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Springtime in a typical British suburb is a chorus of birds, buzzing insects and the occasional rumble of a mini‑digger. While sparrows spar and tits clash over territory, a crew of contractors is often busy erasing hedges, bushes and trees, leaving behind a stark trench of bare earth. In one April afternoon, a once‑lush front garden was reduced to a skip full of uprooted branches and a strip of exposed soil. Despite the nation’s reputation as a garden‑loving society, the trend toward concrete is accelerating. An RHS audit published last year found that 42% of domestic garden space in the United Kingdom has been paved over, with timber fences replacing wild privet and driveways smothering mossy lawns. The loss is not merely aesthetic; it erodes habitats that support a remarkable share of the country’s wildlife. According to the Royal Horticultural Society, over 50% of Britain’s butterflies, amphibians and reptiles, and more than 40% of its bird and mammal species rely on garden habitats. The new David Attenborough series Secret Garden underscores this, describing urban gardens as “almost as diverse as a tropical rainforest.” Yet, as the series aired, another garden was being stripped to the ground, highlighting the tension between media‑driven reverence and on‑the‑ground reality. Socio‑economic factors compound the issue. One in eight households in the UK has no garden at all, and lower‑income families and ethnic minorities are disproportionately deprived of green space. Even owners of gardens often lack the time, money, or confidence to cultivate biodiverse oases, viewing gardening as a burdensome chore. Experts suggest a radical, yet simple, alternative: do nothing. Allowing dandelions, thistles, and stray grasses to flourish provides nectar for pollinators, while bare patches become nesting sites for bees and birds. Unraked leaves serve as winter shelters for insects, and dead stalks become food for aphids, which in turn feed higher‑up predators. The “negative space” of an untended garden can therefore become a hotbed of ecological activity. Conservationists argue that embracing this messiness could reverse the decline of urban biodiversity. As one commentator mused, “If Sir David Attenborough could return for a bonus episode, he might show us that a tangled, overgrown garden is not a failure but a vibrant ecosystem in its own right.” By Emma Beddington, 12 April 2026

The proposed gold mine in Northern Ireland's Sperrins area has become a contentious issue, with environmental concerns clashing with the promise of economic benefits. The mine, valued at £21bn, is backed by US-owned Dalradian Gold and could bring hundreds of jobs and significant tax revenue to the area.Fidelma O'Kane and Cormac McAleer, a retired social worker and community worker, are leading the opposition to the mine. They argue that it would desecrate an area of outstanding natural beauty, pollute local rivers, and harm the health of their children. The couple has been rallying support from other locals, with over 50,000 letters of objection submitted to the planning process.Dalradian Gold claims the mine will be carbon neutral and support a supply chain worth £1bn. The company says it will create 1,000 jobs and contribute £3bn in taxes. However, opponents dispute these claims and point to the potential risks to local wildlife, including otters, pine martens, and freshwater pearl mussels.The public inquiry into the mine's planning application will begin on April 13, 2026, and will run until early June. The inquiry's outcome will be crucial in determining the fate of the mine and the future of the Sperrins area.

Oppdal, a mountain village in central Norway, hosted its first interspecies council on a snowy morning at the Bjerkeløkkja conference centre. Thirty‑eight local participants each represented a different species – from a northern bat to a birch tree – and voiced the needs of the natural world in a structured decision‑making process.The council draws on the legacy of the Council of All Beings, a practice created in the 1980s by environmentalists John Seed and Joanna Macy. Phoebe Tickell, a scientist and “moral imagination” activist mentored by Macy, adapted the ritual into a governance methodology that expands representation beyond humans.Facilitators first identified the multispecies stakeholders in the region, then briefed human representatives – chosen either randomly or for expertise – on the perspectives they would embody. The session concluded with a manifesto of principles for human governance and an impact‑evaluation plan to track participants’ connection to nature six months later.Oppdal’s mayor, Elisabeth Hals, noted that the village’s population swells from 5,000 to over 30,000 in winter as tourists flock to private cabins (hytter). The municipality plans to add 1,000 new apartments by 2035 to promote year‑round tourism, a move that has sparked debate over land use, farming, and conservation.During the council, a birch “worried there’s too much of me,” while a rockfoil flower urged humans to “slow down and listen to where nature can tolerate more activity.” The River Driva lamented being treated as a mere resource, and a fox enthusiastically pointed at a wader, highlighting the emotional range the exercise seeks to capture.Proponents argue that such empathy‑building exercises are crucial as wildlife populations have fallen by roughly 70 % over the past 50 years. Tickell contends that “imperfect representation beats exclusion” and envisions interspecies councils becoming as routine as environmental impact assessments.Across the UK, 13 councils have recognised river rights since 2023, and a coalition of artists, ecologists, lawyers and policymakers is exploring similar biodiversity governance around the North Sea. In London, multispecies assemblies have already informed stewardship of the River Roding and land‑use consultations.Oppdal’s experiment aims to create “institutional trace” – genuine decision‑making power backed by robust methodology and longitudinal research – rather than a tokenistic green‑washing exercise. If successful, the model could be replicated internationally, giving non‑human nature a formal seat at the policy table.

