August 24

Last month we did a guided walk on the croft for Morvern Games and Gala Week for the second year in a row. Each walk has been lovely, with perfect weather, but quite different. This year we had a smaller crowd which meant we had time to stop and look for lichens and found lots of rare species including specklebellies, jellyskins and elf-ears. Both years the walks have provided a well-needed pause to remember our reasons for having the croft at a time of year when it is easy for this to get lost in a hubbub of activity.

We’ve had three new calves (Olive, Shortbread and Strudel); I’ve used metres of bailing twine stringing up vegetables; we’ve pulled, rolled and cut bracken with numerous volunteers; split firewood; fixed fences etc. etc. etc. It’s easy to get so caught up in the day-to-day activities that the point of it all is forgotten, as the reason for even having cows is to manage what we have here.

Before we do each walk I try to translate Alasdair’s ecological knowledge into something the rest of us can understand. For example, when pushed, he estimates 10% of the world’s Hazelwood rainforest is on this stretch of coast between Drimnin and Lochaline, and of this, approximately a fifth is here at Rhemore. According to Alasdair there are around fifty key rainforest indicator species. In most ancient woodlands you might find two or three, but here on the croft there are at least twenty-five. These statistics give some idea of the rarity of our woodland, but they are quite dry and still don’t really explain our motivation in managing this land.

Taking friends and strangers around the croft forces us to stop, notice the changes that have already happened, see the place through the eyes of others, appreciate what we have and attempt to articulate a kind of magic that perhaps can only be felt by stepping into the woods.

To me this croft contains tiny fragments of a world we once had, and that we have now almost entirely lost: a diversity of life that once covered most of the planet, with a richness that has the power to touch something deep in us. This power transcends having a knowledge of what the species are called, if they are rare or not, or how they interact, as, currently, no one has all this knowledge. It is probably thousands of years since humans walked in a world where this richness was commonplace, but it is the world we came from and we are a part of, as much as it is a part of us.

I still have moments, particularly when it feels everything around us is falling apart, when I question the point of preserving things just because they are rare and wonderous, or present to us our natural history. I hear the voices of our critics saying that economics and livelihoods are more important and sometimes struggle to find a response. In extreme moments I think of the museum workers, historians and academics who protect cultural antiquities. I don’t think everyone can, or even should take on this role, but I think someone has to, and by fate or design we have been given this opportunity.

On our walks, people often ask if they might damage the woods by walking in them. There is something a little heartbreaking about this question. Even though these woods are rare and precious, humans are meant to be in them and we have evolved together with the woods over the centuries. Yes we have exploited the earth’s natural resources– but this has been a collective endeavour. On an individual level disturbance in the woods is a good thing, which is why deer, in small numbers, are part of the woodland ecosystem, as are our cows. It only becomes a problem when the balance is tipped i.e. there are more deer than there are tree saplings to feed them.

People also ask how do we get it back? How do you regenerate ancient woodland? I don’t know how many times I have asked Alasdair this question. His answer is hard to translate as it is both simple and complicated and depends on each patch of woodland; eradicate Rhododendron, remove the deer until new growth is established, wait capitalise on local seed source, wait some more, reestablish peoples’ connection to woodland so they care, wait a bit more, bring others to the croft so they can point out when things have changed, and try and work out what has caused those changes and wait some more. And in the meantime get on with haymaking.