A polluted tideline

Peter White examines how changes in light and cleanliness are having troublesome effects on our marshlands and their cherished inhabitants

- Peter White

I wonder if that cock wigeon I saluted with two barrels on the last day of the season is now back on his breeding ground. He may be seeking a partner on some Icelandic moorland or quiet inland water, but one thing is sure — these modern times of pollution, drainage and general disturbance make the chances of a successful breeding season slimmer and slimmer.

Fortunately for him and us, the wigeon is a fairly adaptable creature. Over the years, he has changed his habits and diet to suit the new environment that has been forced upon him by man and progress.

One of the marshes I shoot has gradually deteriorated over the past decade. Once, human beings might have bathed in the sea with impunity. But now, should you be so careless as to fall in, the sequel would be an unavoidable trip to the nearest hospital and an ensuing conflict with the stomach pump.

On this marsh, the edges of the gutters are filthy and slimy, and innumerable small patches of oil reflect rainbow colours from slack water. Even so, a few thousand wigeon winter here and appear to thrive in spite of it all.

Looking back at the past season, it seems clear that our local birds have changed their habits quite drastically yet again. A few years ago, the evening flight would find you in position a good hour before the light began to fade. More often than not, if there was going to be a flight, the majority would come in during that hour before dusk, and it was the late arrivals that pitched in during the dark.

Completely dark