The Tenacity of Nature in the Domain of Man
Where there is a will, there is a way. Nature will always find a way to live in our urban environments - and we should let it.
I once passed a flower on death row, a courageous pioneer of the wild staking out its claim in that great domain of man: the city. It was a beautiful plant, one to be admired and even cherished; but according to the local council, this wildflower was nothing more than an illegal immigrant invading the forbidden soil at the pavement edge. Along with the rest of the brave plants surviving on this tiny strip of nature, this wildflower was slated for execution by herbicide, irrespective of the sign a neighbour had erected pleading for the council to “Spare the wildflowers.”
Thinking back to this now-slain wildflower reminds me of the astounding tenacity of nature. When confronted with extreme, brutal places on earth where we see no potential for life to persist, let alone flourish, nature sees only a veritable gold mine of untapped opportunities to carve out new niches and new colonies. No physical extreme presents too great a conundrum that an ingenuous adaptation or design cannot solve; persistent sub-zero temperatures call for anti-freeze blood, of course.
What I find most surprising, though, is how adept nature is at recolonising urban spaces; places which at first glance appear to be wholly inhospitable and improbable locations for nature to thrive. Wildflowers growing out of the cracks on a train station wall, trees emerging out of chimneys, and mason bees burrowing into brickwork: these are just a handful of nature’s unlikely reclamation projects that recently made me stop, stare, and smile. Where there is a will, there is a way — and nature has a whole lot of will. It is just a shame that so often, this tenacity and relentless willpower is met with our collective frustration.
As much as being designed as a place where man can flourish, innovate, and live as efficiently as his heart may desire, the city is a place designed to exclude nature — especially those species we deem “dangerous” or inconvenient to human life. Nature’s congregation is full of non-conformists to our doctrines of neatness and cleanliness, safety and efficiency. Creatures do not willingly obey our rules: “No Entry” signs are blatantly ignored; clockwork efficient transport is delayed by trespassing foxes; and dung and droppings are deposited wherever the need arises — including upon the head of smartly dressed commuters.
Urban planners and city bureaucrats generally despise this intrusion into their order and efficiency; thus, they design our cities with the intention of keeping the wild out. Concrete replaces grass and soil, eliminating the medium life needs to flourish, and whatever green spaces remain are eagerly coveted by deep-pocketed developers. Busy roads present a fast-moving wall of deadly velocity and disorientating noise which claims abundant roadkill victims and drowns out birdsong. Pest controllers and herbicide wielding street cleaners are always in demand, and inconvenient trees are felled without a second’s thought. In such a hostile environment, only a select few tenacious creatures can survive.
Habitats where only one species totally dominates are few and far between, and it must be noted that such habitats are usually suffering from severe ecological degradation. However, mankind has achieved this hyper-Darwinian ideal of “utter domination of the fittest” in our cities and metropolises. Humans have the utter monopoly in the land of concrete and steel. Even in our gardens — that one urban refuge for wildlife — nature is increasingly being excluded. There is a terrible trend across urban and suburban England of erecting regimented lines of impenetrably high fences which enclose quadrangles of newly laid artificial grass. No “annoying” nature to be found here — and no life or soul either. What does it say to our conviviality if we are able to flourish and enjoy ourselves only by excluding and annihilating as many other members of the community of creation as possible? For one thing, it shows just how far we have fallen short of our original mandate.1
True, no city is totally devoid of wildlife and wild spaces. Generally, urban designers do designate set apart oases for nature, whether that be our gardens with real grass and shrubs or parks with trees and lakes. I have recently returned from Hamburg in Germany, a city of remarkable greenery with its abundance of tree-lined streets. Indeed, there are so many trees in the outer suburbs that the high rises seem to erupt out of a forest. Testament to this wildness, nuthatches, a species confined to wild woodlands near where I live in England, came to the bird feeders next to the window in the apartment I was staying in, a stone’s throw from the busy airport. Wild cities are possible if we desire them — and demand them. And demand them we must, for the antagonism to the wild and the “neat and tidy” habits of our local councils seem as difficult to break as the chain smoker’s addiction.
But even in the midst of our most nature-deficient metropolises, and under the jurisdiction of the most nature-hostile councils, nature will always find a way. Tenacious pioneers and canny generalists can thrive in amidst the domain of man and it is ironic that those species which do thrive — foxes and racoons among them — are often the creatures that cause us the greatest grief. They have learnt to exploit our man-made habitats and habits for their own advantage: an upended rubbish bin is a banqueting hall full of rich delights for the devious fox, and the ledges of our buildings bear striking resemblance to the ancestral rocky crag home of that creature of our own making — the feral pigeon.2 This bird — referred to by some as “flying rats” for their habit of defecating all over buildings and for their supposed association with disease — dominates our cites almost as much as we do. Their ubiquitous presence is the ultimate reminder that nature will always find a way to colonise our domains. Their ubiquity also cautions us that the creatures who fill the vacuum left after we have excluded all others, are those tenacious and seemingly ineradicable “thorn-in-the-flesh creatures” we wish we could do without.
One of the chief ways nature stakes its claim in urban environs is through capitalising on neglect. When man-made domains are abandoned to the forces of dilapidation, nature quickly recolonises and, in a form of positive feedback, speeds up the processes of degradation and decay. Cracks become larger as plant roots force their way through; hedges grow wild and wide, smothering roads and paths alike; and potholes, after successive freeze-thaw-cycle enlargement, are deep enough to become miniature ponds. The most famous example of this “neglect-reclamation-degradation” feedback is Pripyat, the abandoned radioactive city in Ukraine that has become a refuge for the wild; a city where wolves stalk the empty tree-lined streets and birds nest in dilapidated factories. It surely is the world’s most unintentional nature reserve, and a stark reminder of just how eager nature is to reclaim the land it once controlled.
