To walk or dive in rich environments we must go abroad. But today, industrial fishing rips up the living fabric of all but 0.01% of our territorial waters. Reefs of oysters and other sessile animals covered the seabed, over which giant cod, skate and halibut cruised. Shoals of bluefin tuna thundered up the North Sea. A few centuries ago you could have watched fin whales and sperm whales hammering the herring within sight of the shore. Our seas were once among the richest on Earth. Even our national parks are little better than wet deserts. When we get there, we discover that the same forces prevail. We head for the hills to escape the order and control that sometimes seem to crush the breath out of us.
![making a column in solidthinking inspire making a column in solidthinking inspire](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/hHz1R2l7ZLs/maxresdefault.jpg)
I believe their diminished state also restricts the scope of human life. The living systems that conservationists seek to protect in some parts of this country are a parody of the natural world, kept, through intensive management, in suspended animation, like a collection in a museum. Boar, beavers, lynx, wolves, whales, large sharks, pelicans, sturgeon: all used to be abundant here all but for a few small populations or rare visitors are missing. In Britain we lack almost all large keystone species: ecological engineers that drive the fascinating dynamics which allow other lifeforms to flourish.
![making a column in solidthinking inspire making a column in solidthinking inspire](https://images.g2crowd.com/uploads/attachment/file/61022/expirable-direct-uploads_2F0cd64357-4f69-4c22-9ea5-ea93e1761228_2FGallery_Image_0012_3_Optimize.png)
We are surrounded by such broken relationships, truncated natural processes, cauterised ecologies.