Monday 4 July 2022

Landscape, song and wisdom

Since the Turtle Dove pilgrimage that I wrote about in my last post, I have been thinking about the intertwining of artistic and cultural discourse with the more obvious tangible elements of ecosystems. One of my fellow pilgrims is an archaeologist at UCD, and he remarked around the fire that for his discipline, the concept of landscape would also encapsulate elements such as human use of the landscape, history, crafts and artistic remnants. This chimes with the UNESCO definition of cultural heritage which is seen as "not limited to monuments and collections of objects. It is also comprised of living expressions inherited from our ancestors, such as oral traditions, performing arts, social manners, rituals, festive events, knowledge and practices related to nature and the universe, and knowledge and techniques linked to traditional crafts." 

This thinking was further consolidated by watching a 'listening session' courtesy of Flourishing Diversity, who provide opportunities to hear from representatives of various indigenous cultures around the world. The particular session that pricked my interest featured Nemonte Nenquimo, an Indigenous Waorani leader from the Amazon. You can watch the session here. What particularly resonated for me was that Nemonte started the session by singing, which is a key part of Waorani culture, before going onto explain about the relationship between her people and the wider ecosystem (as well as threats to both). 

It struck me that song and story were somehow vessels or carriers of the relationship or intertwining of Waorani and Amazon. And that the stewardship of the ecosystem and the people living within it, by necessity must include nurturing the songs and stories that have grown from it. Not for some academic, archival or conservative purposes, but because they are inextricably part of that wider ecosystem, not separate objects that stand or fall. Not knowing the specific songs and stories of that people, I cannot say for certain, but I suspect that as with many indigenous cultures, these include myriad reflections of the ways in which people and wider ecosystem co-exist, details of animals, plants and weather events as colour, as analogy and as characters in their own right. 

This is certainly the case with English folk song, which is rich in these ways; what I don't know is whether the Victorian song collectors and others who played a key role in preserving these songs had any inkling of this. There was certainly intent around somehow preserving a glimpse of pre-industrial, more pastoral way of life that was disappearing around them, but whether this was also informed by concern around threats to the ecosystems in which these ways of life existed is not a given. That may be an anachronistic perspective on my part.

Nevertheless, it seems to me that there is explicit ecological benefit in preserving traditional song for greater than artistic reasons. And for me that is because of the wisdom that is implicit in material that shows the interconnectedness of humanity and the natural world, and how generations of humans trod more lightly on the earth than we do largely today. If we are to rise to the challenge of climate change, habitat and biodiversity loss, I think there is a key role in not only preserving and sharing this material, but also connecting each other to it, as a conduit for connection to the wider ecosystem, the very cradle of our lives. 

If music and songs are only seen as entertainment, or worse, commodities to be traded and made profit from, then we are simply asset-stripping our common inheritance, as much as we are asset stripping our planet. To sing traditional song, therefore becomes, to me, a political, ecological and even a sacred act. A grand claim to end on, but one which I need to explore further...no doubt with a finger in my ear no doubt!


Tuesday 28 June 2022

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages

I recently had the immense privilege of participating in one of the Nest Collective's nature pilgrimages, led by folk singer Sam Lee. The outer form of this saw 20 or so pilgrims walk and camp, moving over a couple of days from the village of Rusper in West Sussex (where Vaughan Williams collected the folk song 'The Turtle Dove' in 1907 from the local pub landlord, John Penfold) to Knepp Castle, the flagship Re-wilding project, where a population of critically-endangered turtle doves still breeds each year. The powerful idea that underpins this is that of rewilding both the song, which Vaughan Williams had somewhat 'tamed' with his choral arrangement, and ourselves, through connecting pilgrims, song, landscape and the turtle doves themselves in repeated singing at salient sites along our path. For a deeper dive into the story and concept behind the pilgrimage, you can enjoy a BBC documentary about it here.

For me this was a profound experience, weaving together as it did, my passions for folk music, the natural world and connecting with other people. It also, maybe unsuprisingly as a pilgrimage, included elements of the spiritual or sacred, both formally (an initiating blessing from the vicar of St Mary Magdalene in Rusper) and informally through moments of reflection, silence and and extemporised ritual using our hazel pilgrim's staffs. This aspect may not be everyone's cup of roobois, but for this pilgrim, it was natural and beautifully congruent.

The curation of the experience by Sam and the nurturing of the support team, as well as the other people who scaffolded our route with hospitality and warmth, allowed us pilgrims to connect deeply and immersively with and in the place, and with each other. Though all different in background, preoccupation and intention, we quickly co-created a conscious and caring community; for me this was a timely reminder that both my love of the natural world and the anxiety around threats to it are best shared, as an enhancement of the former and bulwark against the latter. Only connect, indeed.

