Books – Hoopoe – A blog by nhbs

Author interview with Sverker Sörlin: Snö – A History

Sverker Sörlin is an author, historian, and science communicator. He is currently Professor of Environmental History at the KTH Royal Institute of Technology in Stockholm.

He has published more than forty books including bestselling literary non-fiction, biographies, academic books and journalism. In 2004, he received the August Award for Non-fiction, Sweden’s pre-eminent literary award, and in 2024 the Inge Jonsson Prize, awarded by ‘The Nine Foundation’ for outstanding non-fiction.

We recently spoke to Sverker about his new book Snö, where he told us what inspired him to write the book, why he loves winter and the message he hoes people will take away.

You seem to have been inspired by and reflective about snow for most of your life. At which point did you decide that it was time that the ‘Angel of History’ and the ‘Snow Angel’ started talking to each other?

Yes, snow has been part of my life since I was a child in the 1950s and 1960s. My professional interest in snow and ice also began a long time ago when I was a PhD student researching the history of glaciology in the 1980s. I then worked both on and in the Arctic for a long time and led the Swedish commission for the International Polar Year 2007-2009.

It was only in the last decade, with the rise of the concept of the ‘Anthropocene’ that my outlook on snow as a ‘vulnerable element’ started to grow. In the current epoch of massive and irreversible human impact on the earthly elements, snow and ice have become, we might say, drawn into history. Snow, ice, water and also wetlands, forests, oceans, deserts, minerals and of course all sorts of life on earth are acquiring more and more ‘agency’ which is often destructive. They get this agency from the ‘human super agency’ that starts moving the entire planet faster, raising temperatures, destroying species, ecosystems and much else. In working on Snö — a History, I started to frame this as a dialogue between two angels, the ‘Angel of History’ and ‘the ‘Snow Angel’. To my knowledge, no one has ever done that so I thought it was about time. I wanted to use these concepts as metaphorical tools to draw attention to complicated matters that would otherwise require a lot of words to explain.

In your view, why is winter ‘the best season of all’, as you describe it?

Well, if you want to get into the world of snow and understand it, winter is of course the season to cherish! My appreciation of winter was also a basic value that I learned and cultivated when I was a child. I loved winter play and winter sports, like ice hockey and especially cross-country skiing. In the latter sport I had a career of sorts until I was around 20 and had to make a choice for my future -should I become a skier aiming high, or should I take university seriously I chose the latter, but it was a tough choice.

Your book weaves together religious, philosophical, and scientific perspectives. Do you ever find it challenging to intersect those attitudes? Is it ever cause for internal conflict?

In fact, this hasn’t caused a conflict for me. I also don’t confess to any religious conviction. I use the spiritual mindset to understand what goes on with me and, I assume, many other humans when we stand in front of phenomena in nature and history that are hard to fully fathom or explain. That doesn’t make me less interested in finding more knowledge about the same phenomena. In Snö I write literary non-fiction. My relationship to religion and the spiritual, but also to philosophy and the scientific, is respectful of the internal rationality of these approaches to their various versions of knowledge. I would acknowledge and, if necessary, make it clear, that these versions of ‘knowledge’, or sometimes ‘experience’ come from very different methodologies. As a scholar I subscribe with particular care to the knowledge we call scientific.

You refer to snow as ‘historical’. Could you elaborate on what you mean by this? How does snow carry or reveal history in ways that might not be immediately obvious?

It connects to what I said above on the implications of the Anthropocene. In the past, for example when I went to school and later university in the 1970s and 1980s, we learnt that ‘history’ was a record of the past that related to what humans did and thought. This required, as famously argued by British philosopher R.G. Collingwood in his book The Idea of History (written in the 1930s), a distinction between natural history (marked by aimless events) and the human history of intentional actions. What we experience in our contemporary Anthropocene world is that agency, usually reserved for humans, is increasingly distributed into what I call the ‘elemental’ categories of the world. I listed some of those above and snow is a good example.

When snow and ice (which is old, packed snow) melt in a systematic long-term fashion, it is a result of human agency through global warming. But the implications are considerable in a sequence of steps. For example, irrigation from seasonal melt becomes reduced and irregular. This affects millions of people and households south and east of the Himalayas, near the Andes in South Africa and in other regions. For the same basic reasons, the geography of winter tourism is changing, and ski resorts are closing. Snow drought appears in vast regions. Hydro-electrical production in rivers is disturbed. Extreme weather- including massive unseasonable melting means growing risk of floods. There are other cultural, social and psychological effects wrought by lack of snow and a lack of possible seasonal variations and pastimes and activities. Simply put: this is change and it is part of history since it is born out of human agency, which are to varying degrees intentional. This means it also becomes part of our responsibility, for ourselves, our nations, cities and citizens, and for this thing we used to call nature but which we now often call ‘the environment’ or ‘the planet’- or as we did long ago and now return to calling: the elements. As we speed them up and tweak and dominate them, we make them an intertwined part of our (human) history.

I think it is profound. It is an example of what we now refer to as ‘Anthropocene history’, which is an expansion, or augmentation, of the history we always had. It is, at the same time, a specialisation building on previous sub-specialties such as environmental history, history of science, history of knowledge, history of technology, climate history and a range of knowledge usually connected with geography.

Some argue that climate change is a natural, cyclical process, and therefore not something we should be overly concerned about—even if human activity is accelerating it. How would you respond to this view?

I smile and hope it will finally go away, the sooner the better. It is a long time ago that science left this position. We have known that most, almost all of our contemporary climate change is anthropogenic and stems predominantly from the human burning of fossil fuels. This has been scientific orthodoxy since around 1980 and the scientific ideas behind it date back to the 19th century. I think the only choice is to go by the established science. Anything else is unwise and will make the already severe consequences of climate change only worse and hinder the work to mitigate the change.

There’s growing discussion about how global warming, in the short term, could paradoxically lead to a long-term ice age due to the weakening or collapse of the Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation (AMOC). What are your most recent thoughts on this anticipated event?

Not many, really. It is correct that there is growing research into this issue but is quite speculative. The likelihood of it happening is under discussion. I have no other thoughts on this issue than what you can read in any newspaper, unfortunately, including that the risks do not seem big enough, by far, to make immediate action advisable. I am sure the issue will be followed though, so that, if necessary appropriate, preparations could be considered.

In your book you mention the decline of traditional water management systems, such as the acequias in the Sierra Nevada. How do you envision the future of water management?

Oh, that is a big issue. The answer largely depends on how successful we can be in pushing back against climate change. If we can push back, we will be able to hold on better to traditional management methods, like the acequias in southern Spain. These methods are an example of how local traditions have managed to make the most of high elevation snow reservoirs and preserve them until summer and use it economically and sustainably. If we fail to push back against climate change, I fear we will need to use more and more large and heavy-handed infrastructure that is both costly and risky. Big dams are for example vulnerable targets in war. And they are often too costly in developing countries, plus water is so scarce in large regions that dams are not a solution.

Over the decades, you’ve built an extensive body of work. How did the experience of writing Snö differ from your previous books—both in terms of process and personal resonance?

Since it is a more literary work than most of my previous work, it has been a quite different experience. I based much of my work on research I did myself over many years. The challenge was to supplement this body of knowledge with new knowledge and engaging stories that in a sense filled out the gaps, both chronologically and globally. Although quite a bit of this book is centred on the north- especially the European Arctic and the Scandinavian countries- it is quite literally a global history with examples from the Mediterranean world, the European Alps (in particular Switzerland), Russia, the Americas, Antarctica, New Zealand, Australia, Asia, even Africa. It stretches across thousands of years although certainly the two last centuries take up most of the space, and our present time especially since elemental change is now so rapid and the social and political consequences so big.

