There is an elderly woman I know who lives in shelteted housing above the woodlands that slope down to the Don River. I met her through her husband, a retired merchant seaman, whom I often met out walking. I haven't seen him in years.
She told me stories from when she was a young girl: they lived in a neighbourhood near Footdee, one of the areas where later all the homes were razed to build the oil port. Her mother would take them walking across the Don, over the Brig 'o Balgownie and up to Scotstown Moor, where they would collect firewood and bring it home. As a reward the children got to split a cone of chips.
Yesterday she was at the supermarket, quietly approaching the checkout queue with a small armful of things. I saw her and made sure she got into the queue in front of me. She was surprised and grateful, and when I asked her how she was she looked a bit startled. Then I asked if she still fed the foxes. That got a big smile, and in a happy voice she declared, oh yes, and the big badgers too, the fox gets a chicken leg, every night. When she had left, the checkout person and I agreed that this was a fine way to be old.
As it happens, I had also met a colleague doing surveys of the red squirrels earlier that day, and another colleague peacefully watching the grebes.
So by the end of the day, I had news of the badgers, the foxes, the red squirrels, the seals, the pine martens, and the otters, all along the Don. No word from the bats, mice, other mustelids, let alone the shrews, but it will do for the mammals.
I cannot understand how, in the face of such ordinary and joyous entanglement between humans and other people of the area, we created a monstrous society around commodification and extraction. I am glad it is dying.
#biodiversity #Aberdeen #Scotland.