
by Miki Marks
Early one morning, on my way to Ellens Green, a fox sauntered across the road in front of me. There was no other traffic, I slowed right down and the fox turned and looked at me before it loped off into the hedge. There is a special thrill to unexpectedly encountering a wild creature. Foxes are certainly wild animals and despite several scientific studies into the possibility of domestication, the fox remains untameable.
Few animals polarise public opinion so much. Some consider them vermin and a menace – and others see a beguiling creature bringing the thrill of the wild. As their natural habitats shrink, the fox has successfully moved into urban areas. They eat a wide range of foods and have found that the rubbish we leave about, particularly in cities are ready ‘take-aways’. Foxes are adaptable and opportunistic. They are mostly nocturnal creatures and live in burrows, often enlarged rabbit holes. Studies have also found that the fox population is self-regulating and the idea that foxes need controlling – ie. exterminating, has no scientific justification.

Soon after I saw my fox the newspapers were again full of the pros and cons of foxhunting. ‘A rural tradition under threat, villages will die!’ argued some. Others took a view similar to that of Oscar Wilde’s that fox hunting was “the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable” I worked for a short time on the gardens of a landed estate which had a regular hunt. I found the braying of the hounds chilling.
My porch faces the prevailing winds and leaves collect against my front door throughout the winter months. The other day I gathered some up to see what had blown in. I found lime, hornbeam, oak, whitebeam, silver poplar and one beautiful gingko leaf. The unmistakeable leaves are fan shaped and bi-lobed – hence their name Gingko biloba. Gingko is sometimes spelt ginkgo, I have no idea why – or you might prefer to call it by its more common name, the ‘maidenhair tree’. It is an oddity in nature; a single species with no known living relatives. Also referred to as a ‘living fossil’, having remained essentially unchanged for more than 200 million years. Studies have shown that its genes do not seem to be programmed to trigger decline and in addition, the tree makes a protective chemical to fend off diseases. It appears to live almost indefinitely because it can cope with heavy pollution, bad soil, drought and flood conditions. The oldest living gingko found in China, is thought to be 3,5000 years old – a survivor of the last Ice Age.

Even more remarkable the gingkos survived the nuclear explosion in Hiroshima, just a few hundred meters from the epicentre of the blast. The heat of the bomb incinerated the leaves and burnt off the outer layers of bark, but to great astonishment, the following Spring the leaves returned and the trees eventually flowered again. Not surprising that the Japanese see them as symbols of nature’s resilience and call them hibakujumaku – which means ‘survivor trees’. The leaves, seeds and bark of the tree are claimed to have many medicinal properties.
In October the leaves turn a wonderful vibrant gold and then, sometime mid month all the leaves fall off the tree at once in the space of 1 or 2 hours. This is known by the poetic as ‘golden rain’ and by the less inspired as ‘leaf dump’!

The leaf on my doorstep came from a neighbours’ tree across the road. To take a good look at this remarkable tree go and see the one planted outside the Arts Centre in Cranleigh by the artist and TV personality Tony Hart – in 1998. Recently the trunk was damaged by contractors working on the new entrance to the Arts Centre but given its toughness, it should heal and survive.
Heartening to report some good news from the National Trust regarding ash trees on their many properties. They have noticed that the very wet Spring has encouraged some infected trees to hold their own and not continue to decline. Ash trees have been noted surviving the infection, in Europe also. The original infection arrived on imported trees, despite there never having been a shortage of locally grown seedlings. It is predicted that the disease could kill up to 80 per cent of the trees so any sign of resilience is most welcome for our landscape and for the wildlife that relies on them. Perhaps the ash needs to take a leaf out of the gingko’s book.