Cull of the Wild by Hugh Warwick: A book review

 

It is rare for me to find time to devour a good non-fiction book. Away from work, I like to consume historical epics and high-concept science fiction, but this Easter I put aside my Conn Iggulden and Stephen Baxter to indulge myself in controversy. Whilst not employed as such I am at heart an ecologist, one admittedly with a zoological bent, but one who revels in the complexity of nature and enjoys exploring the intricacies of what lives where, how, and why. Inevitably, my assorted studies and thoughts have led me down some treacherous paths and forced me to address some thorny issues. Culling in the name of conservation is one such polarising issue and is adroitly addressed in Hugh Warwick's latest book, ‘Cull of the Wild - Killing in the Name of Conservation’ out now from Bloomsbury.

Many readers and wildlife enthusiasts may be familiar with Hugh's extensive work with hedgehogs, it was his popular book ‘A Prickly Affair’ that elevated his fame as a wildlife writer, but his environmental credentials extend much further than just our humble hedgehog. Hugh has degrees in Science and the Environment and Wildlife Management and has been part of both academic and grassroots research. As a researcher and science communicator, he has a wealth of contacts and can boast many luminaries among those that he can call upon. Were Hugh not down to earth one may take some of his references in his book as salacious name-dropping of those in the conservation world.

Previously Hugh’s work has focused on his beloved Hedgehog, biogeography, and the connection between people and animals this time however he has spread his wings into a more controversial area. In ‘Cull of the Wild’ he skilfully explores with great nuance the polarising problem of culling one species to save another. Through his exploration of a wide range of case studies, Hugh identifies the core issues and viewpoints and identifies the wider implications and concerns for nature conservation as a whole.

It is easy to assume from the outset that Hugh is an anti-culler someone opposed to such 'evil' machinations but as an author and an explorer he displays a fair-minded approach to understanding the issues and problems at hand even when the intended targets are his beloved hedgehogs. I would have to characterise Hughs's approach as one of caution, an awareness of the need but an uncomfortableness of the methods.

To tackle the issue of culling in its breadth Hugh takes us around the world identifying conflicts, tragedies, and most inspiringly hope. He examines the plight of nesting birds whose eggs are devoured by rats, stoats, and hedgehogs. He explores the decline of the red squirrel in the UK due to its US cousin invasion and on a larger scale, the ecosystem-shifting introductions of mammals to New Zealand, a place where no such taxa evolved. Each chapter is based on a particular problem and how culling is being employed to fix that problem and he questions those running the culling programs and those who are opposed, non-judgementally with a desire to understand. Hugh uses his own confusion and apprehensions over the rights and wrongs to have meaningful conversations about conservation.

Hugh writes boldly and with an abundance of charm, his prose, whilst simple are functional and informative, with little hyperbole. He quickly highlights a point, provides the evidence, and attacks it from multiple angles with an uncluttered open mind. His work is eminently accessible, he defers from excessive technical language and where it is employed it is defined clearly. Like any good popular science book this is one that you do not need your own degree in science to understand or enjoy, if enjoy is the right word. The books heavily morbid focus is self-referenced several times, this is not a light read but it is fascinating, and it is a discussion we need to have.

I have written about culling issues myself, like Hugh I am torn by the practicalities and the morals. I know mink are not endemic be the UK. I know they decimate water voles, and I know that if I were ever to hope to see 'Ratty' on my patch then the resident black mink would need to die. I am also abundantly aware that the black mink I see on my trail cams has its own intrinsic right to life, and that its behaviour is fascinating and enjoyable to watch. It is not his fault he is in the UK; he is just doing what mink do, survive.

