The Green Glossary – D

I finally got around to compiling entry ‘D’ for the Green Glossary. It was a bit of a slog. If you’ve got a suggestion, do let me know:

Dabchick, n. – It’s a Little Grebe, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Damson, n. – Fruit. Come winter, someone somewhere will insist on ruining a perfectly serviceable gin by saturating these uninspiring little fruit in it.

Darwin

Darwin: Watches over all good environmentalists from on high. Sees all you do. Darwin does not approve.

Darwin, Charles. – That chap, you know, the old guy with the long flowing beard. All-knowing, creator of all that we now see and believe…

Dawn Chorus, n. – A small piece of advise to anyone new to the sector: Should your boss say to you ‘would you run our dawn chorus event? It’ll be great experience for you,’ politely but firmly decline. If personal experience is any guide, you and your fellow volunteers will drink through the night in a misguided attempt to avoid sleep and subsequently be unable to distinguish any bird song through the sound of an angry badger trying to escape from the inside of your head.

Deer, n. – AKA Killer of woodlands. There are rather a lot of them about these days, apparently.

deer arse

Know your deer: Often seen running in the opposite direction from you, you flat-footed oaf. So it’d be an idea to get familiar with their rumps. Unfortunately I can’t remember what order I put these in.

DEFRA – The DEpartment of FARming. Or something like that.

Denier. – A curious bird divided into two camps; the Ostrich (head in the sand) and the parrot (will speak for corn). The latter of these is often found with oil in his pocket. Or visa versa; I can never quite remember. Both are equally deplorable.

Dog, n. – ‘He’s only playing, he’s dead friendly.’ Work on any nature reserve anywhere and you will undoubtedly hear these words at least twice a week as another feral dachshund attempts to savage the livestock.

Drizzle, n. – Default atmospheric conditions under which all practical conservation work must be undertaken.

Drone, n. (or v.) – Either an innovative new technology with interesting applications in conservation or how those in the sector sound to the general public when we get up on a favoured hobby horse.

Dunnock, n. – Little Brown Job. Sexual deviant of the hedgerow.

Dutch Elm Disease, n. – They gave us Bergkamp, so I guess it evens out.

Advertisements

The Power of a Strongly Worded Sign

Glory be. Miracle of miracles (and I’m not talking about plucky Arsenal finishing 2nd in the Premier League against all odds yesterday). My goldfish problem seems to have miraculously resolved itslef overnight. To recap, last week I discovered that someone had illegally dumped about 150 goldfish of varying size into one of the ponds on one of the reserves – a pond that had a good recorded Great Crested Newt population.

So last week I pinned a robustly worded poster up by the pond. No swears, but still, very precisely and thoughtfully worded to strike terror into the hearts of any passing fly-tipper. And what do you know? This week they’re gone. All gone. Just vanished. Had the goldfish dumper had a change of heart? It is entirely possible that they did not know what they were doing was wrong and were stung with remorse by my chastising letter. It is also entirely possible the pond was visited by a passing flock of a hundred hungry heron over the weekend.

taken.jpg

My original poster may have been a little too intense

People Are Just the Worst. And So Are Goldfish

Work in conservation for any length of time and you’ll gradually find yourself becoming a glum misanthropist. It might even have happened to me already. I just don’t know. Maybe it seeps out occasionally in this blog. Do flag it up if you spot it.

This week someone has decided in their infinite wisdom that what the ponds on the reserve really need is 150 goldfish of varying sizes dumped in them. Great. Fantastic. Thank you once again ‘the public’. You really are a bunch of unmitigated arseholes. If I find the person responsible, I’m going to make him eat every single one hundred and fifty of them.

goldfish

They’re clearly orange

Why is this so bad? Well, firstly because the ponds on site are rather good for Great Crested Newts. With goldfish in this pond, we can pretty much wave them goodbye. They’ve also dumped them at just the point when they are about to spawn; you can see them getting frisky already*. The combination of this and the presence of Great Crested Newts makes me tentative about electro-fishing them out. That’s if we even had the money to. And the time.