There is also more history of art and literature built into the narrative that I didn’t work on so much before. Plus, a wealth of new stories that I tell which I didn’t even plan to include; I came across them in my research. One example is a long chapter called ‘Nivea’. It is about the controversial politics of the skin creme (Nivea means snow white before and during Third Reich Germany and the Nazi passion for snow. There are a number of in depth, often fascinating, stories which work as an assemblage in a literary work but may not seem relevant in a scientific journal article. The form offers a more holistic view of the topic that reaches out to a wider readership, I think.

Has the journey of writing Snö led you to any new perspectives or awareness? If so, would you care to share some thoughts?

Well, some such perspectives are presented above. All in all, I have been acutely more aware in writing this book how important snow is. Even more than I was before. It is fundamental to the water balance of the planet and to water supplies in vast regions, particularly as it functions as a holder, or a parking place for ‘slow water’. When water doesn’t slow down properly during winter and spring much of it goes away useless and can create disaster downstream. No new glaciers are being formed. The old are melting. Snow cover gets thinner and stays fewer days for every decade. We will have a planet of rapid water streams but less water security, in some areas drastically so. That has been a revelation to me.

What is the core message or insight you hope readers will take away from Snö?

First of all, I really hope that the reader appreciates this as a reading experience. Experience is unique for every reader, based on the reader’s own background, perception and imaginative powers. This is something I cherish and respect. Still, if the reader will see and take to heart some of the core ideas in the book that I have presented briefly in these answers, it is a bonus. Snow may seem a marginal thing to people in most parts of the world. But it is bigger, and more central than you might think.

Do you see enough reasons to remain hopeful for the future of the planet?

Yes, of course! Most things these days, including climate change, don’t go the right way but I am always confident. It is a better idea to retain hope and work for the better. It at least makes you feel better to work toward the good than to become cynical and opt out. Reading good, rewarding and fascinating books is to me a good part of such work.

Book review: Is a River Alive?

***** A hydrological odyssey

Nature writer Robert Macfarlane will need little introduction, having authored a string of successful books on people, landscape, and language. Billed as his most political book to date, Is a River Alive? sees Macfarlane wrestle with the titular question and examine its relevance to the nascent Rights of Nature movement.

At the heart of this book are three long, 70–100-page parts that detail visits to three river systems in Ecuador, India, and Canada. They are separated by short palate cleansers, describing brief visits to local springs close to his home in Cambridge. In the back, you will find a surprisingly thorough ten page glossary, notes, a select bibliography, a combined acknowledgements and aftermaths section detailing developments up to publication, and an index.

This dry enumeration aside, it is the quality of the writing that we are all here for, and Macfarlane is on fine form as he immerses you in the landscapes he visits. These journeys are not solo affairs, however, and in each place he is accompanied by knowledgeable local guides: some are long-term collaborators, others he has only just met. It is a motley crew that includes a mycologist, a musician, and a lawyer, as well as judges, activists, back-country experts, and his close friend Wayne Chambliss. Macfarlane has a knack for giving warm and memorable portraits of them, as well as others they meet along the way.

The political aspect of this book stems from the fact that all these river systems are under threat; from mining in Ecuador, industrial pollution in India, and the construction of hydroelectric dams in Canada. In part, the book is a reportage on the environmental harm caused by resource extraction, economic development, and heavy industry, and the slow violence it inflicts on predominantly poor and marginalised communities. In Chennai, he graphically details how this has already come to pass, while in Ecuador and Canada, it could come to pass if certain companies were to get their way. In response, Western and Indigenous activists have rallied behind the Rights of Nature movement that originated in 1972 when lawyer Christopher Stone asked whether trees should have standing. Its proponents argue that natural entities such as mountains, forests, and rivers can and should have rights—legal personhood even—and thus protection by law.

So, is a river alive? What makes this book intriguing and thought-provoking is that Macfarlane does not provide a straightforward answer (“Yes, of course rivers are alive and here is why”). Instead, he wrestles with this question in full view of the reader. Clearly, he supports the environmentalist agenda and quickly counters the claim of anthropomorphism. He refers to rivers as a “who” and not an “it”, condemning the habit of the English language to “it” all natural entities, “a mode of address that reduces them to the status of stuff” (p. 22). I like to reference the work of Eileen Crist to make the point that language shapes our reality, and Macfarlane condenses it masterfully here: “Words make worlds” (p. 22).

Macfarlane’s struggle plays out along two axes. First, how can we really speak on nature’s behalf? What does a river want? He worries that in granting rights to nature, we will simply end up with “human proxies […] ventriloquizing ‘river’ and ‘forest’ in a kind of cos-play animism” (p. 83). His close friend Wayne justifiably asks whether the whole movement is just “a disguised form of political manoeuvring” (p. 292), in which assigning personhood to natural entities merely becomes a means to an end. Second, there is a philosophical and linguistic struggle. What words can truly capture this? “The history of literature is littered with the debris of attempts to utter water” (p. 289). In searching for a “grammar of animacy” (sensu Kimmerer), he is frustrated with “language’s short reach” (p. 260) and repeatedly runs into a wall. Partially, it seems the answers cannot be verbalised but have to be bodily experienced, as his journeys show him; partially, Indigenous thinking provides him with answers.

On that latter point I have to be honest: though I am supportive of this cause, as a child of the Western, scientific tradition, Indigenous thinking does not resonate with me much, and this is entirely *my* shortcoming. Macfarlane, it seems, sympathises, struggling with it himself: “It requires unlearning, a process much harder than learning” (p. 19). That said, there are moments where he speaks to the biologist in me, such as when discussing the deep-time maps of geologist Harold Fisk that show the many past meanders of the Mississippi River snaking across the landscape, making rivers seem very much alive. Similarly, when mycologist Giuliana Furci points out the consequences of deforestation (when the cloud-forest goes, so do its rivers), you have to wonder: are these rivers a form of niche construction, or even (if you squint hard, I admit) an extended phenotype of a kind? By and large, however, even if life is a fuzzy phenomenon that lacks sharp boundaries, the scientist in me feels that the question is stretching a metaphor beyond its breaking point.

So, I ask again, is a river alive? Better perhaps to ask, I think: Does it matter? Given how entwined life is with water and how dependent human societies are on rivers, the question seems moot to me. For most people, this is ultimately about environmental protection, in which case, whether or not a river has vital signs is irrelevant. However, if personhood is what it takes, given existing legal frameworks, then, sure, why not? A second concern I have is that of enforcement. All these lofty declarations risk being yet more paper parks if they do not have the force of the law behind them. Though Macfarlane does not explicitly raise this point, both his main text and his aftermaths give examples where judges have successfully invoked the Rights of Nature to halt or prevent companies from extracting natural resources. A final concern, as was so clearly argued in The Irresponsible Pursuit of Paradise, is that protective measures risk merely displacing resource extraction to somewhere else with less oversight. As long as there is demand for resources and money on the table, companies will continue extracting value from nature. This deeper cause is not dealt with here, though expecting Macfarlane to imagine the end of capitalism, pretty please, would be a tad unrealistic of me. That is a thorny, multifaceted problem if ever there was one.

Is a River Alive? is an intriguing and thought-provoking piece of nature writing that refuses to give easy answers. I imagine that this is not what Macfarlane’s readers are after anyway, and, if so, they will be amply served by the spectacle of a master wordsmith grappling with a weighty question.

