, curved neck and scale-like wing feathers or flying high and looking every bit like a pterosaur. It evens swims ‘nessie-style’ ,body submerged and head held high on its long neck. Everything the cormorant does seems weird. For a start it is definitely more at home in the water than in the air, yet unusually for a water bird it can perch quite happily in trees with its webbed feet.

Despite its appearance, the cormorant is not a particularly ‘primitive’ bird (though it used to be thought of as such). It belongs to the order Suliformes, which also includes the gannet Morus bassanus. The earliest modern bird groups are actually the galliformes or game birds (grouse, pheasants etc) and the anseriformes-ducks, geese and swans. In Britain, the similar shag (I know, I know!)  Phalacrocorax aristotelis is smaller, lacks the cormorant’s white throat patch and has a quiffe-style head crest. While we’re talking classification, the name ‘Cormorant’ actually comes from the latin ‘Corvus marinus’ meaning sea raven¹. Of course, it is not a corvid (from the crow family) at all, but it’s clear to see how this big, black bird got the name.

Cormorants are a familiar sight along rocky coasts and estuaries. Their presence in freshwater areas such as lakes, canals and large rivers such as the Thames and the Severn (Much to the distress of some freshwater anglers), is actually fairly recent . One angler who approached me whilst volunteering for the RSPB even thought that cormorants weren’t native!  They feed mainly on bottom-dwelling fish such as flounder and some shrimp which they chase down underwater and gruesomely swallow whole with a neck-stretching gulp. Shags, on the other hand feed on free-swimming fish, so the two species live alongside without competition (this is known as niche separation in ecology).

However, cormorants seem less fussy in fresh water, taking trout and other course fish, which has made them angler’s enemy number one.  Although they are a new predator on the block and should be considered when conserving endangered species such as salmon, it is unlikely they have a big impact on overall fish populations*. I’m going to stick my ill-informed neck out here and offer two opinions: 1-That cormorants are reducing fish numbers to natural, sustainable levels in otherwise overstocked fishing lakes and/or 2-That anglers are simply envious as they watch cormorants catch fish with ease whilst they wait in their chairs for hours.

The cormorant is well adapted for its semi-aquatic lifestyle, with wide webbed feet for propulsion, a streamlined body, a hooked beak for snagging slippery fish, and even eyeballs that can be ‘squeezed’ flat so it can see equally well under water as it can in air!

But-get this. The cormorant isn’t waterproof! This is where the cormorant’s distinctive wing-spreading pose comes from. They have to dry off their wings. Why would a swimming bird have plumage which gets soggy?
The answer is, whilst the structure of the cormorants feathers reduces waterproofing, it also helpfully reduces bouyancy so it can dive more easily².  The wing-spreading behaviour allows the cormorant to make this compromise.

So, to the sea raven. Fisher extraordinaire, the envy of humans and conqueror of all waters. Long may they spread their wings over our coasts and wetlands.

*Due to the basic principle that predators will not drive their prey numbers to unsustainable levels.

References

1- Fransesca Greenoak. (1981) All the Birds of the Air. Penguin.

2- Paul Ehrlich, David Dobkin, and Darryl Wheye. (1988). Spread wing postures. Available from: http://www.stanford.edu/group/stanfordbirds/text/essays/Spread-Wing_Postures.html

B is for Buzzard/Buteo

Buzzard (Buteo Buteo)

The buzzard is commonly known as the ‘tourist eagle’ by birdwatchers, because people holidaying in the mountain wildernesses of the UK in search of our largest raptors are often fooled by the buzzard’s appearance. To the informed birdwatcher the buzzard used to be exciting in itself as they once occurred in only a few rural areas in the UK, a victim of the accidental and deliberate persecution of all of Britain’s raptors. I was always excited to see them on my holidays to Cornwall.

Thankfully you don’t have to go out on a limb to see buzzards any more. In fact they’re one of the UK’s greatest conservation success stories, being our most common raptor,  but they have largely been eclipsed by their more enigmatic cousin, the Red Kite Milvus milvus . Nicely for me, it is one of the changes I’ve seen happen within my lifetime. Their broad frame can soar into view even in the middle of towns and agricultural fields across the nation.

The buzzard’s success is largely because they are not fussy eaters. They’re not too proud to pass up carrion, worms and beetles, alongside reptiles, frogs, small mammals and birds. They are often thought of as ‘lazy’ or mostly scavengers (possibly why Americans named vultures after them). In fact they are capable and powerful predators, taking down woodpigeons and rabbits, comparatively large prey and are even recorded preying on kestrels¹. Anyway, even the ‘proud’ eagle is an avid scavenger, as are most other large predators. Being such a generalist is a winning strategy, because it means that buzzards don’t have to be territorial to find enough food (except during the breeding season, when they also have to feed chicks), and as a result you can see gatherings of buzzards in some places, gliding on thermals or, as reported by one of my university friends, searching for worms in ploughed fields.

Buzzards even show a kind of “lekking” behaviour when courting, as several individuals from nearby areas come together in a flock to display to each other (I was astounded to see 18 buzzards doing this over my University campus!).

