09/06/2026
There’s something quietly heartbreaking happening in Cornwall right now and it’s getting harder to ignore, so please do share.
Across Newquay and likely across Cornwall, we’re watching the slow erosion of something far older and far more meaningful than most people realise: our Cornish stone-faced hedges and the unfaced earth banks. These aren’t just walls. They’re centuries‑old structures, built by hand, shaped by weather, rooted in culture, and alive with wildlife. A human-made ecosystem that's humming with life. They’re part of who we are.
Yet more and more of them are being damaged, poisoned, stripped back, or replaced entirely, often in a single morning.
Cement is being used to close in the earth and the wildlife living inside. Walls that were never meant to be sealed. Glyphosate is being sprayed into hedge faces, killing the plants whose roots hold the soil core together. Once those roots die, the soil spills out onto paths and roads, weakening the structure until the hedge eventually collapses. You can see fresh examples of this outside local primary schools. That same soil then washes into drains and lakes, causing problems far downstream.
And then there’s the timing. The cutting. The ripping out of hedge‑toppers and coppicing at the worst possible moments for wildlife. Some of this comes from not knowing better. Some of it feels like not caring enough to find out.
What makes it even sadder is what these hedges are being replaced with: fences that barely last a decade in a place once known as Towan Blystra, “the windy town.” We all know what the weather is like here. A fence will blow down sooner or later. But the Cornish hedge that stood there before? It survived storms, generations, and centuries… until it was destroyed in a single morning.
I don’t know if this is happening because new homeowners don’t understand the significance of Cornish hedges, or because some local people have forgotten their value. But it’s becoming more common and it’s painful to watch.
Cornish hedges are not obstacles. They’re not “messy.” They’re not disposable. They are living heritage and they deserve better than this slow, quiet vandalism.