It’s a lovely Monday morning in mid-May, and I’m deciding what to do with my day, my week, my month and my life.  Last Friday I retired after fifty-four years without a single day of unemployment, excepting, maybe, that happy summer, when, as a wildlife guide for a well-known European camping company, our daughters, Lynn, and I, spent a season in Brittany, creating lasting family memories, and introducing a cosmopolitan multitude to the joys of the great outdoors, and all it has to offer. 

Wildlife, particularly birds, has been my passion since childhood.  I was fortunate in having one of those inspiring teachers that you remember all your life; in my case Mrs Knight.  Thornton County Junior School, near Liverpool, was located directly adjacent to farmland, and we were lucky to be able to escape the classroom (before the constraints of the national curriculum), and, within a short distance, be out in the fields and lanes surrounding us.  Those halcyon nature walks will remain with me forever.  Here were the birds, plants and animals she had so vividly described back in class.  Yellowhammer (‘little bit of bread and no cheese’), scarlet pimpernel (‘poor man’s weather glass’), and stoat (‘the ‘t’ in stoat reminds us of the black tip to its tail.’) 

So, where is all this autobiographical stuff leading?  Well, that same Monday, amongst many other things now on my ‘to do’ list, or since completed, I decided to revisit the significant haunts of my childhood: my first home, the first park I was taken to, and, importantly, my junior school. 

Naturally, through the untainted and naïve eyes of a child, everything appears larger, brighter, more sophisticated than through the adult lens of reality.  Whilst I had driven past the site on many occasions, to stand there made me appreciate that my former school was no longer the place I recalled.  Firstly, it was much smaller.  Its rural surroundings had given way to mass housing, and the yellowhammers, scarlet pimpernels and stoats were, sadly, no more.  That which I had imagined would be there forever, had long since been swallowed up in that urban sprawl. 

That evening, I resolved to make some sort of reparation for the environmental damage created by my generation. Lynn and I were already long-standing members of LWT, so it seemed natural to offer my services as a volunteer, without, I must add, any concept of what that might entail! 

Having made contact, and waiting for a few weeks, I finally found myself at Lunt Meadows, only eight minutes from home.  I was introduced to the various members of the Tuesday work party and a more eclectic mix of people you could not imagine (but in a good way, you understand!). An ex-teacher, a graduate seeking their first role in conservation, a retiree from the nursing profession, and so on, but all united in the common desire to make a difference. 

I quickly found that, regardless of the task, the group worked cohesively, with a great deal of engaging conversation, not exclusively about wildlife, or environmental matters, although they were the ties that bound us together. I was also aware that if your preference was to not socially engage, that was also acceptable. 

As to management of the group, this was very informal.  It was quickly apparent that guidance was all that was needed, and the team self-managed the completion of its activities. Now, I spent several years of my professional life analysing what makes teams effective, or ineffective, and it struck me that this was close to the ideal. 

So, what is it in the past 18 months that has made me return week after week, and in all weathers? 

Firstly, knowing that what I’m doing is preserving and improving the environment for now, and future generations; in some way making a level of compensation for damage done. 

Secondly, retirement can be a lonely place.  After a lifetime of interacting with colleagues, to suddenly disengage from wider social contact can be daunting.  I now meet every week with a really friendly bunch of people, with whom work, and non-work, matters are freely debated (or not, if that’s my preference.)  

Finally, I am constantly learning new skills.  For example, I recently achieved a City and Guilds qualification in brush cutting.  Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that would be the case at my age, and in post-retirement! 

If you are reading this and thinking that, perhaps, you want a reason to spend more time in the outdoors, to meet new people, to take part in activities currently beyond your experience, or indeed, to utilise existing skills to the benefit of nature, then I wholeheartedly recommend volunteering to you.  Don’t hesitate to be like me: a roadmending, brush cutting, Himalayan balsam bashing, willow popping, fence repairing, path clearing, ragwort pulling, difference making, volunteer!