The secret life of the famous Moy salmon

The Ox Mountains and the River Moy are like sisters; of the same place, born under the same sky and singing in time like only sisters can. The same blood courses through their veins; the rain of heaven and from that emerges the life of the Moy salmon.

In much the same way as the red deer, the wolf or the eagle populates our myths and legends, so also does the salmon. The Salmon of Knowledge; that sought-after taste that will impart wisdom to those who can find it or heart-breaking loss to those who miss out.

The salmon has a life of mystery, a life of instinct and trust that should inspire those of us who might see ourselves as great beings. Under the surface of the waters of the River Moy and the Atlantic Ocean, there are certain secrets known only to the salmon itself.

Life cycle 

It is difficult to know if the story starts with the adult salmon or with the salmon’s egg but let’s start with the egg. While the physicality is easily explained, the magic of the process is less so. In the furthest extremities of the Moy network of rivers and streams, a salmon egg hatches; incubated in the soft sands and pristine waters of the river’s arteries. Inland Fisheries Ireland takes up the story.

In Ireland, juvenile salmon usually stay in the river for two to three years. After hatching as larvae called alevins, immature salmon develop into fry in their first year and then into parr in their second year and subsequent years in the river. These look like juvenile brown trout but are generally more silver in colour. Salmon fry and parr require rivers with good water quality, cool temperatures, stony river beds and adequate cover provided by aquatic vegetation.

At this stage of its life, the salmon remains undetected to most of us. If conditions are right, the salmon grows and matures, spending season after season feeding and resting and growing in preparation for a most interesting and widely-travelled way ahead. The young salmon will encounter many adventures and overcome countless perils on their way. Their first challenge will come to them in their infant beds. The vulnerable larvae have little chance against nitrate attacks, the influence of run-off from artificial fertilisers and the inappropriate spreading of slurry. A few caring thoughts with regard to the sensitive salmon might bring change in the hearts and minds of those responsible.

Off to the sea 

The fittest salmon who survive these early years soon begin to focus on their next stage in life. As these young salmon prepare to migrate to sea from the river, they become known as smolts, turning more silver in appearance and undergoing physiological changes to prepare them for the saltwater. 

And so, to the magic; salmon have a remarkable homing instinct. They migrate from Ireland to their feeding grounds thousands of kilometres away around the Norwegian Sea and the coast of Greenland. Eventually, they will migrate back to the rivers in which they were born after one or more winters at sea. Once again, they return to the waters of the Moy. Inland Fisheries Ireland continues to describe the cycle.

While at sea, adult salmon are steel-blue or silver in colour. Salmon that mature after one year at sea are called grilse and usually return to rivers in the summer. Bigger, older fish that return after multiple winters at sea are often called springers and usually return to rivers in the spring or early summer. Adult salmon lose their fresh appearance as they slowly make their way upstream, becoming dull in colour; the males often develop a hook on their jaw called a kype. Salmon usually spawn between November and March in gravelly, well-oxygenated rivers. The female salmon beats her tail against the gravel to dig out a shallow nest for eggs called a redd.

Poaching 

In times gone by, rural people in the Ox Mountain region knew all about the habits of the salmon, especially when the fish returned each winter to the rivers and streams that bordered their fields. In the same way that an Alaskan brown bear might whip a few handy salmon from a mountain stream, so did the people of old. Like the bear, the wholesome food source sustained these people for the bleak months ahead.

In a pursuit that was engaged in almost exclusively at night, the preferred method of catching such helpless fish was with fáideog and gaff. One lit the way and the other skewered the fish. The fish were usually caught in shallow pools while they swished out a soft sandy nest for the eggs. These fish were often old and broken, both from age and their long journey, and were frequently discarded. A fáideog, incidentally, was a sod of turf, soaked in lamp oil and secured on the point of a handle or a short pitchfork. It gave off a great light for a short period which both highlighted and hypnotised the salmon. It was a light easily extinguished… by simply plunging its flame into the waters below.

Poaching was a risky business. At various times through the ages, one could suffer severe consequences if caught in the act. A landlord could have you transported and a fisheries bailiff might have you up in court, and either guardian seemed to have licence to give chase and give any a poacher a good hammering – which in fairness was the least of all evils. To escape capture entirely, even while being torn by barbed wire, blackthorn bushes and briars, was a victory to any poacher.

Regardless of the hazards, in olden times, many a man fed his family from a barrel of salted salmon through the lean months of winter until eggs got more plentiful and a summer diet offered alternative protein.

Proper fishing 

I often wondered about the difference between the old worn-out fish that came to the river bordering our land in winter and the sparkling game fish of summer that made the River Moy a Mecca for game anglers. Were these fish one and the same, and they just arrived at different times of the year? 

Researching this piece helped me to find the answer. Salmon that mature after one year at sea usually return to rivers in the summer. These lively specimens are what is sought after by the great fly anglers of the world. 

Few rivers are better known for this thrilling activity than the Moy. Jack Charlton was drawn to Ballina and the Moy for this very reason, making friends locally and endearing himself further to all Irish people. He became one of our own and weren’t we proud to have a nice river full of silver salmon for him to enjoy!

Salmon of Knowledge 

So, there we have it, hidden under the waters of the river that flows from our mountains and lakes, the secret life of the Moy salmon. Silent, secret, and symbolic, its life cycle continues as it has done for millions of years. Maybe that is why it is known as the Salmon of Knowledge. The salmon has indeed a wisdom beyond our understanding and we would do well to get a taste of it... a taste of the wisdom that is, and not the salmon itself.

Next week… The GAA and what makes it such a unique organisation.