International Orang-utan Day

The 19th August is International Orang-utan Day.

We all know, by now, that palm oil is in intensively farmed monocrop that is grown in the tropics. There are lots of people out there on social media calling for a boycott of this crop, as it rapidly increases in production in Borneo and Sumatra, the last refuges of orang-utans. Opinions are split, and the arguments on Twitter are heated and emotive. The only thing that seems certain is that it is a complex problem, without an easy solution. I've spent a lot of time reading the recent scientific papers, pondering, chatting to my colleagues and friends in the industry, and perusing the websites of organisations I trust. And the following is where I stand on the issue at the moment.

I think the best course of action for the consumer is to consider switching your products to those which include sustainable palm oil. I know some of you reading this would prefer to see a palm oil boycott, but the reality is that there is global demand for oil which will be met one way or another by the industry. Whilst we're waiting for the entire world to stop using oil crops(!), we might as well push to make what's currently in use as sustainable as possible.

As all of the alternative edible oilseed crops are less productive, a boycott would simply see a shift to an alternative which requires more land to produce.

The RSPO seem to be addressing several of the problems that have previously been highlighted with the initiative (I hear the phrases "sustainable palm oil doesn't mean anything" and "there are lots of problems with the RSPO" banded around in my line of work sometimes). It is also clear to me that a demand for sustainable palm oil (and I appreciate that a monoculture of any kind cannot be 100% sustainable) increases the motivation to improve the industry, which a boycott does not. Supporting initiatives such as the RSPO, whilst subjecting them to a healthy level of questioning and constructive criticism, pushes organisations to work together to find solutions that protect what we can whilst meeting the global demands for food and fuel.

I think it's great to make consumer choices that involve fewer processed products (which often contain oils such as palm), and choose locally sourced products for the good of the environment, and I'm in no way criticising anyone who is managing to sustain a palm-oil-free lifestyle, good on you! But I'm also supportive of any efforts to minimise the negative impacts of worldwide consumption on the environment, and aware that many of the alternative oils used in palm oil free products (and I'm talking here about something that contains an equivalent oil, not something like an apple!) are actually worse for our forests.

The Water Meadows

A lady stops me before I’ve even left the road.
“Just enough time to get a little walk in before it gets dark.”
She smiles as if I know her. How does she know I’m going for a walk? I’m dressed the same as if I were going to the shop or the train station. What is it that labels me as walking, rather than doing something normal? The train blares its horn where there used to be a foot crossing, the driver pointlessly obeying the command to whistle, despite there being nobody to whistle at. It might fulfil a childhood dream to blow the horn on his very own train, and he does so enthusiastically, making local residents jump in their kitchens all the way to Weymouth.

I take the footpath through the caravan site. Blackbirds, four of them, pick around the fallen leaves, hoping to surprise something tasty. Two of them leave, not pleased with my presence. The others don’t care as long as I don’t steal their dinner. I assure them I won’t. Most of the caravans are empty, but I startle an old man filling up his water container before it starts to rain. The sky has taken on the colour of dirty sheep. It’s not as grumpy as it was during last night’s storm, but the branches still have some energy in them. The real dirty sheep are over by Woolbridge Manor today, and alongside the path I want to follow across the water meadows. Heads bob up as the guards watch me pass, but after a second’s contemplation they return to their grass. They look up as my welly boot slides on the mud and I find myself apologising as I try to keep my balance. They scatter as my clumsy suction noises leave messy footprints along the river bank. It’s quiet on the water, but I manage to terrify a mallard whilst stopping to put on my hat. I feel like I’m messing up their evening with my nature walk.

I’m relieved for a moment to hear voices ahead, so at least it’s not only me disturbing the peace. We exchange polite hellos as they pass with a brown dog which I suspect started off white. They move on and I stop to scan the rushes on the other side of the river. Two tiny birds fly down into them before one re-emerges, fluttering up and down, slowly gaining height, then disappearing, the black spot erasing itself with increasing distance.

Angry hiccups from a moorhen float my way as I move into another field. I pick what may be my last blackberry this year, judging by the state of its friends. There’s a small bridge over the water that I want to investigate, but I’m not equipped to be out after dark today. I curse having to cut my loop short as the mud becomes tarmac again, edged with thatched cottages that nobody lives in all winter, reserved for holiday rather than home makers.

Two gunshots take me out of my thoughts. Is that the army practicing wargames on the range at Lulworth? Or is somebody hunting this evening? Neither thought is pleasant. I make one final diversion to look back over the river before going home. I’m glad I do as a kestrel hovers over the bank scanning for supper. The water is starting to lose its reflection as evening approaches and the first drops of rain merge with its surface. Just as I turn to leave something darts through the water, a tantalising splosh being the only evidence by the time my senses process the message to turn around and look. It seems the wildlife don’t want to be watched tonight.