ARRIVALS AND DEPATURES

This migration season, it’s not just the birds that are looking to pastures new, writes GORDON D’ARCY

Arrivals &

GORDON D’ARCY WONDERS IF OUR LOVE FOR WILDLIFE, EITHER NATIVE TO IRELAND OR FURTHER AFIELD, COULD BE CAUSING MORE HARM THAN GOOD Departures

April 3rd, 2021, 9.30am: Distant music, like an orchestra’s brass section tuning up. Whooper swans! Binoculars at hand and there they were – a long wavering banner glittering in the morning sun, heading northwards to Iceland and home. A week earlier I had watched another northbound flock, this time a joyously vocal, high-flying silvery ‘V’, against a clear blue sky.

How clever these birds are, departing Ireland in the morning, buoyed by a light tail-wind, taking advantage of a high pressure anchored over Ireland. Their flight path would take them from the Donegal coast, out over the north Atlantic, passing west of St. Kilda and onward for 900km. Their 24-hour continuous flight would schedule their arrival at lakes near Reykjavik in daylight the next morning. Such an extraordinary feat of intelligence and endurance for these 10kg waterfowl. Years ago, in October, I had watched whoopers gather at these lakes, waiting for the required tail wind, readying for their return to Ireland. They would depart in darkness but arrive in Ireland in autumnal sunshine.

April 3rd, 2021, 11am: A walk along the shore to check on other north-bound birds. The wigeon had already gone. Only a scattering of teal remained, paddling in the shallows. The brent geese were fattening up in the saltmarsh. The staccato notes of turnstones and godwits were nowhere to be heard. Only a few piping redshanks and greenshanks remained of the winter hordes. The estuary was emptying. The great evacuation was underway.

Suddenly, two darts flitted across my vision. Swallows! No doubt about it! Though I was aware that their arrival was imminent (invariably the first week in April) their sudden appearance while my focus was on avian departures came as a shock. These swallows, vanguards from the deep south, had arrived, having traversed two continents. Their arrival within hours of the departure of the swans was uncanny. It was as though the baton had been transferred in the great migration relay. The next two weeks would see the phased installation of the summer migrants. First chiffchaffs and blackcaps, their presence declared amid the emerging foliage by their distinctive songs. Later, lilting willow warblers and chattering sedge warblers, enlivening the riasc near the house and flitting sand martins, at the river outfall. It would be the end of the month before the latecomers – whitethroats, swifts and cuckoos – would arrive to complete the summer suite.

The great arrival, of course, is not confined to birds. Migration for one reason or another occurs throughout the animal kingdom. A memorable example of this came to my notice as I stood on the edge of the Corrib River, in Galway, many Aprils ago. Like an alien invasion, thousands of worm-like creatures, glinting silvery in the dark water, moved upstream with the incoming tide. These were glass eels returning from their birthplace in the Sargasso Sea some 4,000km away. They would thrive and grow to maturity in the western lakes before embarking on their final epic journey to breed – and die – where they were born.

It is birds however, that are the most obvious partakers in the migratory miracle. They tend to come and go with a flourish, attracting the attention of even the most nature-oblivious people. Sometimes the departure is sudden and unexpected like that of the brent geese. For the entire winter, their presence on the shore or in the saltmarsh is a given. Then one April day, without a by-your-leave, they are gone. They would fly to Iceland, using it as a stopover, before continuing on their extraordinary journey to their breeding grounds in Arctic Canada.

For the creatures of the natural world, despite the obvious existential hazards, the process of migration is wonderfully unfettered and free. Some secret message stimulated by the reproductive imperative or the promise of food circulates through the species and when the weather conditions are favourable, off they go.

We humans are also migrators. We began our peregrinations with a great northward movement out of Africa around a quarter of a million years ago. Currently, we witness the dreadful forced migrations of peoples due to political upheaval, war and climate change. As the threat of Covid recedes, there will doubtless be a rush to escape from the restrictions of the past year. We will spend hours in front of the screen, planning our escape itinerary, arranging the best deals with airlines. Will there still be a quarantine issue where we’re going? How much will the trip cost? Beyond the eurozone, there will be currency considerations. Disease preventative jabs and malaria pills are a must for the tropics. What about clothing and sunscreen? Better take a lot, you never know what the weather will be like. Oh! And I nearly forgot – is the passport up-to-date? Will I need a visa? Haven’t we come a long way?