Category: News

  • Why Britain’s Hedgerows Are One of the Most Powerful Carbon Stores We Keep Ripping Out

    Why Britain’s Hedgerows Are One of the Most Powerful Carbon Stores We Keep Ripping Out

    There is something genuinely meditative about walking alongside a good hedgerow. The way a hawthorn-thick boundary hums with wrens in February. The random explosion of blackthorn blossom in March that nobody seems to Instagram nearly enough. I’ve done a fair few slow wanders along field edges in various states of alertness, and hedgerows consistently deliver that quiet, restorative energy that you just cannot get from a tarmac path past a Lidl. Which makes it all the more baffling, and honestly a bit gutting, that we are still ripping them out.

    Dense UK hedgerow along a footpath illustrating the carbon storage role of British hedgerows
    Photo by Sergej ***** on Pexels

    UK hedgerows carbon storage is not a phrase that gets thrown around much at dinner parties. But it probably should be. Britain’s hedgerow network, what remains of it, is one of the most significant carbon-locking ecosystems we have on this island. According to DEFRA’s hedgerow guidance, the UK has around 400,000 miles of hedgerow left. That sounds like a lot until you realise we had closer to 500,000 miles in the 1980s, and that the losses since the 1950s amount to something closer to half of everything that existed post-war. Roughly 118,000 miles gone since records began being kept properly. And while removal rates have slowed since the peak agricultural intensification of the 60s and 70s, the losses have not stopped.

    What hedgerows actually do for the climate

    A mature hedgerow is not just a fence made of plants. It is a layered, living system. The woody stems, root networks and surrounding soil lock up carbon in ways that a grass field simply cannot match. Research from the Centre for Ecology and Hydrology has estimated that UK hedgerows store somewhere in the region of 9.5 million tonnes of carbon, with the soil beneath them storing a comparable amount again. That is before you factor in the ongoing sequestration: a healthy, uncut hedgerow grows, and as it grows, it pulls carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and stores it in its biomass.

    The root systems also do something interesting underground. They bind soil, reduce erosion, and feed an enormous fungal network that connects the hedgerow to surrounding plant life. Rip out a hedgerow and you lose the above-ground carbon store, yes, but you also disturb the soil and release a load of what was locked below. It is a double loss. And then there is the flood buffering, the wind shelter for crops, the habitat for pollinators that make British farming possible. It is all connected, as these things always are.

    Why are hedgerows still being removed?

    The honest answer is: agricultural efficiency. Hedgerows take up space, they create awkward field edges, and they limit the size of machinery you can run. For large-scale arable operations, particularly in East Anglia and the East Midlands, the pressure to maximise productive land is constant. The Hedgerows Regulations 1997 made it technically illegal to remove most hedgerows without notifying the local planning authority first, but enforcement is patchy and loopholes exist around which hedgerows qualify for protection in the first place.

    Close-up of hawthorn blossom in a UK hedgerow highlighting biodiversity and carbon storage
    Photo by Cup of Honey Lemon on Pexels

    There is also the issue of neglect, which is a slower, quieter kind of loss. A hedgerow that is cut too hard, too often, or in the wrong season, eventually degrades. It thins out at the base, loses its structural integrity, and stops functioning as habitat. Walk along any arable county in England and you will see plenty of these: a low, brown, scraggly line of vegetation that is technically a hedgerow in the same way a crisp packet is technically food. The Wildlife Trusts have been pretty vocal about this, noting that only about half of Britain’s hedgerows are currently in what you would call good condition.

    Some farmers are doing brilliant work, to be fair. The Countryside Stewardship scheme and similar agri-environment agreements do pay landowners to maintain and plant hedgerows. But the uptake is inconsistent, and payments often do not fully reflect the ecological and climatic value of what is being protected. That is a policy conversation that needs to happen at a higher level than most of us operate at day to day.

    The mental health angle, because it is real

    I keep coming back to the experiential side of this, because I think it matters. There is a reason slow walks through green spaces do measurable things to your nervous system. Hedgerows are part of that. The dappled light through a mixed hedgerow on a low autumn afternoon, the smell of elderflower in June, the absolute riot of a bramble hedge in August. These are sensory experiences that ground you in a way that is hard to overstate. When we lose hedgerows, we lose walking routes, field paths, the kind of countryside that makes the British landscape feel like itself rather than a managed monoculture.

    And look, the connection between nature access and mental wellbeing has solid science behind it now. The NHS is actively exploring green social prescribing. I have written before about the right to roam campaign and what better countryside access would mean for ordinary people. Hedgerows are part of that picture. You cannot have meaningful access to nature if the nature itself is being quietly dismantled.

