Baitfish arrival masks worrying signs

Damien Enright hears alarm bells ringing for fish stocks.

ONE dry evening last week, I watched a heron fishing in the shallows as the sun set far up the local bay. The evening was as still as those long-ago evenings in Kensington Gardens and the heron was as still as the prince. Motionless, it waited for a passing fish.

As the sun sank lower, its light spread over the mirror-calm surface and soon engulfed the heron, standing like an angular bronze statue in a stream of gold. I wondered how it wasn’t blinded by the light. However, seconds later, it lowered its head and stood with its neck bunched like a coiled spring. Then, stab! The head plunged into the water and emerged with a sand eel wriggling against the light.