Species are dying out, but we don’t have to let it happen
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Version 0 of 1. In the autumn stillness, I didn’t immediately notice the large brown bird flying low over a golden-brown expanse of reeds at Hickling Broad, Norfolk. It was a bittern, a famously elusive creature that became extinct in Britain as a breeding bird 150 years ago. The bittern is thriving again, after beginning its comeback in 1911 at Hickling, the largest of the lakes created by medieval peat-diggers, which now form our wildest lowland landscape. Today, Hickling Broad is a wetland of international importance, home to endangered species such as the marsh harrier (rarer than the burgeoning golden eagle), the swallowtail butterfly (only found on the Broads) and the holly-leaved naiad (an aquatic plant so rare that botanists make pilgrimages to admire it). Hickling is probably one of the 10 most important nature reserves in the land, so it was a shock last month when half was put up for sale. People feared a developer would ruin it with a new “ecotourism” marina; but luckily an offer by its current tenants, Norfolk Wildlife Trust, has been accepted. This small charity has launched an urgent appeal to raise £1m to complete its purchase. It is no coincidence that, alongside the bittern, the common crane also first returned to Britain near Hickling. This large and lovely bird began breeding again on adjacent marshes tended by a local farmer and self-confessed “craniac”, John Buxton; this year a record 48 pairs bred across the country. These revivals show that reserves such as Hickling are not simply fragments where we witness the death throes of endangered species: they are creative places of recovery, where the natural dynamism of wild things enjoys free and glorious expression. Last week, as I watched the bittern and marvelled at how this great expanse of marsh and reeds was uninterrupted by any human sound, I spied a plaque bearing a quote from a local conservationist, Ted Ellis. The Broads, he wrote, are “a breathing space for the care of souls”. Spots such as Hickling are places of recovery for us too. We need these wellsprings of solace and inspiration more than ever. We need a step-change The natural dynamism of wild things also enjoys free and glorious expression on almost a tenth of public footpaths in England and Wales, which are blocked by rampaging undergrowth, barbed wire or other obstacles, according to a survey by the Ramblers Association. I reckon paths are becoming more impassible. The problem is austerity (more than 70% of English councils cut their rights-of-way budget between 2009 and 2012), and the solution is simple. Brexit compels us to design our own farm subsidies: rather than paying farmers simply for owning land, as we currently do, even their senior union figures accept we should reward them for delivering public goods, such as clean water and healthy soils (as well as food). Why not add well-maintained paths to that list? Trump, the bogeyman Last weekend I went “champing” (the Churches Conservation Trust’s rather ugly portmanteau word for a beautiful idea: camping in ancient churches). My twins and their six-year-old friend delighted in spooking themselves outside a dusty doorway. “Is there a ghost inside,” she wondered, pausing in horror. “Or maybe Donald Trump.” Her parents haven’t talked about Trump and nor had another friend until she mentioned the new president to her seven-year-old during their walk to school. “No! Now there’ll be a third world war,” was his considered reaction. Children have acute antennae for political discussion. Trump is already a demonic figure for them. Hopefully he’ll prove a comedy bogeyman, not a real one. |