It also turns out that being common gets you lots of friends. Buzzards became famous in the news this year as plans to control them on pheasant shooting estates were proposed by our wise (irony!) Environment Secretary. The plan was to make it legal to destroy buzzard nests and take them into captivity if they were thought to be causing a problem by eating young pheasants which the gamekeepers released into their forests. This was shocking, since a) “control” by gamekeepers was a major reason that most British raptor species declined in the first place and b) all UK raptors are equally legally protected from such “control” by the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981 (the tourist eagle has the same protection as real eagles*). Not to mention that c) independent research found that raptors in general were only responsible for around 3% of pheasant deaths, how much of this is buzzards is unknown².

Fortunately for the buzzards, they were well-known and loved by Joe public, who rallied an appalled and vociferous opposition against the plans, and won their case, hands-down only a few days after the press release. Thank God for democracy!**
So let us celebrate the buzzard. The common raptor for the common people. Long may they circle our skies!

There are two other “Buzzards” in the UK. These are the rough-leeged buzzard (Buteo lagopus), an occasional visitor from the arctic which has a white, black-tipped tail and feathered legs, and the honey buzzard (Pernis apivorous), a summer visitor from Africa which is not a true buzzard and prefers wasp larvae to bee’s honey.

*Except, importantly it is illegal to destroy an eagle or osprey’s nest at any time of year since they use them annually. Buzzards do not, so their unused nests are not protected.

**AN UPDATE -Since the time of writing it has surfaced that Natural England issued licenses to destroy 4 buzzard nests. This was conducted in secrecy, but fortunately has recieved media attention and started further public outcry

References

¹ Darren Naish. (2012) Raptor vs Raptor. Available from: http://blogs.scientificamerican.com/tetrapod-zoology/2012/04/26/raptor-vs-raptor/

² BASC (no date) Birds of Prey and Pheasants at Release Pens. A Practical Guide for Game Managers and Gamekeepers. Available from: http://www.basc.org.uk/en/utilities/document-summary.cfm/docid/0ED97AE3-2C65-4B50-B6976A55717073D2

A is for Apus

                 Common Swift (Apus apus)

This bird is such an accomplished flier it has earned the adjective “Swift” as its common name and Apus apus , greek for “no foot” as its scientific one, since it does not land from the day it fledges. It is often confused with the swallow but is in fact completely unrelated, being closer to nightjars and  owls *and so are a great example of convergent evolution.  Not to mention the swallow’s aerial abilities pale in comparison. No self-respecting swift would be seen perching on a telephone line. They eat, drink, sleep and mate in the skies, spending most of their life far above in the open air but also moving at incredible speed  kamakazi-style between buildings and other obstacles ( I even witnessed one vertically-slaloming telephone wires!) . They are the peak of avian adaptation to the skies. Healthy adult swifts are so un-catchable they only have two predators in the British Isles, both falcons; The hobby Falco subbuteo, swift-like in itself and a famed dragonfly catcher, and the peregrine Falco peregrinus, which includes swifts as a significant part of its diet in urban areas¹. For some footage of a hobby catching a swift, see this video. The catch is at 04:15.

The swift’s body is well adapted for life on the wing, with stiff sickle-shaped wings making them resemble little, dark aeroplanes and forked tails giving them great steering. Their wide mouths simply scoop up the ‘aerial plankton’ of tiny flies, beetles, wasps, aphids, thrips and money spiders ^ᵻ as they speed along. They do have tiny feet which tuck under their feathers like a plane’s undercarriage, but with sharp curved claws for gripping onto the vertical surfaces such as walls and cliffs where they nest. Their four toes are oriented with one pair facing forward and the other backward(known as zygodactyly), a feature which they share with their hummingbird, nightjar, and owl relatives.

As a late migrant to Britain, the coming of swifts (for me at least) epitomises the summer.  The screeching of males in high-speed chase of a female and their mass flocks around gluts of insects like flying ants are familiar sights and easily observable in urban areas where they temporarily fill the skies with activity.

You might think that such a master of the air, which has adapted to our urban habitats, would be unaffected by people. Unfortunately the swift’s Achilles heel is the need to nest in high, inaccessible crevices which are decreasing as old buildings are levelled or repaired, whilst new buildings often have no suitable nest sites. Coupled with this are the unknown problems in Africa facing many of our summer migrants, perhaps caused by climate change. You can help solve the former problem simply by installing a ‘swift box’ on your property, which can be bought or made from instructions which are available online. In addition, try and encourage authorities  to install them on existing and/or planned buildings in your area. Whatever you do, be sure to visit Swift Conservation for more information and/or to donate to the noble cause of saving Britain’s swifts.

I hope that this unorthodox entry for the letter ‘A’ has boosted your appreciation of this amazing British bird and inspired you to gaze up at the skies this summer.

*In fact, hummingbirds evolved from a swift-like ancestor, becoming accomplished fliers in a very different way.  The resemblance is clear if you compare them and think about the hummingbird with the beak trimmed. They were probably originally attracted to flowers by feeding on pollinating insects, which they still do alongside nectar-drinking.

^ᵻ  Those tiny black ones that inextricably get caught in your hair, actually parachute through the air on long lines of silk.

References

¹Edward J. A. Drewitt and Nick Dixon (2008). Diet and prey selection of urban-dwelling Peregrine Falcons in southwest England. British Birds Available from: http://media.wix.com/ugd//1ab07f_c7e226ec23e479a8218b52c35f7c39bb.pdf