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.
