For the first time in 6,000 years bison are roaming wild in the woods of Kent. Chris Dorrell wanted to spy one
Bison are up to two metres tall. An adult male can weigh up to a ton. If you ended up on the wrong side of one sitting down, you wouldn’t live to tell the tale. And for all I knew, peering through the bushes, I was just a few metres away from a wild one. In Kent… A deadly wild animal! In England! My sense of excitement is easy to understand. No place in the world has lost so much of its natural habitat as us.
No one walking around the English countryside will ever fear being attacked by wolves or bears, nor will they have a feeling of being truly lost. It is both tranquil and sedate. That isn’t to say that it’s impossible to have a meaningful interaction with the natural world. Anyone who watched David Attenborough’s latest series based in the UK would have felt the excitement of seeing unfamiliar creatures in our familiar landscape.
And that’s why I went in search of the Kentish bison. We arrived in Canterbury on a drizzly Friday morning. Our destination was the Blean Woods, an ancient piece of woodland about five miles outside the city. Sally Smith, comms tsar of this bison rewilding project, drove us out to the woods. She’d recently switched from the Kent police and was luxuriating in her new life as a bison hype-person.
Bison at a watering hole in Kent
By the time we arrived at the forest, the sun was beginning to break through. Our first stop was the rangers’ hut where we met Tom, a man more enthusiastic about parklife – be it bison or trees (not Brit Pop) – than I am about anything. But Tom had bad news: the bison were in the patch of woodland furthest from us. There were further issues too. Because of ‘dangerous wild animal’ legislation, the bison have to be fenced-in at all times – something the wildlife trust resents. Over 43km kilometers of fencing are now used to prevent the gentle giants from causing trouble.
Our chances of spotting one were slim. Within metres of the fence, the thick vegetation behind obscures all vision. As we walked along the two metre high fence, periodically stopping to stare at the faintest noise in the undergrowth, Tom told us that we were essentially walking through one giant experiment. Bison are so big that they just walk through the forest and clear away deadwood. By clearing away parts of the forest that are dying the bison allow new vegetation to grow in its place.
Over time and through education, the trust hopes that the fences – both literally and metaphorically – that separate people and bison can be pulled down
They form part of the overall architecture of the forest, one great living community. And it’s not just bison who have been introduced into Kent’s Blean. Long horned cattle, iron age pigs and wild horses have also all been introduced. The hope is that wild animals can manage the forest more sustainably than blokes with chainsaws and trucks. After all, this is what used to happen. Although this particular breed of bison was unlikely to have ever featured in our landscape.
Other species that went extinct in the UK about 6,000 years ago would have done. Keepers are also very clear that even if this particular species never lived in the UK, animals that perform the same role in the natural environment did. But there’s a deeper level on which this is not a park. It is not even really a tourist attraction, with very little infrastructure for wannabe naturalists. It is just a wood with a car park, open for walkers to pass through as they like. The only difference is now there’s a lot more fencing and a small chance of catching a glimpse of a bison lugging itself through the woodland.
There was a dawning realisation early on the walk that I would almost certainly not see a bison. This was a little disappointing; after all, that was the reason I was here. However, I could console myself with the thought that the bison project is a far more noble endeavour than providing visiting Londoners with an entertaining day. This is not a zoo. Over time and through education, the trust hopes that the fences – both literally and metaphorically – that separate people and bison can be pulled down. Even then, one is still unlikely to spot a free-range bison. The point is that you are sharing their landscape.
To guarantee a glimpse of a bison you have to go to Wildwood – a nature park just next door to the Blean Woods where Hades lives. Wildwood’s bison, Hades, has been in the park for most of his life. He is a big boy. You can see why they can bulldoze their way through the undergrowth. But Hades is also pretty lazy. While we were there the extent of his movement was to go from sitting to lying down. “Is this a dangerous wild animal?” the keeper asked. When the free roaming bison were introduced into the woods just next door, Hades got very excited: he could smell female companions.
But he won’t be leaving Wildwood. Many of the animals in Wildwood will be introduced to other parts of the UK. The park is a breeding ground for future rewilding projects, some of which are further along the path to completion than others. Choughs, once so prevalent that they appear on Canterbury’s city crest, have also been reintroducted around Kent.
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Small wild cats – barely bigger than their domestic cousins – could soon be on their way to Wales. Conversations about reintroducing wolves to the wild continue to be blocked by farmers concerned about their flocks – and perhaps a few worried walkers too. Not everyone is happy about these projects. One paper compared it to Jurassic Park and many farmers argued that rewilders are riding roughshod over local communities.
The introduction of new animals or plants without consultation clearly has wider knock-on effects which might interfere with long-established farming techniques. Others worry that the very word ‘rewilding’ means going back to some kind of untouched landscape.
Inspired by the idea of bison and people living in harmony, we made our way to our hotel – the Pig’s new property in Bridge Place, just a few minutes outside of Canterbury. Despite the name this was one for the humans: you feel like part of an Agatha Christie novel, with small groups coalescing in the corners of grand old rooms, drinking champagne and talking in hushed tones.
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There’s a glamorous indulgence to the role-playing of early 20th century aristocratic socialites (possibly with murderous intentions), but the low-key style of the Pig gives it a modern twist. The menu was excellent. Everything was locally sourced and served with local wines.
The staff were attentive and funny. One bottle of sweet wine took our fancy after the waitress said she’d knocked back three bottles a few nights before (not on shift, it should be noted). The waitress had good taste. Well-oiled, we toddled back to the room, which was more suave Scandi log cabin than Agatha Christie mansion.
Maybe one day I’ll truly get back to nature, nestled for warmth between a bison and an elk in the Kentish countryside. For now though, the luxury of the Pig was the ultimate antidote to a muddy day out in the Kentish woods.
Visit Kent and the bison yourself
Find out more about the Wilder Blean Project and how to visit