A £7.5m refurbishment of a Derbyshire railway viaduct has sparked outrage among nature lovers and conservationists. The project, undertaken by Network Rail, has resulted in the blocking of swift nesting holes that have been used by the birds for generations.Campaigners had appealed to Network Rail to preserve the tiny gaps in the stonework, which serve as ancestral nesting sites for the swifts. However, three holes were filled with mortar in February, sparking concerns about the impact on the local swift population.“It’s utterly heartbreaking,” said Deb Pitman, a swift campaigner. “Seeing footage of what happens when swifts return to a blocked nest is deeply upsetting. They repeatedly try to access their entry point, sometimes with fatal consequences.”The swift population in Britain has declined by 66% between 1995 and 2022, largely due to the widespread loss of nesting holes in older roofs and buildings. Campaigners argue that preserving the swift holes in the viaduct would have no impact on the structural integrity of the structure.Network Rail claims to have consulted ecologists and created exclusion zones to protect the nesting swifts during the refurbishment work. However, campaigners dispute this, citing 38 pieces of evidence that show at least nine nest sites on the viaducts.The British Transport Police’s wildlife crime team is investigating whether nesting birds may have been disturbed during the refurbishment work. Campaigners plan to hold a vigil beneath the viaduct on Saturday in the hope that the holes will be unblocked before the swifts return around the end of April to breed.

In a series of remarkable wildlife encounters, a strong>ostrich on the lam has captured public attention, alongside a tortoise crossing a road and seals surfing.These unusual animal sightings have been reported from various locations, showcasing the unpredictable nature of wildlife. While details of the incidents are scarce, they highlight the fascinating interactions between animals and their environments.

In the 1970s and 80s, fewer than 250 mountain gorillas survived worldwide, prompting dire predictions of extinction. Decades of focused protection have lifted that number to over a thousand, and the trend continues upward.Recent patrols on the Democratic Republic of the Congo side of the Virunga range have documented an extraordinary event: two pairs of twin gorilla infants were born within a three‑month span. Twins are exceptionally uncommon in this species, representing less than 1% of all births, making the double occurrence a remarkable indicator of population health.Jacques Katutu, head of gorilla monitoring at Virunga, emphasized that the twin births “provide another vital indicator that dedicated conservation efforts… support the growth of the endangered mountain gorilla population within Virunga National Park.” Rangers suggest the thriving families are robust enough to meet the added demands of raising twins.Infant mountain gorillas face high mortality, often succumbing to infanticide, injury or disease. Yet the first twin pair, born in January, is reported to be alive and thriving, with troop members assisting the mother, Mafuko, in caring for her male infants.The achievements occur against a backdrop of extreme danger for park staff. More than 220 rangers have been killed protecting wildlife in the DRC over the past two decades, while rebel groups such as M23 continue to operate with impunity.Integral to this success are the Gorilla Doctors, a veterinary NGO whose interventions are credited with about half of the species’ population increase. Their teams trek daily through the dense forest, identifying each gorilla by name and providing medical care for injuries and disease in the isolated habitats of Virunga and Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable National Park.Dr. Benard Ssebide, a leading Gorilla Doctor, guided the author through the gorilla family on Mount Muhabura, narrating each animal’s story as they foraged for thistles, leaves and wild blackberries.These twin births serve as a powerful reminder that, even amid global environmental challenges, concerted human effort can foster tangible recovery for one of the planet’s most iconic endangered species.

