news/editorial

26 June 2022 News/Editorial

It was here, in these pages, on 20th March that dry weather “for the next two weeks” was the all too welcome prognosis, after 6 weeks of rain in February and the first half of March. Little did we know that “three months” would have been more accurate than “two weeks”.

Allowing a generous quota for non-reporting beats, it is unlikely that 100 salmon were caught last week; even the mighty Junction, if still catching some, is beginning to struggle. The frustration grows, as reports from those fishing nearer the tide are of numbers of fish jumping, but unwilling to contemplate taking your fly.

Yr. no. predicts up to 3 inches of rain at Eskdalemuir over the coming week, and all forecasters agree it will be unsettled, as one low pressure between here and Iceland replaces another. “I have heard it all before” is your cry, and you would be right. But one day it will rain properly.

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Water/rain, or lack of it, is an appropriate entry to the subject of tree planting. These pages have been full of the need for riparian tree planting to cool the water temperature and keep our fish safe, as global warming continues its relentless advance.

Typically, such planting will be in comparatively narrow strips, say 20 metres wide and of native broad leafed trees, a few metres back from the south side of our many tributaries. This provides shade and food for fish as the leaves, insects and other woody debris fall into the river. Let us call this “good planting”.

My kind correspondent has sent me what may be just one of many planning applications to come (one fears) of “bad planting”, in this case 1,000 acres of sitka and Norway spruce (not a broad leaf in sight) on the uplands between the Leader and Gala catchments. These massive blocks of what some call “black forestry” may be good for foresters and a quick turnaround harvest of trees, no doubt offsetting somebody’s carbon excesses at the same time, but they are not good for our rivers.

In an age where water quantity/quality security will be paramount for river managers, studies have shown that large upland sitka plantations can remove around 50% of the rainfall precipitation falling on them. If this 1,000 acre application is successful, both the Gala and Leader, two of Tweed’s most prolific spawning tributaries will suffer water loss, as will the rest of the Tweed main stem as a consequence, when the water does(or does not) flow further downstream.

This planning application may be the first of many to be promoted over the whole vast area that is the Tweed catchment. The cumulative effects of water removal could be devastating for the greatest salmon river of all, our wonderful River Tweed.

Will the planning authorities take the long view and realise the dangers? The RTC, Tweed Foundation and Tweed Forum have a big job to do in persuading them to take care; they are on the case and preparations are underway for considerable “good planting” over the next 20-30 years, while hopefully objecting to these much larger “bad” ones..

The future prospect of the Tweed catchment uplands, if covered with massive blocks of sitka and Norway spruce, should be ringing every sort of alarm bell for those already concerned at the lack of water in the summer. Just look at the river now, and imagine it deprived of up to half that water by these massive “black” plantations.

Not good.

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We have just returned from a golfing and gardening trip “up north”, the weather could not have been kinder, and if you are minded to golf at Castle Stuart or visit Dundonnell House (by prior appointment only) and its garden, you are in for a treat.

My old friend Philip Mackenzie, erstwhile younger of Farr, and I got talking. His grouse have disappeared, as has almost every grouse in that part of the world, just like the capercaillie. Great grouse moors are bereft, but more worrying, obvious explanations are there none.

It reminded me of 2014 here on the Tweed when our fabled and huge autumn run fell off a cliff, and has remained at the bottom of that cliff ever since. Again, logical explanations are there none.

Basic wild animal husbandry has it that you leave a good stock (in the case of grouse not too many as that can lead to disease and disaster over the winter months), that stock breeds and the young then fill the population gap for the following year, and so it goes on.

Although the time lag for salmon is much longer than one year, the basic principle is the same; a good breeding stock will lead to a good return population two, three or four years later. It is the fundamental principle on which all wild salmon management is based. But in the case of both northern grouse, capercaillie and our fabled autumn run of salmon, it hasn’t worked.

I have asked our scientists what happened here in 2014 to our autumn run? There are mutterings of “cycles” but logical explanations of both why and the suddenness of it happening, are there none, just like Philip’s grouse.

It is most distinctly odd.

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He reminded me that his family once owned Newbie Salmon Fisheries on the Solway, and their nets used to catch some 19,500 salmon and sea trout every year. If they were still operating now, they would be lucky to catch a fraction to that, he mused.

He is right.