Lessons from Langholm

We called at Langholm Moor this spring and again this autumn, and walked around a good chunk of the Tarras Valley to get an idea of just how successful the community buy out has been in conservation terms. After all, it has now been five years since the 'community' bought the 5,300 acres of the core Tarras Valley and three since they added another 5,300, to bring the total to a hefty 10,500 acres, for an even heftier £6,000,000.

Of course when we say it was bought by the community, it wasn't really. Most of the people in Langholm were too wise to stump up millions of pounds to buy a grouse moor with no grouse. What actually happened is that the Scottish government, and several rich organisations and individuals who wanted to prove a political point, contributed large tranches of money to make sure that the 'community' got the land.

We know what they got the land for because they made it very clear in their fundraising videos. It was a predictable list. The moor will fight climate change, stop flooding, restore nature, create nature based jobs and become a hot ecotourism destination. As far as restoring nature goes its CEO Kevin Cummings, head of the Wild Eskdale Project, actually set out some must-haves. These were 'sky dancing' hen harriers (is there another sort of hen harrier?), the unmistakable call of the curlew, dippers and otters in the streams and as they featured elsewhere in the promotional stuff, black grouse and merlin.

What isn't said is that these targets, which might be challenging on an RSPB reserve in Dorset, were nothing of the kind at Langholm. These species were already there in abundance under the old management and ownership. Normally, when the rewilders get their hands on a great piece of moorland, there is no baseline data and they can claim everything from a toad to a tawny owl as an amazing consequence of their nature restoration.

At Langholm they can't get away with this nonsense. It is one of the few places where there are incontrovertible data sets. Throughout the two Langholm Projects, and luckily the years in between, we know exactly what the state of play was in every year. We know that when the keepers finally came off there were 13 pairs of hen harriers, 12 pairs of merlin, increasing black grouse, strong populations of curlew, lapwing, snipe and more. We know that the heather was good and improving and that there was very little evidence of tree encroachment. We also know that there were otters and dippers in the Tarras Burn, which is hardly surprising because they are ubiquitous in the Esk catchment.

Altogether the ambition of the Initiative amounts to keeping what was already there, plus of course dabbling with solar and wind turbines and some housing development. That would not seem to be a challenge. Unfortunately, what was not considered was that the previous management that had made the bird assemblages that justified its SSSI and SPA designations possible had revenue implications. Around a quarter of a million pounds per annum implications. That is revenue that the community over around 2,000 residents of Langholm unsurprisingly have no intention of providing. The answer is of course to rewild, which costs nothing.

So, by design or accident, we have a perfect comparator. Well, we would have if the people now running this amazing place, an SPA with a target of 13 hen harrier nests, and an SSSI for upland bird assemblage, actually said what was going on or even allowed the old scientists back to update the data. Unfortunately they show no enthusiasm for doing either of these things. But that doesn't prevent direct observation. We've been several times. We saw none of the wildlife that used to be there.

A local raptor watcher has said that the merlins are gone; that last year there were just two hen harrier nests, one of which was predated, and all the other ground nesters were gone or are going. The moor is being infiltrated by Sitka spruce and birch that are sucking the water out of the peat and allowing the oxidation of the precious carbon.

If you don't believe me, go and look. The Tarras Valley Nature Reserve, as it is now splendidly styled, has the makings of a disaster. It is also rewilding in its simplest and purest form.

Bizarrely, this is a predicted catastrophe. Not just by horrible people like us, but by one of the organisations who helped to fund the purchase and who are still involved. The RSPB told SNH that if the gamekeepers came off, the hen harriers would crash.

They knew, and still know, that without management the birds will go. Not only did they predict it would happen, they have watched it happen. Not only do we think that the re-wilding of Langholm Moor has been a disaster, the RSPB predicted it would be. Who knew? They aren't going to rock any boats. Not strategically advisable. Not financially beneficial.

We are not against the judicious use of rewilding as a management tool in some circumstances, and certainly not against managing for wildlife or nature-based solutions. But it is wrong to pretend that rewilding is a panacea and that it is somehow consequently wrong to engage in traditional land and species management systems, when the failure to even maintain what you've got is a daily reality.

The RSPB – who forecast what would happen – appears to be heavily involved behind the scenes, and will know exactly how the curlew, black grouse and hen harriers are doing. Their silence is telling. That silence will be catastrophic. The cult of re-wilding is used to greenwash afforestation and all sorts of carbon credit farces. This combines with the remorseless attacks on sporting estates and particularly grouse moor keepers, and is pushing an entire suite of ground nesting birds – but most urgently waders – to a tipping point. They are already lost over vast swathes of the unkeepered uplands.

Who cares?  Who will do what is needed to save them? No one amongst the big players in conservation industry will say a word. No one dares to criticise the herd view that rewilding is a universal good, and that what you lose, even if it includes globally rare habitats and even rarer birds, is little more than acceptable collateral damage.

Oh, we are sorry. We almost forgot. What did we see in a couple of hours plodding across the earthly paradise and ecotourism hot spot that is Langholm? There was plenty of rank vegetation, and self-set sitka spruce and birch. As to the bird assemblages that the moor owners are supposed to maintain, we won't exaggerate: that would be unfair. We did see some birds; unfortunately none of the hen harriers that used to be almost continually visible from any vantage point. Nor did we hear the 'unmistakeable call of the curlew'. We didn't see black grouse or even a dipper, but we did see some crows, three meadow pipits and a wheatear.

It isn't clear why we saw no ecotourists. We aren't sure how far people will drive to see pipits and a wheatear, but as they never came when it was awash with hen harriers, perhaps it's not surprising.

We might have got it all wrong. We might have gone on a bad day. We don't want to be unfair. Langholm might indeed be a rip-roaring success. All the new owners need to do to demonstrate that abandoning management is the way to go is to invite the people back who established the magnificent data sets, and let them do what the are best at: counting birds. If there are lots of curlew, black grouse, hen harriers, lapwing and golden plover, people like us would have to apologise and accept that we are wrong. But they won't because they aren't there, and they know it.