Blood and lies

 

Greetings!   I do not want you to read this as suggesting any moral equivalence but I was struck on Monday, listening to the reporting of the blood scandal, as to the straight line of sight as to how civil servants, farmers, farming officials and politicians colluded to cover up the organophosphate scandal that had its genesis in the 1950’s.   For those of you who do not know it, or have perhaps forgotten the details, it all began with a post WW2 drive to intensify British agriculture. Organophosphates, essentially DDT derivatives, were  wonder pesticides, initially used as a corn seed coating, that boosted production. However, soon after commercial use became widespread the raptor population went into rapid decline, dead birds found the length and breadth of Britain. Forced into action by questions in parliament and much comment in the press the Department of Agriculture commissioned a report to look into the deaths which, in the space of just 25 pages conclusively proved the link between organophosphates and raptor deaths in 1957. This suited nobody in government or farming so, with the report quietly shelved, the use of organophosphates, with a nod and a wink, expanded beyond its original purpose into sheep dips, moth ball manufacture, bulb production and carpet making.   You might think some of these slightly obscure but the effects were profound. Carpet making uses vast amounts of water, and well-known brands like Wilton had its factory on the banks of our longest chalkstream, the River Avon in Wiltshire. Sheep dipping took place in rivers: temporary dams creating pools into which the chemical was poured or dips in farmyards draining into drains that eventually drained into local streams.

 

 

It was toxic in the true state of the word but nobody in authority would countenance a ban despite the otter population declining precipitously as that of the raptors with insect life following suit. The National Farming Union, who had the ear of ministry civil servants and ministers, remained intent on protecting the financial interests of their members, calling the shots in favour of organophosphates for the next 30 years despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary.   I have to say researching for my book The Otters’ Tale the organophosphate scandal changed my view of officialdom. Until that point I had presumed, obviously naively, that most people in the corridors of power, to borrow CP Snow’s expression, bar the corrupt or truly incompetent, would want to make the best decisions possible in the public good. But as the Langstaff Report concludes that is not always the case. People will lie. People will subvert. People will dissemble. People will do just about anything to pass the buck or avoid accountability. And these are people paid by you to represent your interests.   But like many of the people caught up in the blood scandal, I keep returning to the question why.  I can understand why you might not want to admit to a mistake of your own making but these, both blood and organophosphates, were the result of decisions made by others long gone. Why perpetuate their lies? Why protect institutions that are doing harm? Why make yourself a victim to the fortunes of others? Why choose deceit above truth?   I have no real answers to those questions, but what I do know is that, eventually, truth prevails. I dedicated The Otters’ Tale to those who fought for decades against the mendacity of those who protected the status quo because today, without their determination, British otters would likely be extinct and red kites a distant memory.   It is an insignificant victory set against that of the blood scandal but proves in both instances that the good will outlive the venal. Hopefully, the same will happen with our water industry.     Not so mellow yellow   I was struck, as I walked down to the River Itchen at Breach Farm on Sunday, as to how yellow the water meadows were, the flag irises, exceptionally late this year, colluding with the buttercups for a sea of yellow more normally associated with a field of rapeseed. Which had me thinking: why so much yellow in spring?   Aside from the above three, daffodils, marsh marigolds and primroses come to mind as other spring yellows. The answer for all of them lies in the purpose of the colour. Apparently, hundreds of millions of years ago flowers had little colour, but as competition to attract pollinators has increased, so plants have taken on the most advantageous hue for their situation or season.

 

Breach Farm water meadows   In the case of yellow it is because the plan is to attract the primary spring pollinators which happen to be flies who are colour blind, so are attracted to yellow flowers (and white as well) because they contrast with the green background. Likewise, spring plants tend to have a more open and less specialist flower structure so as to attract a variety of pollinators at a time when the number of flowers requiring pollination outnumber the number of potential pollinators.

 

 

A new chalkstream ..... well, not quite   Despite the manifest logistical problems it has caused us, I am glad to have seen it, the wettest year in living memory. It feels like we are living our lives on the top of a huge sodden sponge the slightest rainfall perpetuating saturation or the slightest footfall causing the water to well up beneath our feet.   It has been extraordinary, the tale of the pluviometer telling it all: the past 3 months 193% of long terms average rainfall. Past 6 months 160%. Past 12 months 140%. I think I am correct in saying February was the wettest second month of the year on record, dating back to late 1700’s.   It is a joy to witness, as we come towards the end of May, the rivers and meadows so wet with side streams, springs and rivulets we hardly knew existed flowing with gleaming, clear water teeming with aquatic life.

 

Here at Nether Wallop Mill I would by now have, in any normal year, shut the mill sluice gate down tight to preserve the water for the Wallop Brook and lake for, above the mill we have what is called the mill pond, an artificial creation of some thousand years ago dug as an offshoot to the true Brook to store water to power the mill. As such, it is hardly what you call a stream or river, more as the name suggests, a long pond with little flow and plenty of silt.   But this year the sluice gate remains open way beyond its usual March closure, the water pummelling through and, as you can see from the photograph, we have a pond that looks like a chalkstream with flowering ranunculus and patches of chalk that have probably not seen the light of day in spring since Georgian times.

 

 

Culture wars reach the Wallop valley   As you can see from the graffiti on the road sign at the head of the Wallop valley, the culture wars have reached a tiny hamlet on the Hampshire/Wiltshire border.   It is unclear why this place took on the name Palestine but it has also taken on other characteristics of its Middle Eastern counterpart with streets called Mount Carmel Road, Mount Hermon Road, Zion Road, plus cul-de-sacs Orange and Peach Grove.     Ironically, there is currently a separatist movement as Palestine (pop. 200) is administratively coupled with the neighbouring village of Over Wallop (pop. 750) as a combined civil parish. The dispute revolves around planning with a boundary road where one side may object to planning on the other, whilst the other side does not have reciprocal objection rights.

 

 

 

One Day Half Term Camp for 8-11 years   As it is half term we are running a one day special kids camp here at Nether Wallop Mill hosted by instructor, Angus Campbell.   It is for 8-11 year olds who have never fly fished but keen to learn how to cast, handle a rod, learn something about entomology (the pond dipping is always huge hit), watch a fly being tied and then, most importantly,  catch a fish, or hopefully more. The lake is currently well stocked with rainbows, browns, tigers, spartic and blues.   The day runs 10am-4pm. The cost is £85. Book online or call.

 

 

 

Quiz   The normal random collection of questions inspired by the date, events or topics in the Newsletter. It is just for fun with answers at the bottom of the page.   1)    Who sings? Look at the stars. Look how they shine for you. And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow.   2)    What is the meaning of the word petrichor?   3)   On this day in which year did Samuel Morse tap out "What hath God wrought" to send the world's first telegraph message? A) 1844 B) 1864 C) 1884

 

 

Have a good weekend.  Best wishes,

 

 

Simon Cooper simon@fishingbreaks.co.uk Founder & Managing Directorwww.fishingbreaks.co.uk

 

 

Quiz answers:   1)     Coldplay 2)     Petrichor is the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil 3)     1844