Ain't no montane high enough!

The montane plateau is sometimes an area that is overlooked on our reserve. Which is ironic as it sits at over 1000m and overlooks everything. If you are a keen walker, there are four Munros on Abernethy in the form of Bynack More, Cairngorm, Beinn Mheadhion, Ben Macdui. Ben Macdui is the highest peak and is the second-highest point in Scotland after Ben Nevis of course. The montane terrain has more in common with parts of Norway than any area in the UK. 

Abernethy is found at a similar altitude and latitude to its Norwegian counterpart too. This is why its habitats are often used as an example of what we would expect to see in a healthy montane system. Norway’s montane habitat supports blue throats, a dense population of bramblings that love upland birch forest and more ring ouzel than you can shake a stick at. This is the potential that we are trying to unlock in our uplands through deer management and planting.  

Like many parts of Scotland, this area has been victim to the historical overpopulation of deer. We would expect to see a healthy forest population running to about 650m altitude and then montane scrubland up to 800m. As part of the Cairngorm Connect project, Jack and Cieran have been traipsing into the hills to reduce deer numbers and alleviate the browsing pressure that deer exert on our uplands.

 Remnant areas of montane willow cling onto life on some of the steepest slopes of Loch Avon. Cuttings of these trees have been sampled and are now growing in our tree nursery in a move to resurrect this montane habitat. We would also hope to see weather-beaten birch and krummholz pines surviving at this altitude.  Krummholz is definitely my favourite word to describe a pine tree; its Germanic origin means bent or twisted wood. This definition is given to trees that survive through continual exposure to extreme conditions that shape their growth. I like to think we are all a little krummholz at heart.

Above 800m we see an even more unique habitat-forming made up of a diversity of lichens and mosses. This is home to species like ptarmigan and mountain hare which have adapted to these harsh conditions to live in the mountains all year round. Both change their appearance to disguise themselves to the pervading presence of hunting eagles. The synchronicity of their stony appearance turning white is a matter of life and death on the hillside. Dotterels also migrate from the far reaches of the Atlas Mountains in Africa to breed on these remote hilltops. These birds operate such a unique and fragile existence in the UK that they are an Amber Listed species.

This uniqueness of this ecosystem is also what creates its fragility. Even minute changes can have far-reaching effects. Birds like cattle egret are migrating north as temperatures creep up; their range expanding into new areas. Mountain species already living at the edge of their range have nowhere left to expand into. A recent study by Plantlife looks at the dangers of nitrification of our nutrient-poor ecosystems. It is thought that just under 60% of our uplands have exceeded their critical nitrogen load. Nitrogen from agricultural practices is escaping into wild populations through acid rain and field run-off. When we farm crops, we want one species all growing high and fast. This is the opposite of a naturally functioning upland ecosystem. Adding excess nitrogen to the uplands benefits a select few species that can access more nitrogen. These plants then outcompete their neighbours reducing overall diversity. This changes the ecosystem that supports a mosaic of different life into a more homogenised ecosystem.

On top of this, we are experiencing longer growing seasons on the hillside. Low and slow is the name of the game on the mountain as this creates a better habitat for nesting species. Dotterels require short sward for nesting and lose breeding ground as the grasses begin to dominate over mosses. With less snow cover for more of the year, plants grow large and change the sensitive dynamic that has been nurtured over millennia.  

The late, great Scottish singer Scott Hutchison sang the line, ‘and while I’m alive, I’ll make tiny changes to earth’. This line always resonated with me for a number of reasons.  Humans have inadvertently changed the landscape around them for thousands of years. The beauty with large scale conservation is the conscious decision to make small actions that bring around big changes in the future. Replanting an ecosystem is a mammoth task when you think about it. But if you break that down into all of the people that have made a little change in their lives to donate to conservation, volunteer to plant trees, use less fertiliser or take on a role to reduce deer numbers; these actions don’t seem so big anymore. The legacy left in the uplands will never see a plaque erected to RSPB members or to the deer stalkers Cieran and Jack. The legacy is an experience people in the future get from knowing that Abernethy was cared for long after we are gone. There is both optimism and fear that comes from such a daunting task. Will the future of the uplands push these species to the brink, or will we see a flourishing of life that supports new species? This is the mark we want to leave on Abernethy. While you’re alive, what tiny changes will you make?

Plantlife report:

https://www.plantlife.org.uk/application/files/4116/0828/6643/PL_Nitrogen_Scotland_report_Singles.pdf