Of the 270 hectares of Nene Wetlands, the 17 at Delta Pit are largely now managed by the Beavers. In fact, they’re the managers, in another sense. They are dictating the strategy now. This has shifted my mindset - I’m not in charge here. Whenever I venture in to Delta, I get the same sensation I had when doing field work in South Africa, or exploring as a broke backpacker in Tasmania. This is unfamiliar, exciting, and worth learning about. The Beavers’ activities are always interesting, and vary from unexpected to completely astonishing. In many ways I feel more at home in the unknown than in the quotidian – so, since the Beavers arrived, Delta Pit has become a bit of a refuge for me. Now I’m in danger of becoming another hairy creature on the Delta Pit species list!

The unfamiliarity, and the sense of not being in charge are interesting things. The truth is, there’s so much unfamiliarity across the whole of Nene Wetlands. I don’t know much at all about lichens, moths, or flies, for example. I don’t know how deep Higham Lake is, or whether there’s a Spindle tree on the reserve. I’ve never seen one, but I’ve never looked at and identified every one of the many, many thousands of trees. I’d suggest that, despite the huge number of incredible naturalists, historians, and local people that spend time on the reserve – we collectively still don’t know it all. One thing I’m certain of – there will be species using the reserve no one has ever seen there before. 

Also, my job title (Which I actually don’t like – senior? I’m not yet forty…) implies I’m supposed to control what goes on on the reserve. Ha. Unfortunately, a few days ago, three young lads set about tearing apart the Sand Martin bank at Otter lake. Some guesses: They don’t know that Sand Martin populations have decreased in southern England in the last 30 years, or that Ben spent many, many hours modifying and perfecting the design, or that it’s taken the collective knowledge, kindness and dedication of many people to get Sand Martins to feel safe enough to raise a family there. They might know they’re causing criminal damage, but they’re unlikely to know they’re in breach of the Wildlife and Countryside Act, which (usually) carries a penalty of six months in prison, and/or an unlimited fine.

Honestly – I was that young lad. I once went around my home town cutting Christmas tree lights in front gardens. The anger and upset I must have caused is significant, and I feel terrible about it now. I did it for a laugh. And I did it because I was ignorant, and bored. So, I don’t feel anger towards them – they don’t know because they have other things on their mind. They need to let their frustration out – of course they do – frankly, we’ve failed them. Are we, the adults, the leaders of this world, looking after the planet any better? Are we nurturing them, looking after their education, their society and their future? Everyone will have their own answers – all I know is that Katie and Chad, local youth worker, nature enthusiast and generally nice bloke, are working on a project called Screen Time for Green Time that is desperately needed.

Back to control. I can’t control what these kids do, nor whether people keep their dogs on leads, dump cannabis growing equipment on the reserve, or pick flowers from the verges (again – a crime under the same Act). I can’t control how people feel about all the work we’re doing, or how much pain people can cause to wildlife, and frankly, to us. As Aldo Leopold said, “One of the penalties of an ecological education is that one lives alone in a world of wounds”. That and the pay. But seriously, he’s almost right. We’re not alone.

We know Beavers attract and provide for other species due to their ability to engineer habitat – they’re a ‘keystone species’ - but their ability to attract humans wasn’t expected. Beaver Ben and I, along with many of the other staff and volunteers, have really sensed an unspoken movement around people’s attitudes to the Beavers, and consequently to the plight of nature in general. People are excited, inquisitive, and positive about nature. Wow. Remember that feeling?

Feelings. I’m a trained scientist – I’ve been taught to use logic to build my world. But, magic and logic are two eyes seeing the same sight. Maybe it’s the selfish gene that causes Beavers to groom each other – knowing that removing parasites from offspring helps improve their fitness (by which I mean, their likelihood of producing viable offspring). Maybe it just feels nice, and they love each other. Maybe both.

I’m looking at Delta Pit, the wider Reserve, and perhaps even nature and people in general, with softer eyes.

For those that despise poetry, do cease reading now. For those that have soft eyes like me, I wrote a poem about the furry guys that I’m only half embarrassed to share.

The last Beaver in Northamptonshire

 The last Beaver was cut open centuries ago

The trees grew, their shade shaped the water, brought darkness

Recently between slurps of tea an idea was spoken

The idea grew, reproduced, created hope

The ideas became paperwork

Fences. Tree work. And murmurings.

Signs saying Stop. Wait. Watch.

And people did

Come closer

Breathe slowly

Just here. Look.

Bring your gentleness.

Thirty one paws (she, the first, with three)

Broke the surface of a lake

Eight tails

Making ripples unstoppable

Since then, the ideas come quicker

Louder, from more voices

And they start to hum in harmony

We are beginning to make sense of it all