A blue tit meets its reflection in Friedrichshafen, southern Germany, earlier this year. Photograph: Felix Kaestle/AP
Yet another survey has discovered what we already knew - that Britain's children prefer hamsters to hedgehogs, enjoy their Playstation more than playing conkers, and can't tell their blue tits from their bluebells (or at least half of them can't).
The conclusions drawn from today's poll in BBC Wildlife magazine and a recent National Trust survey are clear: that our children have lost touch with the natural world.
Other recent stories make even grimmer reading: the grandmother who was escorted from a wood by a uniformed policeman for the heinous crime of building a den with her five-year-old grandson; the news that more children come to A&E after injuring themselves falling out of bed than from falling out of trees; and most shockingly of all, that almost half of all parents think children shouldn't be allowed outdoors unsupervised until they are 14.
So where, as they say, did it all go wrong? I grew up in the 1960s and 70s, which doesn't seem all that long ago. Yet whether we lived in the city, countryside or (in my case) suburbia, from a young age we all regularly played outdoors and explored nature. We climbed trees, fished for tiddlers, and built dens - yet if a kid does any of these things now they're more likely to get an Asbo than a boy scouts' badge. Think I'm exaggerating? Then check out this horror story, where three children were arrested, DNA tested, interrogated and locked up for playing in a tree.
So why does it matter that kids spend more time in their bedrooms staring at computer screens than playing outdoors? Well, apart from the growing problem of childhood obesity, we run the very real risk of bringing up a generation of children who simply have no understanding of - or connection with - the natural world.
All-round naturalists - people with practical, hands-on experience who can actually identify plants and animals in the field (not just from photos) - are dying out. Most are now in their fifties or older, so if we don't do something pretty drastic, in a few decades there won't be anyone left who can tell a swallow from a swift, a primrose from a buttercup, or a banded demoiselle from a blue-tailed damselfly. Worse still, there won't be anyone who cares.
So what can we do? Well, I've written about this "nature-deficit disorder" before, but I'd also like to hear your suggestions. Does anyone else share my concern that we have denied our children the pleasures and wonders of one-to-one encounters with nature? And if so, do you have any ideas for reversing the trend and setting them free?
For a brilliant analysis of the problem of nature-deficit disorder, read: Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv
