Species: Past, Present and Future

 

"Wolves, beavers and red squirrels deserve a second chance."

- School Student

Limestone blocks on display at Newcastle University's OME

About the project

Funded by the National Lottery Heritage Fund, Newcastle University and the National Trust worked with 40 students aged 12-14 from Astley Community High School and James Calvert Spence College in Northumberland to create an exhibition of poetry and artwork inspired by the written, built and natural heritage of Northumberland.

The project invited students to reflect on climate change and biodiversity in their local area with a focus on species in Northumberland. Students were exposed to these ideas in a variety of formats, from handling items from Newcastle University's Special Collections and taking part in poetry lectures and workshops, to spending time immersed in nature at Wallington and working with academics from the School of Natural and Environmental Sciences. Throughout the project, students were provided with opportunities to engage with not only their local heritage, but to consider their future careers through the people they met. From National Trust rangers and printmakers to poets and environmental researchers, students were able to see how different roles can have a positive impact on the climate.

Students were invited to choose a species to focus on, from the extinct wolf, the protected red squirrel and the beaver which has recently been reintroduced. With support and inspiration from Newcastle University's School of English and Northern Print, the students each wrote a poem and produced a print of their chosen animal, which are all being exhibited at Wallington throughout the summer of 2024.

Species Past:

Wolf

A wolf print

Fierce

Fierce

Howling in the night

At the moon

At the stars

Shining bright

Alone

Away from the pack

Will you ever go back?

By Riley

A wolf print

Trilogy

#1

A wolf in a cave

Looking at its prey

Waiting to eat the rabbit.

 

#2

A wolf waiting

For the prey ready to snack

But suddenly bang.

 

#3

My wolf my wolf,

I love my wolf.

My wolf, my wolf,

Wolves are kind.

By Maddie

A wolf print

Life

My howl puts fear into souls

My growl tells you your end is near

But now my howl doesn’t even echo.

My growl now Is something you can’t even hear.

My howl maybe will be heard again.

Maybe my growl will never end,

but we will never know.

As it is that we all have a past and future

but what makes it is that we have lived it all.

By Dexter

A wolf print

The Lone Wolf

The moon shines bright

in the forest night.

The wolf’s howl is such a fright

which makes animals all around tremor in fear.

The tree's leaves laugh

and the squirrels feel startled

in the clear silence of the night.

By Jackson

A wolf print

Wolf, the last of many

In the heart of the ancient woods, a wolf’s song

Echoes through the trees all night long.

Majestic creature with eyes so wise,

Underneath the starlit skies.

A shadow in the moon’s soft light,

Moves with grace through the silent night.

A guardian of the wild and free,

In the heart of nature, where it’s meant to be.

Fur as dark as the midnight sky,

A spirit untamed, flying high.

In the wilderness, it finds its call,

A wildness which shall never fall.

So let the wolf run wild and free,

In the depth of the forests, let it be.

A symbol of strength, in the night’s embrace,

In the heart of the wolf, wild and untamed grace.

By Lily

A wolf print

Wolves

as swift as the wind,

as strong as the trees,

what do you see?

the pups stumble over their paws,

the adults intimidate,

what would you do if you came face to face?

extinct from England,

would you dare reintroduce them?

beware! beware!

wolves are strong,

they prowl in the night,

if you saw one you’d flee in fright.

By Chloe

A wolf print

Body mingled

Body mingled, mangled in red

Breath heaving up down up down fast

peace no longer

Did they mean to shoot so fast?

Did they mean to kill a soul?

Did the poor wolf scare the beings?

Now no howls at night

Now no blood spilled

Bot now the small cub with no mother

But now the small cub with no one to feed them

A shot in the silence strikes a soul

But the soul

The one soul

Kills a different poor soul.

By Emily

A wolf print

A wolf is a weapon,

They can attack,

If you come across one alone,

You may never come back.

 

A wolf is like a grey cloud,

They can just suddenly appear,

If you come across one alone,

Inside spawns a build up of fear.

 

A wolf is a predator,

They aren’t afraid,

They sprint through the forest,

They hide in the shade.

 

A wolf is like a fence,

They’re strong and can protect,

They are becoming endangered,

Do you know the effect?

 By Alice

A wolf print

Dawn of Extinction

The blinding light shines off its silver-grey coat,

Its ears attentively turned up in the wind,

Its paws trek swiftly and cautiously

Through the branch littered floors,

The ferns flattened beneath its weight.

