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The Boss
My name is Atticus, I’m a Goldfinch
and this is my story.
I’ve lived all my life in the old
oak tree on the Rhiwbina line. To
humans, he was just another oak
tree but to us birds, and the bats
who lived there, he was ‘The Boss’.
He was a pedunculate, a common
oak, which ‘takes 300 years to grow,
300 years to live and 300 years
to die’. The Boss was about 100
years old, in the prime of his youth
and truly magnificent. Even before
global warming, nobody in their
right mind would bring any harm
to such a fine living specimen and
example of everything that’s good
about God’s world.
The Boss provided safety and
shelter for a murder of Crows, an
unkindness of Ravens, a parliament
of Rooks and a conventicle of
Magpies. The clattering of Jackdaws
spent their days down in the village
but returned home every night to
roost.
Throughout the summer, the
cauldron of bats that lived with us
could be seen flying together from
dusk onwards as they set out to
catch their suppers.
The Boss knew all of us since we
were eggs, and all our families for
generations and, night after night,
he regaled us with stories of how
life had been ‘back in the good old
days’.
We felt safe in his boughs.
There were other trees, Ash and
Sycamore, but none felt like our
mighty Oak.
The Boss was everything to us
and he had time for us all. We built
our nests in The Boss, raised our
chicks, sheltered from the worst of
storms and he provided the bugs
we needed to feed our young, all
hidden in the ivy he allowed to grow
around his magnificent form.
The Boss stood overlooking our
village for almost 100 years. He
was older than most of the human
inhabitants, and he felt he knew all
of them as for so long he’d watched
them going about their daily lives.
He’d seen the worst of winters and
the best of summers. Most years he
saw snow settling on the mountain,
the twinkle of the pretty Christmas
lights from the village and the first
Swallows arriving for summer. He’d
seen the Prairie tank steam engine,
the old late night railway specials
from Ninian Park, today’s diesel
trains and he couldn’t wait for the
new electric powered trains.
Life went on day after day, as it
always had until, one incredible
night in mid-June.
Everyone spent that evening just
like any other. The sun had set and
the chicks were tucked up in their
nests. Tod the Fox wandered past
on his way to search for food for his
cubs.
Roland the Rat made his way over
the weeds that engulf the railway
track and under the ancient Hedera
helix covered bridge, neglected
for years, but somehow made
charming by the hanging ivy fronds
which hit the trains as they passed
under.
Then, it happened. A gang of
humans arrived, loud and brightly
coloured, hauling their machines.
The still of the urban country night
was shattered by the sound and
feel of death and destruction.
Sub-contractors were carrying
out orders to raze to the ground
anything and everything ‘within
8–10 metres of the track’.
The thunderous noise of the
murderous chainsaws terrified us
all. Those who could fly, us birds
and the bats, took to the wing and
flew for our lives, no option but to
leave behind us our families and
loved ones.
Humans on the bridge pleaded
for the Boss’s life. The evidence of
bats living in his mighty boughs was
briefly discussed, and dismissed, by
his assailants.
The Boss would not have wanted
us to try to describe his pain and
suffering as humans ripped him
apart, but he would have wanted us
to pose questions.
He stood for 100 years, regal and
serene, and reasonably expected
to do so for the next 800 years.
Humans decided to upgrade
the track for electric trains, and
The Boss became a ‘fire hazard’,
because cost-saving dictated an
unsightly overhead cable system
rather than a single track-level live
rail. ‘Health and safety’ masks costsaving
as the real issue.
Trees are the largest plants on
earth and they provide more than
just oxygen to humans. They
ensure the stability of the soil that
other plants grow in, and provide
shelter and food for animals and
us birds, and help control weather
patterns through natural aspiration.
Therefore, trees mean life, literally,
for all of us, not just humans.
Human research shows that
old oaks will increase their C02
absorption by up to a third to meet
the increasing C02 levels.
The Boss can’t because he’s dead;
humans killed him and that’s just
not right.
To quote the other Atticus Finch, in
To Kill a Mockingbird, ‘the one thing
that doesn’t abide by majority rule is
a person’s conscience’.
Albert Ross, Cardiff
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