Time for Action

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about red kites and why their recovery gives me hope in a world where conservation good news stories are few and far between. Working in conservation can be a depressing career when you hear more and more news about another species decline, another precious habitat lost, another stark climate change prediction. It's why I work in the industry:  I value nature and I do what little I can to redress that balance. But I've always tried not to include the bad stuff on the blog. It is supposed to be a light-hearted and irreverent commentary on the mundane and banal features of everyday life. I don't want to depress you, dear reader, nor do I wish to preach at you. Yet lately I have been inundated with so much negativity, ignorance, hypocrisy and sheer incompetence that I feel the time is right to bring it to your attention. I thought twice about doing so, but decided that the issues I am about to outline are only issues until enough people speak out against them. So please read on and decide for yourself whether I am simply letting off steam, or whether either of these issues deserve your attention, and better still your action.

1. The Nature Directives

The Nature Directives are currently under review by a European Commission that is challenging regulation – meaning our most important laws for wildlife are under unprecedented threat.

The Directives provide essential protection to our rarest and most threatened species, and safeguard the best habitats for supporting a diversity of life in the UK and across much of Europe. They drive the fundamental aspects of conservation in the most important places – from managing sites and protecting them from development, to protecting species from human persecution.

Without them, we are simply fighting to stop loss and damage to our most precious wildlife sites. With them, we are able to work with others to restore nature – to create a world richer in nature.

The Directives aren’t perfect, but if we’re to restore nature in the UK and across Europe, we need them, and we need to focus on better implementation so they can achieve their full potential. Opening up the Directives in a political context that will almost certainly see them weakened would set us back years. This would be a disaster for wildlife, and for all the conscientious businesses that have learnt to follow the Directives and work in harmony with nature. Revised laws would mean a period of great uncertainty for businesses that would cost them time and money.

That's why we need a massive demonstration of public support for the Directives during the European Commission’s public consultation on the future of the Directives. The more people act, the easier it will be to convince EU leaders that the general public really care about nature and won't tolerate a weakening of its protection. To find out more, including how you can take action to defend the directives, click here. 

 

2. Raptor Persecution

 

This is an issue that has been going on for many years, and whilst I've been aware of it I've never really had any personal involvement. I am now very fortunate that a small part of my job involves working with a rare and wonderful bird of prey, the Montagu Harrier. This species is only just clinging on in the UK, with a population of less that ten pairs. Despite this, it receives much less coverage than it's relative the Hen Harrier, largely because of issues of illegal persecution. Research has shown that there is enough habitat to support about 300 pairs of hen harriers in England, and yet there are only one or two, largely due to illegal persecution.

 

Recently the RSPB came under fire from an organisation called 'You forgot the birds'. It appears that their mission is to deflect attention away from the issue of illegal raptor persecution by undermining the RSPB and the work we do. A few weeks ago news emerged that three male hen harriers had disappeared from their last English stronghold in the Forest of Bowland. It is highly unusual for a breeding bird to simply abandon eggs, and with three birds involved it seems likely that foul play is involved - so likely in fact that the police have launched an investigation. Yet 'You forgot the birds' decided that this was an RSPB witch-hunt, and launched another attack on the organisation. Apart from displaying an astounding level of ecological ignorance, it also suggests that the RSPB has a poor track record in delivering successful bird conservation - an offensive and woefully inaccurate assertion. The response from the RSPB can be seen here. Since I work for the RSPB I am obviously biased and emotionally involved, so I urge you to read the article for yourself.

 

Equally, this one is well worth a read, as it presents yet another ignorant and unfounded perspective on ecology. Yes there is a debate to be had, but one based on fact and evidence, as outlined in this reply to the article. What concerns me most is that these people, apparently in the name of journalism, are given a platform to deliver these attacks. And that by having that platform, the real issue is ignored or forgotten.

 

Whilst there is a lot of coverage of the issues surrounding hen harriers, the montagu harrier is less well known. Last year we were lucky enough to get funding to attach satellite transmitters to UK montagu harriers. These tags give us a huge insight into habitat choice, foraging areas and migration routes. Yet one of the birds did not even make it as far as migration, having disappeared on a shooting estate in Norfolk. The transmitter stopped transmitting, which means it was somehow destroyed. Make of that what you will, but as there are now even fewer montagu harrier in the UK than last year, the species is on a knife-edge. We will be fitting more satellite tags this year, but the sad truth of the matter is that they may show us more about raptor persecution than they do about migration or distribution. 

 

If you want to find out more, including how you can support the campaign to stop illegal persecution, click here.

