Cull: to reduce by selective removal or slaughter. Ultimately it's a means of rebalancing or maybe even a sort of stocktaking, a recalibration of things if you like. To elect to cull is to make a choice, to take a decision as to which living things to prioritise over which other living things.
Should we happen to witness packs of hounds racing across the countryside in pursuit of Fantastic Mr Fox, then that's a form of culling. Oh, I know that we've 'legislated' against such barbaric acts, excepting in the event of 'accidental killings,' but we all know what this really means don't we? Those beagles aren't going to exercise themselves you know. Aniseed trail, my aunt!
The thing is though, even if we accept that culling may be a necessary tool of tidy 'bookkeeping'- obviously not in the case of the hunting gentry- it's always the book-owners who get to decide what's to be taken stock of, where the recalibrating is to be done. And one of the key questions has surely got to be, 'Are the bookkeepers always going to be in the best positions to judge?'
A few months ago I was given, by a friend, the site of some delightful orchids. Greater Butterfly Orchids, they were, and they did sort of look like the generic butterflies after which they were named. They were small and of a snowy hue that seemed to radiate almost their own peculiar light, standing diminutive and almost completely shielded from any potential sunlight. My pictures do not do them justice, but there's something about pictures one takes for oneself; they still seem to resonate differently to those taken by others, even if they do often end up being woefully inferior.
So I've also included a photograph taken by another friend, taken when we revisited the site a week or so later. His are far better but then so was his camera, as was his patience. I watched him kneeling in the damp soil to better approach the flowers, even laying down at one point. At the time I suspected that I might struggle with extracting myself from the undergrowth were I to follow suit. So I declined to kneel.
Greater Butterfly Orchid.
I am not really a plant enthusiast, but I do very much appreciate some of the larger and/or more spectacular ones, the almost mythical beasts like the Giant Hogweed, Hemlock and some of the more zoomorphically-named species. So, less driven and instead of lying flat upon the damp earth, I crouched in the narrow clearing and snapped away, trying to best capture the blooms against the darker surrounding woodlands.
As have already stated I would not number myself amongst the more driven of plant enthusiasts, but once I know that I am within a certain reasonable mileage of a particular species I'll usually make the effort. So when I found myself parked and knowingly within just a few strides of the plants I was quite set upon seeing the things. I had been given very specific instructions but, as so often when I am left to my own devices, I began to doubt myself, consequently spending a great deal longer upon the search than was strictly necessary.
This ability to self-doubt, that I have nurtured over the years, resulted instead in a systematic search of the surrounding area, whereby other equally spectacular orchids were also seen and duly photographed. I had prepared myself for the variable and damp footing by wearing shorts, a t-shirt and sandals, as I would again- I currently possess no wellies.
I should explain that the Greater Butterfly Orchids were found within a couple of hours- nearly two hours longer than was strictly necessary- and that my feet and legs especially became quite sodden. It was extremely humid and it rained lightly and briefly whilst I was there.
Greater Butterfly Orchid.
Still, I was more than happy with my expedition. I had targeted one plant species and I had easily exceeded this. Additionally the site transpired to have several purring Turtle Doves, a real bonus. I never gave the day a great deal of thought beyond this, that is until some time later that I happened to notice a small foreign body attached to my arm just below the elbow.
I knew straight away that it was a deer tick, I'd removed a couple from my chest several decades ago in my youth. I knew that the woods I had visited were well populated by a variety of wild deer and I remembered that I had spent almost the entirety of my visit wet from the knees down. My partner carefully tweezed out the offending tick- I learned later that this is not to be advised- and the rejected chappy was duly encased in sellotape.
I knew about such things as Lyme Disease and so visited a nurse on the morrow, who promptly misidentified the tick as a flea, but this mattered not. I was told to watch the area for inflammation, more specifically for a circle of redness around the site of the head-burrowing, and to return to the surgery should anything untoward occur.
There was a brief period of inflammation; I think that we may have left part of the head in situ, whereby the surrounding area did itch a bit. But I did not swell at the joints, experience any paralysis, limb pain, heart problems (at that time), meningitis, chronic fatigue syndrome, or experience any symptoms like those of fibromyalgia. So, good news!
This is actually a zoomorphically-named Lizard Orchid.
During my second visit to the site I regularly searched my lower legs and I consequently found two more of the things. This time they were still unattached. I held one of the tiny creatures in the palm of my hand and we looked closely at the wee beastie. Without wishing to present as unduly cruel I did dispatch the thing. My first effort involved squeezing the creature between the thumb and first finger, as hard as I could manage. The tick merely flattened, re-inflated, and then carried on sauntering across my hand the moment that I released the pressure. But, as anyone who has ever removed fleas from a cat or dog will know, there was no such escaping the pressure of the two more-determined thumb nails.
That evening I removed a second tick from behind my left knee, but did not this time bother to trouble the nurse. This one (the tick, not the nurse) was considerably less well fed, less ravenously embedded and more easily removed.
I did not knowingly develop Lyme Disease, which was convenient as I had plans which would not easily have accommodated any of the recognisable symptoms. The worse case scenario, the very worst that one could hope (not) to expect from the disease is death, although known fatalities are extremely rare. The point that I am hoping to make here, however, is that this is a disease which might almost be overlooked as we swish our ways through this or that thicket, and that it is still a decidedly unpleasant affair once unleashed upon an unwitting host.
Deer ticks and Lyme's Disease are certainly no laughing matter for the poor soul who may be struck down, and what may further complicate the matter is the potential issue of said disease lying dormant in the host body for an age. Who amongst us goes to the doctor feeling absolutely knackered and is then routinely checked for traces of the Lyme Disease that's been harbouring in the bloodstream for the past ten months? I'm guessing that it's not going to be many of us.
Deer Tick haven.
So, back to the main thrust of this posing. When the Government recently set to with its rifles and some jolly eager sharp shooters, with the idea of saving a few quid in vaccinations against Tuberculosis in cattle, there was the immediate potential for one's local badger sett to be wiped out overnight. So what if it might cost the nation its badger populations? Those costs, you can be assured, had already been considered. Conservation of money versus conservation of species? No contest!
Well, I'm going to stick the ol' neck out and suggest some (not exactly identical) solutions with regards to Lyme Disease- I notice that the disease is rather in vogue at the present- with a tidy bit of additional culling. And I'm going to suggest this because your 'best' chance of picking up one of the zillions of ticks in your neck of the woods is going to be considerably enhanced should you happen to own a dog, or have regular contact with any such creature who also happens to spend much of his time in deer country. Dogs, I am sure you will have guessed, smothered as they are in all of that shaggy hair as well as operating far lower to the ground, are going to be considerably more likely to have picked up and brought home just such a deer tick. And once home said tick will be pretty much at leisure to investigate the potential 'donors' therein.
Wouldn't it be so much the easier if we all pulled together to undermine this unwelcome intruder? 'We're all in this together,' might serve as an appropriate slogan. Panic not, I am not going to suggest that we lay waste to the the nation's domesticated dogs, although there are undoubtedly a few out there for whom we could make a serious case, perhaps even for their owners. What I am prepared to propose however, is that we seriously consider culling the many beagle packs that have been lying idle, if the gentry are to be taken at their word, for some eleven years. Cull the beagles, remove a significant transit-host and reap the rewards!
Culling the dogs, especially those belonging to some of the more-landed gentleman-farmer types, in order to seriously undermine the threat of this dangerous disease, should be considered a small and easily affordable price. And what do you know, most of the population won't even be moderately inconvenienced.
Cull: to reduce by selective removal or slaughter. The most effective of culls being those that least inconvenience the proposed beneficiaries.
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