NATURE-RESERVES
ONE of the new features of modern life--the result of the enormous
development of the newspaper press and the vast increase in numbers of
those who read and think in common--is the development of a sensitive
"self-consciousness" of the community, a more or less successful
effort to know its own history, to value the records of the past,
and to question its own hitherto unconscious, unreflecting attitude
in mechanically and as it were blindly destroying everything which
gets in the way of that industrial and commercial activity which
is regarded, erroneously, as identical with "progress." Beautiful
old houses and strange buildings--priceless records of the ways and
thought of our early ancestors---which at one time were either guarded
by superstitious reverence or let alone because there was room for
them and for everything else in the spacious countryside---have been
thoughtlessly pulled down as population and grasping enterprise
increased. The really graceful old houses of London and other towns,
lovingly produced by former men who were true artists, have been broken
up and their panelling and chimney-pieces sold to foreigners in order
to make way for more commodious buildings, hideous in their ignorant
decoration, or brutally "run up," gaunt, bare, and mis-shapen. The
stones of Avebury, of Stonehenge, and of many another temple have been
knocked to pieces by emancipated country-folk--no longer restrained
either by superstition or by reverence--to mend roads and to make
enclosures.
Happily the new self-consciousness is taking note of these things.
That strange lumbering body which we call "the mother of parliaments"
has dimly reflected the better thought of the community, and given a
feeble sort of protection to ancient monuments. The newspapers have
lately managed to excite some public interest in a fine old house in
Dean Street, Soho, and to arouse a feeling of shame that the richest
city in the richest Empire of the world should allow the few remnants
of beautiful things of the past still existing in its midst to be
destroyed by the uncontrolled operation of mercenary "progress." I
have, in common with many others, visited this doomed mansion. It is
a charming old place, of no great size or importance, and, with its
well-proportioned panelled rooms and fine staircase, was destined to
be a private residence. It is not large enough to be a museum, but
its rooms might serve for the show place of a first-rate maker or
vender of things of fine workmanship. There ought to be some public
authority--municipal or departmental--with power to acquire such
interesting houses as this, not necessarily to convert them into
permanent public shows, but to keep them in repair, and to let them
on lease, at a reasonable rent, to tenants, subject to the condition
of their being open on certain days in the year to artists and others
provided with orders of admission by the authority. In other countries
such arrangements are made; with us they are not made simply because
we have not assigned to any authority the duty of acting in this way
for the public benefit. Our public authorities have little or no public
spirit, and resemble private committees, councils, and individuals
in evading and refusing even the smallest increase of responsibility
and activity beyond that which they are compelled by law to discharge.
Unless they are legally compelled to interfere, all records of art and
nature may perish before they will incur the inconvenience of moving a
finger! Consequently the only thing to be done is to assign such duties
by law to an existing authority, or to one created for such purposes.
The same tale of destruction and irreparable damage has to be told of
our dealings with the beauty of once unsullied moorland, meadow, marsh,
forest, river-bank, and seashore. But the destruction has here been
more gradual, less obvious on account of remoteness, and more subtle
in its creeping, insinuating method, like that of a slowly-spreading
infective disease. The word "country" has to a very large extent ceased
to signify to us "outlying nature beyond the man-made town," occupied
only in little tracts here and there by the immemorial tillers of the
soil. The splendid and age-long industry of our field-workers has made
much of our land a garden. Now they themselves are disappearing or
changed beyond recognition, losing their traditional arts and crafts,
their distinctive and venerable dialects, and their individuality.
The land is enclosed, drained, manured; food plants produced by the
agriculturist replace the native plants; forests are cut down and
converted into parks and pheasant-runs; foreign trees are substituted
for those native to the soil. Commons, heaths, and wild moorlands have
been enclosed by eager land-grabbers, the streams are polluted by
mining or chemical works, or if kept clean are artificially overstocked
with hand-fed trout; whilst the open roads reek of tar and petroleum.
The "wilderness" is fast disappearing, and it is by this name that
we must distinguish from the mere "country," as much besmirched and
devastated by man as are the sites of his towns and cities, the regions
where untouched nature still survives and is free from the depredations
of humanity. Many beautiful and rare plants which once inhabited our
countryside have perished; many larger animals (such as wolf, beaver,
red-deer, marten-cats, and wild-cats) have disappeared, as well as many
insects, great and small, such as the swallow-tailed butterfly and the
larger copper butterfly, and many splendid birds.