 

The moon reflects off its crimson, blood stained fur,

Its ears droop in the deafening gunfire,

Its broken paws limp clumsily and painfully,

Through the corpse ridden floor,

Its body flattens the ferns,

As its life is drained.

 

The sun illuminates the dawn of its extinction,

People’s ears turn down the idea of reintroduction,

Their hands wave frantically at the demonised,

The ferns are flattened,

By their concrete industries.

By Daniel

A wolf print

Wolves

Wolves are voracious vampires. lurking in the shadows

Watching… waiting…

Wolves are raging storms. Striking with precision

Pouncing… leaping…

Wolves are hidden caves. Hiding in the darkness of the night

Staring… stalking…

The lone wolf roams freely

By Megan

A wolf print

The timeless tale

In the moon''s gentle glow

A wolf roams free

Through the silent woods

A spirit wild and keen

Its eyes like orbs of amber hold ancient lore

In the nights embrace it seeks and explores

A wolf's way of life is much different than yours

 

A guardian of the night, its soul untamed

In the wilderness it’s howl is famed

Majestic and proud in the forest aloud

Through the darkened woods it gracefully strides

A creature of instinct, where wisdom abides

In the heart of the wild

Where echoes unfurl

Lives the timeless tale of the noble wolf's swirl

 

The moon's gentle glow

A wolf no longer roams

They were persecuted

Not set free

By Phoebe J

Species Present:

Red Squirrel

A red squirrel in a tree

© National Trust Images: Norman Scott

© National Trust Images: Norman Scott

A tree print

Who cares?

Who cares for the red squirrel?

Whom which stare,

their teeth bare,

as they look at the old yet so youthful life,

reduced to nothing but a chair.

 

Who cares for the red squirrel?

Whose mother’s mother – who?

Do you care that your table hosts

the memory of whose mother’s mother was?

 

Who will care for the red squirrel

when the forests run too hot and dry?

As the warming world means their numbers

slowly but surely start to die,

without that tree for shelter from

storms in an unforgiving sky?

 

Does anyone care for whose mother searches in vain,

but can’t feed her young and it's starting to rain.

Will you wake up in time to cut emissions and stave off the worst?

Or will the red squirrel end up part of nature’s dirt nap rehearse?

Without their new generations, this glass amongst shells

will slowly be dispersed.

 

Their barking calls in the treetops soon may only be found in books of old lore,

As the climate emergency means their habitats can take no more.

Who will take care if no forests remain and the red is nothing more than folklore?

 

Their plight serves as a warning –

if we push Earth past its adaptive thresh,

Even shy forest critters we never meet

may perish in the climate fresh,

so let’s cut emissions fast and give the red a chance to prevail,

Lest their extinction be one more casualty

in the climate crisis tale.

By Sadie

A squirrel print

Would life ever be the same?

As they dart across the ground

like a whistle’s gentle sound,

without red squirrels so tame

would life ever be the same?

 

Without their brushed and bristled tails

as they flop, flap and flail,

without their red raging flame,

would life ever be the same?

 

Their deaths would ripple, the environment stained

all signs of their existence drained

with the now corroded and broken food chain,

would life ever be the same?

 

Preservation of the nation is the key to their life,

ecological evolution is the solution to help them survive

so that they can live so calm and tame

life should remain the same.

By Jake

A squirrel print

Among the timbers

Among the timber, reds once thrived

Before the shifty greys arrived

The greys attack, so slick, so smooth

Their advances forcing the reds to move

 

Competition relentless, a battle unseen

The greys becoming truly supreme

Red squirrels vanish, present becoming past

For how much longer will they last?

 

Among the timber, a troubling sight

The red squirrel species a dwindling fight

Nature's balance seems a fragile dance

The red squirrel soldiers don't stand a chance.

 

Odds stacked against them, habitats being lost

Their once beautiful homes become simple compost

For with the destructive powers humans seem to wield

The red squirrel's fate appears forever sealed.

By Charlotte

A squirrel print

Red Squirrel

The red squirrel looks down at the river,

His eyes reflecting the colour of the once clear waters.

His fur, previously a vibrant match for autumn leaves

Now stands in sharp contrast against the missing trees.

The songs of nature go silent as the trees fall down,

The unnatural sounds build up with city heights

As the moon is replaced with neon lights.

By Evie

A squirrel print

What is a red squirrel?