EBHL Conference – Paris, May 2025

NHBS colleague Leon recently attended the general meeting of the European Botanical and Horticultural Libraries Group, or EBHL for short, which this year took place in Paris from May 14th to 17th. This annual conference brought together librarians and archivists from academic libraries and herbaria for several days of talks and behind-the-scenes tours at four outstanding locations in Paris. We have attended previous meetings in Brussels and London, and this continues to be a valuable occasion to meet some of our key customers from across Europe and the USA in person. The overarching theme of this year’s meeting was “Plant Sources;” branching out into three topic areas over three consecutive days.

A view of the Jardin des Plantes and part of the Paris Natural History Museum.

Day 1

The first day took place just outside the Paris Natural History Museum and its botanical gardens and discussed new tools for botanical and horticultural documentation. This included approaches to preserving the illustrations in the herbarium of Bonpland and Humboldt, how bibliographic metadata reflects historical developments in taxonomy, and an introduction to World Flora Online, a global resource for botanical information. After lunch, delegates were split into several groups and taken around the special collections section of the Central Library, which featured a collection of remarkable historical wax models of fruit and fungi that were used in teaching. We were also amazed to see the museum’s restorators at work in the basement’s book and paper restoration workshop, surrounded by a collection of vintage hand tools and presses. The craft and skill on display here were, frankly, astonishing. The day was completed by a trip around the botany library and its enormous herbarium storing dried plant specimens, including some remarkable collections of original herbaria and exsiccata from Humboldt and other historical collectors.

Some of the historical herbaria and exsiccata in the collections of the museum's botanical library. — Some of the historical herbaria and exsiccata in the collections of the museum’s botanical library.

Day 2

The location of second day of the conference, the Institut de France. — The location of the second day of the conference, the Institut de France.

On Wednesday, the conference continued at the Institut de France in the heart of Paris, right next to the Seine, and discussed private herbaria. A series of talks introduced us to some remarkable historical figures, including Benjamin Delessert, the Girardin family, and the tragically short-lived Auguste Pervillé, who died aged 33. Details of their lives and the impact they have had on the history of botany are ongoing areas of research. After a brief tour of the stunning library of the Institut de France, we were expected back at the Natural History Museum for a guided tour of its famed Jardin des Plantes. After this, I had the opportunity for a quick visit to the museum’s comparative zoology and palaeontology galleries, which have been high on my bucket list for Paris. The group reconvened in the evening at a rather unique venue, the moored barge “L’Eau et les Rêves” that doubles up as a floating café and Paris’s only botanical bookstore.

One of the libraries inside the Institut de France, normally only accessibly on appointment.

The mind-boggling collection of vertebrate skeletons in the museum's Gallery of Comparative Zoology. — The mind-boggling collection of vertebrate skeletons in the museum’s Gallery of Comparative Zoology.

Day 3

Given the meeting’s theme for the third day, “Understanding French Horticulture”, we were originally supposed to convene at the Société Nationale d’Horticulture de France (SNHF) but, due to ongoing building and restoration works, were instead hosted at the Ácademie d’Agriculture. After being greeted by a bust of none other than Louis Pasteur, we listened to presentations from visiting scholars on, amongst others, SNHF’s historical bulletins and what they reveal about how horticulture grew and developed in France, the remarkable early-20th century autochrome and film collection of the Albert Kahn gardens (subject of the book Natures Vivantes), and the botanical iconography that can be found in the Decorative Arts Library. The latter was a visually rich talk on how botany has influenced ornaments used in print and sculpture.

One of the beautiful libraries in the French Senate.

In the afternoon, we were allowed access to several libraries inside the French Senate and taken on a tour of the adjacent gardens, the famed Jardin du Luxembourg. In the evening, we went back to the academy for a remarkable presentation of the book Les Raisins de Redouté, which reproduces historical paintings of grapes and grapevines. After having gone missing for over a century, this collection of 83 paintings on vellum was rediscovered in the academy’s archives in 2018 and reproduced in this handsome, large-format book while the originals, valued at some 6 million euros, have been stored in safer environs.

Day 4

The final day of the EBHL conference entailed a visit to Versailles, specifically to the Potager du Roi, the King’s vegetable garden, and the library of the adjacent École Nationale Supérieure de Paysage. This working garden used to supply food to the courtiers at Versailles at a time when year-round availability of fresh fruit and vegetables was still largely unheard of. The garden is in the process of being restored and has a long and storied history. In the library, the archivists treated us to numerous original maps from their collections that show plans of this and other gardens in Paris.

The meeting was a great opportunity to catch up with existing customers and hear what their institutes are up to. We are looking forward to the next meeting and would like to thank the organizers of this year’s conference, in particular Florence Tessier, Sabrina Castandet-Le Bris, Mégane Pulby, and Audrey Lumière.

NHBS welcomes opportunities to develop closer ties with the professional and amateur organisations that we count amongst our customers, whether through attendance or sponsorship. Do not hesitate to reach out to us.

Author interview with Seán Ronayne: Nature Boy

An inspiring story of love, connection and the healing power of nature, author Seán Ronayne recounts his journey to record all the regularly occurring species of birds in Ireland. He also tells the stories of his adventures across the Sahara Desert, the jungles of Nepal, and the streets of Thailand, revealing the wonders of the natural world.

Seán Ronayne is an ornithologist and naturalist who was born in Cork, Ireland. He spent his childhood exploring the fields and woodlands around his hometown, before studying Zoology at University College Cork, followed by a Master’s in Marine Biology. He secured his first ornithology role in 2017, before relocating to Barcelona with his partner where he began recording local wildlife and birds in earnest. Upon their return to Ireland in 2020, Seán embarked on a project to record all of Ireland’s birds, some of which are on the cusp of extinction, and he now has only three species left to record.

We recently had the opportunity to speak to Seán about Nature Boy, including what first sparked his interest in nature, which equipment he uses for sound recording and more.

In your book, you talk about how nature has been a constant source of comfort and curiosity for you. Do you remember when the natural world first began to resonate with you? Was there a key event which sparked your interest?

Yes! I have two standout moments, both of which are particularly special in different ways. I was a very active child, and I really mean that. I was always on the go, and if I couldn’t be on the go, I was wriggling, squirming, and crying – longing to be free. My father quickly learned that a foray into nature was the cure. He would take me to our local nature reserve and imitate the sounds of all the wildlife around us. I would belly laugh at his attempts and give him my best guess. It was a great game to me, but it was also an education in disguise – Dad was teaching me to listen to nature, and to get to know my neighbours by ear.

The other is my first memory of a bird. I was very young, around 2 years old off the top of my head, and the bird was pointed out to me by my Dad’s father – Pops. He loved birds too. I’ll never forget that first view of a magpie, with its regal pied plumage, draping long tail, and green and purple shimmying iridescence. Pops died not long after. I did not understand, but today, every time I see a magpie I see Pops, smile and thank him for the journey he sent me on.

Can you share with us what equipment you use for recording and what your decision process was for selecting it?

I am not a technical sound-recordist. I follow my ears, and my heart, and then I record the sounds that call to me with whatever tools I have at my disposal. I learned my skills through trial and error (mostly through error), but you know the phrase – even a broken-down clock is right twice a day! For isolating birds and getting a close intricate recording, I use a Dodotronic Hi-Sound parabolic reflector, paired with a second-hand Olympus LS-12 recorder – the Nokia 3210 of the sound recording world. To capture really intimate moments, or for longer, all weather deployments, I used a Song Meter Mini II. The sound is superb, and the device can be hidden easily, allowing birds to approach close and whisper into the mics unbeknownst to themselves. This provides intimate chitter-chatter I’d never otherwise get the opportunity to capture, and the Song Meter runs for weeks and can survive all manner of weather conditions! I guess these two pieces are my go-to tools.

