I WAS ASKED to take aerial photos of a friend’s lakeside woodland in rural Longford. I drove as far as I could down a country lane before climbing the gate into the forest.
There were hazel, birch and gnarled oaks overhanging the path and not just living trees — rich woodland habitats have lots of rotting stumps and branches supporting tonnes of biodiversity.
I came to a clearing overlooking the lake where the grass had been flattened by wild campers and prepared the drone. The hum of the blades startled something in the undergrowth and a red squirrel darted up a tree.
The aerial footage revealed a rolling assortment of colours: greys, browns and every shade of green swaying gently in the autumn sunshine – a forest made entirely of native trees. I almost failed to notice the buzzard swooping down to strike the drone. I zig zagged at the remote control to shake off the attacker but the buzzard looped and came back a second time.
Native woodlands are amazing for carbon sequestration, biodiversity, water filtration and a host of other good things, like birds of prey. But as reported in the first Teagasc study of its kind, a disappointingly low 1% of Ireland’s land mass is made of natural native woodland. The question is why are we planting so few when they enjoy overwhelming support? And what’s happening with the much lauded Native Tree Area (NTA) Scheme? It was supposed to be the golden ticket to entice every hesitant farmer to commit a field to native forestry. The latest reports suggest that it’s not converting any serious acreage of farmland to forest.
Forestry grants are struggling to entice landowners and investors to take the plunge to plant permanent forests. But financial considerations aside, many people feel that planting native trees isn’t just about money. So when the NTA was announced the reaction was overwhelmingly positive. Farmers and non-farming landowners quickly warmed to the idea of doing their bit for the environment on a pocket of the farm and enquiries started to be made.
Some hoped that a small fix of the NTA (areas up to a hectare or 2.5 acres on average) would be like a gateway drug to encourage the planting of larger woodlands in time.
It’s worth noting that when farms are abandoned to nature, they gradually revert to native forestry (if grazing animals are kept in check). Planting a native woodland speeds this natural process up by introducing a diverse range of species that may not exist in the immediate locality but which have the potential to grow. In this way, the NTA and the other native woodland schemes give nature a kick start. So we have everything we need.
Actively farmed land (not ineligible areas like rocky mountains or deep peat bogs), the interested landowners and a scheme to make the planting happen. What could possibly go wrong? Well, despite the promises that this would be a simple scheme and that many would be able to plant without the need for a licence, the process immediately hit hurdles.
A Stage 1 Eligibility Map was made available to registered foresters to allow areas for planting to be quickly sorted into one of two categories:
One: areas of environmental sensitivity where all tree planting (including native woodlands) is prohibited without a full forestry licence and a rigorous assessment, which I’ll come back to. And two: areas which can in principle apply for the NTA, but which still require a site inspection. The forester needs to visit to explain the process, confirm vehicular access, check the soil type, assess fencing requirements, query land ownership details, measure proximity to archaeological features, ensure adherence to no planting zones (under ESB lines, near watercourses, roads and houses) and so in this way identify the best location for planting. This all takes time, as does the final application if the landowner is still interested in going forward.
The challenge doesn’t end there for professional foresters who get an NTA successfully approved. Convincing contractors in a busy labour market to move to small sites for a half day’s work has proven challenging. Ground preparation with diggers, planting (by hand) and four-year maintenance on these sites is challenging to organise efficiently. Finally, fencing can be another problem — compact areas can be disproportionately expensive to protect from hungry cattle and sheep. If deer numbers are high, the Department makes a contribution towards deer tubing.
However, in this scenario, the Department reduces the number of permitted trees (and hence trees to be tubed) by 25% as they seek to recoup costs. It’s never straightforward.
So much of the same time and effort goes into a one hectare NTA application as would go into a 10 or 20 hectare forest. It’s little surprise therefore that we hear that many forestry companies have made one of two decisions: they’ve either stopped fielding queries (or returning calls) about the NTA, or they have introduced fees to minimise the speculative workload. Forestry companies earn money when trees are planted, not when an application is made or even approved. Figures of up to €800 (in phased stages) are being quoted by some companies to process an NTA. Landowners are often conservative and deciding to plant trees is a big decision for many — in these circumstances, it’s often easier to put it on the long finger, especially when the applicant might also have to top up the investment in fencing or deer guards.
Back to the eligibility map and the case where a landowner is pushed into the full forestry licence system for a proposed area of native woodland. This process can include an ecological inspection to see if rare or vulnerable species exist. Let’s consider the scenario where two adjoining farms are assessed on one day by the same ecologist. One parcel is relatively ecologically impoverished through standard farming practices and use of common chemicals, whereas the other is less intensively managed. In this scenario, the less intensively managed farm is much more likely to contain rare flora or fauna and may be denied permission to plant on this basis. The intensive farmer is unlikely to have anything worth protecting, so would probably get approval to plant. Regulations can be blunt instruments indeed.
But it gets worse. Preventing the farmer from planting (on the basis of an ecological report) means farming continues as before. There is no support or programme to help the farmer understand what it is that needs protecting or how they should go about it. In the meantime, the farmer can immediately plough, cut, graze or even spray the area being protected with herbicides — so much for the species or habitat being protected. On an island deprived of natural woodlands, just 8% of Ireland’s total forested area is high nature value forest, it seems misguided to prevent small pockets of new native woodlands when continued farming is unlikely to produce a better environmental outcome.
Few can argue about environmental checks for large plantations of non-native conifers. But we’ve gone from the old days when permission was blindly granted (with two page applications) to plant thousands of acres of blanket bogs in non-native conifers to now finding hurdles to prevent small native woodlands.
Every report tells us that nature has taken a battering over the last 50 years and therefore needs protection, but something about this process seems disjointed. And so while the NTA started with enthusiasm and goodwill from all stakeholders, it has run into a plethora of EU and national rules around the environment and state aid. And I’m not sure that those who lobbied for stricter environmental regulations around forestry ever wanted this outcome either. But we are where we are and whatever the reason it needs to be addressed for the NTA to be the success it could be. A forester told me that all the rules make him want to scream.
And scream was all I could do when the buzzard returned for a second attack — this time the drone was closer to the tree tops above me. But whether it was my yelp to distract it or the strange whirring noise, the buzzard missed my toy at the last moment. However, the strong beat of its wings sent the drone flying into the tree tops, at which point gravity took over, and it fell to the ground. I didn’t get taking all the pictures needed, but I wasn’t going to risk another flight. Nature has rules of its own that take precedence over any we can imagine.
Dermot McNally is a forest owner, journalist and writer. More at dermymcnally.com.
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