Jonathan Cape
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HERE in Manaus in the heart of Amazonia, my garden may not house the tapirs, jaguars and monkeys that are ecotourism’s poster species in this part of the world, but it still has an impressive array of predators and potential prey lurking in the undergrowth. They are smaller than the average mammal, often with more limbs.
But what they lack in size and furriness they make up for in diversity. A crab spider sits poised on the petal of a hibiscus flower, waiting to pluck spiderlings from mid-air. Centimetres away, a lime-green grasshopper chews the top off a flower bud, ensuring its wine-red petals will emerge with a rather elegant ornamental pattern. Above, in the passion vine, a hummingbird chitters as it finally frees itself from the web of a NephilaĚýspider.
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But this is the Amazon and even a medium-sized garden will bustle with biodiversity. Very Darwinian and to be expected in what is in fact a garden in a jungle – just not the type Dave Goulson reveals in his new book, The Garden Jungle.
His compelling view of gardens needs a perspective shift. Goulson, an entomologist at the University of Sussex, UK, recalls the words of TV naturalist Chris Packham saying “he would rather spend 10 minutes lying on his tummy watching a woodlouse than an hour watching a glossy television programme about lions”.
So Goulson swaps my tropical hibiscus for hydrangea and passion flower for pansy, getting down into the urban undergrowth with a hand lens to find an ecosystem every bit as surprising and enchanting as any tropical forest. There are odd mammals, bizarre birds and very strange fish, but for sheer exuberant oddness and elegant strangeness nothing beats insects in their millions of forms, living all around any garden path.
“My garden is a little corner of Earth I can control, small enough to comprehend, where I can make things right”
It is this, literally, overlooked diversity that excites Goulson. British biodiversity may be in decline even at this level, but what exists is extraordinary in its range. Garden Jungle celebrates, explores and explains in equal part, with the wildlife corralled into neat sections focusing on places (borders, trees, ponds) and groups (ants, moths and non-insect invertebrates such as worms). And there is a charming touch: each chapter starts with a garden-grown fruit recipe.
Ever since Jean-Henri Fabre’s Souvenirs Entomologiques, written in the late 19th century, the world has been aware of the magic and mystery of the invertebrate world. In the intervening century, we came to realise that awareness is nothing like enough. People like Goulson encouraged us to do more, even as they conjured up the delights of the natural world and unexpected fun of fieldwork.
Following on from his highly successful A Buzz in the Meadow, Goulson has upped his mission to match the individual-action zeitgeist. He explains wildlife-gardening techniques and how to use them to launch your campaign to save the planet, and adds a reading list, organisations to join and practical tips on how to ensure your patch is as biodiverse as it can be. Thanks to Goulson, you can relax about your choice of plants: “Any plant is better than decking or paving and the more… you have, and the more variety, the better.”
So, yes, hug that tree, but after reading Garden Jungle you will probably do so more carefully to avoid disturbing bark beetles. Goulson’s book is a very worthy successor to Fabre, and in a world where traipsing to the tropics is increasingly seen as irresponsible, backyard safaris may substitute.
Importantly, for an out-of-control world, Goulson also injects a sense of proportion. His garden (and yours) is “a little corner of Earth that I can control, that is small enough for my brain to comprehend, and where I can make things right”. Amen to that.
