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The amusing skulduggery-filled tale of how beavers returned to Britain

From photocopying secret files to taking on the powerful lobby groups, activist Derek Gow's book Bringing Back the Beaver tells his side of the story of Britain's beaver reintroduction
Reintroducing the beaver has been glacially slow in English waters
Guy Edwardes/naturepl.com

Derek Gow

Chelsea Green Publishing Company

LAST month, the UK government made a long-anticipated ruling on the future of a colony of beavers that has been living freely on the in Devon since at least 2014. Against expectations, it decided they could stay – the first time an extinct native mammal has been legally reintroduced into the wild in England. Scotland’s government made a similar call in 2016, and in 2019 declared the beaver to be a protected species.

As Derek Gow says in his charmingly irascible little book Bringing Back the Beaver: “In England, Wales and Scotland, beavers are returning. Slowly.” Gow, a farmer-turned-zookeeper-turned-ecologist, has done as much as anyone to make it happen, though he makes it clear that it would have happened much more quickly were it not for the implacable hostility of a handful of powerful interest groups.

Gow cut his conservation teeth reintroducing endangered water voles, and he helped to establish the UK’s first enclosed beaver trial at Ham Fen nature reserve, near Sandwich in Kent.

He has been fighting tirelessly to reintroduce beavers ever since, often against entrenched opposition. His “war” stories make up most of the book and they are a great, though maddening, read.

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At every turn, he and his fellow conservationists are stymied by pettifogging bureaucrats, ignorant politicians, grumpy farmers, greedy landowners and the hunting, shooting and fishing lobby. All of these Gow regards as fools – whom he doesn’t suffer gladly. His portrayal of them is brutal, and the times when he outwits them are recounted with relish.

On one occasion, a “small man in a brown serge suit” left his briefcase in Gow’s office. Gow promptly photocopied the contents and discovered that even though the UK’s Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra) claimed to have legal authority over enclosed beaver trials, it did not. Needless to say, Gow squirrelled that information away and used it later to his considerable advantage, deliciously wrong-footing Defra in the process.

Even so, progress was glacial. Compared with continental Europe, where beaver reintroductions have been under way since the 1960s, Britain has been slow to follow suit (as far as anyone knows, there have never been beavers on the island of Ireland). Attempts have been endlessly blighted by unscientific beliefs that beavers will destroy farmland, fell big trees, harm fish or spread disease.

“Nobody knows (or will admit) where the beavers on the River Otter came from”

Gow is a great and funny storyteller and acute observer of people. Admittedly, he has a fantastic cast of characters to work with. The world of beaver reintroductions attracts more than its fair share of eccentrics, misfits and mischief-makers – in short, people very much like Gow who love nothing more than to stick a finger up at authority.

One such colourful character is the Belgian activist Olivier Rubbers. He got so fed up with the way his country’s government constantly thwarted the reintroduction of beavers that he went to Bavaria, bought 100 beavers from a farm, drove back to Belgium and simply released them into the wild. He fought a five-year legal battle, outmanoeuvred the authorities and escaped with a nominal fine.

Incidentally, nobody knows (or will admit) where the River Otter beavers came from. The official version is that they escaped from a local wildlife centre. But with rogues like Rubbers around, you can’t help wondering.

As a nature writer, Gow is less compelling. I just wanted him to keep doing what he does best, which is skewering his foes and sometimes also his friends with his barbed wit. But one description of a beaver-engineered landscape struck me as beautiful: it was, he wrote, “a complex wet, woody Venice”.

I am fortunate enough to have visited two enclosed beaver trials, one in Devon (not the River Otter) and the other in North Yorkshire, where I saw one of the resident beavers. Gow’s description of the landscape they create is spot on; it is unlike any other you will see in the nature-denuded British countryside.

We need more beaver reintroductions, and thanks in no small part to the bull-headed and tireless work of Gow, it looks like we are finally going to get them.

Topics: Animals / Conservation