A few further random observations and realisations from this, that make sense to me, which I offer with no anticipation of being understood:

  • It has consolidated my long-held feeling that Baba Dioum's assertion that "in the end we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand; and we will understand only what we are taught" is critical... if we are to rise to the challenge of climate change, habitat loss and threats to biodiversity, this must flow from love, not solely by raising fear, anxiety and dread of the alternative
  • Artistic and cultural discourse around habitat, landscape, ecosystems and climate change are every bit as important as scientific, political and market responses; in some ways are a precondition for those being effective
  • Experience, life, existence, consciousness is deeply interconnected and fractal in nature... the notion of 'interbeing' is one that seems somehow to have settled on me recently and I want to explore that further, creatively and personally
  • Oh brave new world that has such people in it. My faith and hope that humanity can and will evolve consciously and creatively in response to existential threats is stronger as a result of the experience
  • I have long been unsure about my relationship to Englishness and English folk song in particular, identifying more with my Irish roots, and other traditions. I may have found a way in, and it starts with places and experience, not with material or concepts.
  • Sleep deprivation and tiredness can yield incredible emotional, spiritual and creative experiences!!
I don't yet know quite how this pilgrimage will leave its mark, personally and creatively but I know it has and will continue to. I look forward to the journey.  To my fellow pilgrims, Sam, Carolion, Grant and Josh, our hosts at Rusper, Sedgwick and Knepp, and of course, the turtle doves themselves, thank you and safe travels.

Sunday 26 April 2020

Lockdown dawn chorus

Back in the blogging saddle, encouraged by Dunc, and by the opportunity afforded by the situation we find ourselves in with the advent of the Covid-19 pandemic, to take notice of what's around us.

Lots of people have commented on the volume of birdsong since we entered the period of restriction of human activity. I'm told that the perceived increase in volume is actually all relative - as human-generated sounds have abated, other sounds, including birdsong, become more salient. In fact, there seems to be some evidence that, on average, birds are quieter at the moment, as they do not have to compete with the cacophony created by cars, planes and other human activities.

Either way, I know that I have been enjoying some fantastic birdsong of late. These days, I live in a 2nd floor apartment in Norwich, with a balcony that is level with the canopy of several mature trees opposite, which means that I have a good 'line of hearing' on the birds. So here is a recording from my apartment at 5am on the 24th April 2020. The dawn chorus is at this point almost at its fullest, with blackbirds and robins really singing their hearts out. But interestingly about half way through, you can also hear a tawny owl's 'kwik' call...a changing of the guard as the night shift gave way. And about 10 minutes after this, the chorus had changed again, with crows, great tits and wood pigeons taking centre stage.

It would be nice to think we can somehow retain this relative quiet once the lockdown has ended... feels to me that quite literally allowing other species to be heard again seems kind of key to addressing many of the issues for our own species...


Monday 13 April 2020

A Buzzard Skull - Covid-19 Isolation daily walks.


After a 3 year hiatus perhaps we should re-awaken this shared BLOG.

I have continued to post observations and artwork in other forms - tumblr, instagram, youtube - but have neglected 'Hedgefinders' on Blogger and I miss the Natural History interactions with Adam over in Norfolk - particularly in these strange times of Covid-19 isolation. Walking the paths daily around my village and with a much quieter road outside I feel particularly attuned to the spring unfolding around us in my Somerset village. I've been finding focus and a sense of progress in a lock-down routine suddenly deprived of my daily teaching role by posting drawing films as a contribution to #isolationartschool.
- Here a wonderful buzzard skull (Buteo buteo) found on our walk yesterday.

Friday 24 February 2017

First Frogspawn of the year. 2017


First Frogspawn of the year.

Monday 20th February 2017. After a week of croaking the frogs are spawning in the pond at home and at work. I've seen bumblebee queens on the wing also so spring is on it's way.



 (* See previous first spawning dates in the same pond)
05th February 2016
26th February 2015
23rd February 2014
21st January 2013
19th February 2012
11th February 2011

Sunday 16 October 2016

A dead owl, blackberries and honey. (* Not a recipe)




Found a dead tawny owl on the back road to Glastonbury last Sunday, in remarkably good condition considering it had clearly met a sudden end on the front of a car. Had planned to mount it but, as with most taxidermy projects, 2 or 3 days passed before I went back up to the shed only to find that to my horror a rat had got to it and eaten most of it. I salvaged the wings this afternoon however and have pinned them out to dry, the cabinet from last year's quarry artwork making a rather fine drying cabinet.

The autumn marches on with the last blackberries still adorning the hedges, conkers still under the trees, the starlings begining to collect together and the last beekeeping duties coming to a seasonal conclusion with the last honey now in jars and varroa treatments applied.



Thursday 11 August 2016

Elephant Moth Caterillar


Found an Elephant Moth caterpillar on the path in the garden. An amazing caterpillar, large and brilliantly marked. The caterpillar would let you turn it upside down, always flipping back uprightas I tried to draw it. When handled it withdrew it's head back into itself to inflate the eyepatch segment, perhaps to look more like a snake? Released it onto some willow-herb by the pond.

Other natural history news: Saw two barn owls hunting last night, one carrying a vole, and saw an otter dead on the roadside towards Somerton.