May 2020 BBC Wildlife 55While COVID 19 sees more people focusing on nature within arm’s reach,
for some, watchingwildlifewhilehouseboundhaslongbeen a way of life.
INSIDE
OUT
I
n my head, I have a collectionof
favourite wildlife sightings from
the past 10 years. If I close my
eyes, I can still picture the first
time I saw a blackcap; the moment
a sparrowhawk dive-bombed a
pigeon right in front of me; the
first frogspawn of spring. Each of these
memories is precious, treasured. And every
one of them was created while housebound.
All my life, I’d been outdoorsy. Growing
up in South London, I was lucky that my
parents took me to dozens of wild spaces
near where we lived and further afield. In
spring we would visit bluebell woods; in
early summer we’d watch sand martins at
the wetland centre; and all year long we
would explore green spaces and nature
reserves together.
But at the age of 17, things began to
change. Walks that had seemed easy
became a struggle. New places became
overwhelming and even car journeys
made me tired. For months I ignored
it, but eventually illness caught up with
me and I became poorly with myalgic
encephalomyelitis (ME).
ME is a long-term debilitating disease.
It affects the nervous system, immune
system, mitochondria, spinal fluid and
more. It is incurable and for many years
I have been severely ill and housebound.
In the space of a few short weeks, every
expectation I had for my future was gone.A fewawfulcoincidencesbeyondmy
control had changed my life irrevocably.
Everything felt uncertain. It was exhausting
and scary. My world became very small.T
he first thing I remember
seeing from my window was a
blackbird. We’d had a female
blackbird in the garden before,
but this was different. I adjusted
my sickbed to face the window, to watch the
bird more closely. I realised the plumage
I’d dismissed as just brown was really
intricate patterns of hazel, umber and
bronze. It was beautiful.
In time, I began to recognise the birds
in my garden as individuals – each had
nuances and preferences and I learnt to tell
them apart. I put out food, encouraging a
greater range of wildlife. Seeds attracted
greenfinches, chaffinches and goldfinches,
while suet pellets brought in woodpeckers,
blackcaps and nuthatches. Watching the
wildlife from my window was relaxing,
almost meditative.
As spring bloomed, I remained
stuck inside. I couldn’t visit the
bluebell wood, but my unmown
lawn was a flurry of violets,
then buttercups. I didn’t have
sand martins, but the sound
of swifts in the late May sky
was heaven. I even saw wildlife
behaviour I’d never seen before- chaffinchessitting on branches, sipping
sap from a silver birch. And who knew
leaf-cutter bees could cut up the laburnum
leaves so fast? Yes, my world was smaller,
but now it meant more.
In 1984, Roger Ulrich conducted
pioneering research to test how green
views can affect our health. His studies of
hospital patients recovering from surgery
found that those with views of nature
needed less pain medication, left hospital
quicker and had fewer post-operative
complications, compared to those without
views of nature.
Further studies have shown nature can
reduce our heart rate, muscle tension and
systolic blood pressure, and stimulate
the parasympathetic nervous system
(responsible for regeneration and repair) - all physiological changes that put our
bodies into a state of calm. Even images of
nature have been shown to make us feel
calmer. Watching nature can’t cure my ME
but it certainly helps me cope with it.
The patients in Ulrich’s pioneering
study were only in their hospital
beds for about a week. I spent
many months and then years
housebound. Then for a few
years I could get out a bit, but
in 2018 I relapsed completely.
But I knew I couldn’t be the
only nature lover who was
unable to get outdoors.
By Elizabeth Guntrip Illustrations Owen Davey/Folio Art
Chronic illness life hacks.
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