Bioacoustics is one of the fastest-growing industries in the ecological sector. Are there any technological advances you’d like to see in this field?

I am really happy with where it’s at, to be honest! I can see that AI software to auto-identify birds is being worked on, but I don’t really care for that. I absolutely adore pouring through raw audio with a fine-tooth comb myself. In doing so, I enter that world, and I learn so much – a fast summary response kills the magic and learning for me. Perhaps others will disagree with me, but for my needs I am happy with where the technology is at, and the constant need for ‘progress’ in today’s world has a lot to answer for in terms of ecological, climate, and planetary degradation, after all.

While watching your documentary, I was very moved by your recording of the last known pair of Ring Ouzels in Ireland. Can you describe what it felt like to capture that moment, knowing you were recording a piece of history?

It was utterly devastating, and highly stressful. We’re talking about a bird that has been visiting our uplands each summer for hundreds, even thousands of years, wiped out in a heartbeat, with the majority of people not even knowing it existed at all. The stress came into the equation because I felt a strong desire, responsibility even, to capture its voice to show people the sonic beauty of what we are erasing, and what we need to stand up and fight for. With just one known pair remaining I was unsure if I had time to give this bird a voice, and if I didn’t capture it I’d have been doubly devastated – I’d have felt like I left it down, leaving it to die out in silence, unheard and forgotten. That did not happen though, at least.

Birdsong seems to have the ability to engage and move people in a way that perhaps other facets of nature don’t. Why do you think this is?

Well, I think it’s hard not to love it, isn’t it? Birdsong is nature’s melody! The dawn chorus is nature’s orchestra. It’s always there, it’s such a treat to listen to and it’s completely free. We have evolved in tandem with it. We hear birdsong, and everything is right with the world…we don’t hear birdsong, and something has gone terribly wrong. Right? A forest has been felled, a river has been covered, a bog has been drained, a city has enveloped, a motorway has drowned it out.

In your book, you talk about the importance you placed on your first bird ID guide as a child. Do you have any go-to books for bird identification?

This is easy – the Collins Bird Guide (the bible), and of course the legendary Sound Approach collection.

With your recent book, tour and documentary, you’ve made a real push to engage with the public and remind them of the natural world. What do you hope people take from your work?

I just hope that people realise how inexplicably beautiful, educational, nourishing, wondrous, and ever-giving nature is. But I also need them to know that it’s in freefall. Because of our own very actions. And inactions. My work is a call to arms, with hope and beauty being my primary weapons – with a brief but sharp slap of loss and despair. The latter is necessary, but it is my secondary weapon. Love and hope outgun loss and despair always.

You currently only have 3 species left to record to complete your mission to record every Irish bird. Do you have any plans for afterwards?

Of course. I will be on this journey for as long as I’m gifted time on this earth. Recording all of these birds was never intended to be a tick and run exercise. Every time I listen to a given species or individual I learn something new. I capture a new voice. The more I listen, the more I realise how little I know. And that’s gorgeous, isn’t it!? This is what I mean when I say that nature is ever-giving. And to answer you in more direct terms, I fully intend to write more, and to work on more film projects. I’ll also tour my talks, stories and sounds until people have had enough of me, which I hope never happens (haha)!

Nature Boy: A Memoir of Birdsong and Belonging by Seán Ronayne is published by Hachette Books Ireland in Trade Paperback and is available from nhbs here.

Book review: King Tyrant

***** Sets the standard for what good popular science can be

When Princeton University Press announced King Tyrant, I was beyond excited. Whether it is pterosaurs, palaeoart, or the Crystal Palace dinosaurs; whatever palaeontologist and palaeoartist Mark Witton writes on has been brilliant so far, and King Tyrant very much continues that tradition. Do not let the pretty pictures fool you; this is not a children’s book but a grounded, fact-based overview of the scientific consensus on all things Tyrannosaurus rex, combined with numerous informative diagrams and Witton’s gorgeous palaeoart. The execution of this book sets the standard for what good popular science can be and is a model that other authors and publishers can aspire to.

Even if you know nothing about dinosaurs, T. rex is the one name you will recognise, such is the fame of this extinct animal. Surely, books about it are a dime a dozen? In a recent interview on the Love in the Time of Chasmosaurs podcast, Witton pointed out that, surprisingly, this is not the case. Hone’s book covered the family at large, but, aside from two technical books in recent decades, the last popular treatment was Horner & Lessem’s book in 1993. That might just as well be prehistory, given how much research has advanced and how many more fossils have been found since then. This is a clear case of Witton writing the book that he wanted to read.

Given how frequently the name T. rex crops up, you might even get a bit annoyed: not you again! All the more reason to read this book. Witton is acutely aware that a veritable subculture has grown up around this one species that “sits, sometimes uncomfortably, on the boundary between science and sensationalism” (p. 1). These popular depictions, often carrying with them an air of scientific authority, bleed into people’s consciousness, creating something less of a dinosaur and more of a chimaera, with traits both exaggerated and fictional. One of Witton’s most important goals with King Tyrant is to “deconstruct hype and controversy” (p. 41). The first chapter daringly combines a précis of the first century of research with an examination of the sociological side. How did this particular species become palaeontology’s rock star? It is a fascinating history that starts at the American Museum of Natural History who promoted it to attract large crowds. It was “proverbial lightning in a bottle” (p. 278), with an influential legacy that lasts to this day in movies, documentaries, and merchandise. And yet, popular depictions “have nothing on what science tells us about the reality of Tyrannosaurus rex” (p. 279).

The bulk of the book thus explores what the science actually shows. The remaining six chapters flow logically into each other: the definition and taxonomy of the species; internal and external anatomy; physiology, growth, sensory biology, locomotion, etc. (i.e., what all this anatomy might have been capable of); ecology and behaviour; and extinction. Indeed, the writing is one of the two highlights of this book. Witton strikes that fine balance between going into quite some technical detail and yet keeping it entertaining. The result is a well-grounded and accessible summary of the scientific consensus on numerous topics.

T. rex, more than any other species, attracts a lot of fringe ideas from inside and outside of academia, and Witton leaves no rock unturned. On the one hand, there are the minority views and “non-troversies” (thanks Witton, I am stealing that brilliant term) that get far too much airtime, such as the existence (or not) of a dwarf species, “Nanotyrannus“, or the scavenging hypothesis, the notion that T. rex was a scavenger rather than a hunter. Needless to say, neither idea curries much favour among professionals. On the other hand, actual scientific debates are often ignored by the press. Opinions are divided on whether dinosaurs were already on their way out before the asteroid impact or were still in their prime. Witton provides the best overview of this topic that I have read so far.

In The Future of Dinosaurs, Hone pointed out the frequent disparity between what people *think* we know, and what we actually know – and plenty of examples of this feature here. Some confident depictions are almost completely fictitious. The trope of the roaring T. rex leads to the question of whether dinosaurs as a group vocalised at all! This is not “overzealous scientific conservatism” (p. 159); we have found, all told, one whole fossilised voice box. The ensuing discussion on the evolution of vocalisation in birds, dinosaurs, and other reptiles shows the complexities and competing scenarios. The opposite also holds: there are topics where the general public does not realise just how much palaeontologists know, such as the anatomy of T. rex‘s face or its remarkable growth pattern with age.

