The Rivers Trust

The Rivers Trust has just released its State of Our Rivers Report 2026. One longs to read something concrete in these reports, something new, the sense that progress is happening. We don’t usually get much of any. The report opens with a foreword by Robert Macfarlane, author of several wandering-through-nature books. Being a poetic sort, he reflects that rivers are ‘life-forces’ and ‘run through people’. He seems optimistic that the deterioration of watercourses can be reversed.

What optimism can we take from this report? Nothing that we don’t have already. It points out that certain pollutants, heavy metals, ammonia and acids, are now in lower concentration. Maybe this is due partly to remedial steps but I suspect it’s mainly a consequence of lost manufacturing industry. Otherwise not much has changed. Nitrates and assorted chemicals, including pharmaceuticals, are still present in dangerous amounts. We are told yet again that none of the nation’s rivers is in good overall health thanks to these, although some rivers make it into the good category for ecological health. As usual, the definition of ecological health is not referenced, although presumably derives from the EU WFD, which encompasses diversity and quantity of aquatic life. As ever, the question of data validity hangs over all these definitions.

Here the Rivers Trust says something obvious but new for them. Data on fish populations, aquatic flies and so on (mostly collected by citizen science) are sparse and no attempt at a national analysis has ever been undertaken. Whether there is enough data to make such a study worthwhile is questionable. The report suggests the data may offer too rosy a picture on some rivers, a conclusion implicit in the simplistic numerical methods of assessment. That at least is some progress.

The usual pollution culprits are listed — water companies that spill sewage into rivers in enormous quantity and abstract chalk streams to their limit and beyond; climate change bringing alternate drought and floods as well as intolerable heat; agriculture’s fertiliser and cattle slurry; modern industry, notably the datacentres, factories for AI slop and social media shite, that demand reservoirfuls of water to function.

More detail of the analyses frequently referred to throughout would be helpful, even just a link to more data. We get a few GIS graphs on which you can click to see some basic information, which is better than nothing. But I’m always left with the feeling these reports are a bit of publicity and a forlorn call to action. The report concludes with a list of what governments, businesses, landowners, journalists and the rest of us can do. These recommendations are all very well but the doing is always the sticking point. The Government is the big player here: without national action, regulation, control of the water companies and so on and so on, river and environmental decline in general will continue. But what appears to exercise politicians the most? The ‘cost of living crisis’ if you listen to them hot-airing on the TV. People’s main concern is to carry on consuming at the lowest possible cost — which got us into this mess in the first place.

The goal of business is to help us do that. Their PR departments brush the environmental fallout under a carpet of misdirection. A recent corporate phenomenon is to inveigle itself into environmental organisations — Thames Water, to use my favourite example, chucking a few quid at the Wild Trout Trust. I took a look at the Rivers Trust’s ‘corporate partners’. First on the list is Amazon Web Services, operator of hundreds of data centres worldwide, its big overall boss Jeff Bezos, climate change denier. Coca Cola also appears, the worst plastic polluter in the world. And Meta, 61 datacentres under construction, purveyor of content harmful to children.

No conflict there.

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Not so SmartRivers

I’m inclined to the opinion that biologists should be banned from using statistics. The practice of drawing inferences from gathered data is full of pitfalls; those who collect and analyse data on fish and river fly life seem especially prone to stumbling into them. Such data have many potential shortcomings and limitations as I pointed out in a previous post, yet to read the reports from the Riverfly Partnership and SmartRivers (part of Wildfish) you’d think the gods themselves were illuminating our understanding. Sadly not. We know the condition of our rivers is deteriorating and we know broadly the reasons: sewage, agriculture and now noxious pharmaceuticals, some from our own bodies. No fly monitoring needed to tell us that.

If all the long-term fly monitoring were able to tell us whether things are obviously improving or getting worse that would be useful. My attention has lately been drawn to some news regarding the Hampshire Avon. Apparently monitoring has revealed a steep decline in bugs over the last ten years. Numbers don’t lie, do they? No, and nor do statistics, but misusers of statistics can present us with questionable or false conclusions which the data just don’t support.

In the report SmartRivers claims that fly life on the Hampshire Avon has declined over the last ten years. There is little argument that aquatic fly life has fallen in most if not all rivers in the country, but this started well before the last decade. Still, if this slide in populations is continuing, we should know about it.  So what does this report actually tell us? One of the problems of these reports, and those which appear in the Wild Trout Trust annual, Salmo Trutta, concerns the kind of publication they’re trying to be. Technical research paper or report for a general readership? They end up being neither. Jargon is scattered throughout together with some rather slapdash analysis, certainly not up to journal standard (and as far as I’m aware, the content of this report has not been published elsewhere). So not a science paper but not a read for the layman either. The technical references to inferential statistics put paid to that.

As often the case, the statistical testing is applied rather automatically without much attention paid to the obvious features of the data. One of the reasons is that computer packages allow the copious production of statistical calculations at a click rather than the hours of laborious work once necessary. Another is that all the other biologists are doing it. The main purpose of such tests is to decide whether what you see in the data is telling you something important or is just a fluke of sampling. The thinner the sampling, the more likely the result is down to chance. Riverfly sampling is pretty thin. Here a handful of sites are sampled twice a year. Quoting a figure called a p-value, a probabilistic measure widely misused, is not sufficient to decide whether the Avon fly population has gone down since 2015.

The observed changes are clearest in the graph below, taken from the report. The text will be hard to follow for most; even some abbreviations go undefined.

Whether the spring and the (usually lower) autumn counts should appear on the same graph is open to question. But what is clear is that 2015 counts are higher than 2024. The straight lines fitted to the data points suggest a steady decline, except that the actual figures do not really show this. Counts were obviously higher in 2015 than subsequent years. If anything, the data suggest a cyclic component to the observed counts. Remove the 2015 figures and suddenly the decline vanishes, or at least becomes a lot less clear. The Environment Agency noted this feature of the data but the report’s authors respond that ‘this is simply the dataset we have’. Hardly a justification for the conclusion they draw. If they had looked at the appropriate statistical figures, they should have concluded that evidence for decline in riverflies these last ten years is weak at best. The biologist’s best analysis tool is their eyeballs.

Why are the 2015 figures higher? We don’t know. Maybe it was a good year for fly, or maybe the sampling was more thorough. There are data going back further in the Riverfly database, so I’ve pulled out these graphs for the Avon, though as you’ll see from the four riverfly abundances, regular sampling only began around 2010, and probably was less regular then.

You can see the seasonal variation, and there is some evidence of cyclicity over the years. But is there any long-term trend? You decide.

Data from Riverfly.org

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