A woodland, not a statistic

There are 98 woods just like this one, all under threat, all depending on our protection

A woodland is a bustling ecosystem, finely balanced through millions of years of evolution. It provides a home to many different species of wildlife, and in this new age of rapid development and expansion, is depending upon us to provide it with adequate protection… from ourselves. It is all too easy to forget that ancient woodlands remain to be an incredibly important feature of our planet. To us they are aesthetically pleasing; to the birds, mammals and insects that occupy them, they are their homes, their food source, and their breeding grounds – they are life itself. We are appalled when we see images of polar bears in the Arctic circle, clinging on to what little ice they can find – a powerful reminder of the planets rising temperatures. I am left wondering if the threat to our local wildlife receives equal awareness? Prior to some of Sir David Attenborough’s finest documentaries, it was all too easy to burn vast quantities of fuel with careless abandon – it seemed inconsequential. But these documentaries changed our perspectives, and the warnings of climate change scientists were suddenly heeded. Why? Because Attenborough so brilliantly captured the innate character of these creatures, immortalizing them in film. We learnt of their almost human-like behaviours, how they show such unwavering love for their cubs, how mothers sacrifice their own food to ensure the survival of their young, how they defy natures almost impossible odds with an admirable tenacity – they won are hearts. That very connection could be natures salvation. Maybe this is the key to protecting our own homegrown ecosystems.

Little else is as liberating as throwing on a pair of shoes and taking off in to the great outdoors. It is a moment of careless abandon, one filled with exploration and discovery - activities that we often thrive on. It is place where you can get as muddy as you want, and for once abandon the endless list of tasks you feel you ought to be doing. Regular trips into the outdoors provide a far greater understanding of a world that used to exist, before our reign at the top of the food chain. An ancient woodland has somehow managed to escape our wrath, with no concrete, no cars, and little in the way of manmade structures. But there is a problem: our local woodlands may disappear before we even get the chance to immerse ourselves in their largely untouched beauty.

What can we do about it?

The following is an extract taken from a Woodland Trust campaign that is currently in motion: ‘Ancient woods and trees are being lost across the UK at an alarming rate. Infrastructure projects are being proposed right now that will destroy and damage woods and trees that are centuries old. The government can act to stop this’. The idea is that you send a personalised message to the Rt Hon Michael Gove, expressing your concerns about current developments such as HS2 – the high-speed railway that currently threatens 98 woods. It couldn’t be easier, you simply send a message through the trusts website, which is then passed on to government - the policy makers then must take your views in to consideration when deciding the woodlands fate. The more messages they receive, the less able they are to ignore our concerns.

There are 98 woods under imminent threat; that statistic is hard to truly comprehend. It doesn’t quite pay the potential destruction enough justice. How do you wrap your head around that number? To get enough support people must understand the ins and outs of building this railway and what cost can really expected from losing 98 woods; you must bring the cause closer to home. How would I feel if the woodland on my doorstep was moments away from being cut down? I decided to throw on my running shoes and venture out in to the very thing that I would be so afraid of losing. I wanted to capture my local woodlands unique character in writing, and if a development such as HS2 were to run through it, attempt to really understand what we could be on the verge of losing. The following is an account of that run.

A trip to the woods

The heavens open with a sense of vigour seldom seen in such typically mild climates. It’s as if mother nature herself makes certain to remind me that her creations are very much alive and well – this is much needed reassurance, as a continue to ruminate over wildlife’s apparent fragility in our hands. Droplets of rain cascade down my forehead, pausing for a moment to coalesce upon my brow, before dutifully continuing their descent. The bombardment of fresh water so clearly demonstrates that this woodland remains to be teeming with life; these trees are no more an inanimate object than I am. The earth, once solid, transforms in to a gelatinous bog. Vast quantities of mud begin to swell around the bottom of my feet, some of which makes its way through the pores of my shoes – I’d later discover that I may as well have gone bare foot. Every step sends splashes of cold murky water up the backs of my legs; once dormant puddles brought back to life through the impact of my lumbering strides. It isn’t long before I am bemired with grit and soil. I continue to dart my way through the surrounding gorse, making sure to appreciate every single breath of cool crisp air. I feel a sense of comfort in such formidable conditions - a oneness with the rest of nature. Much of my life is designed for comfort, and yet this discomfort has brought about the greatest sense of satisfaction.

