WHERE HAVE THEY ALL GONE?

We rejoice at the accomplishments of our Brave New World and swell with pride at our world of global media, artificial intelligence, driverless cars, immense productivity, space exploration, colossal buildings, far-flung enterprises and so on, and spare hardly a thought for those aspects of our world we have lost or soon will. I am as selfish and uncaring as the next fellow but I believe we would be well advised to take stock and pause our egotistical mad tango. Some radical changes in our lifestyles are almost unavoidable – time to adapt to the inevitable!

Most change is gradual, as Nature constantly evolves at her own pace, but Mankind’s intervention can quicken the process alarmingly. Without being sentimental in a Mrs Tiggy-Winkle nostalgia, a recent survey suggests that the common hedgehog population in the UK has reduced at least 50% since 2000 and that there may be some 1m left, as against maybe 30m in the 1950s.

An old friend under siege

In our Cotswolds home in the early 2000s, a hedgehog family regularly visited our back garden and our two dogs went into paroxysms of excitement on encountering these cute nocturnal creatures. The precipitate hedgehog decline is attributed to the lack of sheltering hedgerows and the dearth of insect food due to the widespread use of chemical pesticides. In Germany there is thought to be a 75% drop in insect life since the last century – all certain to upset the food chain.

A Sparrow, hero to zero

Statistics about animal and insect numbers are inherently unreliable but we see with our own eyes the decline of the house sparrow – in London the decline is catastrophic. Those pushy birds which used to hop around outside coffee tables and eat crumbs are no more. In St James Park, where once there were 300 pairs, there are now none. Other cities like Paris do better, for reasons not yet fathomed. If so ubiquitous a bird as the sparrow can be endangered, what hope is there for rarer species? The bigger picture is even more alarming. In the years 1970 - 2012 the world vertebrate population is said to have declined by 58% and that of freshwater fish by 81%, thanks to habitat loss and the relentless displacements caused by the search for new sources of energy.

This decimation of our fauna is tragic but there are larger species whose absence may not be much mourned. First is the Spotted Eurofanatic, once embodied in bibulous Roy Jenkins or more lately in Jean-Claude Juncker: the genre has become more dangerous by a re-animated Tony Blair, eyes a-rolling, and worst of all, in Emmanuel Macron, oozing Gallic arrogance from every pore. This species, alas, will long be with us. Then there is the Sabre-Toothed Secret Policeman, represented by Vladimir Putin, a sinister creature of the shadows, despatching murderous gangs across Europe: Stalin would be proud of him.

Macron pushes his fanatical federalist opinions

Somewhere in the deep undergrowth lurks a Slothful Backwoodsman Tory, once very common but now a rarity. They were thought to be going extinct but elegant and polite Jacob Rees Mogg has revived the species, clutching the cherished encyclicals of Pius IX and a well-thumbed Malthus to fortify his gently presented but prehistoric opinions. A related species is the Cackling Rich-boy Toff wholly ignorant of the lifestyle of their constituents, but plausible speakers on the surface but the surface is all there is. This species was epitomised by smooth David Cameron, the hollow man par excellence, and by his sidekick, unlovable George Osborne.

Boris, the Tory Favourite

Their arrogance and low attention-span can be seen in Toff Boris Johnson, who is certainly clever, if too fond of the well-turned but undiplomatic phrase. Yet mop-headed and right-on Boris does strike a chord with the great British public, who may yet forgive him his Casanovan predelictions.

Jeremy trying to look responsible

The prize specimen of a recently revived declining species is the Squawking Soapbox Orator, long thought to belong to history. There are folk memories of Chartist agitators, useless George Lansbury, the Kinnock windbag, but now we have a Labour Party stuffed full of jumped-up Dantons, preaching red revolution (and believing it). The Leader of this rabble is deeply uncharismatic Jeremy Corbyn, whose party is ungovernable, a man of agitation and street demos, seemingly confused by his own policies. All this hardly matters, as long as fickle Fate does not give him a place anywhere near government and real power. Fickle Fate is, alas, not wholly reliable!

SMD

24.09.18

Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2018