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Irish America magazine - Oct/Nov '08 issue: The Legacy of the San Patricios Lives On , Stars of the South, The Legal 100, Roots: The Mighty Mahers, All Hail The Humble Spud! , Music: Still Fiddlin’ Away , The Real Bill , The Battle over Ulysses, Broadway's Irish Colleen
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White-Tailed Eagles Return to Ireland
 A
project to reintroduce the spectacular bird, which hasn’t been seen in
Ireland since 1910.
A majestic-looking bird of prey circles overhead. With his two-meter
wingspan and razor-sharp beak, he might be a common sight in the wilds of
America. However, here in Ireland, where these birds have been extinct since
the early 1900s, such a sight is a cause for excitement.
So much so that I’ve been persuaded into the back of a jeep where I am
jostled by boxes of slimy fish – all in order to find out about the
white-tailed eagle reintroduction program.
As we trundle along a potholed track up the Killarney Mountains, Dr. Allan
Mee, the project leader, tells me how it started. “It began in June 2007
when 15 white-tailed eaglets (also known as sea eagles) were flown from
Norway to Killarney National Park. They hadn’t been seen in Ireland since
1910 and this was the first step in bringing them back.”
Limerick-born Allan is enthusiastic about the project. So enthusiastic that
it tempted him back to Ireland after 23 years working on similar projects
abroad, the last five of which were spent in the U.S. working with the
Californian Condor.
“This eagle is so important [to Ireland],” says Allan. “Ecologically, we are
missing so many top predators from our eco system. All the larger animals –
bears, wolves and birds of prey – have gone. The fox is our largest predator
and we have fewer birds of prey than any country in Europe. It’s great to
have the white-tailed eagle back.”
Culturally, the eagles are a living link with the past. Look at any map of
the south and west of Ireland and you’ll see place names that refer to
eagles. There’s Sliabh an Iolair – or Mount Eagle – in West Kerry and Gob an
Iolair – or the Eagle’s Beak – in Waterford. There’s also an old Irish
folktale about a contest to see which bird could fly highest. The eagle flew
highest of all the birds but the wren who had hidden away in his feathers
then soared just a little higher — winning the contest through stealth. (The
tale connects up to Wren Day, which is still celebrated in Ireland,
particularly in the West, on the day after Christmas). “By reintroducing the
eagles we can restore that connection to our folk memory before it’s lost
forever,” says Allan.
The eagles are also expected to bring economic benefits in the form of
eco-tourism. Projects of this type have already been successful in Norway
and on the islands of Mull and Skye in Scotland where the eagle population
is now well established.
 Despite
these clear-cut advantages, not everyone welcomes the eagles. When they
arrived last year, farmers staged protests at the airport and were
vehemently opposed to the project.
More worryingly, after the eagles were released into the wild, four were
lost to poisoned bait. Investigations are continuing but the consensus is
that the poisoning was deliberate and carried out by one or more farmers.
It’s now one year later. The second clutch of 20 eagles has arrived and
there have been no protests. Does this mean progress has been made?
Allan is hopeful. “We have been through one lambing season without
incident,” he says. “Once the farmers see the birds pose no problem, their
concerns evaporate.”
However, Irish farmers remain to be convinced. “We’d be a lot happier
without the eagles,” says Kevin O’Sullivan, who farms sheep in Caherdaniel,
20 kilometers from Killarney National Park.
“We have enough predators to deal with without bringing in more. Only three
eagles have settled in Kerry for now. What will happen when we’ve got more?”
Is the eagle such a fearsome hunter that farmers need to worry for their
lambs? Allan prefaces his answer by describing the eagle’s diet – a mix of
fish, carrion, birds and small animals such as rabbits.
“Farmers are frightened because of what happened in Scotland,” he says.
“Having reintroduced the white-tailed eagle in 1975, they now have 36
breeding pairs. There is speculation that two pairs killed lambs in Mull,
but it hasn’t been proven. The eagles may just have been eating lambs killed
by other predators.”
He cites the Norwegian example as justification for his argument. In a
country of some two million sheep and 2,500 pairs of sea eagles, there has
not been a single confirmed attack on farm animals in Norway.
By this stage in the conversation, we’re halfway up the hillside overlooking
Killarney’s lakes in search for one of last year’s eagles that has set up
home nearby. When Allan’s tracking system doesn’t find him, we assume that
he is roaming further afield. This is confirmed later when Allan gets a call
from a fisherman telling him he has seen an eagle out by the Skellig Rock.
The project depends on reports like this, and so far the public have proved
cooperative. Thanks to them, it is known that three of the eleven eagles are
in Kerry while others have been spotted as far away as Lough Neagh in
Northern Ireland.
Higher up the mountain is the eagles’ temporary home – a series of boxes
raised on platforms in the tree canopy. The eagles will be kept here until
they are ready to feed themselves and fly away.
The enclosures have been constructed in such a way that the eagles never
catch sight of the people who care for them. I spy on the birds through
peepholes in the boxes while Allan feeds them. Instantly, I can see why
farmers, and our forebears who hunted them to extinction, might have been
wary. Although they are only three months old and not yet ready to leave
their makeshift nests, these eaglets are impressive creatures. With
full-grown males weighing up to five kilos and females up to six and a half
kilos, they are the largest birds I’ve ever seen. And with powerful talons
and beaks, they are also the fiercest.
During the hour it takes Allan to feed them, he describes the next stage of
their development. Once the eagles are released, they should follow the same
pattern as last year’s birds, which flew to the lake and remained there for
several months.
“It mirrors the natural process,” says Allan. “We feed them twice a week or
so, slowly encouraging them to feed themselves, just as their parents
would.”
Having learned from last year’s experience, Allan intends to make one major
change. He hopes to minimize the risk of poisoning by urging the birds to
fish instead of relying on carrion. “We’ll be throwing fish onto the lake
for them so that they learn quicker,” he says.
This should placate farmers. If the eagles are encouraged to fish, surely
they then pose even less of a risk to animals.
Kevin O’Sullivan tends to agree. “It shows our concerns are being listened
to now,” he says.
Allan recognizes that such acceptance represents a step forward. “We’d have
had a 100 percent survival rate last year if it weren’t for the poisoning,”
he says. “We’re trying to up our odds this year by lobbying the government
to improve legislation, but if we’re going to succeed completely, we’ll have
to win hearts and minds through education.”
He has already started to work with local schools and hopes that by the time
a sustainable sea eagle population is established in Ireland – which should
take up to 30 years – the general public will feel far more positive about
them.
In the meantime, he will be busy. His next clutch of birds will arrive next
June, followed by another in 2010 and 2011. By that stage, 100 birds will
have been introduced.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the first nest and the first breeding pair,”
he says as the jeep lumbers back down the hillside. “What we’re doing now is
donkey work as we prepare for that.”
Sitting in the back, surrounded by empty but still-stinky fish boxes, I
can’t help but agree.
Story by Sharon Ní Chonchúir
Photos by Richard Smallwood
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