I disappear deeper in to the woods, leaving civilisation behind as a distant memory. The undergrowth swallows me up like a tide rolling in on a rocky shore - I become no more visible to the world than the life at the depths of a writhing ocean. Tall trees loom over head, their branches bowing either side of me under the weight of their earthy green plumage. The noise of a bustling high street grows ever fainter; like a whisper on a gentle wind it fades to nothingness. I begin to comprehend how blissfully ignorant our local wildlife must be, existing with no concept of its imminent demise – for life in the woodland it is business as usual. For all its resilience and ingenious design, it remains powerless against the consequences of our every whim. With great concentration, I begin to notice otherwise inaudible sounds: rustling amongst the leaves, the chatter of squirrels, birdsong ringing out from the treetops. A newfound appreciation of my surroundings overwhelms me: we would lose so much more than a place to walk with a pleasant view. If we wanted to appropriate the land for another use, we would cast aside an entire ecosystem without a care in the world. An entire community would be wiped out, not because of a natural disaster, but because of our own selfish needs.

Cold wind rushes through the rows of trees before me, with the accompanying cracks and creaks of their branches resonating in my ears. I make my way further along the track as I can see a clearing not too far in the distance. A narrow path carves its way through the breast of a hill, it's course ascending to an opening at its peak. I follow the path, my eyes fixed firmly on where I shall next place my feet. Jagged roots protrude upwards from the woodland floor; I navigate them with careful precision. I arrive at the clearing, breathless and with a burning sensation in my legs. The skies begin to clear and the woodland reveals itself in all its glory, with my vantage point providing the perfect view. A narrow set of steps descends towards a bridge that is no more than a few feet in width and length. The bridge reaches out, connecting two sides of a shallow valley. I make my way on to it, and pause for a few moments.

More than a hundred trees stand tall before me, their thick trunks firmly rooted in to the muddy banks of the valley, their branches barren and splayed in all directions. Beams of winter sunlight shine down from above, providing a gentle warmth upon my face. A stream flows so gently beneath my feet, that only when standing perfectly still, can I hear the faint trickle of water tumbling over the rotting timber and silt. The flow of water twists and turns before me, darting left and right amongst the vegetation, carving out a path that extends far off in to the distance. It flows with such a relentless energy, and yet the water remains so wonderfully still. Glistening rays of light reflect off its surface; the ripples provide the perfect contrast of light and shadow. A blanket of lush grass sparsely covers every patch of mud, providing a green hue to an otherwise decidedly brown picture. Looming shadows cast by the formidable stature of the trees extend towards my feet. I remain there for a few more moments, long enough to preserve it in my memory. This is what I am fighting for.

Lets make ourselves heard

You may be wondering why this passage is even remotely relevant to the campaign; To me it is entirely relevant. Woodlands really do mean something to a lot of us every-day folk, and means far more to the life that inhabits them. Hearing that 98 woods will be destroyed is shocking to any environmentalist, and yet doesn't seem to quite hit home when spelled out to the powers at be. Statistics seem to encourage politicians to view our wildlife as a numbers game, making it frustratingly easy for them to detach themselves from the real cost of loss of habitat. For all the life that exists in just one of those 98 woodlands, its potential removal for a railway spells disaster. How would I feel if my local woodland disappeared without a trace? How would the wildlife fare? Countless birds and small mammals would be left with nothing. Every tree, every patch of grass, and every flowering plant would be laid to ruin. If the Government decided to cut it down for a high-speed railway, alone I would be left almost powerless, unable to do anything about it. They would command a greater influence on this woodlands fate than I ever could – that is a frightening thought. This woodland would have lasted more than a hundred years (possibly many centuries), and with a single decision by the government, it would be left to exist only in our distant memories. You may continue to dismiss the concerns of environmentalists, after all HS2 has been marketed as the UK economies salvation. But I sit here and wonder why the natural world must continually suffer from the decisions we make.

We seem to think we are entitled to execute a divine rite over the fate of this countries land and inhabiting species, invariably for self-serving purposes. We barely finish the last development before we swiftly move on the to the next. This new one is different of course, because it really will make our lives immeasurably better... allegedly. Ask yourself how HS2 and other developments will truly aid your life? Are they essential? Are they worth the thoughtless eradication of countless habitats? Do not default to the various facts and figures mindlessly splattered across government campaign posters. That would be like asking Apple why you should buy the latest iPhone; when they have a profit to make, can you really expect a truly honest answer?

There are arguments for and against the development, and whatever conclusion you come to is yours and yours alone. I am not beyond understanding the economic benefits to be had, but when weighed up against the costs to be expected in the natural world, find myself unable to justify its existence. I suggest you do this as you make your considerations: stand in your local woodland, and ask yourself if you would stand by and do nothing as the construction companies began rolling in. Once our local wildlife is gone, it won’t be coming back. All it takes is a few clicks and short paragraph to stop the government executing autonomy over your life and your land. They are meant to represent you, so let them know what it is that you want them to represent. Visit the the link, and help save our ancient woodlands.

Woodland Trust campaign: Save Ancient Woods