Colm O'Regan: I'm tackling invasive species or 'bashing the balsam'
I’ve watched Himalayan Balsam proliferate recently where I grew up
It feels wrong. To be pulling up plants covered in bumblebees. It goes against everything I believe in. Bees are king, ok queen. But these are not good flowers. They’re…invasive.
Growing up on a farm, there were the Four Weeds of the Apocalypse – Thistles, Docks, Nettles and Ragwort. But then we learned that they had their moments. And they were native. Ragwort is as Irish as the tradition of getting small children to pull ragwort.
The invasives though are another story. Japanese Knotweed gets all the attention. It is the Raw Chicken of invasive species. Just mention it and people get nervous. That’s because it can affect property prices. If rhododendron affected planning permission you bet your backside it wouldn’t be killing all the baby oaks in the Killarney National Park and making a dogs dinner out of Connemara.
I still haven’t gone into any Rhodo guerilla warfare. One day, I’ll turn up with my saw and say “It’s time to take out the trash”. But at the moment I don’t live near any. But I watch Rhododendron clearing groups from a distance with admiration.
So that just leaves - pardon the pun - Himalayan Balsam.
I’ve watched it proliferate recently where I grew up. About six foot high with pink flowers. It spreads along rivers. It looks lovely until you know it’s up to something. It crowds out the native plants and when it dies the soil erodes. The bees love it because it’s packed with pollen which means they don’t spend any time pollinating the native plants. “Why go to five local shops when you can go to the Tesco that has everything?” A spokesbee told me. Just like the rhodo rangers, community groups go out “bashing the balsam” which sounds like a euphemism for something rude.
It has shallow roots, so it’s handy enough to pull up. Compared to rhododendron or Japanese knotweed which need to be tackled up on a full moon with a priest present. The bees aren’t happy. They don’t care that it’s invasive. I am pulling up their lunch. But they’ve obviously got used to it instead of pollinating the native plants. I felt like some high-handed government-appointed ‘food tsar’ lecturing bumblebees about their diet and taking burgers off their kids and saying “eat your broccoli”.
Once you go tackling an invasive species, you realise just why it’s so successful. I am doing well at the start. The plants came away easily. Then it starts lashing rain. So I shelter for a while.
When I return, it seems the balsam had been talking among themselves. As soon as I grip the next one, there is a pip-pip-pip-pip noise. The seed pods are exploding all around me, sending seeds metres away. I am trying to block them with my hands in a weird tussle with the alien plant. The slightest shake causes every plant to dump its stash like drugs out a car window. It’s eerie to have a plant sort of respond to you like that. It’s obviously no different to a dandelion, but Himalayan Balsam is not going to tell you whether your true love loves you back.
So now I’m on my hands and knees sneaking up on the plant. Pulling it from below so that when it does ditch the contraband, it doesn’t travel as far. Yes I’m pulling them too late in the season. I know I’ll have to be back next year. But I couldn’t stop with the job unfinished. I know the balsam would be laughing at me.
I do admire the invasive species. They’re so …bloody-minded. Buddleia would grow in your ear if you stood still for long enough.
But as we learn painfully slowly just how complex nature is, maybe we are starting to finally see that some flowers love you not.
- Colm is on tour with his show Climate Worrier – see linktr.ee/colmoregan for tickets
