Yes, that is a question.

We have extensive records from 1981, but that’s quite a while ago and the environment has changed significantly.

So significantly that the 2002 Ordnance Survey map that I have was clearly never right at all, and the current Ordnance Survey “app map” is rubbish too.

One shows loads of trees; extensive mixed woodland, and the other shows fragmented broadleaved wood. In reality, it’s somewhere between the two, and I wonder where they got their data from.

At least the streams are in the right place!

As soon as me and Andy set off, it’s hard going; really hard going. You wouldn’t come here for a “nice walk”!

Soaking wet heather about 3 feet deep made for a work-out!

But it also made the ant-hunt difficult, not being able to see the ground.

Being cooler now it’s autumn, the chance of seeing them running up tree trunks was very low too.

Instead of finding dozens of nests, we managed three.

Yes, we probably missed some, but the omens weren’t good.

The first nest we found seemed to have a mysterious new species, ants only half the size that we expected, and all black instead of black and red.

Research back at home suggests that they might be small because they were starving.

Fortunately the other two nests were rather healthy.

Autumn birches looked really great, brightening up the scenery.

So what’s going on?

Guesswork and speculation:

Old birches died, removing ant foraging habitat; a fence was erected to keep the deer out and allow new birches to grow, but maybe too much and too late. And the lack of deer also allowed the ground vegetation to swamp the nest sites. Seems to suggest good intentions to restore ant habitat which might have been counter-productive.

Further research necessary.

Surely?

There’s so many of you, there must be an “Adam”???

OK; maybe the wrong sort of ants……

These ones are Scottish wood ants; yes, that’s a species, not just a location. 

Formica aquilonia to give them their Latin name.

I didn’t identify them personally, as it’s all in the detail of body hairs. Of course it is.

So, I’m setting up a new personal project to photograph the degraded status of some birch trees, very loosely described as “woodland” near to a mountain called Cul Mor and I mentioned it to Andy the Ranger.

“There’s wood ants there” he says.

Crikey, I didn’t realise that they existed this far north!

And it’s not exactly proper woodland; just a group of old birch trees on their last legs.

Then Simon from Assynt Foundation said there were more nearby.

Amazing.

And another reason for another walk!

It doesn’t take much, but this is different: wood ants at our latitude have got to be a bit special.

Walking into a wooded gully a couple of miles away, I thought that I’d got lucky: the first birch tree was crawling with them.

They’re fairly easy to spot, being quite a lot larger than “regular ants”.

Tall bracken made me think about not stumbling into, or onto, a nest, so I walked fairly carefully through the trees and was well pleased to find them.

Back to Andy the Ranger, who’s really keen to hear about my sighting, and we’re soon planning a joint return visit to have a proper look. Like an actual survey!

On a nice day at the end of August, loaded down with cucumber sandwiches, ginger beer and a tablecloth all in a wicker picnic basket we set off.

I may have remembered some details incorrectly.

It wasn’t long before we were seeing them on the trunks of birch trees; making their way into the canopy to either eat aphids or harvest their honeydew.

And then the first nest.

Unlike ants living underground in suburban gardens, these build nests on the surface too. They can be quite big mounds. These ones were made of small birch twigs and bits of dry bracken.

Andy recorded grid references and I plotted a track on the map; digital devices are great for some things!

Before lunch, we found seven nests, which made us smile; a good result.

After lunch, we crossed a small stream wondering if they were on the other side too.

Oh yes!

Four more nests, including the largest one of the day, which also had a lovely view. I wonder if they realised?

Living in fabulous scenery is a lucky thing, and, on the face of it, there’s nothing not to like.

However, after a couple of years, it became obvious even to a incomer like myself that some things weren’t quite right.

Now, I believe that’s a massive understatement.
As a kid, I grew up as a birdwatcher and I still have my second pair of binoculars which are now over 50 years old.

They don’t get much use these days: not only do I have smaller, lighter ones, but most of the time there’s “nothing to point them at”.

I have to point out that what I’m saying here are my opinions; some might agree, but others certainly won’t.

The incredible scenery of the Assynt/ Coigach area is an empty sector for wildlife: MAMBA (miles and miles of bugger all).

Bits and pieces here and there, of course.

A trip to the northern Cairngorms is, by contrast, wildlife heaven.

There’s a real problem with trees here. 

This far north, they can be slow growing, but there’s plenty of scope in the right circumstances.

But in most suitable places, none are growing, and there’s no succession for older dying trees.

Without facing up to this problem, sooner or later, there’ll be very little left.

Less trees equals less wildlife; they call it biodiversity these days.

I’ve read in several accounts that the UK’s wildlife has been monitored better than most other countries for many, many years. And yet we score particularly highly for “biodiversity loss”.

Count it and watch it die.

What an achievement.

It beggars belief.

Enough misery.

Recently, the Woodland Trust has signed a management agreement with the Assynt Foundation.

The Foundation are responsible to approximately 44000 acres, including four major mountains: Suilven, Canisp, Cul Mor and Cul Beag.

Reasons, some of them financial, have previously prevented the community charity from active management of this land themselves.

The partnership with Woodland Trust is likely to change this. 

A lot.

Already, tree-less areas have been planted with native species and a transformation has begun.

This is the context.

One of my walks takes me down the valley between Cul Mor and Cul Beag; it makes for a grand day out, and we’ve dubbed it “Little Switzerland”. 

It isn’t, of course; and I doubt whether anyone else uses this description.

There are bits of old woodland, mainly downy birch, which look nice dotting the lower slopes of the valley, Gleann Laoigh to use it’s real name.

But look again: the trees are all on their last legs, ageing and falling down.

If you look down to ankle height, there are in places plenty of baby saplings. 

Nothing between the two.

The saplings are browsed by a population of deer to prevent all growth.

Lawnmowers on a landscape scale; it’s no joke.

No succession then; old trees dying and nothing to replace them.

It’s early days, but there are plans being made to manage this situation properly, and there is now, finally, some hope that the land might be allowed to recover.
And that is really exciting!

It can’t come quickly enough!

So here I am, in Gleann Laoigh, looking for optimism.
Before any new management happens, I’ve decided to set up several “fixed photography points” as baselines.

The only way is up.

I have to make two trips to capture the basics, mainly because I accidentally switched off the image stabiliser on my camera (doooh), and when I realised, it had started to rain.

Anyway, mistake corrected, I get what I need and climb over the foot of Cul Beag to go and visit some more ribbons of relict woods nearby.

Same thing, unsurprisingly, old trees with no successors; tiny saplings in the grass and a browse-line at deer height.

Experts have already looked at these places and full surveys are likely soon, but I’m not a newbie out here; I know what I’m looking at.

It may be the eleventh hour, but it’s not too late yet, and I want to see it develop.