Saved from going down a slippery slope
Sadly, this cycle is breaking down. Our own native wild pollinators are in decline. In Ireland of our 99 wild bees (27 bumblebee and 77 solitary bees) one third are threatened with extinction. You might say, ah well, so what. But pollinators do so much for us – they underpin the agricultural economy, fertilising fruits like strawberries, raspberries and apples. Imagine our fields and hedgerows without our native flowers, trees and shrubs? No blackberry jam in autumn! Pollinators are estimated to be worth €53 million annually to the Irish economy. That is worth protecting.
Why are our pollinators declining? A few reasons: The rural landscape is changing; less hedgerows and wild places survive today in the countryside. Think about your own area – have you seen changes in land use over the years? Hay meadows are pretty much a thing of the past, with silage production now dominating. Grasslands are pretty much a single grass type with few native wild flowers. Have a look at your own lawn. I bet it is cut nice and short, not a ‘weed’ to be seen? If so, then it is a green desert. There is nothing there for our pollinators.
Put simply, the plants that pollinators need to feed on are not as common in the countryside. We overuse pesticides and sometimes insects can pick up pests and diseases. It all adds up, and our pollinators suffer.
But that can change! You can help.
What do pollinators need from us to help? They need food and a place to live. Food and shelter. Sounds simple, and it is. This spring can you plant pollinator friendly plants or maybe leave a hedgerow in place, or plant a native one or cut back on the herbicides/pesticides, or maybe just leave a patch of daisies or dandelions in your garden.
There are many small things you as an individual in your own garden can do to help. The All-Ireland Pollinator Plan is an amazing resource with lots of how-to-guides to help you and provide information, have a look at http://www.biodiversityireland.ie/ projects/irish-pollinator-initiative/all-ireland-pollinator-plan/ for many more ideas. Play your role in operation pollination YOU know your kids are grown when they see the snow as inconvenient rather than enchanting. They are people with plans now, people with agendas and they don’t have time to be dealing with the female forces of nature aka Emma (and Ophelia in her day). Welcome to adulthood kids!
My sympathy however rests largely with my daughter. She was about to sit the last of her Leaving Cert mock exams when everything got postponed. Having spent the mid-term studying, she was anticipating the temporary feeling of freedom and a fleeting release of pressure that the end of the mocks would bring. She had a calendar of events pending to mark the elusive hiatus, not least of which yours truly was included; she wanted to see Ladybird with me – the movie.
Weather conditions, exam cancellations and anti-climaxes notwithstanding, the plan prevailed. We were going to the movies. We booked an early screening which was just as well as the cinema decided to close its doors right after it finished. Having penguin-walked the whole way there over powder, slush and ice, we had the theatre to ourselves. Mother and daughter.
It was all very apt seeing as the movie documents the relationship between a mother and daughter in the daughter’s final year in school. To my mind it is a movie in which nothing happens, and in which everything happens; where an analysis of a relationship comes under the microscope revealing it to be fractious, combative and poignantly sad in parts. There are redeeming moments too, moments that give you hope for them and their future.
As the closing music purred and the film credits rolled, we sat in the empty theatre and pondered. Our feelings were mixed. We agreed it was a good movie and a watchable one but much like the mood we were in when it started, there was an anti-climatic tinge to it; had we not seen this kind of thing before, had we learnt anything new from it?
But it did evoke thought and, for me, a memory. I was driving my daughter home from school one day, she was ten years old and agitated about an injustice that had been dealt to her during class. Listening to her vent, in my so-called “wisdom” I adopted the role of devil’s advocate. I suppose I thought I was balancing the books, giving her another perspective; creating empathy even? Regardless, the upshot was that for every argument she put forward, I had a counter one. Until she fell silent and in the voice of the child that she was, she asked “Mom, can you not just be on my side?”
Loving comes instinctively but paying attention is an art. I have been on her side ever since.
So, as we penguin-walked our way home over powder, slush and ice, I reached out to hold the hand of my female force of nature; to tell her of a memory and my gratitude to a ten-year-old who saved me from a slippery slope.