Fish kills are nothing new in this country. Away back in 1836, one of the authors of the Ordnance Survey Memoirs of Ireland wrote this of Donegal rivers in the parish of Raymoghy in the barony and diocese of Raphoe: "There are very few fish of any description in the rivers. They are annually destroyed by the flax water." He was writing particularly in this case of one which flowed into the Swilly near Manorhamilton, but flax is dealt with in detail over a wide area.
That was 1836, but now we know better - or rather, we should. And fish kills are not just a matter of concern to anglers and professional netsmen in the estuaries. They are, at this stage of development, a blot on our national persona. We don't care enough about the wonders of the world, the gifts of God if you like. In fact, and this refers particularly to the great wonder of the salmon returning to its birthplace across thousands of miles of ocean, to be so careless of its fate at human hands is to spit in the fact of God.
The fish-kills down south, the Mulcaire being the latest, and the wipe-out in the Barola of Moynalty river could have this result, first, the salmon smolts in the Moynalty river which hatched in the early part of the year will have all the invertegrates, all the creatures that were later to hatch out as fly life, then the eggs which will be laid in this winter by the salmon coming upstream, will produce tiny fish which will have nothing on which to live.
In one very good year the Moynalty had something like 100 salmon redds. Some of these, fortunately may be above the factory where the effluent from the firefighting cascaded out. And, fortunately, some of the fish from above the factory may make their way down river, in a year or so when some insect life returns, and some may venture up from the Blackwater. The last thing to do is to import trout stocks from elsewhere. The river should heal itself and, later, in a year or two, fish from the upper region could be stripped of their eggs, and the ova brought downstream.
Gerry Farrell, a man of the river, said that it's only when you see the dead creatures on the bank: salmon smolts, trout, minnows, eels, crayfish, that you realise the Moynalty was like a thronged shopping street.