Just over a week ago, I walked along part of the Omagh Riverside Walk, which hugs a meandering stretch of the Strule River as it flows northwards out of the town.
Later the broad river is joined by the Fairy Water and Owenkillew tributaries, before meeting the Derg near Newtownstewart to form the River Mourne, names and confluences etched in my memory from primary school.
Eventually the river journeys on to meet the Finn, giving birth to the River Foyle, before it empties into the lough and finally the Atlantic Ocean.
In full spate after recent rain, the river’s turbulent brown waters heaved steadily with occasional swirling currents. Watching from banks dressed in willow, birch and alder, I observed mallard duck huddled together on sand banks and grass verges above the water line, content at this time to be out of the river.
Also on the far bank, I watched a lone grey heron standing upright, frozen, waiting patiently for the waters to fall. Known as ‘Corr iasc’, Irish for the fish heron or crane, it is also referred to as ‘corr mhóna’ in Tyrone, the bog crane.
Another bird however, caught my attention most, as its presence and behaviour defied the strong flow and currents. Belonging to the sawbill family, which includes the red breasted merganser and much smaller smew, the goosander is a large fish-eating duck and was there on its own, playing the waters, unperturbed by the powerful flow.
After short leaps the bird dived, hunting fish, remaining under water for some time until resurfacing, often upstream before being carried downstream again. The large duck appeared very comfortable despite the river continually dragging it in different directions.
Its ability to navigate the rowdy waters, revealed a genetic resilience and acceptance of the difficult conditions. Goosanders are long-bodied and streamlined, sporting a narrow red bill with serrated edges for holding fish, ending in a small hook.
Like the diving goosander in the swelling river, we too sometimes need to reach deep into the well to overcome difficult challenges, which like the receding waters of the Strule, eventually pass
They are usually found diving for fish and aquatic invertebrates on rivers and loughs, the adult male largely white with a greenish–black neck and head, black wings and white body while the female, sometimes known as a ‘redhead’, has a ginger head and grey body. Out of breeding plumage though, both males and females are usually grey, with a reddish-brown head and a white chin.
The name goosander is thought to be a blend of ‘goose’ and ‘gander’, with the earliest known use of the name found in the writing of poet Michael Drayton in 1622, who often preferred the spelling, ‘gossander’.
He wrote in The Poly-Olbion a topographical poem describing England and Wales:
“The Gossander with them, my goodly Fennes doe show
His head as Ebon blacke, the rest as white as Snow,
With whom the Widgeon goes, the Golden-Eye, the Smeath,
And in odde scattred pits, the Flags, and Reeds beneath.”
Goosanders, síolta mhór in Irish, the ‘big merganser’, are rare breeders in Ireland and visit rivers and lakes here in relatively small numbers in winter, so it was real joy to see this one.
The bird’s capacity to continually ride the currents and resurface from dives demonstrated the powerful instinct for survival in the natural world and prompted thoughts about our own ability to navigate the rough waters and tough times which inevitably come our way in life.
Like the diving goosander in the swelling river, we too sometimes need to reach deep into the well to overcome difficult challenges, which like the receding waters of the Strule, eventually pass.
Watching the daily dramas play out in the natural world can sometimes help us discover much about ourselves.