 

So I'm sorry for the seriousness of this post, but my work over the last few weeks has involved meeting local police to discuss wildlife crime, discussions with colleagues about the likelihood of local harriers being killed, news reports of persecution from other areas, and internal briefings on how much damage would be caused by a weakened set of directives from the EU.

 

This stuff matters, and if I can play a small part in spreading the word, responding to the critics and gaining support for nature and nature conservation then I make no apology for that. If it matters to you too, please spread the word, take action, and encourage others to do so as well.

 

 

 

The Grass is Always Greener

Some time ago I wrote on here about automated lawn mowers. I mentioned my deep and long-standing hatred of mowing. Having successfully put off any form of grass management at my new house since I moved in last October, it seemed that I should probably rectify this situation before the garden became a wilderness.

My first step was to procure a mower. Fortunately my folks were visiting for bank holiday weekend and decided to treat me to a few items for the garden - a mower foremost amongst them. A visit to Homebase revealed all manner of mowing appliances, mostly electric or petrol, and unnecessarily large and expensive for my grass handkerchief. We found the one mower that required solely man power to drive it, and promptly snatched it up.

We literally snatched it up in fact, since it came in a small box. This is the first flat-pack mower I have ever seen, and my primary challenge was to construct it using the impossibly uninstructive instructions. The whole thing seemed rather flimsy compared with mowers I have met in the past, and yet it's entire raison d'etre is to cut grass, something for which excessive bulk, power or force is presumably unnecessary.

Or so I thought! Right up until I attempted to use it against my lush and nearly foot-high lawn. The first few passes were especially tough, and vaguely reminiscent of trying to run through water. After about a foot of mowing, the blades would clog up with long, thick and slightly damp grass, forcing me to stop and unclog the machine before trying again. Over time I found that a slight run up allowed me to reach two or three metres along the lawn, but the extra pace meant that barely any grass was cut and I would simply glide across the top of it. Having taken some of the thickness out, I was then more successful in future passes, with less resistance from the lawn and some of the newly shed grass even making it into the small collecting tray behind the mower.

Even so, it was not possible to mow more than a couple of yards each time before having to stop. And the machine has no reverse gear - the blades don't turn going backwards, so you have to lift the entire thing to return to where you started. Turning round is pointless as you have covered no distance to begin with and merely flattened all the grass in the direction you are travelling. And each stop requires another bend to unclog the wheels and blades from matted vegetation.

Thankfully my garden is only about the size of a post-it note, but even so I only managed to get half of it done before I gave up from exhaustion. At least it provides variation in habitat for lawn-dwelling invertebrates. Plus I now have some vegetation in my compost bin. And I'm sure the exercise will do me good.

On the other hand, it turns out I could buy a goat or sheep for about the same price as the mower, and let them get on with it!

A Laugh a Minute

There are some occasions when life takes over and in a vain attempt to juggle 16 different things you simply crash and burn in spectacular fashion. Last Saturday night we held our end of season hockey club awards night, since when I have been entirely unable to concentrate. It may have been a two-day hangover, following the heavy drinking, dancing the night away in town and lack of sleep. Whatever the cause, I have struggled to maintain coherent thought or conversation since then, and now my brain has turned to mush.

This was most evident on returning home from work. I have various things on my mind that require organising in one way, shape or form, but I thought it might be nice to edit some of Saturday's photos over dinner. When I went to serve up, I found that I had in fact failed to cook my fishcake, largely due to turning on the wrong bit of oven. In a desperate attempt to salvage some miniscule fragment of edibleness, I blasted it in the microwave, during which time I burnt my asparagus. A total culinary disaster was only averted due to the presence of some potatoes.

Whilst eating my dry asparagus and chewy fishcake, I received a message from a friend on facebook notifying me that a terrifying picture of me raised aloft has been uploaded as 'photo of the week' on the website of the very nightclub that I frequented with the hockey players on Saturday night. I have little recollection of this peculiar moment, but apparently it now qualifies me to free VIP entry and champagne in a 'roped off area' for me and eight friends if I ring the fine establishment to claim. I have no particular desire to return to said establishment, but might be tempted for the freebies, and to discover exactly what sort of 'roped off area' will be given over to us - it sounds like a crime scene.

This series of events, combined with my fragile mental state, cause me to begin a laugh that started with a chuckle and grew rapidly into full-scale hysteria. In a matter of moments I was crying with laughter and shaking uncontrollably. Maybe it's best I don't go drinking for a while.

