I took the above photo when I went for a walk along a countryside path I have walked many times before. A path I have known since I was quite young. But still it was different. Not quite the same path, not quite the same gate, and not quite the same me. But despite the changes I still find the joys I found there years and years ago.
That more recent walk was my first little ramble after recovering from my first – and I hope my only – dealings with Covid. It had knocked me into bed for weeks, and I was keen to get outdoors into the bite of autumn air.
To breathe the countryside air again, to take lungfuls of it in gentle exercise, was wonderful. Clean, cold, wet November in my nose.
There were birds too, still singing from treetops, even when dropping temperatures had ripped branches bare. There was still song, and there was something reassuring in that. That beautiful melody can still be found in the brutal bite of colder and less plentiful times.
And birdsong makes me stop and stare, it fills me with the same thing that must have welled up in Wordsworth at the sight of a rainbow.
My heart leaps up when I behold . . .
In that poem, Wordsworth describes the joy and peace he feels at the sight of a rainbow, feelings that had been a constant with him since childhood. And he desires that he be forever peacefully humbled by Nature's brilliance.
It is also a poem that explores the relationship between nature and a poet's wellbeing. His heart is lifted, and has been lifted many times throughout his life, by nature.
My own experience of nature is measured by my romantic eyes, and I go out there with a desire for the joy it brings. The childish wonder I still feel, and peaceful and healthy relief from matured troubles.
Still, I go out there with pocket books and guidebooks crammed into my pockets. A bird identification book pokes out of the back pocket of my trousers. Two other pocket books, both to help me identify various plants, are nestled in my coat pockets. Because I want to know and understand better; you do, when you love a thing.
Often, when I go out into the countryside, I see things that I cannot identify, and I hear songs I do not understand. So I go scroll through internet search results, I take recordings on my phone, stroll into some social media groups with a question or two, and throw myself into the guidebooks and ID cards. All in an attempt to plug those holes in my knowledge.
I don't mind being a little bit dumb about these things, still needing to read and research, not knowing the scientific name of everything I meet, or hearing a bird I can't identify. It's part of the journey. And no naturalist – from the young beginner, right up to Sir Attenborough himself – can claim to know all there is about the natural world. The natural world is an ever changing thing, as is our understanding of it. That ever learning journey is one that every naturalist and nature lover is undertaking.
The learning is part of the joy. Flicking through pages, finding an answer, on a little personal journey of discovery, and understanding better what I observe the next time I take my mud-caked boots down some country path.
What is this blog posting about? I hear you ask. Those of you that have made it this far. Well, it is a consideration of my own passion for nature, for wildlife. It is a discussion about the love of wildlife and nature that has been with me since childhood. And, I hope it might make you think of your own love for nature and wildlife. After all, it is the starting place, the place from which the desire to learn comes.
Actually, no, I hope it is not a starting place. That suggests that it is something left behind. No, I hope it is the heart of my, and your, pursuits in nature. The beating thing at the core of your pursuits in nature, keeping your relationship with nature alive and well. Because one has to hope that anyone who goes into nature, whether they are a photographer, a conservationist, a wildlife television presenter, a researcher . . . whatever . . . they do so with a love for nature beating at the centre of what they do. That they do not forget the passion and care as their journey begins to also include desires for the perfect shot, adequate funding, ratings, knowledge, and the attention of those in authority.
I strive to understand nature better, I read the books and learn the names. And I do what I can to support those who work to protect and care for wildlife and nature. However, for the most part, I think I look at nature with the stupid romantic heart of a poet.
I am fascinated by the studies done to capture the songs of warblers, count the notes that are sung, and how others of their species react to those songs. I am keen to learn more about the wildlife on my doorstep and how I can do more to accommodate its presence. And I will make the case for the benefits of richer biodiversity with anyone who cares to argue the point.
But it's the unquantifiable things that draw me back outdoors, that ignite the desire to learn, and which lures me outdoors in the cold to clean and tidy the birdfeeders to maintain good health and hygiene of feathered garden visitors.
I am not writing this post to suggest that a romantic and airy love for nature is more profound than a scientific understanding, that the poet is more valid than the scientist. No, I just don't want to forget the love.
Scientific understanding can justify, quantify, and be exploited. Love reminds us to care, to protect, and remember the indescribable profundity of nature.
There is, of course, another category of person, another sort of person that looks on the natural world with a more cynical eye. Not the knowledge seekers and the scientists, not the poets and the romantics, but the exploitative and the money makers. The ones who dump and destroy for the sake of temporary pleasure or money in the bank.
I sometimes think that we have made a Frankenstein's monster out of the institutions and systems that we have created, a monster that we then made a god.
We sacrifice life and that which gives life to the economy, one of our gods with bloody altars to its name, in the name of its health and wellbeing. And so, at the foot of these altars and idols we've erected, fascinated by our own genius, we forget that we are a product of nature and natural processes . . .
Things are changing, and there are reasons to be hopeful. Solutions are being sought to the problems of humanities detrimental impact on the natural world. There is a desire there to improve people's access to green spaces, particularly for those that have been limited by economic and physical limitations. And Natural History will be offered as an option in schools for GCSE studies.
There is reason to be hopeful.
A mother who home educates her children once told me, as she explained how her own teaching methods took in the subject of Natural History, that if she showed her children the beauty of nature, helped them to understand it now, that they would be more likely to look after it in future.
Give children the chance for a healthy and positive relationship with nature and they can carry that with them forever. If we let them play out there, get muddy, and get to know the wildlife around them, nurturing their fascination with it, we might end up with less of those cynical types.
We must remember that we are still, and forever will be, a part of the natural world. We are not separated from it.
The best conclusion, considering the place and importance of passion and knowledge in our pursuits out in nature, I think, is that they both have profound value. To what degree they are important probably depends upon the endeavours of the individual. The poet's work might be made richer with a little scientific understanding. And the conservationist might find their work much easier and rewarding with a constant love for nature in their heart.
By fostering a little more of both in our children, we might find ourselves in a world of less cynicism and destruction. We might find new ways of doing business, ways which are sustainable, profitable, and ethical.
And I do think that the best way to knowledge is through passion and wonder, and that fostering and nurturing that is as valuable as education. And not just for children.
It is important that those who work in nature take time to reconnect with their passion for nature and wildlife. It is so easy to become jaded in the target driven world of work and competition. It is understandable that conservationists are left weary by their battles. And being a voice for nature can be sore and wearing.
Make sure your heart still leaps up when you behold.
Wordsworth's poem ends with a wish that his life, for always, will be strung together with an appreciation for nature, its beauty and intelligence. That his days to be bound each to each in natural piety.
The poet asks that his life continues with that in his heart which makes him stop at the sight of a rainbow. That he is made peaceful, joyful, and humbled before Nature's brilliance.
Really, I think that that is why I used this space to ponder upon my own love of nature, my wonder in its presence. Because I have the same hope, the same wish. And I know too something precious would be lost if I ever found myself without that love any more.
What makes you stop and gasp? How did your love for nature and wildlife begin?
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