Born in Hickling in 1884, Jim was the first son of Robert Vincent, a professional wildfowler and eel catcher who, as a matter of necessity, earned his living shooting and fishing on Hickling Broad and the nearby Heigham Sounds and Horsey Mere.

He shot rare birds and took egg clutches to sell to local collectors who paid handsomely for the most prized specimens.

A Season of Birds – First published in 1980. (Image: Supplied)

Under the guidance of his father, Jim also nurtured a keen interest in the wildlife of Hickling.

By the time he was sixteen, he had gained a level of expertise that brought him to the attention of the Hon. Edward Montagu, then a Cambridge undergraduate, who was also a dedicated bird and egg collector.

Montagu enlisted the services of Jim Vincent and the pair soon developed a close working relationship that would eventually have far-reaching consequences for Vincent and for Hickling.

When Montagu returned to Hickling in 1908, he had developed a deeper appreciation of wildlife conservation rather than annihilation, though he continued to indulge his liking for shooting, but restricted his pursuit to the commoner species, including duck, coot and snipe.

He was regularly joined by Lord Lucas and Sir Edward Grey, both wildfowlers who shared Montagu’s views on conservation.

Grey, then Foreign Secretary in the Liberal government, would later write The Charm Of Birds (1927) which revealed his passion for ornithology.

Montagu’s Harrier (Image: George Lodge)

In 1909, the trio went into partnership to rent the White Slea Lodge estate from its owner Major Mills.

To maintain a shoot, they hired Vincent as a keeper of the estate who was charged with protecting the wildlife on the estate while also nurturing ducks and other fowl for the winter shooting season.

Vincent was designated a rent-free estate cottage near Hickling church and paid £1 10/- a week.

During the winter months, he worked from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. and in spring and summer, he worked from dawn till dusk, always on the lookout for rare birds and their nests.

On 28th April 1910, while out walking around the estate with Edwin Montagu and his partners, Vincent came upon the nest of a Montagu’s harrier (named after the 19th century naturalist, Col. George Montagu) containing a single egg.

This was the first time the bird had been seen in Hickling since 1883, and had never been recorded nesting in Norfolk before.

On 7 July 1911, Vincent and an amateur photographer called Emma Turner made an equally significant find when they discovered a young bittern at nearby Sutton.

This was the first bittern to be discovered in the area since one was shot in August 1886.

Jim Vincent in 1934 with a pair of young bitterns. (Image: Supplied)

Turner captured several acclaimed images of fledgling bitterns in the reedbeds that cemented her reputation as a leading wildlife photographer, while Vincent always declared the discovery of the young bittern as his most exciting find, and wrote and broadcast a talk called ‘The Romance of the Bittern.’

Under Edwin Montagu’s care and instruction, Hickling became a refuge for breeding rare birds.

The marsh harrier returned to breed in 1915, and the bearded tit population benefited from the protection afforded by Vincent and his co-workers.

Vincent worked tirelessly to provide the necessary habitat for the wildlife that made Hickling their home.

Throughout his life, he recorded 247 species of birds at Hickling, and was clearly exceptionally observant, with a natural gift for bird spotting, and was equally adept at distinguishing wildfowl, waders and gulls in their various juvenile phases.

In 1924, the R. S. P. B. awarded Vincent a Gold Medal and illuminated scroll commemorating his services as a ‘Bird Watcher and Bird Protector.’

Many of the entries in his 1911 diary make for fascinating and revelatory reading, as the following examples demonstrate.

A fledgeling bittern (Image: Emma Turner)

10th January.

Saw a Great Grey Shrike at the end of White Slea wall.

It kept flying to, and perching on some small bushes on the marsh.

After a time it flew across to some hedgerows, and hovered over them, as a Kingfisher would over water…

Saw a Merlin chasing a Skylark, but never captured it.

Saw the adult Goldeneye in company with 30 immatures.

28th February.

Snipe are drumming.

Peewits tippling about, and a few Redshanks are whistling about, reminding one of warmer days to come.

I love to hear the Redshanks when they first arrive, but they get on my nerves at times before they go.

27th April.

Saw the Garganeys, which I believe are nesting same place as last year.

Nudd and I saw a Heron pounce down from a post on Heigham Sounds that marks the channel way into 4 feet of water, whether after fish, or if it was having a quick bath, cannot say, but we have neither seen a Heron do such a thing before, though we have seen scores at different times on these posts and on Hickling.

It shook its feathers several times after returning to post.

14th May.

White-winged Black Terns in company with 8 Black Terns against Tent Hill.

They came so close as I was lying in amongst the reeds, could see their red beaks and legs…

It was a great treat for me to watch them.

After watching them within 10 yards of me very often, I reluctantly came away amidst a downpour of rain, after spending the best hour this spring.

19th August.

Caught a Reed Warbler in the boat house, whose feet, beak, and feathers were covered with spider’s webs that made it impossible to fly far.

These webs were adhering to the feet and beak as large as little nuts, and had matted the tail and wing feathers together.

It must have been in this state for 2 or 3 days as the bird was thin and wasted.

After giving it a good clean-up it flew away amongst the bushes apparently quite happy, and commenced to feed ravenously on the insects.

29th October.

There was such a commotion amongst the fowl on the upper portion of [Heigham] Sounds this morning, that I was obliged to go, thinking it was someone pike fishing, as this portion is not thrown open until February.

When I arrived a flock of Pochard rose from the open water, and the Coots were driving about in solid masses, and there in front of me, where the Pochard had risen from, was an Otter with a male Pochard in its mouth.

Its wings were extended in its dying struggle, the Otter taking it under for a few yards, as if smothering his victims was part of his slaying methods.