“Connecting people with nature” and having “outdoor experiences” are high on the conservation agenda. It’s absolutely right that we prioritize these things, as we know the health and social benefits of being outside. Without people who have mentored me on reserves and in the countryside, I wouldn’t be writing this today, looking out at my garden bird feeders. But the bird feeders beg the question; why do we feel we’re living on islands?
We know the physical landscape of most developed countries is broken up by industrial parks, major roads, housing and reservoirs. Wildlife is left in pockets, isolated on its own little island. RSPB reserves are islands, National Parks are islands, wildlife-friendly gardens are islands. So while we have some fantastic green space, it’s discrete. We park in the car park, have a great day out, and go home. Island to island.
Even though he grew up in industrial Rotherham, my granddad remembers the continuous free space of his childhood. Leaving his front door as a ten year old, he would cycle down the street and down the “gennel”, and spend the rest of the day on the loose. “We didn’t have all the boundaries that kids have today. You could roam the fields, the woods, the park, you just explored the countryside without thinking about it”. Before the post-war boom in housing and leisure complexes, nature was far more joined up. And so was people’s thinking about the environment.
“We didn’t have digital whatsits in my day” my granddad tuts. “We played outside or nowhere.” Industry and housing were the islands, centres of pollution and noise, surrounded by green fields and sustainable farming. As cities sprawled, they have covered the world like increasingly heavy raindrops on a dry pavement, leaving precious few spots of nature.
We seem to forget which came first. It’s more natural for children to play with conkers and climb trees than video games – and yet it doesn’t seem that way. I passionately want to remind people that we breathe air, drink water, eat food and wear clothes that happen because of the amazing planet we live on; that ready meals don’t grow on trees, and that trees do produce good food. Water is not a man-made chemical composition which evolves in a plastic bottle, but a natural resource to be treasured and preserved. We lived off the land until so recently – yet we are in a Dark Ages, and everyone seems to have forgotten what life was like less than a lifetime ago.
I was in a city park the other day, and I saw a visi-vested gaggle of Forest School toddlers. They crossed the ring road and ran along the concrete paths, excited to be outside. Horns blared and the smell of traffic fumes from the road was acrid, but the Forest School made a beeline across the litter-strewn grass and into a topiary garden. It seemed sad that their school couldn’t be further from a forest – but I was also confident that their early outdoor experiences will see them through. Maybe they will view the world through its miracle ability to look after us, and in turn, look for a way of life symbiotic with nature.
Meg :)