The other highlight of this book is the illustrations, both the artwork and the diagrams. Witton is an accomplished palaeoartist who cares deeply about the scientific accuracy of his artwork. We thus get modern depictions of dinosaurs with fleshy lips and bulky muscles. Each of these paintings is worthy of a frame, and it is hard to pick favourites. The book’s cover, showing T. rex rumbling a closed-mouth vocalisation (a behaviour seen in modern birds and reptiles), is, in my opinion, one of the best pieces he has ever made. The azhdarchid pterosaur stalking a juvenile T. rex on page 250 is also instantly memorable. Even when the subjects are cliché, such as T. rex near erupting volcanoes or the K–Pg impactor streaking across the sky, Witton’s depictions are visually arresting. Labelled photomontages show T. rex‘s “raw osteological charisma” (p. 4), and include detailed close-ups that help you form a mental picture of what all those anatomical bits look like. Equally important are the numerous informative diagrams littered throughout the book. Witton has gone to the painstaking effort of redrawing every one of them, in the process modifying and adapting them as necessary. Instead of a mishmash of styles, ages, production values, and extraneous details, the illustrations are presented in a single unified style. It will have been a huge amount of work for something that most authors and editors would probably consider nominal gains, but it shows his attention to detail, and I, for one, rate this very highly.

King Tyrant is an instant classic: I do not even care that much for T. rex per se, but the book’s brilliant execution immediately lands it a spot in my top 5 for 2025. A compulsory buy for dinosaur enthusiasts, this book is also a valuable overview for professional palaeontologists and an inspirational example of what excellent science communication looks like.

Book review: Alexander von Humboldt

***** A factual and nuanced picture, and a critical interrogation of previous portrayals

I read and compared this book to Andrea Wulf’s widely-read The Invention of Nature. Historian Andreas W. Daum shows that good things come in small packages and delivers a factual, nuanced, and admirably concise biography. Straight off the bat, you can tell that this will be a different book. At 208 pages and 13 × 21 cm, it is swallowed by Wulf’s book. Though both authors are German, as a historian actively researching Humboldt’s biography, Daum is just that bit more qualified. Originally published in German, Daum was actively involved in the book’s English translation, revising and expanding it in the process.

A more detailed comparison follows at the end as I first want to judge this book on its merits. Daum discusses Humboldt’s life in six chapters, giving equal attention to periods that were less glamorous than his American and Russian expeditions. A short interlude reflects on his scientific approach, while the book ends with a chronology, a very useful narrative guide to sources and further reading, endnotes, and a selected bibliography. Daum has a clear mission statement: to examine Humboldt’s life “through a refined biographical lens [that] avoids both mystification and vilification [and] to suggest a more nuanced interpretation, portraying a multifaceted Humboldt” (p. 3). Two aspects stood out to me.

First, throughout, Daum pushes back on previous portrayals of Humboldt. Wulf’s and Meinhardt’s book are characterised as “popular, heroic accounts” (p. 162) that portray Humboldt as “a singular intellect way ahead of his time” (p. 2). He adds a clear barb at Wulf’s address by writing that Humboldt did not invent nature. He equally objects to postcolonial criticism that casts Humboldt as a gentleman colonizer. Though a necessary corrective, it needs to be combined with a fair assessment of his progressive sides. Portrayals of Humboldt as a second Columbus are similarly scorned as simplistic colonial tropes that are simply not true: “Humboldt was not venturing into unknown territory. Nowhere was he the ‘first'” (p. 55). Daum furthermore distinguishes between Humboldtian science and Humboldt’s science. Humboldt’s call for systematic collection of geomagnetic and climatological data by networks of observatories, later pursued by both Russia and the UK, has been called an example of *Humboldtian* science by historian Susan Faye Cannon. Daum counters that this is a later, idealized archetype that “jettisoned his emphasis on the aesthetic” (p. 124). *Humboldt’s* science, in contrast, was far more tentative, trying to balance empirical science with one’s subjective experience of nature. He did not have it all figured out before or after his American expedition. To suggest otherwise is “a retrospective projection” (p. 52) that does not do him justice. Finally, though Humboldt is venerated in South America and he welcomed declarations of independence, he played no role in them, nor should be labelled the “father of Latin American independence” (p. 109).

Alexander von Humboldt, by National Endowment for the Humanities.

Second is Daum’s nuanced picture of Humboldt. Take, for example, his political stance, or lack thereof. Though remembered for his liberal values and criticism of colonialism and slavery, he feared bloody violence, such as seen during the French Revolution and favoured more gradual reforms. When Prussia took the fight to Napoleon and occupied Paris in 1814, his brother Wilhelm supported the German cause while Alexander refused to, “souring relations between the two” (p. 105). Humboldt helped prevent the Paris Museum of Natural History from being looted and drew criticism back in Germany when lobbying for stolen German artworks to stay in Paris. He supported and found patronage for French and German scientists alike and, by refusing to pick sides, easily moved in different social circles. When he later returned to Berlin with its increasingly conservative political climate that curbed freedom of expression, he swam against the tide by offering free public lectures that became incredibly popular.

Daum gives a similarly nuanced picture of Humboldt’s way of working. Hearing of his grand plans for the American expedition, his brother was already concerned he would overreach. Indeed, he habitually bit off more than he could chew, always had multiple manuscripts on the go, and left a legacy of unfinished projects. Kosmos, the magnum opus he laboured on for the last two decades of his life, was not necessarily a resounding success, despite the high sales. Some contemporaries considered it challenging or requiring too much prior knowledge. Ironically, the proliferation of simplified versions and explainers meant that Humboldt succeeded, sort of, in popularizing science, though it “had taken on a momentum that the author could no longer control” (p. 142). Daum characterizes it as synopsis of material rather than a coherent synthesis, which buttresses his conclusion that Humboldt is remembered not for coming up with “a clearly defined theory that fundamentally changed scientific and social thinking”, but for leaving us with “myriad complex thoughts and incentives for further research” (p. 151).

Alexander von Humboldt, by Smithsonian Magazine.

Given the number of people who will have read Wulf’s The Invention of Nature, a comparison is in order. My one-liner is that Daum’s book is less fluff, more facts. The book’s brevity is partially achieved by omitting all the biographical material on other people that Wulf included and partially by mentioning rather than describing events in lively detail. This is particularly noticeable when it comes to Humboldt’s expeditions. Now, before you conclude that Daum’s book contains less material than Wulf’s, let me stop you there. For all its brevity, there are numerous details here not mentioned by Wulf. Beyond factoids, there are the above-mentioned aspects, attention for his lesser-known works, a more informed opinion on his sexuality, and many other things besides. In a mere 153 pages, Daum concisely offers a full yet nuanced picture of Humboldt’s life and work.

If you have already read The Invention of Nature, should you read this biography? Next to being a quick read, hopefully by now you are convinced Daum’s book is worth your time by offering a different perspective and much new information. I found reading them together an instructive and rewarding exercise. If you insist on me recommending just one book, answer me this: do you read history books to be informed or to be entertained? In the former case, choose Daum for a more scholarly take; in the latter, choose Wulf for an entertaining book that indulges in digressions. I hasten to add that I am talking shades of grey here: Daum prioritising the facts does not mean his book is boring, just as Wulf prioritising storytelling does not mean her book is inaccurate.

Author interview with Jon Stokes: Trees of Britain and Ireland

This comprehensive guide to tree identification features over 3,000 photos and illustrations of more than 300 native and common non-native species. It includes detailed keys, distribution maps and seasonal charts, alongside ecological insights, habitat information and conservation advice on each species, making it an invaluable resource for those interested in British and Irish tree species.

