NATURE: Bog enough to burn?

The bog, when viewed from afar, is bleak and uninviting. It can feel especially so for those whose only experience of it has been cutting, turning, footing, bringing home and stacking sods of turf for winter fires. Many of us recall those heavy, windless days when the air was thick with biting insects, when sweat ran endlessly into our eyes and stuck sodden shirts uncomfortably to skin.
But the turf had to be gathered, in place of days at the river or the beach. We cursed it, and cursed them that had us that way confined. We loathed the stinking bogholes that lay in wait for unwitting feet, the roots of pine that caught at clothes, the flies, the wind, the rain, the dirt and the dust.
We bore the burden well, in the knowledge that come the cold nights we would be warm in our beds, thanks to those hard-won sods glowing soft and fragrant in the hearth.
The days of cutting turf are nearly done. Yes, there are a hardened few determined to preserve the practice, yet even they, I suspect, would seize the chance to forgo their rights if an economically viable alternative should present itself.
We cannot deny how strongly bound are the hearts of people are to their roots. And when it comes to tradition of hundreds if not thousands of years, of course some are reluctant to listen to those whose hands never held the sleán or never fought a wet year to keep the winter warm.
There was bound to come a time, and it is now, that alternatives should be considered.
For many years we failed to understand the role played by peat bogs in the changing climate, yet advancing science and experience are great educators.
Until recently, we failed to understand how peat, once drained of the water it naturally held, began to decompose on exposure to air.
This process of decomposition led, and continues to lead, to vast emissions of carbon dioxide, one of our potent greenhouse gases. At the same time, the nutrient content of once-waterlogged plant material– the heather, mosses and more that grew and died and grew and died for countless years – becomes mineralised and leaches into the water table. Water thus enriched ruins streams and rivers, causing unsightly and potentially harmful growths of water weed and algae.
Nutrient-rich water flows into our lakes, where shallow bays become choked with weed. The weed dies back and falls to the bottom, creating a layer of silt that is changing the nature of the entire environment.
Of course, this has been happening for a long period of time. We might reason that a few more years of the same will make little difference. On the other hand, we might have to acknowledge the difference that has already been made following many years of inadvertent mismanagement.
We know that concerted efforts need to be made worldwide, if climate calamity is to be avoided. What happens here is only a very tiny piece of the global puzzle, and we could argue that unless those nations that bear more responsibility for harmful emissions take action, then we might avoid doing so ourselves.
The notion of re-wetting drained bogland has become anathema to many. And no wonder! Generations of farming families worked endlessly to wrest fields that could be profitably farmed from an inhospitable land, and now they are being asked to yield the fruits of their labour.
An alternative phrase has come into being: Water Table Management. This allows for drains to be partially blocked, thus keeping the deeper parts of peatland waterlogged and intact, while still allowing agricultural use of the ground.
Here’s a fact I had never considered. In areas where peatland has been extensively farmed, the loss of topsoil due to oxidisation of peat peaks at around one centimeter a year. A layer of peat one-meter thick could become atmospheric carbon dioxide and dissolved nutrients in a hundred years, leaving just a thin covering over unprofitable subsoil.
Raising the water table on currently drained bogs will slow this process and buy time for fully sustainable solutions to be worked out. It will also allow lower, wetter areas to develop into a mosaic-type habitat that can support the diversity of life found on undeveloped bog.
Still, some will argue that preventing the further erosion of Ireland’s peat bogs will ultimately mean the erosion of individual freedoms and rights. “We have bog enough to burn!” they claim.
But what of the rest of us? What about our rights to a habitable world?

Michael Kingdon, a naturalist and keen fisherman, lives on the shores of Lough Carra, Co Mayo.