The same is true of the Grey Squirrel, it poses an existential risk to the native red squirrel. I have seen red squirrels in Scotland, they are endearing and wonderful and feel quintessentially British. Their grey squirrel is like the stereotypical American is loud and brash, confident, and bold. It is easy to imagine this invader bullying our native shy ‘Squirrel Nutkin’ into obsolescence, but this is not the case, it is the squirrel pox that the grey carries that is the problem. Perhaps, this virus should be the true target of a cull? It is in this section that Hugh highlights a key point in this debate, for many their neighbourhood squirrel that visits their garden or lives in their park is the only mammal most are likely to see or interact with. British wildlife, given how we treat them, tends to be shy and secretive and without regular contact with nature how can we expect the public to invest in species and habitat protection. Here lies the rub, how do we quantify the benefits and costs of such measures? Can you put a cost on a person’s interaction with a wild animal?

In another section Hugh sensitively tackles the issues surrounding trophy hunting and other such measures that generate income for conservation. Conservation has often been forced into biting the bullet and stretching its morals to get the job done. The phrase ‘poacher turned gamekeeper’ is particularly apt. Poaching of lions is illegal and risks the species survival but in areas where lions are over abundant, they allow trophy killing and use the money to fund conservation in areas where they are struggling, a devil’s bargain or a necessary evil? His examination of these thorny topics opens a whole can of worms and raises questions that I am not sure we have answers to or even willing to admit that we need to have the debate.

Is it morally right to ever all a species? Does one species have more right to exist to than another? Who decides and how what a native fauna looks like? Throughout the took Hugh explores these questions. I would not say he fully answers these but perhaps asking them is enough for now.

It has triggered in me deep thought over the issue of culling and challenging my own morals. My general view is one of regret, a weak response I know. Sometimes it is necessary to cull and rightly this leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but Hugh’s book has challenged why I think that way and crucially highlighted to me a much bigger problem with nature conservation. Change is a natural part of life. Ecology is fundamentally a complex web of change, evolution, adaption, and balance. Life exists in a dynamic equilibrium, a term I leaned in my first university lecture by my ecology professor. Conservation at least in the UK seems to be more about stasis, ring fencing and protection, enshrining a pre-industrial ecology. It is necessary but ignores the nature of ecosystems and how species change and adapt over time. The problem is that this change, human led change is faster than the natural mechanisms can cope with. Extinction is natural, species come and go, thousand of species prior to mans arrival lived and went extinct or in many cases evolved into new species its just that our effects on the environment are so great and fast. Conservationists recognise this and want to mitigate this effect but is it a fight we can win?

What the book stirred in me is the wider implications of conservation and the existential issue of where humans sit in the hierarchy of life. All too often we place ourselves in the superior position, by dint of our dominance, self-awareness, and brain power. We decide how this world should be organised and run. We do this because we are the dominant species of this time and have the ability. Should our intelligence give us carte blanche to ride roughshod over fellow species, fellow mammals, fellow apes! This is heavy stuff and whilst Hugh touches on this philosophical angle he is more focused on the practical aspects and wrapping morality into that.

The last gem that I drew form the book was that culling was rarely the root problem, it was a technique that was employed to tackle a single issue, sometimes to protect a single species. As you read though Hughs accounts of the various case studies it becomes abundantly clear that may of the problems is rooted in habitat loss and fragmentation. The biggest issue facing the target species is primarily loss of its home. By forcing species in to smaller and smaller patches that are other overly fragmented means that they become more sensitive and vulnerable to the danger presented by other species that then need culling. Ultimately, we need to treat man as part of the ecosystem not apart from it, understand what that means and stop moving species around the planet no matter how good an idea it might seem to be at the time.

In the end ‘Cull of the Wild’ is a thought provoking and necessary book that I would urge all conservationists and those with an interest in wildlife to read if only to understand the complexities of conservation in the modern world, it should be on the curriculum of every conservation course. Only through understanding and asking the hard questions can we as a body move forward, long may Hugh present us with such cogent analysis and at the end of it all is culling justified – I just don’t know, my confidence is shaken but there is hope for a more holistic way of doing things but that needs more than just conservationists, it requires us all to understand, sacrifice and prioritise.

 Cull of the Wild is available from all good bookshops.