It’s a calm early summer evening in the late 1980s. A light wind is gently rattling the curtain of reeds. As I track the margin of Cors Goch fen, the squelchy peat underfoot releases the antiseptic aroma of bog myrtle, and I’m lifted by the joy of spotting the little brick-red spikes of early marsh-orchids. As I walk home to Penllyn – the Wildlife Trust’s next-door farmhouse – I’m caught by a movement low over the fen: a hawking barn owl silently seeking its supper.
Cors Goch is so special that it’s a National Nature Reserve – but it’s also the birthplace of North Wales Wildlife Trust and, personally, very close to my heart. On reflecting on my life with the Trust, the changes it has felt and witnessed are crystallised here. Like so many places where wildlife finds a refuge, it’s sensitive to societal demands: its hollowed form, layering eons of peat, was thought handy as a dumping ground for landfill, but was bravely fought off by our insightful founders. Later, we held at bay limestone quarrying threatening to suck the water from its arteries.