Restoring our Damaged Seagrass Meadows
When you think about areas requiring bold initiatives to protect the environment, the small Welsh costal village of Porthdinllaen might not be the first place that comes to mind, and with only two dozen buildings and a miniscule population you might find it surprising that the environment there is under threat. Porthdinllaen is a part of a marine conservation area called Pen Llŷn a’r Sarnau Special Area of Conservation (SAC) which extends from Nefyn, on the north coast of the Llŷn, to Clarach, about a mile north of Aberystwyth. The presence of seagrass within the SAC is one of the reasons the area is so special. Due to its location, sheltered from all but north-easterly winds, Porthdinllaen is the perfect place for seagrass to grow and as such the seagrass meadow there is thought to be the largest and densest in Wales covering an area the size of 46 football pitches. However, its natural sheltered location also makes it an ideal natural harbour, and it is here where the problems lie. The sheltered harbour, the only such haven on the Llŷn Peninsula, has been used for many centuries as a place to run to for shelter in a storm offering safe anchorage. It is now a lively, but small fishing port with around 90 moorings, each of which is having a negative effect on the seagrass meadow. Damage of boat moorings within the seagrass meadow at Porthidinllaen It’s estimated that around 10% of the seagrass at Porthdinllaen has been lost due to moorings alone, but moorings aren’t the only problem. Anchoring within the seagrass meadow is also a common sight. By far the biggest concern within the extensive intertidal seagrass meadows of the site are tractors and 4×4 vehicles, which routinely cross the seagrass to retrieve the fishermen’s catch. These issues fragment the seagrass causing it to become patchy and no longer a continuous area of habitat for fish. Fragmented meadows are more vulnerable to the effects of erosion. Tractor damage to the Porthdinllaen seagrass meadow Not all doom and gloom! Its not all doom and gloom though, Project Seagrass has now begun the first ever seagrass restoration trial in Wales with the hope of developing a novel method to restore our damaged seagrass meadows and consequently help support our declining fisheries. Interest in seagrass restoration in the UK is increasing as the value of seagrass ecosystems is recognized by scientists, managers and regulators. However, despite this interest action remains limited. The UK Biodiversity Action Plan for seagrass beds specifically details the restoration of 1000 hectares of seagrass during 1997-2010. Transplantation trials in the 1980’s, the early 1990’s and in the last two years were carried out around the south coast of England, but with little success in the long-term. No seagrass in the UK has been restored to date. Seagrass seeds ready for sorting During our 2015 summer SeagrassWatch survey we collected a number of Zostera marina shoots laden with seeds. Having let the seeds harden and mature within their seed pods in the aquaria at Swansea University we then sorted the seeds and placed them into hessian bags, ready for planting. During our autumn 2015 SeagrassWatch survey we buried these bags in areas of bare sediment and will check the progress during our 2016 winter, spring, summer and autumn surveys. Despite some poor survey conditions, we planted over 1,500 seeds. If this trial is successful we hope to continue and expand the restoration trial across Wales introducing seeds from other areas to create a genetic mix that allows for hardier and more resilient seagrass meadows in the face of environmental stresses, such as climate change. Planting the hessian bags at Porthinllaen
Puttalam Lagoon – Paradise Lost?
At the end of August I spent 10 days conducting fieldwork in Pattalam Lagoon, which is situated in the north west of Sri Lanka. The purpose of my visit to Puttalam Lagoon was to set up socio-economic and fish landings surveys with a research collaborator, who will now complete the surveys. This research was undertaken to contribute to a growing database covering South East Asia and beyond, linking seagrass meadows and food security, by using Sri Lanka as a case study. The lagoon was fringed with seagrass meadows and populated by many dense mangrove islands. Before the trip, I had profiled the area to gain some understanding of the people, the environment and the lagoon itself – which was once a tropical paradise. However, upon arrival I was faced with shock at the sheer size of the lagoon, measuring 327 km2, which was once surrounded by dense mangrove forests. From the onset it was clear that much of the once rich mangrove forests had been removed to make way for coconut plantations, salt production, rice cultivation and most notably shrimp farms – an industry that would be dominant throughout my findings. For the duration of my trip I was based in Kalpitiya, a relatively small, but densely packed town with a population just shy of 65,000. A large proportion of the population are refugees, whom fled Mannar in 1990’s when Tamil Tiger militants ordered them to leave or face death, and although they have lived in the area for over 20 years, many still desire to return home. Early starts. 5:30am at Oththakanna, the smaller of the two landing sites. Due to the nature of the research, which was split between landing surveys and household interviews, I was fortunate enough to spend much of my time with the large and lively fishing community where I focused on two very different landing sites. My day’s started early, meeting the fishermen at around 5:30am, just as they were returning to the landing site after collecting their catch. The first, more traditional landing site, where fishers mainly targeted shrimp, was made up of around 60 fishers and a small, coconut leaf hut, known locally as a Wardiya, was the focal point of the site and was used to weigh and sell shrimp. The second landing site was larger, fish were always the target species and had a strong community sense with a large number of older fishers helping to sort individual catches, which on some days were in excess of 400Kg. Upali ran his Wardiya very strictly, and all sales were weighed and recorded. At the smaller landing site, Oththakanna, it was clear that seagrass played an extremely important role in the fishery – “We catch more shrimp in seagrass” said Upali, the owner of the Wardiya, “Without seagrass, I would not be here”. Even though this was the case and all fishing occurred in seagrass there, the very nature of the seagrass shrimp fishery will be its downfall, with high levels of illegal fishing, most of which is damaging the seagrass. It was clear that fishing was primarily a source of income and not food, with extremely high and unregulated by-catch and fisher’s targeting shrimp only. Any shrimp that were caught were sold to a middleman whom would drive from up from Colombo, load up his ice filled truck, and then return to Colombo to prepare the shrimp for export. In some cases, over half the catch was discarded and numerous juvenile fish, including groupers, snappers and emperors, all highly valued sources of food at other case study locations, were either thrown to dogs and crows, or left on the beach. Of the by-catch species, seahorse are the only highly valued species, which can be sold to tourists for a high price. Yet the level of appreciation for seagrass, and the fishers desire to halt the use of illegal fishing gears gives some hope for the future. Catfish caught in the lagoon were mainly salted and dried – a cheaper source of protein than fresh fish. The larger landing site, Wannimundalama, was completely different with traditional non-motorised boats being replaced with more modern fibre glassed boats with outboard engines. The fishing was different too, and shrimp were no longer the target. Instead, net fishers targeted sardine, and in the majority of cases, this was all they caught. In some cases, catfish were also caught, but instead of being sold fresh, these were salted and dried. The fishing at this site was effective and a real community effort, with the men conducting the fishing, and women de-scaling and gutting the fish as soon as it was landed. Still, seagrass was appreciated for its value as a nursery area, and again fishers knew that if it was lost, they would no longer be able to fish. Although the data only displays a snapshot of the lagoon fishery, it is hoped that with continued research we can gain a deeper understanding of its complexity and begin to work with the fishers to minimise the impact their fishing is having on the seagrass meadows there. It wasn’t all doom and gloom, and I left hopeful as the fishers welcomed me into their “fishing family” and began to make an effort to return any live by catch to the sea – much to the dog’s disappointment. View more photos from Ben’s trip here.