Despite the best possible conditions, hundreds of species of bird are dying out before our very eyes. It may be too late for some – but action can still save others.
It is possible that part of my life’s work in conservation on the Pevensey Levels may be stained by failure.
At Montague, our farm on the Pevensey Levels in East Sussex, we have, for over 25 years, pursued best practice (according to relevant conservation agencies). Natural England have funded us throughout this period to conserve and restore the wildlife of the wetlands around us. We have necessarily conformed to their advice, fine-tuned creatively to the varied habitats across the farm and in the control of predators. Wilder landscapes have emerged, with increased areas of woodland, herb-rich pastures, fen, reedbed and flooded grassland. We have achieved a spread of a diverse flora and bucked the trend of declining insect populations. Otters were seen for the first time, this year, on one of our pools and we have legions of the formidable fen raft spider. We boast a bird species list exceeding 200 – and that’s where the problem starts.
Many of these birds are now declining or absent.
Despite providing the best possible conditions, populations of lapwing, skylark and yellow wagtail are falling year on year. Predation is certainly part of the cause, but is not the whole story. Cuckoos may have vanished by next year, redshank have not bred on the farm for the last two years and swallow swarms have reduced to small parties in the low tens. Flycatchers have not been seen here for 15 years, nor grey partridge. No lesser spotted woodpeckers nor marsh or willow tits. No corncrakes or curlews, wrynecks, ruff or shrikes.
The once annual kaleidoscope of avian treasure is decimated. They all should be here, yet they no longer come. Indeed, many no longer exist.
The quiet horror of extinction is preceded by a sometimes visceral and sometimes cryptic pattern of loss. By the time declines have reached the levels now recorded (more than 40 million birds fewer in Britain than 25 years ago, according to research at Exeter University) then total loss becomes inevitable. Several of the species mentioned may die out completely in this country over the next 20 years, a shadow of the silent spring predicted more than 50 years ago by Rachel Carson. Population changes begun in decades past, and now at critical, have created the avian equivalent of ‘dead men walking’.
In 2010, Professor John Lawton reported to the UK government on policies to protect natural areas. His advocacy for ‘Bigger, More, Better and Joined’ areas of wildlife habitat has still not inspired the government into the actions that need to be taken, despite a number of his initiatives beginning to be taken up. A growing movement to rewild large areas, meanwhile, is gathering force and may be the impetus necessary to save our countryside from the de-naturing currently underway. We need better control of predators and the provision of more diverse and larger habitats to begin any form of reversal. Panic and sorrow can be obviated by greater action.
There is a wind of change blowing hard at several distinct areas of the British countryside. Uplands especially – grouse moors, deer shooting estates and sheep farmers – are being asked searching questions and challenged hard, as is the Forestry Commission. A recent book by Benedict Macdonald (which benefits from the advice of Professor Ian Newton in its chapters on bird population science), entitled Rebirding (Pelagic, 2019), points out provocatively that Snowdonia National Park is the same size as the Maasai Mara yet a poor cousin in terms of wildlife, and that deer estates in Scotland equate to double the size of Yellowstone, with a highly diminished ecology by comparison.
We simply have to have larger wilderness areas with natural vegetation diversity for some of our animal communities to have a future on this island. An intriguing vision, the book is sadly short on how exactly farming is going to be able to help with its delivery, and not simply be swept aside. Meanwhile, managed and cultural landscapes are failing nationally, and will continue to diminish without radical overhaul.
So what does this mean for our little farm and the 100 or so other farmers on the marshes here around Pevensey? We have a wetland potentially of 10,000 acres, already defined by the most stringent protective designations under EU law as a Site of Special Scientific Interest and a Special Protection Area. If managed as a wet wilderness, our lives would change. Sheep numbers would reduce from many to few, and our cattle evolve into wild herbivore replacements. Our grasslands would go underwater and areas of wet wood, fen and reedbed extend to fill our horizons. Beavers would be brought back to diversify wetland and woodland dynamics. Success would be measured by the return of breeding birds from redshanks to bitterns, cranes and spoonbills. Nightingales might once again sing through our summer nights. New businesses could arise from tourism to a nature-rich region, and, necessarily but improbably, a huge grant system might emerge to enable farmers to do more than they can currently afford.
Society needs nature, not just for its soul but its climate and resources. It doesn’t need large amounts of meat. The creatures that we are missing need everyone to shout loudly and dig deep financially if they are to stand a chance. Farmers must get ready to change and do more. The challenge is huge, the need for government financial support great. If this is the future for us farmers, then it is full of rich possibility, and we may yet avoid joining the turtle doves and the cuckoos as ‘dead men walking’.