But the worst part is that I just know if we don’t get them out sharpish, then the public – bless ’em – are going to get attached to them. They’re going to become a ‘feature’. People are going to start feeding them. Which is going to make it even worse for me when I come along and brutally euthanase the lot of them. Apparently a little calculated pescicide will make me the bad guy. Ludicrous.

So I’m open to suggestions. What’s the best way to get rid of these aquatic interlopers?

* I should also point out that it is completely illegal. But you knew that already.

The Green Glossary – C

Another week in the on-going green glossary series. You get the idea by now:

Canada Goose, n. – A great big, stupid-faced, honking idiot we are forced to remain on good terms with for appearances sake.

canada goose

Honk, bloomin’ honk.

Chantrelle, n. – A mushroom and absolutely not an appropriate name for your first-born, apparently.

Charity, n. – The environmental sector is broadly concerned with the preservation of a robust natural environment in the face of ever multiplying threats and conflicting interests. That the human race is reliant on a robust natural environment seems to have passed a great many people by. It is therefore absolutely reasonable that it predominantly exists on charitable hand-outs.

Cherry Laurel, n. – Another bastard. See recent posts.

Chiffchaff, n. – LBJ. Provokes birders all over the country to show off their vocabulary by casually throwing out the word onomatopoeic.

Climate Change – Not so much the elephant in the room as the blue whale in the bath-tub. An issue at which the world’s great and good occasionally offer sideways glances as they sit on the toilet reading the FT.

Cockchafer, n – Low-flying, Lancaster bomber of the insect world. Yet another example of a perfectly reasonable name that makes uninitiated simpletons giggle uncontrollably. See Also: Blue Tit, Shag

Coffee, n. – A poor substitute for tea when it cones to fuelling volunteers.

Corridor, n. – A popular notion amongst conservationists is the idea of wildlife corridors. The theory goes that if I manage Nature Reserve A, which is hemmed in on all sides by shooting galleries and industrial wastelands, and you manage Nature Reserve B, which is surrounded by toxic waste and concrete, everything will be OK as long as they are linked by C, a thin strip of amenity grassland.

Comma, n. – For conservationists this is a type of butterfly and not a form of punctuation which we are notoriously slipshod at using sometimes to the detriment of our readers who have to ask themselves if it is entirely possible for a normal human being to hold their breath for the amount of time needed to successfully finish reading long and laborious sentences that don’t really go anywhere.

Commons, n. – Some misguided folk in the dim and distant past decided that green spaces would be so much better if every Tom, Dick and Harry could have the run of the place. For this reason, any mention of Commons is now automatically prefixed with ‘tragedy of the’. The folly of this policy is most visible on places like Clapham Common, where the high density of local residents grazing their sheep on the grass and collecting firewood from the copses has created a bland monoculture littered with artisanal coffee houses. In a perfect world, these places should all be fenced off with very large ‘Keep Out’ signs and rows of razor wire really ramming the point home. Only the likes of us will be allowed free access. The likes of you will be granted day passes after successfully passing a gruelling 4 hour test on grass identification.

Coot, n. – A Napoleon of the urban pond

Coppicing, v. – A method of farming wood. Exists in the hazy zone between heritage and conservation.

Cotswolds, the, n. – A magical place where nature roams free and all conservationists dream of living a life of gay abandon, with no thought of grant funding, targets or ‘engagement’.

countryfile

Countryfile:…oh bugger, I forgot about Craven

Countryfile, n. – The Great Divider. The Church of the Green Movement is generally thought to schism into two main camps. Countryfile is a television program specifically designed with the aim to determine which camp any new convert falls into. Upon watching an episode of Countryfile, standard reactions are either ‘this is Tory/Farming propaganda designed to maintain and reinforce the detrimental countryside status quo‘ or ‘this is a dumbed-down and fluffed up representation of the countryside produced entirely for liberal left city dwellers’. Either way, Adam Henson largely takes the blame for it.

Cow Parsley, n. – If you look out of the window at this time of year, you can probably see this stuff growing before your very eyes.

Culling, v. – If the general populace realised quite how many conservation issues were expediently resolved with a bullet, then we might not be quite as popular.

I’m stuck about there…I was working on Curlew, Countryside, Copse, Caledonian Forest, Cowslip etc etc, but I’ve run out of time. Do give me a definition if you think of one.