Here and there in these islands are to be found bits of "wilderness"
where some of the ancient life--now so rapidly being destroyed--still
flourishes. There are some coast-side marshes, there are East
Anglian fens, some open heath-land, and some bits of forest which
are yet unspoilt, unravaged by blighting, reckless humanity. It is
a distressing fact that some of the recent official attempts to
preserve open forest land and commons for the public enjoyment have
been accompanied by a mistaken attempt to drain them, and lay them
out with gravel walks, to the complete destruction of their natural
beauty and interest. The bog above the Leg of Mutton Pond, on Hampstead
Heath, where I used to visit, years ago, the bog-bean and the sun-dew,
and many a moss-grown pool swarming with rare animalcules, has been
drained by an over-zealous board of guardians, animated by a suburban
enthusiasm for turf and gravel paths. The same spirit, hostile to
nature and eager to reduce the wilderness to vulgar conventionality,
has tamed the finer parts of Wimbledon Common, and is busy laying
down gravel paths in Epping Forest. In the New Forest the clamour
of the neighbouring residents for "sport" has led to the framing of
regulations by the officials of the Crown (it is a "Royal" forest),
which are resulting in the destruction and disappearance of rare
birds which formerly nested there. Many a distant common threatened
by the builder has been preserved as an open space by golfers. Such
preservation is like that of the boards of conservators, useless
from the point of view of the nature-lover. The health-seeking crowd
spreads devastation around it. The rare sand-loving plants of the
dunes, and the "bog-bean," the "sun-dew," and other refugees from human
persecution on our once unfrequented heath-lands, are remorselessly
trodden down or hacked up by the golfer. Other destroyers of nature's
rarer products are those who greedily search for them and carry them
off, root and branch, to the last specimen, in order to sell them.
These dealers are "collectors," indeed, but must not be confused with
the genuine "naturalist," who may allow himself, with due modesty, to
secure a limited sample of treasures from nature's open hand.
Under these circumstances a society has been founded for the formation
of "nature-reserves" in the British Islands. Its object is to secure,
by purchase or gift, tracts of as yet unsullied wilderness--of which
some are still, though rarely, to be found--where beast and bird,
insect and plant are still living as of old--untouched, unmolested,
undisturbed by intrusive, murderous man. The society's object is to
enter into relations with those who may know of such tracts, and to
arrange for their transference--if of sufficient interest--to the
National Trust. The expense of proper guardianship and the admission
to the reserve of duly authorized persons would be the business of the
society. Its office is at the Natural History Museum in Cromwell Road,
and Mr. Ogilvie Grant, the naturalist in charge of the ornithological
collections, is one of the secretaries. Sir Edward Grey and Mr. Lewis
Harcourt and several of our most distinguished botanists and zoologists
are members of the council. All who sympathize with the objects of the
society should write to the secretary for further information.
Already two tracts of land were secured as nature-reserves before
the society came into existence. One of these is Wickham Fen, not
far from Cambridge, renowned for its remarkable plants and insects.
It was purchased and placed in the hands of the National Trust by a
public-spirited entomologist. Another reserve, which has been secured,
is far away on the links or dunes of the north coast of Norfolk,
and is of especial interest to botanists. No one--either golfer or
bungalow-builder--can now interfere there and destroy the interwoven
flora and fauna, the members of which balance and protect, encourage
and check one another, as is Nature's method. The interaction of
the various species of wild plants in this undisturbed spot is made
the subject of continual and careful study by the botanists who are
permitted to frequent it. More such "reserves" and of different
characters are desirable. Should we, of the present day, succeed in
securing some great marsh-land, one or more rocky headlands or islands,
and a good sweep of Scotch moor and mountain, and in raising money to
provide guardians for these acquisitions, we shall not only enjoy them
ourselves but be blessed by future generations of men for having saved
something of Britain's ancient nature, when all else, which is not
city, will have become manure, shooting greens, and pleasure gardens.
In Germany and in Switzerland a good deal has been done in this way.
Owing to the existence of "forestry" and a State Forest Department
in Germany--which has no representative in this country--there is
machinery for selecting and guarding such "reserves." A large sum is
assigned annually by the Government to this purpose. Last year an
international congress, attended by delegates from the English society,
as well as by representatives of many other States, was held, and much
useful discussion as to methods and results took place.
The notion of creating a nature-reserve on a small scale seems to
have originated with Charles Waterton, the traveller and naturalist,
who in the middle of last century converted the estate surrounding
his residence near Pontefract in Yorkshire into a sort of sanctuary,
where he made it a strict rule that no wild thing should be molested.
