I can’t believe what I’m hearing on Pat Kenny today. And no doubt I’m
not the only one.

James, a farmer from Co Meath noticed that something awful has
happened to his hedgerows. He’s in Reps so part of his payment is that
he doesn’t use any insecticides on his land. He knows the importance
of hedgerows as nature corridors, and the longer a hedgerow is in
existence the more important it is to biodiversity. This scheme is
worth a lot to him. He is paid he reiterates, to look after his hedges
and his environment and what he sees when he and another farmer walk
the 15 kilometres along the road must have horrified them both. Both
sides of the road have been sprayed (they later discover) with a
chemical called 24dp. This chemical – surely poison is a more apt term
- contains dioxins that last a long time, eats through the leaves and
down into the root system, according to Jack, from An Taisce, and
will then makes its way into the water system. And – wait for it -
some of its ingredients were used in Vietnam, as a defoliant! And Jack
talks about the hedgerows being so important to biodiversity and
what’s been done was like using a hammer to crack an egg! And guess
what? This is biodiversity week.

Can you believe that.? As a frequent traveller to County Meath, I have
always been struck by the rich, verdant fields and tall hedgerows, the
magnificent trees, the lushness of the countryside. What on earth were
the Meath County Council doing? Did no one shout ‘STOP’. Who signed
the form that gave the go-ahead to this act of desecration to one of
nature’s great providers, arrayed in all their splendour at this time
of year, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NESTING SEASON!

My disbelief continues when I learn that as part of the National Road
Authority’s budget, Meath Co Council had been given € 81,000 (yes
that’s eighty one thousand euros) to eradicate certain weeds, from
along the roadside, and I reach for my smelling salts when In realize
that every County Council in the entire country received a similar
payment for a similar hedgerow blitz.

A senior official comes out to inspect the damage but he admits that
he is totally ignorant of these matters.

Then Bill is on – a spokesperson from the Meath County Council. Please
let him be environmentally aware, please let him be a lover of nature
and say – ‘Oh my God, what have we done?’ But he doesn’t. He says an
‘aggressive chemical’ was the directive from the NRA to be used this
time of year. Didn’t Bill ever listen to Mooney goes Wild – the
hedgerows are not to be tampered with between 1st March to the 31 of
August. Every kid in the playground knows that at this stage. But Bill
is on a roll.
An experienced contractor was used, he tells us. How experienced a
contractor could that be, if as the others are saying, the spray, bad
at any level, was in evidence 15 feet up into the hedges. Was this
contractor part of the Parks and Wildlife Service? Surely not? So what
sort of experience is Bill talking about with regards to this
contractor – that he thought it was ok to use a spray with such toxic
ingredients, and to spray it so high up into the whitethorns and
alders.

Then Bill says that at this point 400 kilometres have been sprayed and
I’m stepping outside for some spray-free air to compose myself, as he
adds the fact that 90% of the work has been already done and that the
intention is to complete it. Even after all that he has just heard? Is
my hearing all right?

And finally there a slight turning of the corner. If, Bill is saying,
if the actions of the Meath County Council have brought about
unintended consequences, well – wait for it – Bill will take
responsibility. If the evidence is that this has had an negative
effect we’ll take full responsibility.

I’m speechless at his lack of awareness. I wonder if Bill went to the
doctor one day to have a small pimple removed from his chin and the
doctor handed over as small spray can and said there you are now,
that’ll do the trick. And when Bill goes home later, he gets a shock
when he looks in the mirror. His hair has turned grey, his eyes and
nose running. His face in fact is melting like a wax candle as he
rushes back to the doctor. ‘If, if’ the doctor repeats looking at the
ruined face, ‘if the spray that I gave you has had unintended
consequences, well I will take full responsibility for what’s
happened, if of course there is scientific evidence’.

Words I have no doubt that would be such a consolation to his patient.

And where is the NRA in all this? They have a budget of 3 million to
carry out the removing of certain weeds along our roadways, and their
imagination can stretch no further than poisons and chemicals to carry
out such work.

It is truly outrageous.

