I have tread manys a path between the trees of ancient woods. I have wished for many more such wild places among the hills of Breifne and am always disappointed the lack of such havens for those creatures who have survived a land being torn asunder in the name of progress. I feel for those little wildflowers that disappear under the buckets of excavators and heinous sprays. I hope so much for a return of the forest floors carpeted in wild garlic brightening the rolling hillsides of my native territory. These hills were once a vibrant beautiful paradise of wildflowers and wild creatures, ranging from scores of varieties of wild orchids to wild bears. I have travelled widely over my home county of late and the expanses of graziers intensively managed pastures make for a barren place for so many of our fellow creatures and wild guardians. A wild flower can trace its history in a place back to the ice age and occurs naturally wherever it feels is most fertile and welcoming. It doesn't force its presence on the landscape but works with it. If it is a pioneer plant it covers bare soil. If it is creeper it covers the bare trunks giving life to empty space. Humans force so much on Nature, burdening her with wrecked habitats and poisoned waterways. The barren pastures I saw all over my homecountry this winter sadden my heart. However they make me wonder about how different this rolling countryside would have been before the axes of previous centuries cleared away the great oakwoods. My study of local placenames has given me insight into how many oakwoods lasted into the medieval period. The cursed pine and modern pastures have left a decimated landscape. From my trips around this district, spraying of hedgerows is widespread throughout. The hedgerows are the last refuges of the wild guardians who have scraped through centuries of agriculture. There are so many barren places throughout this country, devoid of anything but blades of grass, every hedge and wild plant sprayed away, being seen as signs of a corrupted pasture.