A red squirrel is autumn

Chestnut brown and auburn

A red squirrel is windy

Rapidly moving

A red squirrel is a treehouse

Climbing up high in the towering trees

 

A red squirrel is shy

Hiding amongst the branches

Hiding away from the grey

Hiding away from danger

 

A red squirrel is no longer

A red squirrel is gone

Gone like others

Gone forever

By Anna

A squirrel print

Whispers of the woods

In the woods where once they played,

Red squirrel in the Sunlight- can you hear their serenade?

Their fur like fire, bright and bold:

Now in their absence, a story untold.

 

Amongst branches, that they did roam,

Serene Sunlight danced on their quaint woodland home.

Their striking presence, a vibrant tale,

Now which echos in the mumbling gale.

 

Trees chatter of their vanished grace,

Empty dreys; a solemn place.

Their noise now lost on the Summer's breeze,

The leaves rustle, mourning, displeased. 

Yet in this loss, a lesson found,

To cherish all that does abound.

Let their tale a reminder be:

Of nature's silent, resilient plea.

By Cassidy

A squirrel print

Dawn began to emerge from its shell,

Its light piercing through the forest’s ceiling.

A gentle morning breeze dancing elegantly,

Through the sun-dappled woodland way,

Begin the day. Begin the day.

 

The squirrel wearily waltzed from his bed,

Passionate to play with his companions,

Running through the treetops, gay.

And thriving from the gorgeous display.

Hail the day. Hail the day.

 

But suddenly, a mighty bellow roared

A great grind to the gut of the trees rained out

Panic, distress, disaster and more

Animals darting every which way,

The little squirrel left in dismay

Fear the day! Fear the day!

 

A violent judder left him stunned,

Clambering around like a candle’s flame

The world seemed to shift

As the once proud house

Lost its balance in such a way

That it fell to its grave in a violent display!

Curse the day! Curse the day!

 

That their tree was butchered,

And sold for a cost.

The stump a reminder…

That their home was lost.

And the squirrel left dumbfounded

That they could evict them in such a way.

Rue the day. Rue the day.

 

Curled up all alone in the dystopian land

His family all gone and nowhere to be seen.

But his red stood out from the monotonous grey,

Like a campfire flickering, outdoing its prey.

Perhaps we could still save them in a way.

Begin the day. Begin the day.

By Isabel

 

A squirrel print

Endangerment

Dwindling, not only in blaze;

But also in population.

Dimming, not only in luminosity;

But also in essence.

 

The embers of animals;

Wither and Fade-

Deprived of their burning spirit,

Emitting nothing but extinguished cinders.

 

Reigniting the flame:

Shows Cruciality and Urgency;

Desperation and Demand-

For Contributions of any size.

 

Everything helps Reignite that fire,

And Restore that species.

By Katie

A squirrel print

Red is Dead

Red was innocent yet he met his fate.

Just lounging around, living the dream.

He couldn’t react when this brute attacked.

An ashen-grey squirrel like a thundering tornado.

It was on that date violence killed the peace..

Red. Is. Dead.

 

She had been foraging for food to feed her young;

Two small girls and her eldest son.

Taking her nap she was rudely awoken:

With a whir of a chainsaw, her abode was stolen.

Down with a woosh her family perished..

Red. Is. Dead.

 

Let us return to somewhere closer to home,

Cramlington; people shop, eat and wildlife roams

However, roads are unfamiliar territory to squirrels

And cars are unidentified objects.

41 million lives of squirrels are taken by us annually.

Red. Is. Dead.

 

This describes the fatalities of a few,

But it is more common than you think

This could be the future of our beloved, fiery friends

This can be prevented by us working together to save them

Red. Isn’t. Dead.. (yet)

By Kaydan

A squirrel print

Their way of life

In the heart of the forest

Where the trees stand tall

Red squirrels scurry

Not afraid to fall

With fur like fiery embers

It dashes through the leaves

Gathering acorns as the wind weaves

Its bushy tail a flame, a vibrant hue

In the woodlands tapestry

A crimson due

Bounding from branch to branch

In a graceful dance

Natures tiny acrobat

A sight to enhance

Their way of life

By Layla

A squirrel print

Red Exertion

Upon the forest of old, a vibrant hue of red,

A story divine, woven with threads of time,

Where wisdom whispers rustle untold

Like statuesque leaves of gold.

 

A battle brews silently, like a rage filled threat,

Reds dancing blithely, unperturbed, precise mindset.

Abruptly, a rival appears, draped in grey attire

And advanced towards the battlefield, eyes full of desire.

 

A war drastically unfolded in the shadowed glades,

Red against grey, a battle of cascading shades.

