Our Oaken Bones

Anyway, we chatted on the phone while Merlin was driving a long way to give a talk about his new book at an independent bookshop. We both agreed that events like this are rewarding but probably don’t sell many books relative to the time they require.

So, I set myself a challenge: to see if I could persuade my readers to buy more books than he would sell at his talk. I hope you find our conversation interesting—and perhaps you’ll be tempted to buy a copy here.

Our Oaken Bones is about Merlin returning to his family’s land in Cornwall to bring a damaged rainforest back to life, to heal, and to raise a family. It’s part personal journey, part nature story, as he works to revive both the landscape and his own sense of purpose. The book is full of hope, rewilding, and finding a better way to live with nature. Oh, and he’s brought back beavers too!

Merlin: No, I find it hugely exciting. I want everything to do with how we think about the natural world to be hopeful and optimistic. I don’t want it to be about doom and gloom and eco-anxiety. That’s so easy, and I think actually quite lazy. It’s very easy to fall into that narrative and say, “Ah, the world is terrible and everything’s going wrong.” Actually, it’s about trying to find the optimism and hope, even in the darkest moments, and channelling that.

We could be the first generation in 3,000 years to bring the rainforest back rather than destroy it further. That’s extremely good news and a wonderful story. We’re also the first generation to truly understand how much of an impact we’re having on the environment, and that’s brilliant as well. There’s lots of good news we can draw from all this depressing negativity.

I don’t think humans are very well geared to responding to negativity. We turn our faces away from it. If we can be positive, then more people will get engaged, and then we’ll succeed.

Me: The approximate format of my newsletter (when I remember) is to outline three problems that irk you – and their solutions, then give two recommendations and one action we can all get stuck into. What would you pick?

Three Thoughts From Merlin

I.

The first is nature blindness. In the UK especially, we are a very nature-blind society. We’re bad at walking through the natural world and identifying what is in a healthy state, what is in decline, what’s native, what’s non-native.

I did a talk recently with someone from the Australian Wildlife Service, and I was blown away by how proactive they are at identifying and removing non-native species, and promoting and reintroducing natives. Here, we’re still arguing over bringing back beavers, wildcats and pine martens—all vital native species. Meanwhile, we tolerate muntjac, grey squirrels, rabbits and rhododendron. Non-natives need to be taken out.

We need education to reduce this nature blindness. That’s why we’re building a research station in our temperate rainforest. It’s the most under-researched habitat in the UK, and also one of the most beautiful and important. We need to understand it in order to fall in love with it and protect it.

Nature blindness is a big problem, and that leads into my second issue: reclaiming positive masculinity. It’s a big theme in my book. Suicide is still the leading cause of death in men under 50. Men are uncomfortable talking about mental health, and they often don’t receive the help they need.

We hear a lot about toxic masculinity, and I worry those two words are being irreparably combined. We need to reshape what positive masculinity looks like in the 21st century.

I’m grateful I’m not a 12- or 13-year-old boy right now. I think there are very few role models for young boys who aren’t into sport. The solution is for male role models to step forward.

We need positive male role models and frameworks for healthy masculinity.

Inequality of access to nature. It’s slightly connected to the first point, but it’s a separate issue. We need to restore nature in the UK, but to do that, people need to love it. And to love it, they need to experience it.

84% of people in the UK live in urban environments. Many have no real experience of wild nature. I take people on retreats to Cabilla who’ve never walked on unmown grass. Some find it strange that we don’t pick up after the cattle. Others are afraid of silence and darkness when there are no streetlights or traffic noise.

We’ve separated ourselves from nature and created a two-tier system. Through better public transport, more urban wild spaces, better town planning, or the right to roam movement, we need to reduce this inequality and enable more people to be in the natural world. That’s how we get people to love it and want to heal it.

Me: I’m completely on board with that. It’s probably the theme of my next book. I wanted to ask more about the right to roam, because you clearly know the positive aspects of nature, but you also own your own bit of rainforest. I looked on Ordnance Survey and there aren’t many public footpaths through your woods. So what’s your take on balancing access, protection, and ownership?

Merlin: That’s a great question. I think of it as a spectrum. On the one hand, you have private land that no one ever gets to go into and benefit from. I’ve felt so lucky to benefit from the rainforest I steward, but also aware that others can’t access it, which is unfair.

