Activists blend science and folklore as they try to revive Somerset’s eel population | Somerset

When the levels of the somerset flood in winter, their navigable waterways lined with reeds swell in an interior – haunting and half forgotten sea.

There are generations, these wetlands have pulsed with the seasonal arrival of the eels: to twist through RHYNES – Water canals of human manufacture – and ditches by the thousands, taken in baskets, sung in ads and paid as rent at the abbey of Glastonbury. Today, these same waters flow more slowly, more little: the former riots now only show the most refined traces of what was here.

Determined to reverse this collapse, the draft recovery of the eels of Somerset weaves science, folklore and community creativity to bring not only the eel but a lost feeling of local identity.

Its mission is both ecological and emotional: to help restore a species in danger criticizing while rekindling the stories, songs and human names that have made Somerset a country of eel.

Vanessa Becker-Hughes, one of the founders of the project, has established partnerships through science, politics and the arts. It manages a growing school program – 60 tanks of eels were installed in local classrooms last year – as well as narration events, traditional workshops for the manufacture of strings and science efforts of citizens who test the DNA of eels in rivers. “I try to come from different angles,” she said. “Sometimes we do science, sometimes we do a blessing from the river. But it is a connection. “

The project attracted high level supporters. Feargal Sharkey, the former singer of subtuns who has become a clean water activist, amplified the efforts of the online project, calling her “a vital act of ecological and cultural restoration”.

The famous chef and defender of sustainability Hugh Fearnley -Whittingstall has recently become an “official eel legend” – the ironic name given to certain fundraising which helps pay the work and education of the habitat.

“The eels have fascinated me for a long time,” he said. “I went from poacher to the gamekeeper: cooking them to realize how important it is to protect these extraordinary charismatic creatures. They are a key species with a remarkable natural history, which deserves our respect and our guard. ”

Throughout Europe, the population of the European eel has dropped by more than 90% since the 1970s. Between 1980 and 2009, the number of eels in the Bridwater bay of Somerset – once a flourishing gateway for glass eels – has dropped by 99%.

The causes are multiple and connected: overfishing, pollution, hydrological infrastructures blocking migration, climate shifts and the spread of a parasitic nematode damage damaging the bladder of the eels.

Beker-Hughes’ wonder and emergency mixture fueling its determination. She thinks that the reconstruction of our lost relationship with the eels means rekindling community memory through rituals and shared skills.

“We make straw strings, which we put barriers. They are wet and the small glass eels use them to climb and again. But more than that – it leads people to visit these spills. They notice the water. They count the eels. They are starting to worry about it, ”she said.

Andrew Kerr, president of the group of sustainable eels, says that eels have once shaped placement names, customs and livelihoods. He thinks it is crucial that we rebuild our lost relationship with them. “If we lose the eel, we lose a feeling of our identity. We forget the songs. We forget what this landscape was,” he said.

Becker-Hughes said it was not yet lost. “Each spring tide always brings newcomers,” she said. “The eel is not only a ghost of the past – it is a key to unlocking something vital in the present.”

With each story told, each woven rope and each child looking at a glass eel rushing on a straw scale, she believes, a small restoration of species, memory and care takes place.