The road is narrow, the walls high and I see the black flutter of
wings as I pass. I park further on in the nearest gateway and wait for
a lull in the traffic before walking back. I’m not sure which of us is
the more anxious: he’s a baby rook but he’s huge and he’s terrified. I
have my jacket and as he flaps along the grassy verge to get away from
me, I cover him with it, grasp him firmly as a truck roars by, inches
from us both. Stretching up onto the high wall I unfold my bundle. He
caukes, eyeing me fiercely, hops along the ivy cover and then onto a
branch the safe side of the wall.

Two things I hate about this time of year: birds falling from the
safety of the nest and weed killer.

My dental appointment is at 8.30 so I’m in the city before the traffic
has built up with an hour to spare. I pull up by the river and Sheila
comes out, asking me to look over some posters she’s done. A4 and
laminated, they are going up on the surrounding trees, asking people
not to feed the swans to the left of the house where there is a lone,
nesting swan. She has built her nest at the other end of the bank,
separated by the rowing club, and it is in this area Swan Watch are
asking people not to feed.

This is her third year trying to breed and now with six eggs, she’s
getting a really hard time and her mate has been run off. This has
been her territory but in the last number of years others have been
trying to take over this much desired spot.

Swans are very territorial, and can be vicious. Over the years,
perhaps due to their breeding grounds being encroached upon;
protective foliage and cover being removed from the banks or perhaps
because so many people are coming down every day now to throw bread to
them, great numbers of swans are gathering in the one area and tempers
are frayed, aggression rife, attacks frequent. Recently a dead swan
was taken from the water. Even as we’re putting up the posters the
nesting mother is continuously under siege by two circling swans,
wings billowing as they torpedo towards her, hissing and then retreat
as we shout and clap and haka from the nearby bank.

When my dentist asks me how I am, I tell him about the swan and he
tells me a similar tale about monkeys in Africa, and nervously I grip
the chair and enter a world of numbed gums, buzzing drills and tense
muscles.

A book shop is a good place to go after the dentist and I’m absorbed
when Sheila rings and tells me the situation has worsened but she’s
had to leave for work. She says the swan is now under continuous
attack and that it’s important she stays close to the nest as if the
others get in, they will try to smash the eggs. I rush back in time to
see two swans on the nest head to head. The intruder is finally
dislodged but this time the chase goes all the way up to the pillars,
across open waters, the eggs left unprotected and open to attack.

The next 20 minutes are a nightmare. Then she returns and climbing up
she sits back down on her eggs. I remain at my post till Ger arrives
with a long green mesh, cordoning off a wide circle around the nest.
Half an hour later the intruder is back, moves towards it but doesn’t
succeed in breaking through. He makes two more attempts and then he is
gone.

I’m happy now to keep my luncheon date and an hour later return to the
car. The picture that greets me is shocking. The swan is sitting
protectively on her eggs, looking almost passive as if she feels the
end is near. The intruder is towering above her, his beak clamped
around her neck which he is trying to force down into the water. I run
and roar simultaneously. Rush through the gate, climb the barrier and
with a long stick prod him till he releases her. It takes some time
till he concedes defeat, splashes back into the water, but he’s
trapped now inside the sagging green mesh. Ger reappears then, gets
into the water, raises the mesh and the swan scurries away and doesn’t
return.

I wait there on Swan Watch till the others get off work. I talk to
several bread throwing people along the bank and explain just how many
people are doing, exactly what they are doing, all day long and the
problems that this is causing. And I explain that, although swans
will eat bread it is not at all good for them.

I’m unprepared for the positive feedback I get from the people I talk
to. ‘So what will I do with all this bread now?’ a little kid asks.
And his mother gives the perfect reply.

Mother swan isn’t looking too good, her head down and lolling but by
the time Sheila returns, she has raised it again. We talk of possible
solutions – possible relocations. And when Carol and Frieda appear, I
get in the car and drive home.

You know some times, the best, most relaxing moments of your day, can
well be when you’re sitting in the dentist’s chair.

Tom and Mary deliver the tomatoe plants into my lovely new glasshouse.
Ken has crossed the ceiling with small beams and Tom demonstrates how
the plants must be trained towards the roof for best results. I have
great hopes this year, for even with just windowsills last year, I did
surprisingly well.