Bog Myrtle & Peat

The oystercatcher nest was raided with less than a week to run before the eggs hatched. The camera failed to capture the culprit, but I’m pretty sure that a fox is to blame. Of course I’m disappointed that this nest should have failed, not least because I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty to ensure that the habitat is now almost perfect for these birds. They have everything they could wish for; the only remaining pressure is predation.

Even as I set this camera, I felt pretty confident that these eggs would be eaten. If anything, I’m only surprised that a fox made the fatal visit; there are badger diggings right across this field, and badgers have been responsible for stealing the eggs in previous years. I’m a little haunted by the memory of how easy it would’ve been to build an electric fence around this nest to protect the eggs. At the time, I felt it was more important to gather evidence about life in “the real world”. By capturing a nest raid on camera, I hoped I’d be making a small contribution to a growing store of pictures and videos which must surely enable us all to have better conversations about conservation.

And now that I have failed to capture this raid, I’m slightly rocked back on my heels. I could’ve protected this nest, but instead it was lost for nothing. And I find myself wondering how many times I’ll have to prove the same point before things might change. Foxes make for a cleaner argument, but when it comes to badgers, there’s a strong strand of bias towards the legislative status quo. I’m worried about badger predation here and elsewhere in Galloway, and it’s clear that the onus is on me to prove that my concerns are substantive. That’s why I left the nest undefended – I need evidence, otherwise I’m just another swivel-eyed badger-basher.

Badgers have the prevailing and precautionary ecological maximum on their side; “unless you can provide evidence of a problem, there’s no problem”. That’s fair enough, but in this case, gathering evidence is really damn hard. Catching badgers in the act of predation is much harder than it seems; there are numerous logistical and technical problems involved in running cameras which are both costly and extremely time-consuming. And how many times would somebody need to capture footage of badgers eating wader nests before their concerns would be taken seriously? Ten, twenty or a hundred? To be honest, I don’t believe the figure exists. I can’t prove there’s a problem, so the precautionary principle remains; there is no problem. And for what it’s worth, if there’s a lack of evidence around badger predation, it’s partly explained by the fact that people like me have given up trying to gather it.

Badgers make for a uniquely difficult case, but imagine if I had captured that fox on film – somebody would say it’s just a one-off; an aberrance; some old silliness about “nature’s way”. How many nests would have to be sacrificed to prove the point that something is wrong. And how often can I bear the idea of reframing and recording the same disaster before that truth will be heard and taken seriously? And I’m also aware that I’m only facing part of the issue here. The burden of proof is on me, but I can’t ignore the fact that my job is harder because mainstream presentations of nature conservation systematically overlook, ignore or fail to meet the eye of predation.

Sometimes I am able to maintain a grasp on the bigger picture. I can see how it all fits together, and I recall that we live in an age of disastrous upheaval for the natural world. Loss is everywhere, and I have no specific claim upon it. I have to park the specific despair and frustration I feel for my own oystercatchers and focus instead on doing bigger projects. But it’s hard when even your best is insufficient. Over the last couple of years, several people have flattered me by describing my enthusiasm as “indomitable”. It isn’t.