“Merely a trifle! Merely a trifle! And it isn’t really finished!” says CS Lewis’s Mr Beaver when Susan, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, compliments his dam. In icy Narnia, the Beavers come to the children’s rescue after their friend Mr Tumnus is captured. They are ingenious, energetic, helpful to humans – in other words, not entirely dissimilar from how conservationists might describe them (with the exception of Lewis’s thoroughly old-fashioned view of gender roles: while Mr Beaver is the couple’s builder, Mrs Beaver is a seamstress).
Beavers were hunted to extinction across much of Europe hundreds of years ago. When The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe was published in 1950 they were, although not mythical creatures, partly imaginary ones in the sense that vanishingly few Britons had ever seen one. It is no wonder, given how warmly their memory lived on in books such as Lewis’s, that their successful reintroduction to England and Scotland is widely if not universally regarded as good news.
There are thought to be up to 800 beavers currently in the UK. In October, it will become illegal to deliberately capture, kill or injure them, though landowners may apply for licences to capture or destroy them if they cause significant harm. Some anglers argue that dams prevent salmon and trout from migrating upstream, and farmers sometimes find themselves in competition with beavers over land. But over this long, hot, dry summer there have been encouraging reports of the ecosystem benefits delivered by the animals in parts of England where they have been monitored.
In Cornwall, researchers credit beavers with the return of 13 species, as well as reducing flood risk. At Clinton Devon Estates in east Devon, their activities led to a hectare of grazing land remaining underwater when surrounding fields were parched. At Holnicote in Somerset, the National Trust said that beavers have shown they can play a role in restoring lost habitats and “reducing the impact of flood and droughts”. Dragonflies, amphibians, birds and fish are among the beneficiaries.
It is no wonder that many people warm to these stories: like otters – famed for their playfulness – beavers are charismatic creatures. Their return to the British countryside offers reassuring proof that damage to nature can sometimes be rectified, that restoring or rewilding landscapes works. As with the white storks that were successfully reintroduced to the Knepp estate in West Sussex, hundreds of years after going extinct as breeding birds in England, there is something marvellous about the return of the beaver. The animals, as well as the efforts of conservationists, deserve to be celebrated.
What we mustn’t do is allow such success stories (some of them the projects of wealthy landowners) to cloud our judgment about the seriousness of the risks faced by other species, and the necessity of taking action of other kinds – above all cutting the emissions that are causing the world to overheat. In Narnia, Father Christmas turns up and promises to mend the leaks in Mr Beaver’s dam and fit a new sluice gate. There is sadly no magical fix to our predicament. But conservation successes give us ground to build on.
