A line in the snow.

First of all, after months of waiting,  I can finally let you know about Breagha’s tag. Our contacts at Microwave Telemetry have emailed our Lodge colleagues and confirmed that there was no more information to be had from his tag. It was irreparably damaged and had already yielded all available data before it was found by Hazel. I know that this will come as a disappointment to many of you, but I’m afraid it was always a long shot. I can also confirm that Microwave Telemetry stated that in their experience they thought the holes in the casing looked like teeth marks and that when they took the tag apart there was no sign of any shot within it. So, though Hazel’s two newspaper articles in France may provoke a witness to Breagha’s demise, we have no hard evidence I’m afraid.  After all of Hazel’s and her helpers’ efforts this is disappointing, but we only really know what we know because of her determination and for that we thank her. It’s sad to draw a line under Breagha, but such is life and nature, I’m afraid , and I feel we must now turn our efforts to looking forward to a new season and wishing EJ and Odin a safe return journey to Loch Garten. Fingers crossed they will arrive in good shape, fit to face the ups and downs of their breeding season. Won’t be long now!

Of other matters, we’ve had a bit of snow recently. Not as much as we would expect at this time of year, but a smattering every now and then. Temperatures have been below freezing for a few days now, so the snow we do get is often crunchy underfoot and the puddles are frozen solid. I took my own advice today and actually got out for a walk at lunchtime. I’ve been a slave to my desk as I’m in the process of writing the text for a new reserve leaflet which demands both focus and creativity and was feeling in need of some inspiration, so I donned coat, hat and gloves and ventured out into the forest. And I’m so glad I did.  

It’s been a few years since I took the track which I walked today and I was really delighted to see the amount of woodland regeneration. It was positively hooching with young, healthy trees. The forest was beautifully still and the only sound was the crunch of my wellies on the hard snow crust. The wildlife kept itself pretty much hidden, but I did hear a small flock of crossbills flitting in the uppermost branches of the Scot’s pines, searching for pine cones, and then the dainty paw prints of red squirrels racing down the track.

Young trees of various ages in-between veteran Scot's pines.

The view to Cairn Rynettin.

I didn't notice them at first as I was too busy looking at the forest, but there were many short bursts of red squirrel paw prints to be seen.

I walked for about twenty minutes then thought that I should probably return to my office, but before I did I stood awhile, with my back to a beautiful, strong ‘Granny’ Scot’s pine and took in my surroundings. There were many old veteran trees with their gnarled twisted branches and younger trees between. A good understorey of juniper and blae’berry was sugared with the snow. Everything was quiet and I could easily have imagined that I had stepped back in time.

As I stood there I was struck by my insignificance and was reminded of the television coverage this week of Tim Peake’s space walk. Astronauts often talk of the mind blowing effects of seeing the earth from space and the absolute recognition that we are as mites of dust in the universe. It occurred to me that for 99.9% (recurring!) of the human race, this sort of revelation is impossible. Immersing ourselves in the wildness and grandeur of nature is the nearest we’re ever likely to get to it, and that it’s a valuable and dare I say it, vital lesson to learn if we are to really, proactively take care of our planet on which we depend.

Call me an old hippy, but I would love to expose the climate change doubters, decision makers and industrialists to the magnificent wild for a few days. I somehow feel it might change their perspective and make them change their short-term gain philosophy.

 Here at Abernethy we’re in it for the long haul. Our management plan doesn’t just take in the next five or ten years. It considers the next two hundred. Two hundred years from now we’re hoping that the wooded landscape at Abernethy will have expanded from the 4,500 hectares at present to around 8,000 hectares. We’re actively expanding the tree coverage into places where forest once stood, but due to human activity has been lost. And other estates around the Cairngorms are doing the same. Our forest here at Abernethy will connect with other expanding forests and the wooded landscape of the Cairngorms will be restored. We won’t be here to see it, but our great grandchildren will be. And isn’t that an inspiring thought? It sends shivers down my spine whenever I think about it. So in this world of doom and gloom and seemingly ever increasing destruction, there are beacons of hope and RSPB Abernethy is one of them. And a pretty beautiful one at that.

Amazing what an iphone can capture!