Banana-drama

On my walk home from work today I happened upon a banana skin on the pavement. Realising the huge potential danger I was in, I neatly sidestepped the fruit peeling to avoid almost certain death should I happen to step on it and slip to my doom. I then wondered if anyone has actually ever damaged themselves in this manner. I have never actually slipped on a banana skin. I have never witnessed someone else's demise in a banana-skin related incident. Nor have I even heard of such a thing. In fact it appears that the only people ever to have suffered, emotionally or physically, through standing on a banana skin, are cartoon characters and clowns. And the only result that I can fathom from this interaction is a comedic loss of dignity. Am I to assume that, should this unfortunate coming together of foot and banana skin ever occur, the likely outcome would be me gliding 50 feet down the pavement whilst simultaneously crashing through market stalls, sending passers by flying, knocking over porcelain vases and finally crashing through a wall, leaving a perfect human outline as I go?!

No cause for alarm

The human body is an amazing piece of equipment. As a student of biology I have a reasonable understanding of some of the functionality of this kit; I've read some of the instructions. But other aspects of the human physiology remain a complete mystery to me. One of these is the body clock.

How does the body maintain it's own time system? Through most of the winter, my alarm has been set to 7:15 on work days. Yet the bulk of the time I wake up naturally at 7:14 anyway! How does the body know to pre-empt the rude awakening of the alarm? And to be so accurate about it?! I remember as a kid those sleepless nights when you knew you had to be up early for whatever reason, and then barely got a wink of sleep all night as a result. Now my body compensates and calculates the most efficient time to rise.

What confuses me even more is how, on days when I set my alarm to another time, my body somehow adjusts to this new time, and still rises from it's slumberous state a mere moment prior to the electronic noise of dawn. If I asked someone to set my alarm to a completely random time, unknown to me, would my body be fooled?!

On the occasions when I actually remain asleep until the alarm sounds, my body goes through a bizarre process of waking, vague comprehension and recollection and then understanding in just a few seconds. During this period I am able to open my eyes, roll over and turn the alarm off, and I wonder how I moved so seamlessly from one state to another. Some days the comprehension takes longer than others, and sometimes the understanding doesn't fully click in until around lunch.

When my alarm is activated, there is a mechanical click before the electronic beeping. The click sounds regardless of whether the alarm is on or off, as the clock hands pass the alarm hand. When I'm lying in bed on days when I haven't set the alarm, and I hear the click, my body goes through the same wakening process as if the alarm had gone off. It pre-empts what normally happens, and some kind of chemical reaction causes me to become alert very suddenly, as though adrenaline has been pumped into my system. Which is slightly disconcerting.

Boxing clever

Boxes: friend or foe?

Lately I had cause to question my hitherto undiminished love of boxes. Boxes create order from chaos. They collect assorted jumble and contain them in one usefully categorised location. They form squares and right angles from irregularity. They stack, they pack, and there is always a box somewhere that is exactly the right size.

Yet a box used wastefully annoys me. Why do amazon send small items in vastly oversized packages filled with paper or bubble wrap? Why not just use the right sized box? They of all people should have a selection of suitable options - they must have literally billions of boxes ready to use! I recently ordered some software that was essentially a CD, but it came in a small paper envelope, that came in a small square box, which was in a larger rectangular box, that slid out of a larger cardboard sleeve, contained within an Amazon box: four separate packages for no reason. By the time I reached the CD I felt like I had won a solo game of pass the parcel.

Also, despite having a range of boxes gainfully employed about the house, when I need another one I can never find one (perhaps due to my unnecessary fear of using the wrong size!). And I'm always sure that I know where to get one - usually the end of a supermarket checkout - but when I get there they are nowhere to be seen. Maybe I should just order small and cheap items from Amazon to get hold of the boxes. Maybe I should order a box from Amazon?!

Bedding Down

There are many great mysteries in life, but I am continually at a loss to explain perhaps the greatest of them all: the mystery of the inexplicable fluff.

Whenever I change my bedding, there it is! Great mountains of the stuff coating my duvet cover and pillow cases. You might think that this is entirely explainable, but I have no idea where it originates from. The duvet and pillows are not covered in fluff. The bed appears to be largely without it. Yet by removing one from another, myriad tiny cloud formations coat my bed linen.

It doesn't appear during the washing process - nor does it disappear. It simply clings to my laundry like a limpet; right up until I remove my washing from the machine, that is. At that point it suddenly loses its adhesive qualities, floating down onto the utility floor, the stairs, and across my bedroom. It looks like someone has bombed a cotton wool factory.

I can hoover this up, but worse is to come. Enough of it remains attached to my bedding to aggravate me. There's too much to pick it off piece by piece. The only technique that I have been able to employ that comes remotely close to removing it involves using a comb to scrape it off.

So this is how I came to be stood on my landing combing my duvet cover over the banister today, wondering what quirk of unfortunate circumstance had led me to this point, and pondering the mystery. If anyone else suffers a similar devastating occurrence I would be interested to know about it, especially if anyone has a remedy!