Richard Hopper has sailed the Amazon, been ice breaking in
the Maldives and has even broken down surrounded by crocodiles in Australia.
He’s seen all the culture and wildlife of the world, yet still prefers the
company of his birds in Leicester’s countryside at his Tropical Birdland Park.
In 1976, at just ten years old, Richard found
himself in his friend’s garage being introduced to his first tropical birds and
a nest of budgie eggs about to hatch. “From that moment on I just fell in love.
I knew what I really wanted and that was just to try and breed endangered birds”.
Now, 37 years later, I find myself walking a wooded path alive with the squawks
of huge and vibrant birds of all kinds, with a, albeit slightly less fresh-faced,
Mr Hopper waiting at the end of it.
We sit ourselves
down in the parks café, which is filled with pictures and statues of endangered
birds amidst tropical plants, and Richard immediately launches into how it all
progressed from a couple of budgies in his friends garage. “My parents, John
and Madeline, were always very good with wildlife, at 16, when I told them I
had such a passion for birds, they retired and sold their factory which
produced machinery and bought a small bungalow in the middle of scrap land”.
Work immediately
began on building aviaries and converting the lands three stables into a shop
of sorts, buying and selling birds. Whilst tugging at his hair, Richard
explained, “I didn’t like the trade aspect of it but I had to do something to
try keep my head above water. The birds would get stressed and start pulling at
their feathers from being moved so much”.
After that, with
the help of a £40 a week government grant to start the business, the park
opened in 1984 with the key goal of breeding and releasing endangered species
of birds. However, Richard encountered issues he didn’t expect. “Thieving was
bad. In those years exotic birds were worth silly amounts of money in the pet
industry. We were burgled 13 times. It just crippled me, financially and
emotionally”. Proving to be a resourceful character, Richard explained how he
adopted rescue dogs and trained them to act as security, eliminating the
problem. With a chuckle and a parrot-like click, he added, “Apart from the odd
time when people have managed to sneak small birds out in their coats”.
The parks issues
didn’t stop there though. Richard’s birds began to die slowly and painfully
from a disease neither he, nor the vets, could work out. “I did my own studies.
I found out about geophagy, the need for birds to eat soil or clay. I saw
photos of thousands of Macaws licking clay off a cliff”. After this discovery,
Richard took flight to Peru and Ecuador and returned with some of the clay,
after tests it was given to the birds; “it was a miracle, it just fixed
everything”.
Looking at the humble
man sat in front of me in his little café, twiddling his thumbs, I found it
hard to imagine Richard scaling cliffs surrounded by flocks of wild birds,
which made his next story even more remarkable.
On a trip to the York Peninsula, “The big
spikey bit at the top of Australia”, Richard and his family hired a campervan
to see the wildlife of Papa New Guiney. “I stupidly reversed onto this lovely
beach, it’s full of salt water crocs so you can’t swim, but I’m thinking we’ll
have a ‘barbie’, only there’s a ledge I didn’t see and I reverse right over it”.
Suddenly his trip to Peru sounded remarkably tame to me. “The back wheels are
hanging over and I just think to myself, “Fuck, I haven’t seen anyone in days”
my family are in the camper van and there’s these crocs not too far off so I go
looking for help”. Luckily the day was saved by a friendly local two miles away
and a fine ‘barbie’ was had by all.
Tales of his
adventures seemed to revitalise Richard and I no longer saw him as a tame and
settled bird keeper. However, his thoughts soon migrated back to his passion
and his face darkened as he elaborated on his aim of releasing endangered
birds. “My dream of releasing them into the wild was more or less smashed when
I discovered all of the red tape involved”. He began pulling with his hair
again as he explained how government procedures made it virtually impossible
for “the little guys” to return their animals to their natural habitats. “For a
start I don’t have any initials after my name. You have to prove so much, you
have to put the birds through hell, you have to get the attention of two
governments who’s top priorities aren’t parrots, I gave up”.
I started to worry
that his ambitions hadn’t been very well planned out from the start and were
nothing more than a childhood fancy with clipped wings but again, Richard
impressed me. “I had big, grandeur dreams, but the idea was planned and
nurtured. While travelling I met some people who lived in lodges in the jungles
of Belize, where a dam had knackered the scarlet macaws habitat.” He explained
how together, they planned to use the land as a release haven where birds that
Richard bred could be transported and released safely, but again, “It just
couldn’t be done, not while the governments are as they are, I’m too small and
they’re too big, I could not do it”.
Richard seemed to
pick up on how disheartened his story had left me and, if him rolling a
cigarette and donning his coat was anything to go by, wanted to draw our
meeting to a close. His parting words were incredibly humbling. “I’ve lived a
good life, I’ve been to Costa Rica, Borneo, Kenya, everywhere, and I’ve gotten
married on the Say Shells. I tell my daughters, “Don’t worry about me, I’m
happy with what I do, I’ve done everything”. I love my family, I miss my mum
and dad but I’ll forever be thankful to them, without them Birdland wouldn’t
exist. Even after all these years, I still love being with the birds every day;
I can’t even think of doing anything else, I wouldn’t want to”.
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