On the other end, you have places like Wistman’s Wood on Dartmoor, which has been damaged by over-trampling and unmanaged access. Too many people, not enough education or control.

We try to strike a balance at Cabilla. Over the last three years, we’ve brought more than 3,000 people into the rainforest. That’s helped people heal and connect—but the forest has also improved each year. Nature is always our number one client. People come second.

I support the right to roam movement and admire people like Guy Shrubsole [author of the excellent The Lost Rainforests of Britain], but we have to do it with care. Sweden and Scotland have more open access, but they also have 10% of our population density and strong cultural education around how to behave in nature.

If we had that here—education, infrastructure, cultural understanding—then absolutely, let’s open up more land. I want Cabilla to be far more accessible, especially to those who otherwise wouldn’t get the chance. But it must be done in a way that doesn’t harm the rainforest.

Me: Yes, I always say “the right to roam responsibly.”

Merlin: Exactly. We should all have a right to roam, but we don’t have a right to damage. The two too often go hand in hand. I’d love to see a system where access could be dialled up or down depending on how the natural world is coping. Like a volume knob.

We live in an Instagram age, and we’ve seen this play out all over the world—in the Norwegian fjords, or famous beaches. Certain fragile spots get trashed because everyone flocks there. We need to avoid that here.

Q: I try to encourage people to find their own local patch of wildness, rather than following books like recipes. Go find your own wood.

Merlin: Yes, that’s the challenge for the right to roam movement—to avoid concentrating pressure on a few beautiful, accessible places. We need to open access, but in a way that spreads people across the landscape and protects all of it.

Q: I agree. I’m a supporter of the movement, but I think my personal mission is more about encouraging people to explore the nature that’s 15 minutes from their front door—on foot or by bike.

OK, on to your recommendations…

2 Films Worth Watching (With Your Kids, Too)

Merlin recommends two animated films that are entertaining for children but carry powerful environmental messages:

• The Lorax – Dr Seuss’s bright, bouncy tale of overconsumption and deforestation. Fun to watch—but also a serious metaphor for the real-world trade-offs we make when we ignore nature’s limits.
• WALL·E – A lonely robot on a trash-covered planet falls in love and reminds humanity of what it’s lost. Part love story, part environmental fable, it’s a meditation on disconnection, technology, and the cost of convenience.

One Suggestion For Us To Try

Become a participant in nature—not just an observer.

Walking, birdwatching, even dog walking—these are lovely ways to enjoy nature, but they’re passive. What we need, he says, are people willing to get their hands dirty. To take part. To do something.

That might mean volunteering with a local Wildlife Trust, planting trees, removing invasive species, restoring riverbanks, picking up litter, or even taking part in citizen science surveys.

“We talk a lot about being a part of nature, rather than apart from it. But we rarely talk about what that actually looks like. This is it.”

This also ties into his work on masculinity. Volunteering, working outdoors, contributing to a cause—these acts build community, purpose, and belonging. “It feels good,” he says. “It’s a way to be useful again.”

His broader vision is for humans to reclaim our role as a keystone species—as active participants in the ecosystem, rather than a problem to be managed or removed.

Merlin’s message is clear: we are the first generation in history with the knowledge and tools to restore nature, not just destroy it. That’s not just urgent—it’s exciting.

“We could be the first generation in 3,000 years to bring rainforests back. That’s extraordinary.”

He’s moved past the despair, the doomscrolling, the eco-anxiety. And he wants the rest of us to do the same. Because action—especially hopeful, joyful, collective action—is not only what the planet needs. It’s what we need, too.

Huge thanks to Merlin for giving me his time. 

He is running a crowdfunding campaign to build Europe’s first temperate rainforest research station at the edge of an ancient rainforest in Cornwall. You can support it here.

I love the Cabilla Rewilding project, and his book is excellent. Please buy it now!

There, they are met by unexpected challenges: a farm slipping ever further into debt, the discovery that the overgrazed and damaged woods running throughout the valley are in fact one of the UK’s last remaining fragments of Atlantic temperate rainforest, and the sudden and near catastrophic strickening by Covid of Merlin’s father, the explorer Robin. As they fall more in love with the rainforest that Merlin had adventured in as a child, so begins a fight to save not only themselves and their farm, but also one of the world’s most endangered habitats.

Our Oaken Bones is an honest and intimate true story about renewal, the astonishing healing power of nature, and our duty to heal it in return.