Monday saw me at Sixmilewater River near Antrim Forum to follow for the short walk to its mouth at Lough Neagh. I was very conscious of Sunday’s wake at Ballyronan for the Lough, which, unfortunately, I was unable to attend. Today, as I write this, there has been yet another, no doubt futile, attempt to recall our local assembly to address the problem of the pollution of the lake, which not only sustains – or did – such a rich ecosystem, but also supplies 40% of NI’s water supply. A small comfort that two archbishops have stepped in to fill the political void. For the moment, it does indeed seem that prayers are the only option left to us.

Back to Monday. I was dreading what I would find when I reached when I reached the Lough. However, I’m in the process of drafting another Guardian Country Diary, based around the river, so I felt I couldn’t just avoid the issue that has dominated our local news. Not that the Sixmilewater hasn’t had its own problems with multiple fish kills over the years, including one that a local fisherman told me about on 12th Sept. Here are some in no particular order:

• 2008: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/northern_ireland/7632405.stm
• 2014: https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/environment/mystery-as-massive-fish-kill-hits-six-mile-water-river-again/30703584.html
• 2001: https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/river-fish-kill-a-major-incident/28356272.html
• 2011: https://www.4ni.co.uk/northern-ireland-news/121832/fish-die-in-sixmilewater-pollution-incident; https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-34053225
• 2015; https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-34053225; https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-34053225
• 2023: https://twitter.com/DrMaryMontague/status/1701616637953405280. See post 12 Sept 2023

The river was swollen and flowed, like Eliot’s brown god, with implacable urgency:

On my way there, I saw a heron preening in a dollop of sunlight:

Look carefully –the heron is inside the red circle on that half-submerged snag!

I was also enchanted by these little guys:

Water striders – Aquarius najas – I think!

And I was delighted to encounter this graceful family:

I presume that’s the cob bringing up the rear.

When I got to the mouth of the river, I was relieved to find no immediate evidence of the algal bloom. However, it was stormy day and the surface of the Lough was roiling like an ocean.

Near Joyce’s Gate pier

From the marina, the wind had whipped the surface of the Lough into a frenzy. At the small beach of a slipway, the water didn’t look too bad, and I dared to let myself think that the Lough was shaking the filth out of itself:

Not looking too bad …

I let myself hope too soon. As I walked on towards Rea’s Wood, a sour stench began to thicken through the wind’s turbulence. Like rotten silage.

The gloomy aspect was matched by the smell.

Before the woods closed around me, I slipped down onto another small lip of sand. The green tinge to the waves’ froth was unmistakeable:

Cyanobacteria, riding the waves

As temperatures fall and light decreases, and as the waters stir under the wind’s movement, there is a good chance that this contamination will reduce. But how much long can we rely on the Lough’s own regenerative powers, and the fortuity of the season to reduce this pollution. We keep pushing it, even to our own detriment.

We need more prayers and wakes. And we definitely need more action.

On the way back, I met the delightful Gareth Platt of Ringwatching Blogger fame, in the middle of his regular survey at the Antrim Marina. Thanks to Gary, that I saw my first med gull among the throngs of black-headed. Gary said to me that gull numbers were down by 50-100 gulls, probably because of avian flu.

A Mediterranean gull is somewhere amid this throng. Also a common gull with distinctly grey legs.

As if to confirm the signposted warnings, which had punctuated my route …

Depressing …

… when I got close to the end of my walk I found this dead hoodie. Of course I followed the advice not to touch it, and it might not have died of the flu. But prayers being all I’d access to, I said one for the repose of its corvid soul.

Such an ebullient species. So small in death.