To my shame, I鈥檝e not been minding my language. I just said to someone that 鈥渨e鈥檝e lost 97 per cent of our flower-rich meadows since the 1930s鈥�. During this year鈥檚 Springwatch series on BBC television, I heard myself saying 鈥渨e鈥檝e lost 86 per cent of the corn bunting population鈥�. On another occasion, I spoke of 鈥渁 loss of 97 per cent of our hedgehogs鈥�.
Loss, lost鈥� as though this habitat and these species have mysteriously disappeared into the ether, like they have been inadvertently misplaced, like they have annoyingly, accidentally vanished. They haven鈥檛 鈥� they have been ploughed up, they are dead, or they don鈥檛 exist. Destroyed is the word I should have been using. So why wasn鈥檛 I?
Because my language is symptomatic of a chronic acceptance of such appalling catastrophes, and the repeated mention of these sorts of statistics has somehow become normalised.
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The last skylark?
We conservationists bandy these figures around like a vicious game of top trumps, to the extent that they have utterly lost their meaning. We鈥檝e forgotten that they are a death toll, that they are the dwindling voice of the vanished millions, a tragic echo of a time of plentiful life.
I have given myself a slap, I鈥檝e woken from my statistical stupor and I鈥檓 now staring wide-eyed into the face of mass extinction. And my plan is to give all my colleagues a shake and then, slightly more politely, point out this dire predicament to the great British public, whose lives are now so denuded of wildlife that they have forgotten that it was ever there.
In truth, it doesn鈥檛 surprise me. As a species our record on prevention is pretty poor 鈥� we respond much better to catastrophes, after which we can instigate cures. But if these figures aren鈥檛 enough, what will it take before we act? Do we have to wait for the first spring without a cuckoo, the first summer without a swallow? Are we waiting for the last skylark to hit the headlines? I hope not, because there is no need; we can fix this mess.
Walk for wildlife
Well, we could fix this mess. We have the tools in the conservation box, we know why our countryside is going to ruin, but we are shying away from seeing the bigger picture, distracting ourselves with piecemeal projects which work, but are too small to stop the rot. Another successful dormouse reintroduction is great, but it鈥檚 not going to help redress the wholesale destruction of our landscape by intensive farming.
There, I鈥檝e gone and said it, I鈥檝e had the temerity to point out the great big bag of pesticides in the room. I鈥檝e summoned the nerve to actually confront the sanctity of farming, to actually criticise the system that feeds us. Because that system has become dependent on vast quantities of poison and practices that. And will thus ultimately destroy us.
So what do you want to do? Carry on musing about the stats, mumbling about 鈥渓oss鈥� or stand up and say enough is enough? On 22 September, I鈥檓 organising the first Peoples Walk for Wildlife in London and if you would like your kids to ever hear a nightingale I would suggest you get your boots on and pack some sarnies. Your wildlife needs you, and it needs you more than ever.
Read more: Half of life on Earth has vanished since we arrived on the scene
