Sea beans are the seeds of tropical vines that drift from the Americas, sometimes for decades, before miraculously reaching our shores. Fishing folk once treasured them as tiny talismans. When Covid shook the world, presenter and author Mike Dilger ( One Show and Gadget Show) was forced to take a slower pace of life. We’re introduced to entities that are intricate, surprising, sophisticated, adaptable, mystifying, virtually omnipresent and extraordinarily enduring (they’ve been around for over a billion years).

Several chapters are devoted to a surprisingly gripping account of the ‘enclosure’ of the Fens over the centuries, when vast areas of common land in the east of England were taken by force from those who lived on it, leaving huge numbers homeless, destitute or both and wiping out a very distinct culture and way of life.

Games

I took issue with this, the latest book from the prolific Stephen Moss, right from the start. He declares, with the intent I presume to generate just the reaction it got from me, that the swallow is the best-loved bird in the world. Surely that is the robin (the subject of another of his books)? If you accept the challenge, you will find yourself swiftly and confidently drawn into this avian world. Swell, a Waterbiography, tells the story of the early female swimming pioneers, interwoven with Landreth’s own swimming journey, from head up, slow lane, breast stroker to ice-breaking veteran of the iconic Tooting Bec Lido.

This illuminating book proves a worthy addition to a crowded genre as it focuses on the science behind what enables us to walk and why walking is, in turn, good for us. In the introduction, Shane O’Mara outlines the intriguing and novel concept that, along with language and using tools, our ability to ambulate is one of the key things that sets humans apart from other animals.Swallows are clearly amazing and I do thrill at their arrival and mourn their departure each year. To ensure this amazing bird continues to return as the harbinger of summer, Moss gives us a timely reminder that we need to share our land – we need to turn away from destruction and embrace a more ecocentric worldview. I had come to think that wild histories seemed somehow indefinably linked with the spirit of a place,” he says. And it is only by seeking and experiencing these places first-hand can we “interpret the complex interactions of past lives within a certain space”. It’s thoughts like these that can turn any walk into a more memorable, meaningful adventure. There’s plenty of country lore too, and entertaining summaries of scientific studies – for example, we learn that worms can make friends and in times of crisis will take risks. They may also – though researchers disagree on this – experience pain, so perhaps these engineers of the earth deserve a little more respect. Fortunately, Neil Ansell has devoted his life to the roads less travelled – especially where there are no roads. Here he spends a year on a number of expeditions roaming the extraordinary peninsulas from Mallaig to the Sound of Mull. The names, beautiful though they are (Knoydart, Morvern, Morar, Ardnamurchan), are not as important as Ansell’s journey to find wilderness – or perhaps escape mundanity. He camps on empty beaches, walks over seldom-conquered peaks, steps through forests where only deer tread. Occasionally he meets wild human spirits – fellow wanderers and bothy hunters – and he has extraordinary wildlife encounters with otters, eagles and even pilot whales. As with May’s last book, the critically acclaimed Wintering, Enchantment weaves memoir with nature writing, history and gentle philosophy to re-enchant us with the things that really matter.

Enthusiastic schemes to diversify have met with stubborn opposition from the red trouser brigade, defeat at the hands of Council Planning department, and predictable derision from Kaleb - although, to be fair, even Lisa had doubts about Jeremy's brilliant plan to build a business empire founded on rewilding and nettle soup. And only Cheerful Charlie is still smiling about the stifling amount of red tape that's incoming... But he charges by the hour. Travelling with him is pure delight. Dunn is a fine nature writer, whose descriptions of locations are eloquent and often poignant, as so many orchid habitats are at risk. He is an erudite authority on orchid identification, while his digressions into their uses as aphrodisiacs, their promiscuous tendency to form hybrids that bamboozle botanists, and tales of their curious place in human affairs are constantly entertaining. Who knew that a helleborine chemical compound that stupefies pollinating wasps was administered to Hitler by his physician? Unmoored by motherhood, Huband is struggling to find her place in the remote island community, and her painful joints are made worse by the relentless wind. But she discovers a new identity as a beachcomber. “Instead of fearing storms, I began to watch for them,” she says.

But this is far from a volume for the coffee-table. Iain Parkinson (he works at Wakehurst, Kew’s Sussex outpost) has also gathered around 30 interviews with land managers and horticulturalists, ecologists and surveyors, craftspeople and artists. The accounts are in the first-person, giving immediacy to their insights on scything, say, or seed viability. Jim Holden’s lush photography captures the vibrancy of these heavenly places, mixing down-among-the-stalks close-ups with sweeping vistas, and ranging from the wet meadows of the Thames floodplain north to the machair of Hebridean coasts. But he never forgets these are working environments – haymaking is the reason they exist – so there are as many pictures of farming techniques and ‘meadow folk’. Sea Bean has much to say about Shetland culture and the tough, tragic history of its people, especially the women. It is mournful, introspective yet full of hope – a brilliantly salty blast of fresh air. Celebrating the 11th British Wildlife Photography Awards, this stunning collection showcases 150 of the winning and shortlisted images from the 2023 competition. This is a book that delves into the facts, fiction, myths and folklore of trees, with stories that introduce us to the fascinating natural history of many species growing in the British landscape, not all native, but all with a tale to be told. The trees will be familiar to many, but the histories surrounding them may not.

His awareness of the environment and eye for wildlife resonated as I read, and Will writes with a genuine sense of humility. He is well scarred from a life of travelling and exploration, but his experiences have made him wise. He avoids drifting too deep into memoir, and relates with humour and reflection. But it’s also because he writes with such conviction, clarity, insight, depth and purpose. He understands better than anyone how times have changed. When talking about the “insect armageddon”, for example, he points out how raptor declines in the 1960s were found to be linked to the chemicals that were used in sheep dips and agriculture. In places, The Lost Spells is explicit about threats to the natural world, and here too is ‘Heartwood’, Macfarlane’s protest poem against the pointless felling of street trees. As the prologue says: “Loss is the tune of our age, hard to miss and hard to bear.”Published by the science-informed British Trust for Ornithology, these “love letters to our most vulnerable species [of birds]”, with remarkable original artwork, are a creative way to fundraise and boost the profile of endangered wildlife. Despite recognising that we simply cannot be sure what people who lived millennia ago thought, through his study and patient reimaginings, Canton does a good job of demonstrating that we are not so different from them. With that, we understand that what we can learn from them (particularly from those who lived in the Mesolithic Age) is relevant. In 2012, the wild plant conservation charity Plantlife published Our Vanishing Flora, highlighting the loss of wildflowers from across Great Britain since 1953. The report showed that a staggering 97% of wildflower meadows have been lost since the 1930s, prompting Plantlife’s patron HRH The Prince of Wales to call for the urgent creation of new ones. The Coronation Meadows initiative was launched in 2013, with the aim of creating at least one new meadow in every county, using local, native seed from those small fragments of meadows and grasslands that still survive. Fuelled by hope, and endless cups of tea, they wend their way south. When the Cape Wrath Trail ends, they have an important decision to make. Writing in her usual candid and engaging style, Winn guides us along the next – unexpectedly uplifting – stage of their journey. We, her readers, are privileged to walk alongside her. There are no straightforward conclusions, no easy solutions, and this is not always an easy read. But there is hope, and much of it comes from humans. For this is a call to arms, a celebration of “what can be achieved when we hold administrations to account”.