LONDON — David Attenborough, the BBC presenter whose hushed, melodic narration has been the soundtrack of nature for more than seven decades, celebrated his 100th birthday on Friday with a cascade of tributes, from a Royal Albert Hall party hosted by the BBC to cinema screenings of his landmark documentaries and messages that arrived from preschools, retirement homes and families across the world. The man who has taken viewers to the Himalayas, the Amazon and the unexplored forests of Papua New Guinea, and whose programs have illuminated the beauty, ferocity and sometimes outright weirdness of the natural world, found the attention disconcerting.

“He’s always been very clear to all of us that work with him: ‘Remember, the animals are the stars, I’m not,’” Alastair Fothergill, the producer of some of Attenborough’s most renowned series and director of Silverback Films, told The Associated Press. “So, yes, surprisingly for one of the most famous men on the planet, he doesn’t like being famous at all.”

Attenborough acknowledged the outpouring in a recorded audio message, saying he had been “completely overwhelmed by birthday greetings from preschool groups to care home residents and countless individuals and families of all ages.” He added, “I simply can’t reply to each of you all separately, but I would like to thank you all most sincerely for your kind messages.”

The centenary arrives at the close of a career that began in 1952 when Attenborough joined the BBC, working behind the scenes on “everything from ballet to short stories.” Within months, the capture of a coelacanth — a so-called “living fossil” — off East Africa gave him a chance to produce a short piece with evolutionary biologist Julian Huxley, using pickled specimens and a photograph. But Attenborough believed television could do more than studio-based presentations. “I’d always wanted to do films on animals around the world,” he recalled in a 1985 interview with the AP. “But the attitude was, ‘We’ve got TV cameras in the studio. What’s this about spending money abroad?’”

In 1954, he persuaded the BBC to let him join a London Zoo collecting expedition to West Africa, launching “Zoo Quest” and a decade as host and producer in the field. That experience laid the foundation for the groundbreaking series that followed: “Life on Earth,” “The Private Life of Plants,” “The Blue Planet” and many others. Behind the stunning images was a commitment to scientific accuracy that, according to scientists, helped the public understand evolution, animal behavior and biodiversity.

One of the most famous moments of that career came during the 1979 series “Life on Earth,” when Attenborough encountered a family of mountain gorillas in a forest on the Rwanda–Zaire border. A young gorilla lay across his body while babies tried to remove his shoes, and Attenborough — grinning, laughing, speechless — was voted one of Britain’s top TV moments. “I honestly don’t know how long it was,” he later told the BBC. “I suspect it was about 10 minutes, or even a quarter of an hour. I was simply transported.” He described the encounter as “one of the most privileged moments of my life.”

As evidence of human-caused environmental damage accumulated, Attenborough moved from observer to advocate. Professor Ben Garrod, an evolutionary biologist at the University of East Anglia and a broadcaster who has worked alongside Attenborough, said the presenter initially saw himself as neutral but felt compelled to speak out when he realized politicians, business leaders and the public were not treating the crisis seriously. “He is showing you the majesty, the ferocity, the fragility of the natural world. He shouldn’t have ever had to have turned to policymaking and advocacy,” Garrod said. Responding to those who argue Attenborough should have acted sooner, Garrod asked: “Why didn’t we?”

Attenborough’s ability to bridge science and mass audiences, said Jean-Baptiste Gouyon, a professor of science communication at University College London, came from his creation of a persona that embodied television’s discourse about nature. “Basically he gave wildlife television a figure, a front of the house person … which has come to embody television discourse about nature,” Gouyon said.

Born in London on May 8, 1926, the same year as Queen Elizabeth II, Attenborough grew up on the grounds of what is now the University of Leicester, where his father was a senior leader. As a boy, he rode his bicycle into the countryside, collecting abandoned birds’ nests, snake skins and, most importantly, fossils. “I’d find a fossil and show it to my father and he’d say ‘Good, good, tell me all about it.’ So I responded and became my own expert,” Attenborough told Smithsonian Magazine. He studied geology and zoology at the University of Cambridge.

His friends say he has no intention of retiring. Fothergill said Attenborough recently remarked that he felt “unbelievably privileged that a man in his late 90s is still being asked to work.” Fothergill added: “He will go on forever. He will die in his safari shorts.”

The BBC’s centenary celebrations, the cinematic replays of his films, and the cascade of tributes from scientists and politicians underscored the reach of a man who, even as he insisted the animals were the stars, became the world’s most recognized voice of the wild — and, in his later years, its most prominent defender.