Andy Warhol’s idea that ‘the most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet’ has some traction at the moment.
And let’s face it, there are some big ‘opposites’ going on. So, in the slipstream of Priti Patel, let me introduce you to Matt.
Matt is not his real name, as he would be appalled to be in any way singled out. But he will cheer you up.
Matt has recently turned 80, but he is doing more than just about anyone on the planet to keep one species of bird breeding in our country.
Just about every day of the breeding season, rain or shine, he is out there on his breeding grounds searching out curlews. He walks those lammas meadows, and watches them for hours from their margins for the signs. He identifies the nests and does whatever it takes to protect them. He even organizes to get drones in to seek out their heat signatures in the long grass. He organizes for electric fences to jeep ground predators away. He works with each of the farmers to protect each nest. He liaises with other curlew groups locally, regionally, nationally and internationally. He writes papers and reports. He informs and inspires. And he does it for free.
He took Al and I round some of his best grounds a month ago, two huge meadows alongside a west country river. He explained that one meadow had completely flooded in the wet May, and the curlews had given up. But in the other one, he walked us through and stopped us from time to time and identified for us the four different calls, from the relaxed ‘I’m here’ call to the full on alarm call of protection of a nest with chicks. When we left the field after an hour, we were all buoyed up by the idea that there were as many as four pairs with chicks in it.
No longer.
He wrote me an email the other day
‘Yesterday, hay making began in earnest. At one site where there was still a chick, the farmer phoned me to tell me he was going to start. I rushed up there, and sat in the tractor cab (with three mowers attached, and a second tractor with a single mower). They cut nearly 20 hectares in two or three hours, and plan to cut 1,000acres this week. Happily, I afterwards found the chick in a neighbouring field which is not going to be cut for hay. Mervyn and I are going to return today in the hope of ringing the chick.
The really frightening thing is how quickly they can demolish 20 hectares of Curlew habitat. Even with the most supportive farmers and tractor drivers. If the chicks run, you might see them from the cab. If they lie down, not a chance.
Basically, of our 30-35 pairs, three have produced one chick each. And now practically all the adults are back on the coast’
35 pairs. One chick each. That is not a formula that evades extinction. And that is pretty good. A couple of counties away, they got none at all.
But Matt is one man, doing his massive bit for one bird. And my experience of the last three or four years is that our natural world is surprisingly full of Matts. Species by species, county by county, quietly getting on with the business of unscrewing the world we have all inadvertently allowed to become screwed. If we let them, the aggregated mass of Matts will lead us out of all this.
So my advice, in these really quite troubling times, is to seek out your local Matt, and forget your national idiot.
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