Tree is a trenchant critic of the intensive agriculture that has led to soil degradation and erosion. Wilding is more than the story of a single project, however ambitious. It feels as though the oscillating susurration of their wingbeats, pounding away on their supernatural wavelength, might dissolve the world into atoms.” “But tens of thousands have a breath of their own, like the backdraft of a waterfall or an accumulating weather front. “The sound of a single butterfly is imperceptible,” she writes.
Surprised by a “blizzard” of painted lady butterflies in July 2009, Tree experiences what could be called the auraculous – a miracle of noise. The book contains moments of lyricism and revelation. Sussex dialect apparently has more than 30 words for kinds of mud: clodgy for a muddy field path after heavy rain gawn – sticky, foul-smelling mud gubber – black mud of rotting organic matter ike – a muddy mess pug – sticky yellow Wealden clay slab – the thickest type of mud. Tree writes with grace about a legion of doubts, obstructions and delays.
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