- Location
- Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk
Apparently we’re being invaded by a huge cloud of Painted Lady butterflies, migrating from North Africa. And I suppose that’s less of a fag than, say, a plague of locusts. Mind I suspect the phrase used ‘we’ll be up to our knees in them’ is probably over egging things, but I understand there are quite a few of them, and no doubt whatever eats Painted Lady butterflies will think all their birthdays have come at once.
Onwards….I see that old chestnut about how there are only so many ‘harvests left’ is doing the rounds again…you know the one. The spin is that soil erosion, degradation and general farming incompetence is going to starve us all out of existence in anything from 100 years down to about 10 weeks, depending on which doom monger currently has the floor. And it is certainly true that a lot of farmers like me don’t regard our soil with anything like the respect it deserves, and many cultures have caused havoc by abusing their dirt. And that a rising population coupled to ever higher expectations of living standards – economist speak for ‘not wanting to do any actual work’- will focus our attention at some point in the not too distant future.
However…. I do wish the doom criers would get a hold of themselves. It is nothing like as black and white as the headlines are braying. To help put the fundamental premise in perspective, just this morning, as I was fuelling a tractor, I was plucking some rather tasty raspberries growing on a feral bush outside the diesel shed. And in what medium were they growing? Why, out of a crack in the top of a defunct empty concrete tank. And this with no ready access to much in the way of water, on a north facing aspect, and in a spot which would hardly qualify as grade 1 soil’. Now I’m pretty sure that you wouldn’t want to enter into a supply contract with a supermarket growing fruit in such conditions, and I recall that last year, when it was so dry, the bush didn’t yield much. But the fact is it persists in a tiny crack in the concrete, with a bit of leaf litter and trash sprinkled on it, and perchance some swallow droppings as they exit the building. Yet still it bears fruit. Elsewhere in my life, I’ve got plastic gutters 20’ above my head which sprout annoying arrays of vegetation, growing on little more than a few sycamore leaves blow off the roof, and rainwater. The big old tractor which pulls the timber crane around the mill –and lives out in the weather- sports a wide variety of flora, each seeking to find its way growing on little more than…well, seemingly John Deere green paint and fresh air.
Then, not wanting to have to point out the obvious, we’re pretty poor at recycling waste in this country – both domestic stuff, and human waste. If push did come to shove, the nutrient value of our own poops and piddle could be harnessed a great deal more. But the simple reality is that, as long as we’re happy to go on using fossil fuels to squidge up nitrogen fertiliser, and dig some minerals up elsewhere to sprinkle about, we’re not stuck yet. It all comes down to cost. There is nothing cheaper than growing food in dirt, using sunshine and rain, And if the dirt needs some help, it’s currently very easy to get the help out of a 600kg dumpy bag.
It wouldn’t bother me, but for the fact that the alarmist headlines fuel stupid policy decisions at ministerial level- and continual drip of how stupid farmers are. They’ll faff about slandering us for being irresponsible, while allowing hideous housing estates and retail parks to cover ever more perfectly good lowland ground –perhaps the soil beneath them is being saved for future generations….although I doubt it. And they’ll permit militant belligerent vegans – oh I realise there must be some of the other kind, who are non-militant and generally benevolent- to go round spouting about how animal agriculture is the end of the world. From where I’m sitting that’s pretty rich, given my cattle and sheep are quietly grabbing carbon, building soil, and generally being hairy little productive superheroes. Not eating them is only helping to burn ever more fossil fuel, and denigrate some foreign landscape leading to yet more…ah, soil loss.
Perhaps we could do the calculations, and work out what nutrient values we’ll gain from the influx of all those butterflies.
-------------------------
Anton's articles are syndicated exclusively by TFF by kind permission of the author and WMN.
Anton also writes regularly for the Dartmoor Magazine and the NFU
He has published two books; the second "The Complete Bullocks" is still in print
http://www.anton-coaker.co.uk/book.htm
Onwards….I see that old chestnut about how there are only so many ‘harvests left’ is doing the rounds again…you know the one. The spin is that soil erosion, degradation and general farming incompetence is going to starve us all out of existence in anything from 100 years down to about 10 weeks, depending on which doom monger currently has the floor. And it is certainly true that a lot of farmers like me don’t regard our soil with anything like the respect it deserves, and many cultures have caused havoc by abusing their dirt. And that a rising population coupled to ever higher expectations of living standards – economist speak for ‘not wanting to do any actual work’- will focus our attention at some point in the not too distant future.
However…. I do wish the doom criers would get a hold of themselves. It is nothing like as black and white as the headlines are braying. To help put the fundamental premise in perspective, just this morning, as I was fuelling a tractor, I was plucking some rather tasty raspberries growing on a feral bush outside the diesel shed. And in what medium were they growing? Why, out of a crack in the top of a defunct empty concrete tank. And this with no ready access to much in the way of water, on a north facing aspect, and in a spot which would hardly qualify as grade 1 soil’. Now I’m pretty sure that you wouldn’t want to enter into a supply contract with a supermarket growing fruit in such conditions, and I recall that last year, when it was so dry, the bush didn’t yield much. But the fact is it persists in a tiny crack in the concrete, with a bit of leaf litter and trash sprinkled on it, and perchance some swallow droppings as they exit the building. Yet still it bears fruit. Elsewhere in my life, I’ve got plastic gutters 20’ above my head which sprout annoying arrays of vegetation, growing on little more than a few sycamore leaves blow off the roof, and rainwater. The big old tractor which pulls the timber crane around the mill –and lives out in the weather- sports a wide variety of flora, each seeking to find its way growing on little more than…well, seemingly John Deere green paint and fresh air.
Then, not wanting to have to point out the obvious, we’re pretty poor at recycling waste in this country – both domestic stuff, and human waste. If push did come to shove, the nutrient value of our own poops and piddle could be harnessed a great deal more. But the simple reality is that, as long as we’re happy to go on using fossil fuels to squidge up nitrogen fertiliser, and dig some minerals up elsewhere to sprinkle about, we’re not stuck yet. It all comes down to cost. There is nothing cheaper than growing food in dirt, using sunshine and rain, And if the dirt needs some help, it’s currently very easy to get the help out of a 600kg dumpy bag.
It wouldn’t bother me, but for the fact that the alarmist headlines fuel stupid policy decisions at ministerial level- and continual drip of how stupid farmers are. They’ll faff about slandering us for being irresponsible, while allowing hideous housing estates and retail parks to cover ever more perfectly good lowland ground –perhaps the soil beneath them is being saved for future generations….although I doubt it. And they’ll permit militant belligerent vegans – oh I realise there must be some of the other kind, who are non-militant and generally benevolent- to go round spouting about how animal agriculture is the end of the world. From where I’m sitting that’s pretty rich, given my cattle and sheep are quietly grabbing carbon, building soil, and generally being hairy little productive superheroes. Not eating them is only helping to burn ever more fossil fuel, and denigrate some foreign landscape leading to yet more…ah, soil loss.
Perhaps we could do the calculations, and work out what nutrient values we’ll gain from the influx of all those butterflies.
-------------------------
Anton's articles are syndicated exclusively by TFF by kind permission of the author and WMN.
Anton also writes regularly for the Dartmoor Magazine and the NFU
He has published two books; the second "The Complete Bullocks" is still in print
http://www.anton-coaker.co.uk/book.htm
