In the tranquil countryside south of Grantham, a trio of large steel barns swayed gently in the wind. Nearby, a group consisting of 15 landowners, land agents, and a few young investors, all dressed in formal attire and displaying expressions of skepticism, gathered loosely around the structures. This meeting took place in June 2022, where Sir Charles Raymond Burrell, the 10th Baronet, was articulating his vision of how the acquisition of 1,525 acres (617 hectares) of desolate prairie land, primarily used for growing wheat and beans, could transform both agriculture and conservation efforts not only in South Lincolnshire but throughout Britain and beyond.
Known as Charlie to all, Burrell guided the attendees on a tour starting from the barns adjacent to a modern farmhouse, a rather unappealing red-brick building with small windows resembling piggy eyes. The tour commenced with a walk across a field of broad beans, which, less than a century earlier, had been divided into ten distinct fields. As we traversed the arid, cracked earth, no insects were present, and we spotted just a couple of butterflies along the way. Over the course of our two-and-a-half-hour journey through various footpaths and field margins, we did not encounter another person. “This is a devastated landscape,” remarked one participant, architectural historian Matthew Rice. “Not due to the soil quality, but because there are no people here. I regret the absence of stoats, but I would also like to see some children in this area.”
Traditionally, farms evoke nostalgic childhood images of cows, pigs, fields of wheat, serene ponds, and families working together. However, the farm that previously operated on this land epitomized what Burrell referred to as “hard-arsed” farming. Boothby Lodge Farm was owned by an absentee landlord, with no permanent residents on the land. Tenants lived off-site and worked elsewhere, while over 92% of the property was dedicated to plowed fields. A contract farmer would arrive periodically with large machinery to cultivate wheat and beans in the relatively unproductive clay soils. Only 3% of the estate comprised woodland, where pheasants were released for hunting during the winter months, attracting paying hunters.
Despite generating an annual profit of £250,000, Boothby Lodge Farm relied heavily on a “basic payment” subsidy, which accounted for half of its income. This government funding, however, was set to be eliminated by 2027. Following reforms initiated by former Environment Secretary Michael Gove, farmers would only receive government support for delivering “public goods” such as clean water, healthy soils, or wildlife habitats—none of which Boothby Farm could claim to provide.
Intensive farming practices have significantly contributed to the biodiversity crisis in Britain. In the last century, 98% of wildflower meadows in England and Wales have vanished, alongside the destruction of half of the nation’s ancient woodlands, lowland ponds, freshwater wetlands, and 62% of farmland bird species.
During our walk, Burrell shared his insights on how to reverse these trends, particularly on this farm. In late 2021, he co-founded Nattergal, which purchased Boothby Lodge Farm for £13.8 million. The plan was to abandon 6,000 years of agricultural tradition on this land—no crops would be planted, and no fertilizers or pesticides would be used. The intention was to dismantle the drainage systems established by previous generations of farmers to manage rainwater. Consequently, the land would flourish with weeds, and Boothby Lodge Farm would transform into Boothby Wildland.
The landowners listened with keen interest to Burrell’s unconventional proposal, which would likely alarm many traditional farmers. His calm demeanor, robust health, and experience as a former farmer lent credibility to his vision. Burrell, a radical yet pragmatic aristocrat, had already achieved success at his 3,500-acre Knepp estate in West Sussex, which he and his wife, Isabella Tree, had reimagined in 2000. Despite facing criticism from neighbors for many years, Knepp has now become a model for British rewilding, attracting rare species like nightingales, turtle doves, white storks, and purple emperor butterflies. In addition to its ecological success, Knepp has evolved into a popular ecotourism destination, producing free-range meat and vegetables while providing more jobs than conventional farming practices.
Encouraged by his accomplishments at Knepp, Burrell sought to replicate this model in Lincolnshire, aiming to demonstrate that wildlife can be a profitable venture and that financial markets can play a pivotal role in fostering nature restoration. He emphasized the need for private sector investment to effectively address the ongoing decline in global biodiversity.
Burrell’s initiative in Lincolnshire represents a groundbreaking effort, marking one of the largest shifts in conventional land management in the country. The decision to cease farming in an area renowned as Britain’s breadbasket is both ambitious and provocative. Despite the seemingly lifeless landscape, Burrell embarked on this journey with the goal of rejuvenating the natural environment. Over the past four years, I have been observing the developments at Boothby Wildland to assess whether Burrell’s vision and his unique blend of idealism and business pragmatism could indeed come to fruition.
The stark atmosphere of Boothby lingered with me during my initial visit. Arriving late meant I missed the introductions, and it took me some time to identify the attendees. Among them was a keen observer named Jim, who turned out to be William James Lowther, the 9th Earl of Lonsdale, a self-made businessman and owner of 30,000 acres in Cumbria, residing at Lowther Castle. Another attendee, a stylish young man, represented several popular interests…
