Red Kites were familiar sights in London in Shakespeare’s day. He mentioned them in several plays, but not always with compliments. The Winter’s Tale tells a complaint that “My traffic is sheets; when the kits builds, look to lesser linen.”
They fill the ecological niche in Britain and Europe that vultures occupy in other continents. The Tale refers to the habit of stealing clothes drying outside on washing lines to decorate their nests. Such mischievousness irritated people who forgot they were virtuous scavengers cleaning streets of rotting carcasses and other detritus that encourages disease, much as our two species of vultures clean roadkill to the bones.
Poisoning and shooting brought British kites to the verge of extinction. I went in student days to see the last holdouts in mid-Wales at Tregaron Bog (also known as Cors Caron). Recovery of the inbred residue looked doubtful at best.
Two conservation organizations a couple of decades later introduced young birds as potential breeders from Sweden and Spain, where they were still common. This has been an outstanding reintroduction program. Thousands of birds thrive now in suitable habitats up and down the country. With laundry safely stowed in tumble-dryers, the Tudor complaint is redundant. I haven’t seen them yet on my return trips, but family and friends have gushing compliments for the birds that hover over fields with shallow forked tails.
The story of Red Kites is circular. They have suffered a catastrophic decline in Spain from eating poisoned bait intended for varmints. It affected other raptors, but they are recovering. British fledglings have been returned to their ancestors’ country, where we hope they become successful breeders and won’t behave badly as they are wont to do in England, putting their reputation at stake again.
The Henley Standard published a story in 2023 of a Red Kite swooping for a sandwich a girl was about to eat while sitting on a bench beside the River Thames. When it dropped a slice, it beat her to pick it up. Other kites favor croissants, and one snatched a slice of pizza from a boy’s hand. This is the price the public pays for making birds too cocksure by befriending them with tidbits.