Table of Contents 1.

It is perhaps no surprise that some of the best and most beautiful nature reserves in Britain are owned by wildlife charities. Indeed, my lifelong passion for natural history was inspired by visiting such places in the countryside of Devon from a young age. That and of course being brought up on a diet of wildlife television. The programmes at that time usually presented by Peter Scott or David Attenborough. Both of whom I was later to know and work with. As a television producer it was sometimes my responsibility to also put words into the mouths of such famous BBC wildlife presenters by writing their scripts.

Nature reserves offer some of the very best places in Britain to film wildlife. So, supporting the invaluable work of wildlife conservation charities just seemed, natural. Sometimes I became more involved both as a volunteer, a trustee and even chair of the board. Helping to ensure wild plants and animals have a secure future and their home being protected. My involvement with these charities was always a privilege. A practical way to help and learn about the natural history of so many fascinating places. Some sensational, some significant and others simply sublime. One such nature reserve lies along the coast of South Devon. Slapton Ley is a shimmering freshwater lake just a stone’s throw from the sea, created by a vast shingle ridge left by the retreating ice at the end of the last glaciation. In more recent times this pure lagoon has acquired more than its fair share of official designations, including a ‘Site of Special Scientific Interest’ and ‘National Nature Reserve’. For many years owned by the Wild Planet Trust, a large organisation that also owns Paignton and Newquay Zoos, well known for their captive breeding programmes of endangered species. The important wetlands of Slapton are managed day to day by another charity, the Field Studies Council, that has an educational base close by.

My involvement with Slapton Ley has been more than just superficial. As a Wild Planet Trustee, I also now chair the Slapton Committee and with a large meeting looming it got me thinking. In the past I featured the wind rustled reedbeds in my programmes with their chattering warblers and filmed the fish-filled waters for my BBC programmes. Even capturing images of an occasional otter or kingfisher. On one occasion, a clear, calm day, I waded bare foot, knee deep in the shallows. Long before the days of watertight, miniature digital equipment, I was grappling with a large film camera installed in a substantial aluminium housing. Waiting for a teeming shoal of approaching small fish, I knelt on a convenient sand bank only just keeping my shorts dry. As countless young fish swept by, my assistant, a university student wearing polarising sunglasses to peer below the surface, helped with a quiet commentary of the shoal’s movements. This enabled me to start the camera before the stars of the show appeared in front of my lens. Suddenly my colleague’s tone changed, urgently telling me to stop wriggling my bare toes. I assumed because I was muddying the water. But it was only after capturing the sequence of shoaling fish, did he casually mention that a very large carnivorous pike was slowly stalking my feet!

 

Andrew Cooper