“I smell fox.” Writer and illustrator Jeroen Helmer (62) says it casually, on the muddy shore of the Bison Bay, in the Ooijpolder in Gelderland, near Nijmegen. It has a subtle hint of musky scent, easy to miss, but Helmer’s senses are on edge. The song of the mullet, the hairs of a Galloway cattle that have been left hanging on a dead willow branch: nothing seems to escape his notice. “Every link in an ecosystem is indispensable and deserves attention – something we often forget in our production-oriented world. That’s exactly why rewilding so important: by giving natural processes plenty of space again, interactions between species are also given space again.”
The hairs of the galloway, for example, do not hang on the willow for nothing: the dead wood is an ideal sanding spot. “They use a tree like that as their bathroom, for better scrubbing work. Just feel it, the wood is completely greasy from sanding.” Higher up in the wood, the woodpecker can make a nest cavity, and a great spotted woodpecker searches for insects. And the fox? As a predator, it keeps the system in balance.
The mammals, the birds, the trees: they are all discussed in Helmer’s book, Wilderness in our own country. In it he outlines in words and images what happens if Dutch nature is given enough time and space to rewild. In dozens of ‘story drawings’ he brings complete ecosystems to life, including the semi-open landscape of the Ooijpolder.
What makes these semi-open landscapes so important?
“The variety. Research has shown that people feel most comfortable when they walk through areas with grass, shrubs and the occasional tree or bush – it is not without reason that we design our parks in this way. But other species also feel at home there. Semi-open landscapes are primeval landscapes.
“The structural variation creates gradients, transitions: from low to high, from fresh to salty, from dry to wet. 90 percent of nature is in such transitions, but we do not facilitate them in the Netherlands.
“In our country it is either heath, forest or grass. Everything has a purpose, down to the centimeter, everything else is taken away. If the forest expands into the open field, you immediately have a problem. ‘That’s where we just came up with our orchids,’ administrators say, ‘because that’s what we get a subsidy for.’ A shame, because rewilding – where nature is allowed to take its own course – can ensure that dynamic semi-open landscapes flourish again.”
So no dense forests.
“Almost every tree hates forests. There is cutthroat competition for light, moisture and nutrition. There is poor air circulation, and therefore a very high risk of infections and fungi. It is not without reason that there is a lot of dead wood in forests. That’s actually a bad sign that it’s just not a good place to be in a forest.
“That is why year-round grazing is so important. Here around Bison Bay you have the galloways – Celtic cattle without horns – and konik horses, which keep things open. Just look at that ash tree there: it won’t survive, the bark has largely been peeled off. That’s horse work, they do it in the winter when the nutritional value of the grass decreases. Then they start gnawing on the woody plants. For that reason it is also essential not to feed, as this turns the entire system of those animals upside down. Then they have foals all year round, in the middle of winter, at the least favorable time. They need the nutritional power from the willows and ash trees now.”
Still, it’s sad for all those ash trees that are dying…
“Oh, but they also have their own protection mechanisms.” He squats down near a tiny tree. “This one is unlucky because he is right in the walking path of the cattle and horses and is constantly being nibbled. He’s still alive, just look at those tiny buttons. But he cannot grow. While it is probably the same age as this one” – he points to a meter-high ash tree right next to it. “It is protected by a thorn bush, a dog rose in this case. This spine protection is a system that has been functioning for twenty million years. Our barbed wire cannot compete with that.”
This spine protection is a system that has been functioning for twenty million years. Our barbed wire cannot compete with that
Helmer was educated at the art academy, but the love for nature was ingrained from an early age. “My brother Wouter is a biologist and we have always been on the road together. Go into the woods, watch birds, join the Dutch Youth Association for Nature Study… Then you learn all kinds of things about dragonflies, butterflies, plants. At a certain point you know quite a bit and then you think: nice, but what does it do together? What is the overarching system?
“Based on that idea, we started our own nature organization 35 years ago, the ARK foundation – now ARK Rewilding Netherlands. I have been active there as an illustrator from the beginning. I have at least 10,000 field sketches at home of all the animals and plants I have seen… But in my illustrations I also try to show what it could look like if we give nature space. .”
Then he stops at a worn spot on the bank, about three meters in diameter. “This is definitely the highlight here at Bison Bay.”
A sand pit?
“A bull’s pit. Caused by repeated hoof scraping during the rut. If there are several bulls walking around in an area, they impress each other by forming such a pit. There they can measure their strength. Once there is a deepening, they sand it out even further with their shoulders and heads. They often poop in it too.”
Big clouds of dust, nonsense – but the cow was not at all impressed
Helmer tells how, at the end of August last year, he saw two bulls fighting each other for a cow. “The dominant bull was bellowing in front of the bull pit, it was already covered in dust. When the other wanted to pass him on the way to the cow, there was a huge commotion. Big clouds of dust, nonsense – but the cow was not at all impressed. That dominant bull started shoveling sand again, to impress. But he was also breathing very heavily: a sign of exhaustion. Ultimately, the female chose his competitor.”
What makes these potholes special?
“All this activity creates a very unique ecosystem: pioneer plants such as black mustard feel at home in the enriched, disturbed soil – you can see it growing here, near my foot. And in the loamy steep edge, digger wasps and sand bees, among others, make their nests. The bee wolf, the large bug killer, the broad-band groove bee: they all dig tunnels to hatch their larvae.
“About eight years ago I was doing manure research and often passed by bull pits. Those walls were riddled with insect holes, and that’s when I started looking into all those species. I designed special equipment to measure the position and length of those insect holes; those of the beewolf, for example, are up to a meter long. Because of all the grinding of those bulls, the pits and therefore also the corridors are eroding. This is beneficial, because the following summer, when the beewolf larvae is about to hatch, the tunnel will be worn down to such an extent that the sun warms the soil and larval development is accelerated. For example, year-round grazing increases biodiversity: without the galloways, all those insects would not be there.”
In the distance we see a black Galloway bull walking. Helmer, enthusiastically: “Hear him howl! He is clearly looking for males to compete with.” Further along the bay we pass more bull pits; some with charcoal residue in them. “A hole like that is of course an ideal place to light a fire: nice and out of the wind, with an edge to sit on. It wouldn’t surprise me if people did that in prehistoric times. The bull pit as the cradle of civilization.”
Maybe we’re too afraid of wilderness, maybe we simply can’t imagine how beautiful it could be
In your book you end with an ideal image in which not only the large grazers return, but also the brown bear and the Dalmatian pelican. How positive do you see the future?
“That depends on politics, on European regulations. In order to maintain rewilding, space is needed and connections between nature reserves. Too often water is added to the wine in this area. Maybe we’re too afraid of wilderness, maybe we simply can’t imagine how beautiful it could be with all those new species. With my drawings I hope to make that rosy future imaginable.”
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