North of Ambleside, Cumbria, near Scandale Beck.
How old is this beauty? Who first, and last, pollarded it? Where there other similar trees nearby, now lost? Imagine what it could tell you, the changes it has seen, if only it could talk.
I would like to show this tree to every person who continues to believe in free and globalised trade being more important than the risks from imported pests and diseases. People who thought a relatively small saving in growing their ash seedlings abroad could be made, when now the whole species is at risk. I wonder if (optimistically avoiding saying when) ash die-back will reach this tree?
... but glory has departed" - Aldo Leopold.
The book 'Feral' by George Monbiot seemed to crystallise a feeling that I had been aware of but never really formalised before. Not only does he discuss ecological re-wilding, but also re-wilding our experiences of nature; how to alleviate "ecological boredom", as he coins it.
It's a good way of summing up that feel of something lacking as you walk through the woods or on the hills. You might see some run-of-the-mill birds; possibly a deer, white tail brightly contrasting with the greens and browns as it bounds away from you; maybe you'll flush up a hare, or a woodcock. You might see a dipper down by the stream. Maybe things will get more exciting every now and again - a bird of prey perhaps, or an adder slithering away into the undergrowth. If you're really lucky, and I mean really lucky, there are still some magical creatures around - otters in the rivers, or in a few places, pine martens might run through the trees.
But those encounters are few and far between. I've never come across a stream and found trees felled into dams by what looks like an axe, but you know it's not. Luckily, there are now (and only for now - let's not dare to dream) a few places in the UK where this might happen. But there's certainly no fear any more. I was surveying woodlands recently, in the middle of the forest, and yes - seeing deer and hare was interesting. A buzzard called overhead. But there was not even a tingle of excitement that I could share the landscape with something bigger and more dangerous.
I would love to see beavers in the streams. But more importantly, no matter the very small risk it would pose, I would love to at least feel a primeval fear knowing that there are large predators. Lynx in the forest? Wolves in larger areas, possibly areas of Scotland or perhaps northern England? I cannot even imagine the presence of bears in the woods, and I don't ever think I shall know it in the UK - although it must be an enjoyably terrifying thought in places where this is still a possibility.
Yes, some of these animals could pose a threat to humans. They could possibly threaten livestock, and pets. But is that a bad thing? We decide that we have the right to exist without them, but on what grounds? Our ego-centric perception of the natural world as one which we must control, dominate and sanitise has led to ecological loss beyond description, as seen in Yellowstone National Park (where apex predators are restoring vital ecosystem functioning). But it has also led to a loss of excitement and fear - a healthy, primal fear - that makes the countryside much more mundane and much too predictable compared to the real natural environment we should be part of.
We'll accept ridiculous risks from traffic, from chemicals, from unhealthy lifestyles, and yet even mention apex predators and half the nation goes up in arms (with significant lobbying power from self-interested farmers and gamekeepers, I feel). The dangers are over-stated, but the imperialist approaches to land management continue, depriving us all of a vital need to understand and develop a healthy respect for nature.
Re-wild our environment, yes - and whilst we're at it, re-wild our lives.
