Runcorn bridge viewed from Carr Lane
Having reached Carr Lan, I turn down it, prepared to play chicken with the cars as there are no pavements here, and both the road itself and the grass verges are very narrow. The road winds, too, so I zigzag from one side to the other, making sure I can be seen at (hopefully) all times. The old Runcorn Bridge is a steel ghost in the distance; a familiar, sinuous shape that can be seen from many places on this farmland walk. Surprisingly again, there are house martins feeding low over a ploughed field dotted with carrion crows and a lone buzzard. A flock of finches ebbs and flows in the air.
Ramsbrook
I reach the brook once more and repeat the sadly futile action of looking for the kingfisher. Suddenly, a burst of birdsong shatters the silence: a Cetti’s warbler is singing from tall reeds behind a mound of old tyres (again, sadly). Such a rich, beautiful song, but such a spoilt surrounding. I linger to appreciate his song – and also to try and catch a glimpse of him, but no luck. The wind is strong, buffeting the reeds this way and that and making hearing him difficult, too.
Cetti’s territory in the Anthropocene
As I turn to view the pools from this different angle, an easyJet plane roars in low, on its descent to nearby Liverpool John Lennon Airport. As it passes, I see a much smaller shape hovering below it: a kestrel hunting in its own airspace.
EasyJet incoming over Town Lane pools
How the birds and other animals cope in the Anthropocene is a topic that is increasingly occupying my thoughts, and writing. Thinking about it for too long makes me cross – and sad, and frustrated, and a host of other negative emotions that I carry when I visit these spaces looking for the wildlife that should live stress-free in them. I return again to thoughts of the talk, and a couple of points that are relevant here, in this farmed land: Carter observed that farmland birds originally increased in numbers due to human activity, and therefore perhaps we shouldn’t be too worried about their declines as their numbers were artificially raised due to agriculture. I understand the maths, but not the sentiment. We have created these ‘new’ conditions (agriculture arrived in Britain around 6,000 years ago; see https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/news/2019/april/neolithic-britain-where-did-the-first-farmers-come-from.html for an overview): for centuries, we farmed in a way which allowed insect and other animal numbers to increase due to the dung, animal feed, the animals churning up the ground, etc., and then we abruptly abandoned these methods, penning animals in barns, treating them with unnecessary antibiotics that deplete nutrients from their waste, spraying crops (https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2022/oct/18/pesticide-use-around-world-almost-doubles-since-1990-report-finds), both seriously reducing insect numbers, grubbing up hedgerows to create vast mono-agriculture plains, growing fewer varieties of crops, cutting them during peak ground-nesting bird season. I’m going to stop now, but the list of harms is almost endless – and growing worse. If there is a bright side, it is that the current (at time of writing) government’s hideous proposals have caused many usually apolitical non-governmental organisations and charities to speak out in no uncertain terms about this #AttackonNature – look up the campaign online and get behind it. It could be our last chance to save what remains of nature in this country.