Tree by tree, species survival project manager Seb Elwood is helping restore woodland across Dorset. He tells us why it matters more than ever

The UK has 13.2 million hectares of woodland, covering just 13% of the country’s land area – only 1% more than 30 years ago. Half of this consists of non-native plantations, leaving just 6.5% of our forests as native woodland. Worse still, only 7% of this native woodland is in good ecological condition. This fragmented and degraded landscape contributes to species decline, flooding, poor soil health and a warming climate.
The main drivers of deforestation over the last century have been intensive agriculture, logging and infrastructure – 65% of the UK is now used for agriculture – mostly treeless. Only 3.3% of farms practise agroforestry, and it’s typically limited to hedgerows or isolated trees. Non-native plantations, mining operations and the construction of roads, railways and housing developments have all taken their toll.
Deer also present a major problem. Both native and non-native species have expanded largely unchecked, with an estimated two million now in the UK. Without natural predators and with limited culling, deer browsing halts tree regeneration and reduces biodiversity. Overgrazing leads to crop damage, the spread of ticks, road accidents and degraded woodland habitats.
At the same time, we import vast amounts of wood while disease and climate change put existing trees under stress. Ash dieback and Dutch elm disease have wiped out large areas of woodland – faster than we can plant resistant replacements. Invasive insects such as processionary moths and leaf miners are rapidly defoliating trees, leaving them ever more vulnerable.
From the Atlantic rainforests to the Caledonian pinewoods and broadleaved woodland we need to restore a diverse range of woodland types across the country. Ancient woodlands that have been felled must be regrown, orchards should be replanted and we need a significant shift toward management and creation of wood pasture.

They’re the good guys
Trees are excellent carbon sinks – though not as efficient as wetlands or seagrass, they remain a powerful tool for climate resilience. Tree roots stabilise and aerate soil, reducing compaction and aiding water filtration. Combined with their leaves and branches intercepting rainfall, trees are among the best methods we have for flood prevention.
As global temperatures rise, planting trees in urban areas could also be key to cooling towns and cities. Studies show tree cover can lower temperatures by up to 8°C. It’s also beneficial on farms, providing essential shade for livestock during heatwaves.
Trees also support our human wellbeing. Woodland structures are rich in fractals – natural, repeating patterns found in fern leaves, pine cones and seashells – which have been shown to reduce stress by 60% just from looking at them. More broadly, time spent in nature has been proven to ease anxiety, lower blood pressure, and support physical and mental health.
Woodlands also support a vast amount of biodiversity, with thousands of species. Oak trees alone support 2,300 species – 326 of which are entirely dependent on oak for their survival.

A 200 year plan
At Dorset Wildlife Trust, current tree planting projects span three key sites. At West Holme nature reserve near Wareham, a 2.4-hectare native woodland is being planted to connect two isolated woodland blocks, while smaller pockets of trees will aid seed dispersal. At Lyscombe nature reserve near Dorchester, planting focuses on native species currently absent from the landscape, including elm and black poplar. And at Happy Bottom near Wimborne, existing hedgerows are being thickened with new trees.
Once in the ground, saplings quickly begin to establish, and the emerging vegetation creates habitat for small mammals: we soon see predators like kestrels, barn owls and foxes return to hunt. Bats use nearby hedgerows as corridors to forage.
Fast forward 50 years, and a once-bare patch of land will be alive with mature rowan, hazel and elder. Tawny owls roost on high branches, spotted flycatchers dart for insects, and purple hairstreak butterflies flutter around the oaks. Dormice nest in the hedgerows. Fieldfares and redwings arrive in autumn to feast on berries.
After 200 years, the trees reach full maturity. Buzzards nest in ancient oaks. Badgers dig setts in the softened soil below. Fungi flourish on fallen branches, feeding the larvae of stag beetles. Goat moths bore into trunks, while silver-washed fritillaries glide through the bramble-edged rides. Lichen and moss hang from branches, softening the canopy and cloaking the woodland in green.
By protecting and restoring existing woodland, and creating new habitat where it has been lost, we can give struggling species room to recover. Instead of being confined to fragmented green corridors, wildlife will once again move freely through a connected and diverse landscape.
Woodland cover in the UK must increase – quickly. We must create a more complex landscape that can support an abundance of species diversity.

Wildlife writer Jane Adams introduces the sweet, invisible and venomous predator with ultrasonic powers that seems to swim cloaked in mercury

Hidden away in the Dorset countryside lives a small, furry creature you have probably never seen. It has velvety black fur on its upper body, a silvery-white belly and a long, pointed nose with sensitive whiskers for feeling for prey. Its body is about ten centimetres long, its tail three-quarters of that again, and its hind feet are partly webbed and covered in stiff hairs to help it swim.
Over the years, I’ve learnt all sorts of facts about this little mammal. I know it lives next to slow-moving unpolluted streams, in ponds and in water meadows. It nests in banks, with connecting tunnels close to the water. It’s on the move day and night in short frenetic bursts and it has an incredibly high metabolism. It’s also an excellent swimmer, catching aquatic insects, small fish, amphibians, snails, worms and even newts. I know all these things … and yet I have never seen one: the elusive water shrew.
There’s something special, quirky even, about the water shrew. When I’m near freshwater, I am always on the lookout for the slightest glimpse of one. I’ve seen plenty of common and pygmy shrews, with their similar pointy noses to see and carnivorous diets, but they are smaller, less secretive and more numerous than the water shrew. They’re also not as interesting (to me at least) as their weird watery cousins.

So why the fascination?
First, water shrews paralyse their prey with a venomous bite: they then store food, like worms, alive, to be eaten later.
They also use ultrasonic clicks (echolocation) – sounds higher than humans could ever hear – to navigate and communicate. It’s an adaptation usually seen in bats and dolphins – it’s unusual in small mammals.
Lastly, they trap air bubbles in their fur when swimming to help with buoyancy. I’m told it gives them a ghostly outline when seen from above, as if wearing body armour made out of liquid mercury … now that I would love to see.
So, I’ll keep visiting the little stream in the meadow at the back of the village church. I’ll stand for hours on the rickety bridge.
And one day I’ll see one.
I’ve only been waiting 20 years … I guess that’s the appeal of watching wildlife. You never quite know when something special will just appear.