Gavin and Bryony Sadler raise rare English hen breeds, such as Cream Legbars and Croad Langshans, on their farm in Moorlands in the Somerset Levels.
The hens no longer live there. They were moved to Illminster weeks ago as the rising waters in the Somerset Levels inundated the Sadlers’ lands.
“It has been crap since Christmas,” says Bryony Sadler; embarrassed by her use of language but weary from weeks of flooding. Bryony, her husband, Gavin, and their children join Stoke St Gregory neighbours to take part in a “Welly Walk” to raise funds to campaign for action.
Much of the land for miles around is under water, with fields, winter crops, hay and silage destroyed. Last year, much of the sub-sea level Somerset Levels – which cover 250 square miles – were badly flooded. But locals coped, believing claims that it was a once-in- a-century calamity.
'Summerlands'
Known as "summerlands", it was in centuries past usable only in dry, summer months. The Romans made some efforts to drain it. From 1100 onwards, the Glastonbury monks diverted the Tone and Cary rivers, along with building rhynes (pronounced reens) to help drain the fields.
The few higher-level areas – 12ft above sea level – end in names finishing with “y”, “ey”, or “oy”, such as Middlezoy, Chedzoy, or Westonzoyland.
The monks turned the levels into farmable lands for longer periods of the year. But the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII changed England, but never more so than in Somerset, where much receded once more under water.
In Victorian times, steam pumps – one of which is preserved at Westonzoyland – were installed. These could pump 100 tonnes of water an hour into the river Parrett.
“That’s an inch of water off an acre,” says Alan Davies, of Westonzoyland Engine Trust, who sympathises with the Environment Agency as it battles to cope.
British prime minister David Cameron told the Western Daily Press on Saturday that everything possible will be done. Few locals believe this. Indeed, they detect a lack of sympathy – not necessarily from Cameron, but from those who believe that some lands should be surrendered to the waters.
Farmer James Winslade has had 790 acres under water since New Year’s Day. Last year’s flooding cost him £160,000. But the water disappeared more quickly. Now, sewage is the latest chapter in the crisis. Microbiology tests, carried out by the University of Reading, show that bacteria levels are 70 times higher than that recommended by the World Health Organisation.
The solution, or a large part of it, is dredging the silt that has built up over the past 20 years in the Parrett, which is tidal for 18 miles inland, and the Tone since dredging ceased.
Sepia-toned photographs taken at Burrowbridge, with the King Alfred pub in the background, show that the Parrett’s channel was once metres wider and deeper.
Dredging is no longer seen as best practice by the Environment Agency, arguing that it impacts on wildlife. It argued that dredging now would have made little difference.
Protected
However, following pressure from Downing Street, dredging will be carried out, though the agency's Richard Cresswell has hinted that it could take months to begin. Some quarters argue that the silt will not be easy to remove because most of the lands are designated as protected areas, while others believe it will inevitably contain heavy metals.
Gavin Sadler laughs when questioned about the wildlife concerns: “There was a family of barn owls at Northmoor. They survived last year’s flooding, but there were no voles left. This year, no more barn owls.”
Under pressure, the EA has brought in extra pumps, though in some places they are not operating at full capacity because the rivers cannot hold any more.
Dredging would have helped – the lands, which do not drain naturally, because they are lower than the high-banked rivers that run through them, would still have flooded. But they would not have remained under water for as long. Dredging, however, creates other issues, since listed bridges at Burrowbridge and Langport may struggle with heavier flows.
Part of the crux lies upriver. Fields have become bigger, hedgerows that would have slowed water flow have disappeared. Housing has filled the flood plains.
“Even the birds are drowning, even the wildlife can’t cope,” says Gavin. “We want to work with everyone. We love living here, but we don’t want to live in a swamp.”
