Several months ago, a good friend of mine sent me a photo. It was of a poster with the words:
“Guardians of our rivers needs you!”
I zoom in several times to see the fine print; it asked if you could spare a few hours a month to help monitor the invertebrate life in the River Eden. Those few hours a month would help protect the water quality and potentially flag any heavy pollution events before the damage was too widespread.
The idea of being a part of a group involving potential social interaction usually fills me with dread. I am the weirdly dressed gremlin standing in the corner at parties, who doesn’t pick up on social cues and takes people a bit too literally. Nuance is not my friend. Anxiety, however, is.
It took a lot for me to write up a brief email offering my services, hands shaking the whole time.
I love nature. Even on my worst days when the slightest sound sends me down the sensory overload tunnel; where the lightest breeze triggers a migraine, going out into the countryside can be a panacea. As contradictory as that may seem.
I have walked many of the fields and forests around Cupar. Inadvertently stumbling upon deer greedily chomping down on overly ripe brambles. Watching a curious fox cub tiptoe closer to see what I am up to as I bask in the sunlight while sitting up on the fat tractor tyre staircase up by the viewpoint. It is rare these days. Where once there was an abundance of wildlife, now I can go days without seeing anything more than a pigeon and some corvids.
At times, I go with my dad on fishing trips along the river Eden, either by the estuary between Guardbridge and St. Andrews, or along the river near Strathkinness. For the past decade or so I have seen the steady decline in the number of fish, insects and local wildlife there as well.
I have always tried to do the best I could with the few resources I have. I am not financially secure, I live with several disabilities, I have the most basic of educations and absolutely no power to implement the systemic changes needed to protect our declining environment.
I am just one person, by society’s standards I am nobody.
Yet, reading this poster, seeing how such a small amount of my time could impact our rivers in such a large way… I had to at least try.
In the end it is why I sent that very awkward email to the runners of Buglife, my heart leaping into my throat as I received a reply within 24 hours.
I was warmly welcomed, informed I would need to take an online course before I could join the Cupar group in the field. Within days the course was booked, and I was sitting in my ratty old armchair with a cup of tea resting on one arm of it and my mobile phone sitting on its side on the other waiting for the Zoom meeting to start.
Kerry Dodd was a calm and patient teacher. I was the only person to show up to the Zoom meeting, and we blazed through the source material within two hours. Due to my using my mobile phone, Kerry was kind enough to let me participate without my camera on.
It was a simple course, with easily consumable information; we went over the health and safety of going out into the field; proper equipment management; making sure to clean the equipment thoroughly after each session to avoid the accidental spread of invasive species.
The 8 target invertebrate groups for Riverfly sampling
I particularly enjoyed the part of the online course that introduced each invertebrate we would be looking for. Each one had a video showing the distinct movement that the bugs made, some fantastic pictures of the invertebrate and an image of the final stage of its lifecycle. I did not go into the course expecting to come out with a favourite bug, yet I did.
Cased Caddis
The cased caddis (see photo) is amazing to look at, each case unique to the invertebrate and a great feat of engineering on the caddis’s part, some made from tiny stones, others from organic material; they are quite beautiful.
There was a small quiz at the end of the course, Kerry being patient with me as I fumbled through my notes to get the right answer to her questions. My anxiety has lessened considerably by the end of it.
Soon after the course ended, I sent an email off and was quickly added to the email list of the Fife group. They added me to the WhatsApp group for the Fife Riverfly group, encouraged me to participate in the practical training when it was next available, and I was volunteering to participate in the next meetup.
It was overwhelming, slightly terrifying and yet no one pushed me to do more than I was able to. I could message at any time to bow out and there would be no recriminations.
It helped. I knew I could do this, and in doing so, maybe make a small impact for the better. So, when the time came, I put on a long pair of trousers, my hiking boots and a long-sleeved top. Made sure my backpack had all my essentials, then set off on the 15 minute walk to the Coo Bridge to meet up with my fellow surveyors.
Thanks to Mell for this lovely guest blog. Part 2 coming soon!