Jon Stokes is one of Britain’s leading tree conservationists and has been studying the world of trees for over thirty years. He is the Director of Trees, Science and Research at a UK based charity The Tree Council, which aims to bring everyone together for the love of trees, and has authored or co-author ten books focusing on trees.

We recently spoke to Jon about Trees of Britain and Ireland, where he told us how he decided which species to include in this book, what his hopes are for the future conservation of our native trees and more.

How did you first become interested in tree biology and ecology, and why did you decide to write the latest WILDGuides identification book?

I have always been fascinated by trees. I love their huge size, their great age and their amazing ability to live for centuries in one spot, coping with everything the world throws at them. To truly understand trees, however, I believe it is vital to understand the other species that depend on them. Oaks, for example, support more than 2,000 other species.

When the opportunity arose to write the WILDGuides tree book, it felt like an amazing opportunity to produce something new – a book that not only allowed the identification of all our diverse and varied native trees and shrubs, but one which also described the ecology of the trees and some of the species which live within them.

What was the greatest challenge you faced when writing this guide, and did you have any specific issues in relation to seasonality?

One of the many challenges in producing this book was our desire to photograph flowers, leaves, fruit and winter twigs – to show how to identify trees all year round. This obviously meant returning to each species a number of times, in all seasons, in all weathers, across the length and breadth of the country. We also wanted to show trees in their natural environments – all of which just made the project a little more complex! Despite the challenges, it was a joyful journey of discovery which took me from the top of Ben Lawers in Scotland; to sea level in Cornwall and Ireland; from sand dunes to heathland; from dense woodland to ancient wood pasture, and occasionally to some very scary cliff edges, looking for Whitebeams.

Trees of Britain and Ireland provides a comprehensive overview of the interdependent relationships between trees and a variety of plant, animal, fungal, and lichen species. Why did you think it was so important to highlight these relationships, and how did you decide which additional species to include?

The web of life that surrounds our trees is truly astonishing, from tiny wasps to bats, from fungi to Ospreys – they all live in and on trees. Selecting the range of species to illustrate was difficult and, of course, there was also a bit of personal preference in the final choices! In some cases, the selection process was very difficult. To my surprise, the biodiversity of some species, like Wild Cherry, doesn’t appear to be well studied – something I hadn’t realised until working on this book.

It was evident throughout the book that this is a clear, easily digestible guide suitable for readers of all abilities. How important do you think nature accessibility and education is for future generations?

I have had the pleasure of spending my working life engaging people with nature. From guided walks, to lectures and talks, I love showing people new aspects of the world around us. Life is fascinating and every day is a school day. For example: Why are leaves green? How do trees grow? Why is that tree, that shape? These are the questions that enthral me daily. I guess this is a long-winded way of saying that I believe learning about nature is vital to all of us, all the time, and at any age. I hope this book sparks an interest in learning more about my beloved trees. I hope it sparks a desire to go out and explore other aspects of our beautiful islands and the wealth of wildlife we have here.

What patterns did you notice whilst researching conservation status in the UK, and what are your hopes for the future conservation and protection of our native trees and plants?

This is a really interesting question. I now realise that, before researching this book, I hadn’t really thought about the conservation status of many of our trees and shrubs. Yet, Britain and Ireland actually have many rare and globally endangered species growing exclusively here, like many of the endemic Whitebeams and the Wild Cotoneaster. Our knowledge of our rare trees is sometimes scant. In the last twelve months, new information has emerged about our elm trees, suggesting there may be new and rare elm species hiding in plain sight.

So, what are my hopes for the future of these rare species? Well, if nothing else, the development of the book allowed me to clearly articulate the importance of these rare trees in my work. More importantly, I hope a better understanding of the importance of these rare trees will allow better protection to be developed for these globally rare species growing in these islands.

What’s taking up your time at the moment? Are you working on any other books or projects that we can hear about?

In terms of projects, there is one current Tree Council project that is very important to me. This project draws on work undertaken twenty years ago when, with my fellow authors and photographers, we had the privilege of writing a number of books on our ‘Heritage Trees’ – trees that are as important to the nation as some of our great stately homes and castles. From 2000-year-old yews, to astonishing old broadleaved trees like the Bowthorpe Oak, we featured a range of these iconic trees to show the amazing living heritage we have in Britain and Ireland. Now 20 years on, we are revisiting the trees to see how they have fared over the last two decades and the results of this will be published later in the summer. It’s already clear that while some of the trees have thrived over this time, others have not done so well. Our aim is for this project to lead to the development of new guidance on how to better protect our most important trees, to ensure that we can marvel at these ‘Green Monuments’ and hear their stories for many decades to come.

Trees of Britain and Ireland is available from our online bookstore.

Hazel Dormouse Conservation Handbook: Author Interview

The third edition of the Hazel Dormouse Conservation Handbook is based on the most recent research and practical experience available on the ecology of Hazel Dormice. It provides information on best practices for conservation, whilst a separate publication, the Hazel Dormouse Mitigation Handbook, offers further information for those involved in development projects across the UK that may affect Hazel Dormouse populations.

We recently had the opportunity to speak to authors Simone Bullion, Rob Wolton and Ian White about the most recent volume, including the latest updates, how they became interested in Dormouse conservation and more.

Firstly, can you tell us a bit about yourself and how you became interested in Dormouse conservation?

Simone Bullion:

It was 25 years ago, when I had newly started a job with the Suffolk Wildlife Trust, that two events acted as a catalyst for my great interest in dormice. Firstly, I was approached by my friend, Pat Morris, to support the National Dormouse Monitoring Programme by helping to increase the number of people with dormouse licences. At the same time, there was a release of captive-bred dormice into a Suffolk woodland close to where I was living, giving me the opportunity to study them first hand. A series of funded projects followed, which helped increase our knowledge of their distribution across the county – this then initiated conservation action to restore vital linkages by planting kilometres of hedgerows. However, through time, the more I found out about dormice, the more it seemed they hadn’t read the book. Habitats that I felt quite certain would support dormice often resulted in several attempts to confirm their presence. Clearly, there were better places to nest than in the boxes and tubes I was offering them, so that led to my interest in footprint tunnels as an alternative detection method. There is still much to learn about dormice, but working with such an interesting and charismatic species has been a privilege.

Rob Wolton:

My fascination with dormice, and indeed with hedges themselves, really started when I noticed strange round nests in the hedges on our farm in Devon. As a keen birdwatcher, I could not place them. Until, one day about 30 years ago, a dormouse popped out! My first. That was the prompt that made me start to look seriously at hedges and at their wildlife, a passion that remains with me to this day. Each autumn I must admit to becoming more than a little fixated with trying to spot dormouse nests in our hedges as I walk around the farm, checking the stock or walking the dog. For several years my wife Paula took care of one, a three-legged female, no longer fit for captive breeding at Paignton Zoo. Dora, as we named her, was a huge draw, a natural lead in to talk about the farm’s wildlife and how we were encouraging it. There are few such endearing and engaging mammals.

Ian White:

I had always had an interest in conservation, but after university I worked in the retail sector. I then embarked on a new career path in my 40’s, thinking that I would become a wildlife ranger. During a training course I was asked to put together a presentation on a British mammal – I chose shrews, and so started an interest in small mammals. I was fascinated by the fact that many were considered common, but based on what? It appeared that very little was known about this group compared with larger mammals. My initial interest in dormice was somewhat biased in that, due to their conservation status, they were the only small mammal that anybody was likely to pay me for. Now after over twenty years working with dormice, I think that they are a fabulous ambassador for many other species, and they still fascinate me now as much as they did when I first saw one.