The neglect-recolonisation-degradation feedback, along with the abundance of thorn-in-the-flesh species, demonstrates an uncomfortable truth: when nature does stake out a claim in our cities it is often antagonistic to human purposes. Like two brothers who cannot share the same plot of inheritance, nature competes with us for space, degrades our buildings and infrastructure, disobeys our rules, and impinges on our order and cleanliness. We are in conflict with nature and nature is in conflict with us. This zero-sum relationship is the all too common and all too tragic state of affairs in our modern, highly contested world. And it is hardly nature’s fault. We have afforded nature so little space in our urban lands, have imposed so high a standard of neatness and order, and have been so profligate with our wastes, that one could well say that we deserve the antagonism which is much to our own making
But, as the example of Hamburg and other green cities that have learnt to coexist with the wild demonstrate, it need not be this way. Indeed, I would go as far as to argue that it must not be this way if we humans are to flourish as joyful, healthy, and virtuous beings.
The benefits to human well-being of exposure to nature in urban places is well established. There is a “pandemic” of nature deficit disorder3 raging in our urban environs. As a society we are stressed, harried, and depressed — and a significant contributing factor is a lack of exposure to nature. Nature calms us, greenery is soothing to the eyes, and beautiful bird alighting near us is the best form of distraction — a distraction that brings joy and refreshment rather than locking us into a cycle of addiction. Our brains need to be exposed to nature, especially in those places — our hyper-efficient, burnout-inducing cities — where we have tried the most to eliminate it.
However, benefits to human wellbeing are not the ones I am most interested in exploring here. Nature deficit disorder is a worthy subject for another time. What I am interested in is how making space for nature and coexisting convivially alongside it can cultivate us into more virtuous people: the kind of people who instinctively care for and love the whole community of creation and who are characterised by patience, generosity, and a disposition towards awe.
Learning to coexist with the wild requires us to exercise restraint. We need to forsake trying to squeeze out as much productivity and opportunity per unit area as we can and instead, leave sufficient land and habitat for diverse creatures to flourish. Once we realise all land is a gift, and that we are made to share this precious and limited resource with the whole community of creation (and once we realise just how greedy we have been in grabbing as much of this gift for ourselves), we will be greater disposed to be spatially generous. In turn, this action of spatial generosity can form in us a general disposition towards sharing and generosity; a disposition whose influence ripples out to our human relationships, making us more willing to share our time, money, and resources with others. If living alongside nature helps us become this kind of person, then the minor inconveniences and conflicts we must endure will be more than worth it.
Spatial generosity is only half of the task. For these urban oases to be effective they must be designed well. This will require the best of our wisdom. Urban oases must be interconnected, allowing species to move between disparate areas as their seasonal, behavioural, and population needs require. They must be diverse in the species and resources they contain, which requires us to exercise astute ecological wisdom and persistent and skilful habitat management. And they must be healthy and protected from harm, impelling us to design ingenious methods of pollution abatement and schemes to limit the harms of unnatural speed, noise, and energy. Our capacities and understanding will be tested to the limit. But as all sages know, it is at this point of testing that our understanding germinates into a stronger, deeper, and more holistic form of wisdom. A wisdom more precious than the finest gold.
Finally, being surrounded by creatures great and small induces us to wonder. If we carve out the time to regularly be astounded by the beauty, intricacy, and ingenious behaviours that are present in each and every creature (even those creatures that have become our foes), we will slowly but surely become the kind of people who are disposed towards awe and wonder rather than triviality and distraction.4 We will develop once again that childlike capacity to be repeatedly enthralled by the intriguing, the beautiful, and the amazing. And will give the magnificent creation the attention it deserves. The wonder of creation present even in the smallest flower is breathtaking; those who seek to study and enjoy it will never exhaust the riches of its wonder.
Thus, what an abject tragedy it is when the pesticide wielding council destroys these awe-inspiring, virtue-inducing creatures, all because of “minor inconveniences.”
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This mandate is the cultural mandate in Genesis to subdue and have dominion over creation. But fear from being a call to annihilate all other life and fill every last square inch of this world with humans, a significant part of this mandate is to steward the world to allow creation to flourish alongside is as humans. As Douglas Green notes, “When God “subdues” the land, he makes it verdant and fruitful and when he “rules over” the creatures, their numbers increase and they fill the earth. So if God's vice regents want to exercise dominion on his behalf, then their subduing and ruling must have the same creation enhancing character.” - Douglas Green, When the Gardener Returns in ‘Keeping God’s Earth’, Eds. Toly & Block. Apollos.
Feral pigeons defend from the domestication of the wild Rock Dove, a species which inhabits remote rocky cliffs.
“Nature-deficit disorder is the idea that human beings, especially children, are spending less time outdoors than they have in the past, and the belief that this change results in a wide range of behavioral [and psychological] problems.” (Wikipedia).
Steven Bouma-Prediger, Earthkeeping and Character. Baker House Press
Embarrassingly, my very own brother is one of those with a tightly fenced quadrangle of artificial grass. (He is equally embarrassed by my living in the wild- funny how far the apple falls). Good post. Let the weeds grow.🌱
I love this perspective! I live in an area that I am convinced would become a forest if left to it’s own devices. It is very challenging (especially with our busy lives) to maintain even a low standard of neatness. The good part is, when you walk or drive through our neighborhood, you see the trees first and the houses second. I realized the other day how much this means to me emotionally. It helps that we are an older development and that most houses are smaller than what is the expectation for newer builds. Of course, the compromise is less square footage for us and our consumer stuff (which is what really uses up the space). Thank you for the thought provoking re-frame of this topic.