COUNTRYFILE
THE walks around the bog close to the Clogher Heritage Centre continue to throw up surprises.
Such has been the success of this series of loop walks (walking trails that bring you back to where you started out without the need to double back on yourself) that the heritage centre has now become properly known as the Clogher Walking Hub.
With spring just around the corner there might be no better time to get to know this very lovely corner of the world. In just a few weeks the first wildflowers will be found, and the dawn and evening chorus of birdsong will be underway.
I took the easy option last week and elected to walk the Newtown Forest Trial. There might not be much to see in January – or so I thought.
Toward the end of what had been an easy amble through beautifully coloured winter woodland, a silver grey phantom rose from the bog to float over the short winter grass and the taller reeds that adorn wetter areas.
A hen harrier – more, a male hen harrier!
There could be no mistaking that special colour, nor especially the shallow V described by a four-foot wingspan.
How often do we see one of these majestic birds of prey? More than a decade ago I would see one, probably the same individual, every spring, in an area far more wild than this.
I had often wondered if there might have been a breeding pair there, close to the shore of Lough Mask. That bird failed to turn up one spring, and I never saw him since.
But here! Now, just half a dozen miles from the town of Castlebar, we have another.
For those not familiar with the hen harrier, this is probably Ireland’s rarest bird of prey.
The bird’s name comes from the habit many of them developed in taking free-ranging farmyard poultry as prey. It was no wonder the poor old harrier came to be so widely persecuted.
After all, a breakfast egg might be the only food a man would enjoy before a hard day of work in the fields.
We now live in different days. Even if a hen or two should be lost, harrier numbers are now so slight that no real damage could be done.
Besides, this bird hunting over the Clogher Bog is looking for rats and mice, most of which we can easily spare, or smaller birds such as songbirds or small waders.
It would be a fine thing, even a bit of a coup, if this one male was to set up a summer territory in the middle of Co. Mayo.
Perhaps he would find a female and bring her along, and the two of them would settle down to breed.
There is plenty of room for them. Where harrier numbers are high, such as on some of the grouse moors in the UK, a pair might hold a territory of just one square mile.
In other areas where prey species are less abundant, that dedicated territory might be 50 or 60 square miles. The island of Ireland is about 32,500 square miles, which could accommodate a lot of hen harriers.
So why are they so rare? One reason is the recent phenomenon of habitat fragmentation where suitable land, though reasonably extensive, has been divided by human development.
The stresses of human incursion into the territory of animals and birds is such that sensitive species fail to settle down to any kind of family life.
With that in mind it is reasonable to conclude that, although it is exciting to see iconic birds such as the hen harrier visiting places like the Clogher Bog, we shouldn’t expect them to become established.
Nonetheless, it is good to have them around.
