GOOD can come from bad because often when bad things happen, good rises to the top, like the cream in a bottle of milk. Well maybe that analogy shows my age, as most milk these days is homogenised, which prevents that cream topping I remember so vividly from my childhood.

But that’s what came to my mind as I wandered with my family along the banks of the Esk last weekend and reflected on the community’s response. I’d heard about the pollution of its water and the effect on wildlife, and we all wanted to go and somehow help.

We walked down from upstream and soon the powerful smell greeted our senses. Then we saw the diesel on the surface of the water, streaming towards the sea. It was a sad sight and the initial emotion I had was one of despair.

The kids stood by the water, full of concern for the wildlife, looking for the kingfisher. We’d spoken beforehand about what such pollution can do and they scanned the river and its banks with concerned eyes.

But there are so many stories about how local people helped: raising the alarm and reporting it, keeping witness to the situation and demanding faster action; but also coming up with inventive ways to stop the flow of oil and help affected wildlife. Local people were the first responders to this incident.

This is what I meant about the cream rising to the top: not in the meaning that any folk are better than others, but that feelings and emotions of care already within us can rise and become visible when faced with a crisis or challenge.

As I stood by the riverbank, my despair turned to anger and frustration. Then my thoughts were interrupted by a friend who called to me. She lives in Musselburgh and had likewise come to check on the situation. We walked together along the riverbank.

“How can we help?” asked one of my kids.

“You are helping right now,” I replied, “because you are here, to show you care.”

“But we want to do something!” was their response.

I tried to explain that caring was doing something, that it was the care of local people which had made the difference.

I had expected to leave the river still carrying my sense of despair but I didn’t. My main emotion was hope. The response to the pollution by local people had shown just how many care and how much they care. This river, with its beauty, its wildlife and connection to our history, is a vital artery which flows through our landscape but also our souls. That’s how I felt.

And the longer-term good that may come of this is a heightened awareness of its value and preciousness. Our society has become so disconnected from nature, we have commodified and exploited it, destroyed and ruined so much of it. But the truth is we are part of it, and we need it as much as nature needs us to care about her. In that sense, we are in this together; nature is not ‘out there’, we are rooted to it because it is the life support system for humans as much as it is for the kingfishers and swans. Perhaps finally we are understanding this, just on the threshold of it being too late, but in time to change.

But on a more immediate and simple level, nature also makes life a more beautiful experience. The awe and wonder of having a wild habitat on your doorstep, and being able to appreciate it, is one of the joys of living for me.

This pollution of the Esk has shown just how many people are guardians of it, who are prepared to take action to protect it. New networks have been set up to connect people who live along the river, or visit and enjoy it. It could raise people’s awareness of just how important, beautiful and special this wonderful river is.

So I felt more uplifted than despairing. Lessons need to be learnt, of course, by the authorities, so that any future contamination is dealt with swiftly, and hopefully prevented from happening in the first place.

But there has been so much good come from this bad situation; so much cream at the top of the bottle.