Have they pushed them to the brink

With their numbers and strength?

They dominate, leaving the reds to shrink.

 

The trees wept with sorrow,

Leaves falling like tears

As the reds fought on, facing their fears.

Their numbers dwindled, a tragic sight to see

As the grey claimed victory, unbridled and free.

 

Red, once proud and strong,

Now cover in fear and dread,

As the greys pillage their homes and food,

Leaving them hungry and almost dead.

 

The wind sighs mournfully through the trees,

As the red mourn their loss.

Their once bustling division now silent

And cries drowned out by nature’s boss.

 

The grey with their cold eyes,

And hardened hearts, show no remorse,

For the suffering they inflict on the reds.

Their greed knows no bound, a dark force.

 

For in this war of anguish there’s room to heal

To preserve the peace that both sides feel.

Let the red and grey soldiers find an effective way,

To coexist in harmony, come what may…

By Lucy

A squirrel print

Crash!

Trees felled squirrels flee

Burnished bush wagging wildly

Its frightened plea echoes into the distance

 

It scampers and it scuttles through fauna and flora

Leaping and bounding

It soars and it springs from tree to tree

 

Finally it stalls

It lives to fight another day with the trees swaying in the wind and the fresh scent of pine heavy

The squirrel stands tall and proud

A red squirrel is like a rose . Talons sharp and forever wild

By Molly

A squirrel print

    The grey, cold killers

                    Wiping them out one by one

                           They just never rest

By Phoebe K

A squirrel print

Majestic Squirrel

Jumping from the trees,

Fragile as an autumn leaf,

You twist to the ground.

 

Winding ‘round the rocks,

Tricky as a flowing stream,

You leap from the sand.

 

Gliding in the woods,

Sneaky as a gentle breeze,

You slip through the fence.

 

Struggling in the debris,

You’re violently mutating,

A squirrel no more.

 

You struggle and leap,

As your coat, once red, turns green,

Twisted by the waste.

 

Into a creature,

Not bound by squirrel morals,

It’s Growing Hungry.

By Ryan

A squirrel print

The dodos, the sabretooths and the mammals march on

Knifed rifles, drawn, loaded and strung

Hang limp by their side, a damaged lung

With their shame burning hot like a gun

From a home beyond, they shall come

 

So please, cherish the time

As he bids his warm goodbye

It won’t be long until he’s gone

The foe hold a strong position

And with a strength of his, it can only be a con

 

Fair as a skin of rust

Clear as the setting sky

A fire flame walking, so alive and bright

Gather round everyone, learn how to watch a red squirrel die

 

Witness the nightingale cease to sing

The timid beauty he would bring

Like a phoenix from ashes out of the dying sun

He shall rise, all mighty, a chestnut clutched for the unjust occasion

And here he will take his final bow

For not even the angels will save him  

By Gracie

Species Future:

Beaver

A beaver

© National Trust Images: Paul Harris

© National Trust Images: Paul Harris

A beaver print

Beaver

As you plod along the riverbank

You have wood in your grasp like a construction

Worker building a dream house.

Your tail thumps along making

Beats as it goes like a drummer

In a marching band leading the way.

                     ***

Your tail beats along like a drum

Your eyes are as purple as a plum

You scratch with your claws

And bite with your jaws

Your tail beats along like a drum.

by Sophie

A beaver print

Thorns on the riverbank

Thorns on the riverbank,

And frogs leaping,

Flowers blooming,

And the wind through the trees,

With rocks on the floor,

A beaver comes.

His job is simple,

He collects twigs,

Branches too,

To build his home,

And share his love.

His children come,

To live together,

It becomes,

A happily ever after,

Forever and ever,

By Felicity

A beaver print

Worker Beaver

I once knew a beaver,

Who could not quit his work,

He lived a long life with his family,

Burrowed in the earth.

 

Busy worker beaver,

Rushing to and fro,

Gnaw and carry wood like mine,

To cease the rapid river’s flow.

 

Not as vibrant as a fox,

Or as dainty as a deer,

But he puts to use his special skills,

As nature’s engineer.

 

Don’t think of him as a pesky beaver,

Please leave his dam alone!

His endless toils and patience,

Creates a fish’s home.

 

I know my time is limited,

My leaves won’t always touch the air,

Make good use of me friendly beaver,

Before I am chopped down for a chair.

By Isla

A beaver print

Busy Beaver

Busy beaver was working on a dam

He chopped a tree and it went bam!