For some years now the attempt to create "nature-reserves," on a far
larger scale than those of which I have been writing, has been made
where civilization is planting its first settlements in primeval
forest and prairie. The United States Government, impressed with the
rapid destruction and disappearance both of forests and of native
animals which have accompanied the opening up by road and rail of vast
territories in the West, created in 1872 the national "reserve," called
the Yellowstone Park, which is some 3300 square miles in area. We are
assured that here under proper guardianship the larger native animals
are increasing in number; whilst the great coniferous trees, which were
in danger of extermination by the white man, are safe. Similar reserves
have been proclaimed in parts of Africa under British control, but
though that known as Mount Elgon--an ancient volcanic cup, clad with
forest, and ten miles in diameter--seems to have been effective, and to
have furnished in Sir Harry Johnston's time, ten years ago, a refuge
for the giraffe, it is scarcely possible, at present, to provide an
efficient police force to protect areas of something like 1000 square
miles against the depredations of native and commercial "hunters"
provided with modern rifles.
In May, 1900, I was, with the late Sir Clement Hill, appointed
"plenipotentiary" by her Majesty Queen Victoria to meet representatives
of Germany, France, Spain, Portugal, and the Congo States in a
conference, presided over by the late Marquis of Linlithgow, at the
Foreign Office. The conference was arranged by the great African
powers in order to consider and report on the means to be taken to
preserve the big game animals of Africa from extinction. We spent an
extremely interesting fortnight, and finally agreed upon a report, the
upshot of which was that whilst certain animals, such as the giraffe,
some zebras and antelopes, the gorilla, and such useful birds as the
vultures, secretary bird, owls, and the cow-pickers (Buphagus), should
be absolutely protected, others should be only protected at certain
seasons, or in youth, or in limited numbers, and others again should
be killed without licence or restraint at any time, such being the
lion, the leopard, the hunting-dog, destructive baboons, most birds
of prey, crocodiles, pythons, and poisonous snakes. The question of
large "nature-reserves" was discussed. It was agreed that such reserves
should be maintained for the breeding-places and rearing of the young
of desirable animals, and that the destruction of predatory animals or
an excess of other forms should be permitted to the administrators of
such reserves. Thus it is clear that no absolute "nature-reserves" were
considered possible.
In fact this is the case whether the reserve be large or small. Once
man is present in the neighbourhood, even at a long distance, he upsets
the "balance of Nature." The naturalist's small "nature-reserve" may be
ravaged by predatory animals driven from the outlying region occupied
by man, or again, the absence from the "reserve" of predatory animals
which act as natural checks on the increase of other animals, may lead
to excessive and unhealthy multiplication of the latter. Man must
"weed" and artificially manage his "reserve" after all! Man brings
also into the neighbourhood of reserves, great and small, disease
germs in his domesticated animals, which are carried by insects into
the cherished "reserve," and there cause destruction. Conversely,
the animals maintained in a reserve carry in their blood microscopic
parasites to the poisons of which they have become immune by natural
selection in the course of ages. They act as "reservoirs" of such
microscopic germs. These germs carried by flies or other insects to the
carefully reared cattle imported by civilized man from other regions
of the world into the neighbourhood of such "reserves," cause deadly
disease (such as the tsetse-fly diseases or trypanosome diseases)
to those imported cattle, as also to man himself. Whilst, then, we
may do something to retain small tracts of our own country in the
modified state which it attained after the earlier inhabitants had
destroyed lion, bear, wolf, and other noxious animals, as well as great
herbivora, such as giant deer, red deer, aurochs (or great bull), and
bison--yet in reality a true "Nature-reserve" is not compatible with
the occupation of the land, within some hundreds of miles of it, by
civilized, or even semi-civilized, man.
Nothing but the isolation given by a wide sea or high mountain ranges
will preserve a primeval fauna and flora--the indigenous man-free
living denizens of the isolated region--from destruction by the
necessary unpremeditated disturbance of Nature's balance by man once he
has passed from the lowest stage of savagery. At present we are faced
by this difficulty in Africa. Not only the white settlers have large
herds of cattle, but before their arrival the native races had imported
Indian cattle. These cattle are destroyed by "fly disease," the germs
(trypanosomes) being carried by the tsetse-fly to the domesticated
cattle from wild buffalo which swarm with the germs but are uninjured
by them. Consequently, if the rich pasture lands of Africa--at present
unutilized--are to be occupied by herdsmen, the wild game, buffalo and
antelopes, must be destroyed. In many regions they have been destroyed.
Is this destruction to be continued? If Africa is to be the seat of a
modern human population and supply food to other parts of the world,
the whole "balance of Nature" there must be upset and the big wild
animals destroyed. There is no alternative. The practical question
is, "How far is it possible to mitigate this process?" Can a great
African "reserve" of 100,000 square miles be established in a position
so isolated that it shall not be a source of disease and danger to the
herdsmen and agriculturists of adjacent territory?