The Hazel Dormouse Conservation Handbook marks the third edition of this vital text; what can we expect from this updated volume?

Much research has been undertaken on various aspects of dormouse ecology since the release of the second Dormouse Conservation Handbook in 2006. As a result of several PhD theses and other studies, much more is known about their habitat requirements, hibernation ecology, population biology and genetics. New survey techniques are also included to aid with detection of this sometimes very elusive species.

Unlike previous editions which integrated conservation, mitigation and the effects of development within one title, the third edition presents this information into two distinct handbooks. Why was it necessary to separate this information into two guides?

Landowners, land managers and the voluntary sector continue to have a significant interest in dormouse ecology and habitat management. Separately, there is a professional interest in this protected species in the context of land use planning. Specialist knowledge has also increased, in terms of understanding best practice approaches to minimise the impacts on dormice from development. Consequently, it was decided to separate these areas of interest into two books. It is envisaged that the Hazel Dormouse Conservation Handbook will be useful to anyone with an interest in dormice, as it covers their ecology, survey techniques and habitat management. The Hazel Dormouse Mitigation Handbook will be essential as an additional and complementary reference to support the work of professional ecologists and others involved in planning.

Hazel dormouse (Muscardinus avellanarius) by Frank Vassen, via flickr.

Since the 1996 publication of the first Dormouse Conservation Handbook, how have Dormouse populations and their conservation status changed?

Sadly, Hazel Dormice have continued to decline. The ‘State of Britain’s Dormice 2023’ reported a 70% decline of dormice in monitored populations since 2000. If the observed annual rate of decline of 5.7% were to continue unabated, then dormouse counts would be expected to have fallen by more than 90% by 2034. It is also believed that there has been a loss of the species from 20 English counties over the past 100 years. Consequently, they are currently considered a vulnerable species and in danger of further localised extinction in Britain.

Which factors pose the greatest threats to dormice in the present day, and what conservation strategies are being employed in an attempt to mitigate their effects?

Whilst dormice are can live in a wide range of woody habitats, they thrive in the mid-stages of successional regrowth of woodland after coppicing, in networks of sensitively managed hedges and in scrub. However, woodland management has declined during the last 100 years; only half of our hedgerows are in favourable condition and scrub is much maligned. Dormice are also particularly vulnerable to habitat fragmentation. To be effective, dormouse conservation therefore requires landscape-scale thinking to deliver the necessary increases and improvements in their habitat, and to restore connectivity. This will also help remaining dormouse populations become more resilient to localised changes, as well as the negative impacts of unfavourable weather and climate change.

However, there are parts of their former range where natural recolonisation of dormice is extremely unlikely. The dormouse reintroduction programme, administered by the People’s Trust for Endangered Species, focuses on consolidating the current range of dormice, working to restore dormice at landscape level to create robust metapopulations.

Muscardinus avellanarius by xulescu_g, via flickr.

Dormouse research relies heavily on the work of volunteer dormouse monitors, demonstrating the essential role of volunteers in conservation. What does this volunteer role entail, how does it support conservation, and how can the public get involved?

The National Dormouse Monitoring Programme (NDMP) has been running for over 25 years and is a powerful tool in monitoring population trends. As it relies on volunteers, it also provides an opportunity for people to interact with wildlife and see a dormouse close up – something that rarely happens in the wild. As dormice are a highly protected species, checking boxes for their presence must be undertaken by a trained licence holder. This training can take several years to complete, and numbers of trainees are often limited by the sites available, so sometimes there can be a waiting list to start. However, non-licence holders can also assist with putting up boxes, helping record the data and undertaking winter repairs to the boxes when they are unoccupied.

Other ways people can also get involved is to volunteer with one of your local conservation charities to help manage habitats to benefit dormice.

What do you hope the reader can learn from the Hazel Dormouse Conservation Handbook?

Dormice act as umbrella species for our native wildlife. Their habitats are home to a broad range of other species and retention of their populations is a strong indicator of habitat integrity at a landscape scale. Put simply, if we get it right for dormice, we get it right for many other species as well. We therefore hope that this handbook will help to aid the recovery of this important species.

Hazel Dormouse Conservation Handbook is available from our bookstore here.

Author interview with Flemming Ulf-Hansen: Exmoor

This lavishly illustrated and comprehensive book marks the 150th volume in the renowned New Naturalist series, and details the wildlife, landscapes and natural history of Exmoor to reveal its incredible biodiversity. As someone actively involved with the environment of the South-West, the author provides the reader with a scholarly yet accessible volume on this abundant area.

Flemming Ulf-Hansen is an ecologist with nearly 37 years of experience working in wildlife conservation, primarily across Exmoor and Salisbury Plain. He is the founding chair of the Exmoor Mires Project and specializes in ecological restoration, with a host of expertise in grassland, woodland, and heathland management, as well as invasive species control. He joined the Nature Conservancy Council in 1988 and was awarded a Churchill Fellowship in 2010 to study habitat restoration.

We recently spoke to Flemming about Exmoor, where he explains why a book on this area was needed, how rewilding may benefit this vital landscape, what he’s currently working on and more.

Volume 27 of the New Naturalist series, the first to explore Dartmoor, was published over 70 years ago. Why do you feel that a title on Exmoor was important to produce?

Exmoor’s wildlife has been neglected in published work for over 40 years, with perhaps the exception of the battles over heathland ploughing. Since the 1953 Dartmoor title, we have had a second volume in 2009, by Ian Mercer. Exmoor is one of the three moorlands in southern England, the other being Bodmin Moor – and one that spans the upland-lowland boundary. But it has a special ingredient – the coast! Exmoor’s somewhat remote location on the north coast of Somerset and Devon means that its wildlife has had less attention. With only Minehead, Dulverton or Combe Martin close by, there is no great supply of recorders in major towns or cities. An additional goal has been to highlight unpublished or grey literature, ensuring that this valuable information is accessible and not overlooked.

Exmoor National Park supports a wide range of habitats: blanket bogs, dry heath, scrub and peatland to name just a few. Why is this landscape so vital and what is its ecological value in the UK?

The elements of a moorland landscape you highlighted were the main reason for the designation of the National Park. Its position as an upland massif on the western seaboard gives it a distinctiveness with a disposition of low- and higher-altitude communities, perhaps unique to southwest England. The western heaths can locally dominate the landscape, and the vibrant purple and yellow colours of flowering heathers and Western Gorse are a treat in early autumn which harbour Stonechat and Dartford Warbler. Well-developed mosaics and transitions between moorland and woodland are a feature and provide structure, shelter and rich foraging habitat for wildlife, including a home for some special species, like the Heath Fritillary butterfly.

The woods should also be highlighted. Their position on the west coast of the British Isles brings moisture and a mild climate associated with the Gulf Stream. For many fungi, bryophytes and ferns these are ideal conditions, and Exmoor’s lichens reach international importance. Large sheets of western mosses and liverworts carpeting rocky ground among abundant ferns are Exmoor’s equivalent of lowland Britain’s much-vaunted Bluebell woods. They have been recently identified as temperate rainforest, placing them in a wider context.

Porlock bay by Marilyn Peddle, via flickr.

Exmoor is not typically known for its coastline – did the limited accessibility of this environment pose challenges in researching and writing Chapter 8?

