How my love affair with nature began

Although I believe it is inherently built in within us, some don’t recognise their love of nature until later in life, but for me, it was there from the beginning. Woven into my childhood and the thing I leaned on when times got tough.

I was lucky enough to grow up in a house surrounded by open fields in the countryside. One of these fields was home to a herd of cows, each one tethered individually, something you luckily don’t see much of now, but it did grant us the opportunity to safely go in the field with them. Most evenings, my dad would take me out to say goodnight to them. We’d walk from cow to cow, I’d wave and say goodnight. It may not have been as often as I like to think, but I remember it clearly enough that it had an impact on me.

Later on, the same field became ours, and my parents had a few sheep in it to keep the grass down. I’d go and sit with them often, watching them graze and stroking them when they came close. The females gave birth, one of the horned sheep to two males. These two as lambs were my friends, but as they grew, they became territorial and when in the field with them, would sometimes charge with their horns low. I learnt how to hold onto their horns while climbing backwards over the gate so they couldn’t hurt me, which also taught me to keep an awareness and respect of animals.

There’s something about the company of animals - no need for words, no pressure to perform or explain yourself. I always felt at ease and relaxed in their presence.

Indoors, I shared my world with cats. Their basket lived on top of a cabinet, and as a toddler, I would climb up and snuggle in beside them. As I got older, they joined me in my bed, one on the foot of my bed, the other on the pillow, always in the same place, they had claimed their spots - silent, dependable companions.

From the age of 9, I spent my holidays and after-school time at the horse riding stables down the road, later on being lucky enough to have my own horse, but throughout just loving being there, helping with the jobs on the yards, being around the horses. Heading out on long hacks around the country lanes, day dreaming and looking out over the countryside, just me and the horse, was when I was most relaxed. These stables and rides offered an escape when things grew difficult at home. My parents were separating, and the world started to feel complicated and confusing. Nature gave me somewhere to escape to, a place where not ha’t have to worry about others. Nature was simple, dependable and consistent.

At fifteen, I was incredibly fortunate to go to Botswana in Africa, a holiday which changed the course of my life. The African bush stirred something within me, a feeling of awe, belonging and curiosity. A few years later, after my dad had passed away, when I turned twenty, I followed that pull and trained in South Africa as a safari guide. I ended up spending nearly a decade in Africa, living and working among wildlife. It became another kind of home. A place where I didn’t have to pretend or push. Where everything made sense in a way that human life didn’t.

I’ve come to realise that nature has always been my sanctuary. A place of stillness, honesty, and perspective. Unlike the human world, full of nuance, miscommunication, and expectation, animals live by simple, clear rules. They eat. They protect their young. They survive. If you respect their boundaries, they respect you back. That kind of understanding, unspoken but deeply felt, gave me a grounding I couldn’t find elsewhere.

Today, my life looks a little different. Back home, and currently, my window faces out into an urban street. I struggle not looking out onto nature, not seeing green outside, and it’s something I know. It affects my moods. One day i’ll look out over nature again. However, my rescue dog, who’s never far from my side, gives me good reason to go out walking in wild areas each day and be amongst the trees or walking along the tide line on the beach. The day I adopted him, he brought me a level of joy I hadn’t realised i had been missing. Upon getting him, there’s not a morning i don’t wake up, see him snoozing or watching me from the end of the bed and don’t smile as one of the first things i do. There’s always someone to greet me in the morning, someone to share quiet moments with. He’s a daily reminder of the gift of animals and the natural world.

Looking back I can see how much nature has shaped me. It was my constant throughout my life, from saying goodnight to the cows in the field to watching the lions in the savannah, and now watching my rescue dog ‘fishing’ in the rock pools. It’s not just something I love. It’s something that held me, taught me, didn’t judge me and continues to heal me. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.