The forest shook, it made a roar and rumble

He dragged the tree to the river without a stumble.

A little bit of brown sticky mud,

His beaver tail went thud, thud, thud!

What do you know? A strong new home,

For Busy Beaver’s family to roam.

By Charleigh

A beaver print

In a forest

In a forest, lives a beaver by a stream

With water so clear, it feels like a dream.

He builds his dam at a steady pace,

Ready to challenge any animal to a race.

In his cosy home safe and sound

The beaver thrives, nature’s wonder found,

Logs and twigs he piles them high,

Creating lodges wherever he lies.

By Anya

A beaver print

Beaver Haikus

Beavers build their dams

Waters rise, forests reshape

Climates changing hands.

 

Water levels rise,

Beavers struggle to find food.

Adapt or vanish.

 

One final last stand

Habitats disappear fast;

Beavers fade away.

By Noah

A beaver print

The Beaver

Beaver, beaver,

In the dam,

How you’ve made my mind go BAM.

In your home of wood,

Your life must be good,

We should be friends if you could.

Beaver, beaver,

In the dam,

How you’ve may my mind go BAM.

Swimming in your little river,

Everyone’s hearts start to quiver.

You really are the cutest thing ever,

You really are one of nature’s givers.

Beaver, beaver,

In the fam,

How you’ve made my mind go BAM.

By Micah

A beaver print

Beaver

The beaver sits in the stream,

The beaver has a dream.

The beaver wants a dam

To stop the water’s ram.

The beaver had another dream

To build a gleaming lodge.

The beaver’s ready to protect his family

From a hungry foe.

The beaver has a dream

To sit in the stream

And live his life in peace and tranquillity.

By Finlay

A beaver print

500 years ago there was an animal called a beaver

This animal made its own home out of wood and resilience

We called it a dam and destroyed them

And they paid for it

 

We used to care for these animals

We used to work for these animals

But our greediness caused a problem

And they paid for it

 

Imagine there was a world where we looked after beavers

We would live with less floods and we would still have its predators

But we can't live in a world where we all are safe

And we all paid for it

 

A beaver was a warrior

A beaver would live through anything for its family

A beaver was caring

And they paid for it

 

They were as brown as a tree

They were innocent

They were strong

And again they paid for it

 

One day we will forget about these architects

One day our own pets will suffer like they did

One day we will all suffer to extinction

And realise what we have done

By Caleb

A beaver print

In the heart of the forest where tall pines stand proud

Live creatures of wonder, in a world unbowed

By the babbling brook with a gnaw and a nip

A beaver builds dreams with each tree that it clips

 

With a slap of its tail and a mind sharp and keen

It crafts sturdy lodges in the waters serene

Architects of the world, with persistence and might

Their dams tame the rivers, a natural delight

 

Acorns and pinecones in caches concealed

The red squirrels hoard is a harvest revealed

Agile and fast, with a leap and a bound

It scurries and scampers on aerial ground

 

In the shadows of twilight where the moon starts to rise

The wolves greet the night with their soulful cries

Pack-bound and loyal, with eyes gleaming gold

They roam through the forest both fearless and bold

 

With a howl to the heavens, they sing of their kin

In their vast, wild woodlands where their journeys begin

Hunters and guardians, with hearts fierce and free

The wolves claim the night with a wild melody

 

Together they dwell in the forest's embrace

Each playing a part in this enchanted place

From the beavers' grand dams to the squirrels' high nests,

To the wolves' haunting songs that lull the woods to rest.

 

In nature's grand tapestry, their stories entwine

A tale of survival, of instinct divine

So here’s to the beavers, the squirrels and the wolves

By Bailey

A beaver print

Gilded Chisel

Majestic Beaver

A Gilded Chisel Through Stone

Carving the future

By Ewan

A beaver print

Bob's guide; to be being a busy beaver

I work and swim,

I eat the stick.

I Trim and trim.

I am so quick!

By Heidi

A beaver print

Beautiful beaver

Beautiful beaver

Beautiful beaver is like a coffee bean.

They are both round

They are both brown

They both have a nice smell

 

Beautiful beaver

When it rains the beavers get busy

When the tip toes

When the river runs

The beavers get busy

They find stickers for home

 

Beautiful beaver

Beavers are very useful

They have great fur

They have meat to eat

They have ingredients for perfumes

They have ingredients for medicine

 

Beautiful beaver

Welcome back !

Welcome after getting hunted to extinction

Welcome after being gone for 400 years

 Welcome back England and Scotland missed you!

By Rhea