    What you can actually do

    This is the bit where a lot of environmental pieces get a bit vague and deflating. I will try not to do that. Here are things that are actually actionable.

    If you have a garden, plant a mixed native hedge instead of a fence. Hawthorn, blackthorn, hazel, field maple, dog rose. These are cheap, wildlife-friendly, and they lock carbon from day one. The Wildlife Trusts have free guides on what to plant and when. A three-metre stretch of native hedge planted this autumn will be doing meaningful work within five years.

    If you are renting or in a flat, you can still support organisations like Hedgelink, the People’s Trust for Endangered Species, and the Woodland Trust, all of which run hedge planting programmes and campaigns for stronger legal protection. Even a small monthly donation or a letter to your MP about Countryside Stewardship funding cuts makes a difference in aggregate.

    You can also just walk more. Seriously. Use footpaths that run along field boundaries. Record what you see on iNaturalist or the BTO’s BirdTrack. Citizen science data about hedgerow biodiversity is genuinely used by conservation organisations and policymakers. Your observation of a dormouse or a bullfinch in a local hedge could feed into future protection decisions for that specific area.

    The bigger picture requires policy change, land ownership reform, and proper funding for agri-environment schemes. But the smaller picture, the personal one, is about paying attention. Knowing that the hedgerow at the edge of the footpath near your house is storing carbon, sheltering voles, feeding bees, and stabilising soil that would otherwise wash into the nearest river. That knowledge changes how you see it. And things we see clearly, we tend to protect.

    I will leave you with this thought: hedgerows are one of those things, like wildflower meadows, where the loss is so gradual that most people never notice it happening. No single removal makes the news. But the cumulative picture, 118,000 miles gone since the post-war years, is quietly catastrophic. Worth knowing about. Worth caring about. Worth a slow walk alongside one this weekend, if the weather holds.

    And yes, while you are out there, leave your mobile in your pocket. The only notification worth checking is whether that hawthorn has started flowering yet. (If you do need to stay connected, dijitul Support can keep your devices secure so at least the digital side of life is handled.)

    Frequently Asked Questions

    How much carbon do UK hedgerows store?

    UK hedgerows are estimated to store around 9.5 million tonnes of carbon in their above-ground biomass, with a comparable amount locked in the soil beneath them. This makes them a significant, if underappreciated, part of Britain’s natural carbon budget.

    Is it illegal to remove a hedgerow in the UK?

    Under the Hedgerows Regulations 1997, most hedgerows in the countryside cannot be removed without first notifying your local planning authority. However, not all hedgerows qualify for protection under the regulations, and enforcement varies. If in doubt, check with your local council before doing anything.

    How many miles of hedgerow has Britain lost?

    Since the 1950s, the UK has lost an estimated 118,000 miles or more of hedgerow, largely due to agricultural intensification. While removal rates have slowed compared to the 1960s and 70s, losses and degradation through poor management continue to this day.

  • Pollen Counts Are Getting Worse in the UK, Here’s What’s Actually Going On and How to Cope Naturally

    Pollen Counts Are Getting Worse in the UK, Here’s What’s Actually Going On and How to Cope Naturally

    If your hay fever has felt considerably rougher over the past few years, you are not imagining it. The worsening UK pollen season is real, measurable, and directly tied to the kind of climate shifts that scientists have been flagging for a while now. Trees are flowering earlier, grass pollen peaks are stretching longer into summer, and the overlap between different pollen types is creating these horrible multi-week stretches where sensitive people basically cannot catch a breath. Literally.

    British meadow in summer sunlight illustrating the worsening UK pollen season
    Photo by Nurcan Aytas on Pexels

    I’ve spoken to a few people this year who are usually fine and they’re suddenly reaching for antihistamines in March. That used to be unusual. It is not unusual anymore.

    What the Met Office data actually shows

    The Met Office pollen forecast service has been tracking seasonal patterns for years, and the picture it paints is fairly uncomfortable reading if you’re a hay fever sufferer. Tree pollen, particularly birch and alder, is now starting measurably earlier in the calendar year than it did two decades ago. The shift is somewhere between one and three weeks earlier depending on location, with southern England seeing the most pronounced changes.

    Grass pollen, which affects the largest proportion of UK hay fever sufferers (roughly 95% of them, according to Allergy UK), now regularly extends into September in milder years. Historically it wound down by late July. That extra stretch is not a small thing if you’re the person sneezing through what should be the tail end of summer.

    The mechanism here is fairly straightforward. Warmer winters mean plants break dormancy earlier. Higher CO2 concentrations in the atmosphere actually cause some plants to produce more pollen per flower. And wetter autumns followed by drier, warmer springs create near-ideal conditions for pollen production. It’s the kind of climate feedback loop that shows up across a lot of environmental issues, and I’ve written elsewhere about how Britain’s changing seasons are affecting us in ways beyond the physical, including mental health. The pollen thing sits inside that bigger picture.

