I’ve always considered myself an optimist, but I’ve been thinking about the end of the world an awful lot recently. It started with one of those nature documentaries, Attenborough I imagine, which showed how the area around Chernobyl, mainly abandoned by humans, had seen animals and birds return. Rewilding is in vogue at the moment, but it’s clear that once you remove humans from the equation it happens by default.

The sequence inevitably made me think about the world after humanity has gone, which is what I mean by the end of the world really (the world’s probably not going anywhere, but we may well). It’s not the only thing though. Environmental decline, the pandemic, and the resurgence of the far right, make it hard not to think apocalyptic thoughts, hard not to think about the end of the world, hard to maintain one’s optimism.

I used to scoff slightly at those people who said they wouldn’t have kids because this world is too horrible to bring children into. I thought it was a post-hoc justification for just not wanting to have children, but I have started to understand the point of view recently. I’ve never been a person who believes that everything was better in the old days. Some things get better, some things get worse, but in general progress is made, albeit haltingly. I still broadly speaking believe this, but the problem is that one of things that continues to get worse, with no sign of improvement, is climate change, which threatens the very existence of humanity. It’s tough to maintain optimism in the face of an existential threat.

Something which lifts my mood, distracts from these thoughts, is watching birds. I was fascinated by birds as a child, being a member of the YOC (Young Ornotholigists Club), an offshoot of the RSPB, and in my greatest artistic achievement, winning second prize for my drawing of a water rail in a primary school art competition. In recent years I’ve begun to take notice again, perhaps as a result of living in a house with a (small) garden, watching the blackbirds, goldfinches, sparrows & blue tits flutter down and hunt for worms. Perhaps it’s a result of having children and seeing the wonders of nature through their eyes. Whatever the reason, when I see birds it’s a highlight of my day. We’re lucky enough to live in area where red kites are in relative abundance, and to watch the majestic birds of prey swirl and swoop is a delight. I still remember one day walking up to work and wondering why a man was staring at a traffic light and taking photos. It turned out a mistle thrush had nested and birthed chicks in the broken amber light. I also love the fact that the university campus where I work has ducks, peregrine falcons, and a visiting heron.

It’s this love of birds in particular, wildlife in general, that made the Attenborough Chernobyl film weirdly appealing. There’s something strangely satisfying about the idea of wildlife taking over once the humans are gone. There’s a kind of natural justice to it, given the way humanity has treated nature over the years. There’s a reason why the most memorable scene in the post-apocalyptic game/TV series The Last of Us involved giraffes roaming free in an abandoned city.

There’s a part of me that thinks it will be a good thing when humans are gone. We have done so much damage to this planet, we should let the other creatures have a chance to thrive. But yet, I’m not ready to give up on us. I know some people prefer animals to people, but I quite like humanity really. We’ve achieved some pretty awesome things like art and music, and space travel. And despite the many awful things we have done, as a species and individuals, there are also millions of acts of kindness and altruism every day. We’re perhaps the only species that understands the consequences of our actions, and the only creatures that have a sense of our own mortality. It’s quite a weight to bear. In some ways it’s more surprising that we ever act in an unselfish way.

I’d like the human race to survive and thrive, but I have to admit it’s looking increasingly unlikely. We’ll probably be just about ok in my lifetime, but I worry for my children, and any hypothetical children of theirs. Human history may be fairly close to its’ end. The Doomsday clock gets ever closer to midnight. I just hope we don’t take all the other creatures with us. The large mammals are probably gone, and I don’t hold out too much hope for the sea creatures either, given the state of the oceans. But the birds? Maybe they have a chance, some of them at least. As the sea levels rise they will find higher ground, as temperatures rise, at least they have some chance of finding new places to migrate to. It would be nice to see them taking over the buildings and monuments we have left behind. If only I could be there, at the end of the world, featuring birds.