It should be better known, as it is one of its high points! But yes, the steepness of the cliffs, including England’s highest at Great Hangman, combined with few rivers cutting down to the sea to allow safe access, has deterred much survey work. It has meant that, for example, cliffs are surveyed from a boat with binoculars. Spotting whitebeams is just about possible, but identifying rare or endemic members of the group is not. It was an ambition of mine – yet to be realised – to try and age cliff-edge Yews which were noted as far back as 1874 by the Midlands botanist Edwin Lees, at Combe Martin. The climbers who pioneered the Exmoor Traverse knew some of the locations well, the largest of which is probably at Wringapeak. They may well hold some surprises and form a reservoir of ancient trees and remnants of unspoilt natural woodland.

In the marine environment there is no doubt that severe tides have limited exploration. I have had to rely on old data or records from very scattered locations. There is just one place where the seashore or seabed can be reached, Glenthorne, in the 12 km stretch of remote coast between Gore Point and The Foreland on the Devon side.

Chapter 10 highlights the increasing popularity of ‘rewilding’ approaches, a prime example being the Knepp Estate in West Sussex. How do you think this method might benefit Exmoor, and what recommendations might you have for a rewilding approach?

Parts of Exmoor are of course deliciously wild, they are just not easy to see –the steep slopes and cliffs for instance. Of course, rewilding has in effect been happening on parts of Exmoor anyway, just not by design – I am thinking about originally open, marginal land transitioning to secondary woodland over the last 50–100 years.

To restore more wildlife to Exmoor, we will need to embrace fundamental ecosystem processes across larger areas of wilder, semi-natural habitats with more wetland and forest. The range of approaches is great, and we should not be too purist. In some areas active intervention may be needed, such as by introduction of beavers or other herbivores. In other areas we can adopt ‘agricultural rewilding’, which aims to restore ecosystem functions using lower-intensity human interventions, such as the management and harvest of livestock.

Exmoor by Eric de Redelijkheid, via flickr.

The Exmoor Nature Recovery Vision is an ambitious vision for a thriving, diverse landscape on Exmoor. What are the first steps to achieving this vision in your eyes, and how realistic do you think this vision is?

We can’t continue to spend time tinkering with the status quo. We need a step change and swift action. This won’t be possible with cuts in budgets of statutory bodies and the National Park Authority. For example, cuts in Natural England staff dealing with protected sites have been drastic and persistent. Projects relying on input of time have withered on the vine of neglect. Short-termism caused by short cycles of funding projects doesn’t help to achieve change in land management, which is a long-term game. Implementation is the key now, which requires partnership, appropriate tools and funding, and steadfast determination.

The vision is achievable but only with significant change in land away from the protected sites. These areas may not be perfect, but at least there are mechanisms in place to help. Exmoor’s farmed and enclosed land amounts to about 65% of the park, and much is agriculturally ‘improved’ land that has little wildlife interest. These areas could form a source of land for recovery, if the incentives and mechanisms are in place.

What are you working on next? Do you have any more writing projects lined up?

I have retired after nearly 37 years of working for the government’s wildlife body. I am going to tackle some tasks at home, as well as enjoy experiencing more nature by travelling a bit, before settling on another project.

Exmoor is available from our online bookstore here.

Author interview with Tony Juniper: Just Earth

In this radical, eye-opening book, environmentalist Tony Juniper CBE explores the interconnectedness of the environmental crisis and inequality, and argues that ecological progress cannot be achieved without addressing these disparities. Collating a range of interviews with global experts, and drawing upon 40 years of research and campaigning, he provides long-overdue answers as to how we can achieve real, lasting change.

Tony Juniper portrait. — Tony Juniper portrait © Jason Bye

Tony Juniper CBE is an environmental advocate who has been active in defending nature for nearly 40 years, through leading major organisations, managing global campaigns, and holding high-level government advisory roles. He is a celebrated author, known for numerous award-winning titles, and was awarded a CBE in 2017 as recognition for his contributions to conservation.

We recently had the opportunity to speak to Tony about his book, where he told us about the most challenging aspects of writing Just Earth, the importance of technology in creating a sustainable future and more.

Firstly, can you tell us a little about yourself and what inspired you to write this book?

I am a long-serving environmental advocate. I have led and advised campaigns and campaigning organisations, worked as a professional ornithologist, worked with the Cambridge Institute for Sustainability Leadership, written some books and I now lead Natural England – the UK government’s nature agency in England.

What message are you hoping to convey with Just Earth, and what do you hope the reader may learn from its message?

Just Earth set outs why and how various kinds of social inequalities are massive environmental issues. This is seen in how the poorest and voiceless get hit first and hardest by environmental damage, including exposure to toxic pollution, lack of access to good quality green spaces and the effects of climate change. Those most affected are the groups who are least responsible for causing such damage in the first place. The injustices linked with this limit the agreement of strong global accords and blocks action in countries around the world – new environmental laws and policies are held back because of the plight of the poor, who during cost of living crises are held up as the reason not to increase costs through moves to sustainable farming and clean energy, for example. Inequality also destroys the trust needed to foster the common endeavour that is so vital for fixing complex global issues. I set out something on what might be done, but it is a big set of challenges that we are facing, and the book seeks to inform the reader about the breadth and depth of what is at hand.

What was the most challenging aspect of writing Just Earth?

It is a complex story that the book seeks to tell. Getting the facts and data woven into a readable and balanced narrative was hard work – I am pleased with the result though, and hope readers will find it interesting and informative.?

Hills of Ingleton Waterfalls by Robin Mulligan, via flickr.

Green growth explores the possibility of decoupling the expansion of gross domestic product (GDP) with environmental damage. How important do you think technology will be in a green growth scenario, and do you think technological innovation can truly pave the way for a greener, more sustainable future?

Technology is a vital component of what is needed, but we’ve had a lot of that for decades and not used it at the scale needed. Just Earth sets out why it is important to look beyond solar panels, AI, batteries and all the rest, and looks into the social and political context in which these technologies are deployed. The idea of green growth has been around for years but there are too few examples of it working in practice. One challenging aspect that runs counter to our consumerist culture is the need to use less stuff. We are already causing massive environmental damage with a minority of the world population living like Europeans, and we simply don’t have enough planet to keep growing as we have during past decades – even if it is a bit greener here and there.

Greyfield Woods by Stewart Black, via flickr.

Chapter 11 sets out a ten-point agenda for a just transition to a secure future. If any, which of these do you believe should be the primary focus in beginning this transition, and how long do you think it will take to achieve?

I think the biggest single thing, which links to the idea of green growth, is to change what we are measuring as growth. At present, gross domestic product (GDP) dominates but fails to take account of the environmental damage and inequalities that go with it. Coming up with more comprehensive measures of growth, that also include metrics linked with social wellbeing, ecological footprint, happiness, health and social cohesion would lead to different outcomes. There are ways of doing this, and in the book, I touch on the idea of a Genuine Progress Indicator, which measures far more than simply how much economic activity is taking place.?

What gives you hope for the future of our planet??

We are in revolutionary times and at a moment when the old ideas of the 20th century are facing serious tests. Environmental goals are being diluted and weakened by some governments and companies and democracies showing signs of stresses and strains that have profound implications. My hope is that during the turbulent times that we are in new ideas will begin to take hold. I propose a new frame of reference to go beyond capitalism or socialism and to instead embrace the idea of Thrivalism, a world view that would aim to create the conditions for ten billion people to thrive and enjoy long and happy lives on a living planet. At this point we need to think big.

What’s next for you? Are you writing any other books we can hear about?

I have various projects in mind, and more will be shared on those in due course. For now, promoting the ideas in Just Earth will I expect take up quite a lot of time, alongside all the other things I do.

Just Earth is available to order from our bookstore here.