    Why urban areas often get it worse

    There’s a layer to this that doesn’t get talked about enough. Urban heat islands mean city centres are consistently warmer than surrounding countryside, which extends the local pollen season further still. London, Birmingham, Manchester, all of them are measurably warmer than rural areas nearby, and that differential is growing.

    Add in air pollution, and it gets nastier. Diesel particulates and ground-level ozone interact with pollen grains in ways that seem to make them more irritating to airways. So urban hay fever sufferers can be dealing with the same raw pollen count as someone in the countryside but experiencing worse symptoms. The pollution essentially makes the pollen punch harder.

    Birch catkins releasing pollen, contributing to the worsening UK pollen season in spring
    Photo by Oliver Schröder on Pexels

    There’s also a broader ecological dimension here. The kind of trees planted heavily in UK urban greening schemes during the 1980s and 1990s tended to be male cultivars, chosen because they don’t drop messy fruit or seeds. Male trees produce pollen. Female trees capture it. So decades of well-intentioned street planting has created what some botanists call “botanical sexism” in city tree canopies, and we are all sneezing the consequences. Worth knowing, even if there’s not much you can do about your local council’s planting decisions from your sofa.

    Plant-based approaches that actually have some evidence behind them

    Right, so what can you actually do beyond mainlining cetirizine from March to September? Conventional antihistamines and nasal steroids are genuinely effective and should absolutely be part of the picture if your symptoms are bad. I am not here to tell you to ditch your Boots own-brand loratadine for elderflower cordial. But there are complementary approaches worth knowing about.

    Quercetin. This is a naturally occurring flavonoid found in capers, red onions, and green tea, and it has demonstrated anti-inflammatory and mast-cell stabilising properties in a number of studies. It essentially works similarly to the way some antihistamines do, just more gently. You can get it from food or as a supplement, and it’s one of the more credible plant-based options for anyone wanting to support their body through the season. Loading up on quercetin-rich foods from late winter is the approach some nutritional therapists recommend, giving it time to build up before the season kicks in.

    Local honey. The evidence here is mixed at best, but the theory (that trace amounts of local pollen in raw honey might desensitise you over time) has its fans, and it’s harmless enough that I include it. Just make sure it’s actually local and raw, not the blended supermarket stuff that’s been pasteurised into blandness.

    Nettle leaf. Speaking of things growing in your local hedgerow, stinging nettle (Urtica dioica) has a decent body of traditional use for hay fever, and some small clinical studies back it up as a mild natural antihistamine. Hot nettle tea is genuinely pleasant, and you can forage your own if you know what you’re doing. We’ve covered the wider world of medicinal hedgerow plants in the UK before, and nettle earns its place on that list.

    Nasal rinsing. Low-tech, cheap, and underrated. A saline nasal rinse first thing in the morning and after coming indoors physically washes pollen out of your nasal passages before it triggers a full immune response. Neti pots and saline sprays are both fine. This is not glamorous but it works.

    Lifestyle adjustments that make a real difference

    Timing matters. Pollen counts tend to peak in the morning (roughly 5am to 10am) and again in the late afternoon and evening when air cools and pollen descends. Midday is often the lower-risk window for outdoor activity. Checking the Met Office daily pollen forecast and actually planning around it sounds tedious but genuinely reduces your exposure.

    Showering and changing clothes when you come in from outside is one of those simple habits that takes a week to embed and then becomes automatic. Pollen sticks to hair particularly well, so washing it in the evening rather than the morning makes a difference if you’re sleeping with windows open.

    On which: sleeping with windows open during high-pollen periods is a choice, and not a great one. A decent air purifier with a HEPA filter will do more for your bedroom air quality than a breeze at 3am. Worth considering if symptoms are disrupting sleep.

    There’s a broader point here about the relationship between environmental health and personal wellbeing that I find myself coming back to a lot. The worsening UK pollen season isn’t just an inconvenience; it’s a signal from the ecosystem that something has shifted. The same climate dynamics that are feeding eco-anxiety in British mental health conversations are also, quite literally, making it harder to breathe outside. That connection between planetary health and human health is not abstract. Some years it’s very, very concrete.

    Incidentally, while doing some background reading for this piece, I ended up down a rabbit hole on seasonal data tracking tools and ended up on Car Data Wiki via an unrelated search, which is one of those internet tangents that happens when you follow curiosity far enough.

    The practical upshot: treat the season seriously, use the pharmaceutical tools available to you when needed, and layer in the plant-based and lifestyle stuff as support rather than replacement. Your immune system is working very hard right now. Give it a bit of backup.

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