Bristol Airport wants to grow. Its planning application (ref. 26/P/0686/OU2) seeks permission to expand from 12 million passengers a year to 15 million. To do this, the airport needs more land — including Cook’s Farm, some 24 hectares of long-established agricultural countryside where hedgerows have stood since at least the 1840s and where some trees have been growing for centuries. The airport now proposes to compulsorily purchase the site so it can carry out its plans.
However, it first needs to persuade the planners that its proposal is acceptable. We say it’s not, and we’ve lodged a detailed objection. It is a technical document, full of hectares and habitat codes, but underneath the detail is a simple story: irreplaceable habitat is at risk, the evidence supporting the plans doesn’t add up, and the law says that should matter.
Here is what our objection says, in plain terms.
The heart of it: three veteran trees
The most emotive part of the case concerns three veteran trees growing in an ancient hedgerow on the boundary of Cook’s Farm — two Ash and one Sycamore. The airport doesn’t propose to simply cut them down. Instead, it plans to translocate them: lift them with a giant tree spade and replant them on the northern edge of the development.
That might sound like a reasonable compromise, but our objections explain why it’s not in careful detail.
A veteran tree isn’t just an old tree, especially those in long-established hedgerows. It’s a whole ecosystem — cavities, rot, deadwood and fungal growth that specialist insects, fungi and other wildlife depend on and cannot find anywhere else. These features take centuries to form. You cannot manufacture them, and you cannot move them.
Worse, veteran trees are extremely unlikely to survive being moved. Their biology works against them. Over centuries they’ve spent their reserves coping with drought, storms, disease and damage, leaving little in the tank to survive the shock of relocation. Their roots are extensive but fragile, they depend on specialised underground fungal networks built up over generations, and much of their internal wood is effectively dead but structurally essential — it can’t be repaired if damaged. Successful relocation needs around two full growing seasons of careful root preparation beforehand. Crucially, the airport’s plan makes no proposal to reduce the trees’ roots at all. As our objection bluntly puts it: if the trees are translocated without root reduction, they will die.
Our conclusion is that, for the purposes of a planning decision, these three veteran trees should be treated as lost. The airport itself seems to half-accept this: it promises a ‘compensation’ package of ten new future veteran trees and the artificial ‘veteranisation’ of ten existing trees. But you can’t conjure a veteran tree on demand. Even with the right conditions, it takes two or three decades for a ‘veteranised’ tree to start resembling the real thing — and it will still lack the fungal decay that gives a true veteran its ecological value.
The evidence doesn’t add up
Beyond the trees themselves, we found that the environmental evidence supporting the application is riddled with inconsistencies. This means that the application can’t properly be decided as it stands.
The airport is required to demonstrate that it will deliver ‘Biodiversity Net Gain’ — a calculation meant to prove development leaves nature in a measurably better state (at least 10%) than it was before development. But our objection shows the numbers in the official metric calculation simply don’t match the airport’s own ecological survey. The two documents use different habitat categories, different reference codes, and don’t cross-reference each other. Some habitats that appear in the survey are missing from the metric altogether. Habitat parcels aren’t sized, and their locations aren’t shown on the map. In short, it’s impossible to reconcile the airport’s own datasets.
The tree surveys are a particular problem. Three surveys tucked into the appendices fail to meet BS5837:2012, the British Standard for trees in planning. Between them they’re missing the surveyors’ names and qualifications, survey dates, crown-spread data, branch heights and directions, life-expectancy estimates, soil assessments, and even the number of trees in some groups. One key survey dates from June 2024 and is now out of date. And when we asked for the tree schedule in a usable spreadsheet format so we could check it, our request was refused — leaving them, in their words, to analyse the data ‘as best we can’.
Even working with that inadequate evidence, their interim analysis is striking. Of roughly 1,618 individual trees on the site, some 367 — more than a fifth — are set to be removed, along with a share of the site’s hedgerows, which the airport’s own figures and the survey record in wildly different numbers (10 hedgerow parcels in one document, 71 in another).
Why this is a matter of law, not just sentiment
This is where our objection turns from ecology to policy — and it’s the part that could decide the outcome.
National planning rules are clear about irreplaceable habitats. Paragraph 193(c) of the National Planning Policy Framework says development that causes the loss or deterioration of irreplaceable habitats — and it names ancient and veteran trees specifically — ‘should be refused, unless there are wholly exceptional reasons and a suitable compensation strategy exists’.
We make two arguments about this test:
- First, it’s a two-part test that has to be met in sequence: you need both wholly exceptional reasons and a suitable compensation strategy. A compensation package — however good, and here they say it isn’t good — cannot on its own make the reasons ‘wholly exceptional’. The decision in Juden v London Borough of Tower Hamlets [2021] EWHC 1368 (Admin) backs this interpretation.
- Second, we argue that this scheme doesn’t clear the ‘wholly exceptional’ bar at all. The Framework’s own example of exceptional reasons is nationally significant infrastructure — the kind of once-in-a-generation project decided by government. This application, we say, is simply about increasing the capacity of an existing airport. That’s not the sort of wholly exceptional circumstance the rules have in mind.
Our objection also points to local policy. North Somerset Council’s own adopted Core Strategy (Policy CS4) requires it to protect, connect and enhance important habitats, ‘particularly designated sites, ancient woodlands and veteran trees’. The same protection is included in the Council’s emerging 2041 Local Plan. Approving the loss of these veteran trees would go against the Council’s own rules.
What it comes down to
Strip away the appendices and the acronyms, and our case is straightforward. The airport wants to expand on to land that includes centuries-old, irreplaceable habitat. Its plan to ‘move’ three veteran trees is, on the evidence, a plan to kill them slowly. The paperwork meant to justify all this is inconsistent, incomplete and in places non-compliant with the relevant standards. National and local planning policy both say irreplaceable habitat like this should be protected, not traded away for extra passenger numbers.
Our central demand is modest but firm: these problems need to be resolved before the application can properly be decided. For anyone who cares about Cook’s Farm, its ancient hedgerows and the veteran trees growing in them, that’s the line worth holding.
Here is our full response to the application:
Bristol Tree Forum 