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Dear Sir David,

Many years ago as a boy, my mother went to great lengths to teach me about the beauty of the Australian bush. We moved here from the USA’s Northwest in 1979 when I was aged 7, and she instantly fell in love with the bushland here. From her I learned of the amazing diversity and immense scope of flora and fauna in this great country, and this fascination I garnered from our time in the bush still stays with me, some 33 years later. As I grew, this developed into a fascination with the natural world in all its forms, an interest in science, and an appreciation of the fragility of our dear planet.

But what really piqued my interest in nature and the natural world was on Sunday evenings, watching your documentaries, seeing things about the world which amazed, inspired and sometimes shocked me. I’ll never forget the first time I saw a killer whale lunging up onto the shore to snatch a seal from the beach, or the startlingly beautiful time-lapse photography you developed in “The Private Life of Plants”. To me, your documentaries were (and still are) the ultimate form of escapism, but instead of escaping into fantasies about dragons and spaceships, I escaped into reality, which is the best gift anyone can have bestowed upon them.

Obviously it is impossible for any one man to show the entire world to an audience during a lifetime, but your view on the world was sufficient for me to continue to learn, to seek out information on plants and animals, and to actually find them in the wild too.

If I had to choose one moment you showed me that had the most profound effect on my understanding of the natural world as it stands right now, I’d say the footage of the Australian lyrebird, mimicking not only the sounds of other adjacent species, but also that of the sounds of chainsaws and camera shutters. To me, this one short sequence encapsulates the ingenuity of nature, and also the way that mankind is continually encroaching upon the habitats of the natural world. A true moment of awe and melancholy.

I share your realism about the fate of the world we now find ourselves in. But here, where the truth of the situation is not a pleasant one, you manage to bring your message with a sense of infectious optimism, even when things can seem so dire. If we heed your words, and the words of those like you, we may be able to bring ourselves back from the brink, though as we all know, extinction is permanent.

I hope you know, as I’m sure you do, that your continual work in educating the world about the sheer breathtaking splendour of the natural world has been inspirational, not only to me, but to millions of people worldwide. Your enthusiasm and willingness to share what you’ve learned is an inspiration to us all.

These words are really only scratching the surface of what you have brought to the world. But what your work has done is bring to us an understanding of our fellow earth-inhabitants, our collective histories, and our prospective futures. You’ve revealed our nature. You’ve taught us, and learned with us.

Most importantly, you’ve shown us ourselves.

I cannot thank you enough.

Martin S Pribble

Martin S Pribble writes a blog at http://www.martinspribble.com/, mostly on the topics of religion, science, feminism and politics and tweets at @MartinPribble. He lives and works in Melbourne, Australia.

Dear Sir David

You have, without a doubt, always been my biggest inspiration.

As a child, I had a passionate interest in the protection and care of the environment. I was involved in Scouts for eight years, developing my knowledge and love for the Australian bush. But it was through watching your documentaries from an early age that I developed a desire to ensure that my working life could be in some way devoted to the natural world that surrounds, protects and nourishes us.

It was largely due to studying your work at the BBC and the pioneering attitude you applied to documentary film-making that led me to complete my undergraduate degree in film and media studies. I then carried this interest into the world of youth and independent publishing, politics and eventually the human rights and development work that I now undertake.

When I started my political career in the employ of one of the Australian Greens Senators, my father reminded me of a simple yet powerful memory. He showed me a drawing I made at the tender age of five. It features giant towering ghost gum trees, dwarfing a small, lopsided figure. In scrawled writing next to this reads ‘wen I grow up I want to bee a park ranger’. I know that you were the inspiration for this dream. As my father said at the time ‘you’re pretty close.’

I just want to thank you for the beautiful, respectful, engaging and incredible contribution you have had to mine and others lives.

Thank you.

Tim Norton

Tim Norton is the Digital Campaigns Coordinator at Oxfam Australia. You can follow him on Twitter at @norton_tim or check out his blog, Monkey Jedi 

Dear Sir David,

There is a creek near our house where I like to unleash my ‘inner Attenborough.’

A profusion of birds reside or migrate through there, probable spill-overs from the wetlands across the freeway. Their variety is intoxicating, especially for someone who grew up madly in love with animals. Mind you, I had not paid much attention to birds when I was a child. It was not until the Life of Birds series that I realised there was more to birds than the sparrows and pigeons that flew over the rooftops of my tropical, suburban childhood.

Now, when I go for a walk along this creek southwest of Melbourne, I make a game of spotting as many different birds as I can. There are swamphens, wrens, parrots, cormorants, herons, magpies, and yes, pigeons. A family of black swans, as well as a couple of pelicans, are known to occasionally feed in the area.

I sometimes bring the camera. I channel you as I take photos – walking softly, fluidly, with no sudden movements, watching for tell-tale signs amongst the eucalypts and reeds. I familiarise myself with the trees they favour. As you know, it can be bloody hard to take pictures of birds. They fidget. They hide. They fly away.

But I bring to mind your patience, your stillness. Your respect for the creatures upon whom you’ve intruded. I learn, through application, what it means to be observant, to wait for the world to open up to you.

As it reliably does.

I thank you for this – this manner of engaging with the natural world without the frills and frippery that now characterise the average Discovery or NatGeo program. Thank you for ensuring that the animals and plants remain the stars of the show.

I also thank you for reigniting in my young adulthood (which is when I truly discovered your work) the sense of wonder and curiousity that had been dampened by university education, and well, life. I thought that I’d lost that little girl who dreamed about becoming James Herriot, fixing up injured animals. I thought she no longer wanted to be Jack Hanna and work with exotic animals at the zoo. I thought she was no longer interested in how the natural world works.

But just by being yourself, in your acclaimed and monumental body of work on film, you gave me – and millions of others – permission to also be ourselves. To be curious, to seek knowledge, to be awed, to engage with the living creatures with whom we share this improbable planet, to be invested in their continued existence.

Thank you, Sir David.

Love,

Fatima Measham

Melbourne writer and former teacher, blogging at This is Complicated. You can find Fatima on twitter as @foomeister. Some of the birds that she has spotted can be seen here: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjwAeqtN

Dear Sir David,
We’ve never met, yet I feel that I must thank you for the influence you have had on my life. Some others probably know me as @andanin on Twitter, or have seen me lurking in the background of the scientific social media revolution. I’m a molecular biologist and PhD student at Deakin University in Geelong. I have a strong background in animal biology, and up until my final undergraduate year, I had a very strong desire to work in the ecology field, in particular in arid zone research. This passion has since turned to molecular nutrition and translational medicine thanks to the influence of an exceptional lecturer who is now my supervisor, but that is a story for another day.
Like many of my generation, I grew up watching your work, absorbing with great interest your multitude of programs on our planet’s various fauna. Coming from the Australian desert, at school we often watched snippets of your programs on our native animals’ adaptations, continued to watch as a student at university, and now watch as an interested adult, speaking volumes for your ability to communicate with people of any age group, and any background. Through watching your fascinating documentaries, I learnt to appreciate life in all its forms, forever bringing home spiders and frogs, making friends with injured birds, and scrambling around in the spinifex-laden paddocks pretending to be observing all manner of dangerous, sharp-toothed carnivores. More than one kangaroo or perente was scared off by an eager youngling struggling with a slow, temperamental camera. Through your work, we gain a better understanding of the planet outside our own backyard, and see not only its great beauty, but also the threat that beauty is under from human influence, be it climate change, pollution, or poaching. My passion for conservation biology and support of conservation programs no doubt increased over the years, if not directly due to you, then at least partially influenced by your example.
As a professional, I aspire to be a science communicator, and though I hold no illusions as to my ability, I look to you as a shining example. Your style is effortless, your words instilling a sense of wonder in people young and old, as our eyes are opened to real possibility. I am heartened by your vocal support of science education, and I strive to lend the same passion, dedication and adaptability that you exhibits to my own field, attempting to transform something decidedly scary and ‘uncool’ into something inspiring that people want to get involved in.
I would never have been the scientist I am today without the love of biology and the environment that your amazing work inspired in me at a young age. Due to circumstances I cannot avoid, I will be unable to attend your shows in Melbourne or Sydney, and I know this is something I will regret in the years to come, even as I regret it now. I shall instead join many of my contemporaries in wistful contemplation of what might have been, and the fervently hope that someone is live-tweeting.
Kindest Regards,
Vanessa Vaughan
Deakin University, Victoria.
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