Doug Allan, a pioneering wildlife cinematographer, died at the age of 74 while on a trek in Nepal, his management firm said, noting he passed away "immersed in nature and surrounded by friends."Best known for his role as principal camera operator on landmark BBC series including Planet Earth, Frozen Planet and The Blue Planet, Allan amassed a remarkable collection of honors, among them eight Emmy Awards, five BAFTAs, and an OBE awarded in 2024 for services to broadcast media and environmental awareness.Born in Dunfermline, Fife, he earned an honours degree in marine biology from Stirling University in 1973 and soon after joined the British Antarctic Survey as a research diver at Signy Island. It was during this period that his passion for filming blossomed, leading to a pivotal encounter with Sir David Attenborough in 1981, which set him on the path to a distinguished career.Allan’s early forays into polar filming began with a 16 mm camera he purchased for an Antarctic expedition, capturing emperor penguins and selling the footage to the BBC—a move that launched his lifelong partnership with the broadcaster.His dedication to extreme‑environment storytelling earned him the Polar Medal twice, underscoring his expertise in filming some of the planet’s harshest locales.In a 2017 interview, Allan revealed he had spent roughly 620 days tracking and recording polar bears. He recounted a memorable moment when a bear’s wet nose brushed a window, likening it to “a squeegee mop cleaning the glass.” Another close encounter saw a hungry walrus seize his legs underwater, which he repelled by striking the animal with his camera.Allan’s visual legacy, described by his representatives as "breathtaking and intimate moments in the natural world," continues to inspire audiences to appreciate and protect Earth’s wonders.

Thirty years after the passionate road protests against the Newbury bypass, the elevated road now looms large, a constant reminder of the environmental costs of progress. For the author, who was part of the campaign, the Newbury bypass remains a sore point, even today.On a walk in The Chase, a nature reserve adjacent to the bypass, the author is accompanied by their friend Sarah, a 'cow watcher' for the National Trust. Their mission is to check on the wellbeing of conservation grazers – Shetland cows with upswept horns – which play a crucial role in maintaining biodiversity and plant life.The reserve, once common land with a rich history dating back to 1819, has been a playground for the author and Sarah. They recall devastating sewage spills that killed local wildlife and the great storms of 1987 and 1990 that left trees like 'spilled pencils.'As they wade across a stream to find the cows grazing among wild daffodils and golden saxifrages, memories of their children come flooding back – 'welly walks' with grandparents, watching great spotted woodpecker chicks fledge, and following silver-washed fritillary butterflies.Their walk complete, they meet at a garden centre cafe, where the author, aided by 'brain fog,' mistakenly heads to the pub first. The zigzag patterns of peaty-black mud from Sarah's boots across the polished floor serve as a humorous reminder of their conservation work and shared experiences.

Deep in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), a tireless conservationist is working to safeguard the future of the critically endangered Grauer's gorilla. Dominique Bikaba, founder and executive director of Strong Roots Congo, has dedicated his life to protecting these majestic creatures and their habitats.Bikaba's journey into conservation began in 1992, driven by a desire to mediate tensions between park authorities and displaced communities. His work is deeply personal, rooted in his own experiences growing up near Kahuzi-Biega national park, where his family was displaced in the 1970s. The park, a sanctuary for Grauer's gorillas, elephants, and a rich array of wildlife, is a landscape of immense biological wealth and political fragility.The Grauer's gorilla, the largest subspecies of primates, can weigh up to 250kg (39st). However, their numbers have drastically declined due to conflict, slash-and-burn agriculture, and hunting for bush meat. Before the conflicts, there were approximately 17,000 Grauer's gorillas; by 2016, that number had dwindled to around 3,800.Bikaba's organization, Strong Roots Congo, aims to create a biodiversity corridor linking Kahuzi-Biega national park with Itombwe nature reserve. This ambitious project seeks to secure 1m hectares of land for wildlife and Indigenous communities, formalizing customary land rights and promoting coexistence. So far, Strong Roots has helped establish 23 community forests, covering about 600,000 hectares.Bikaba emphasizes the importance of community-led conservation. "What we are doing is putting communities back together, so they can thrive together as they have done for centuries," he says. His approach contrasts with traditional conservation models that often cast local people as threats. Bikaba believes that humans are part of nature and that there is much wisdom to be learned from communities living in forests.Despite the challenges posed by ongoing conflict in eastern DRC, Bikaba remains committed to his work. "If there is one thing we should avoid in life, it's war," he says. "If there is a way we can stop war in this region, we should do it. No matter the cost."