Why Moorland's Matter

When you think of a grouse moor, what often comes to mind are the sounds of keepers communicating, radios crackling, dogs eagerly hopping out of vehicles, beaters waving flags, the flurry of wings, and, of course, the shots echoing across the heather. These are the scenes many imagine when recalling their time on the moors. For me, however, the moors conjure up different images. I recall the dance of lapwings soaring above, the distant calls of curlews reverberating over the hills, the snipe’s drumming in the skies, and the high-pitched songs of skylarks filling the air. These memories are shaped by the seasons spent amidst these landscapes, where I’ve witnessed nature’s rhythms firsthand.

Growing up in Weardale, the entire valley was surrounded by grouse moors stretching across the hilltops. This provided me with countless opportunities to experience the workings of the moors. In my teenage years, I spent many hours beating across the fells during the season, worked at lodges serving dinner, and later photographed shoot days. Today, I work alongside my dogs as part of the picking-up teams. Through all of this, I’ve come to understand grouse shooting from various perspectives.

One of my favourite times of the year is after the shooting season ends, when the guns have left, the keepers return to their routine, and the birds start to settle. By this time, the red grouse are often the only birds left to brave the harsh winter on the hills. While black grouse may still be found, they typically head to lower ground, seeking shelter in the berry-laden bushes along the valley roads.

Then, with the arrival of spring, everything transforms. The end of winter marks the start of a fascinating and dynamic time on the moors. The days stretch longer, the snow and rain give way to sunshine, the grass starts to grow, and buds appear on trees. And most importantly, the calls of birds I’ve eagerly awaited fill the air.

Lapwings are often the first to arrive, their courtship displays filling the skies. Oystercatchers soon follow, their fiery red eyes visible from afar, and the curlew’s distinctive cry cuts through the air even before the bird itself is spotted. It is in these moments that I feel people involved in shooting—especially those who don’t live in upland areas—should visit the moors. It’s only by experiencing a moor in spring that one can truly understand its significance. This is when the gamekeeper’s efforts pay off. While their focus is mainly on ensuring the successful breeding of red grouse, any keeper can tell you where to find nests of snipe, curlew, lapwing, oystercatcher, merlin, or owls. Their knowledge of the land is deep, and their work benefits not only grouse but all ground-nesting birds. I’ve witnessed this firsthand time and again.

For the past three years, I’ve been involved with a project called Why Moorlands Matter (WMM) now under the Conservation Communications name. Led by Tarquin Millington-Drake, this initiative aims to unite people from the shooting and conservation communities, bringing them together to explore the moors in spring and learn about their management. The events, typically held at grouse moor lodges during their quiet season, have drawn a diverse group of attendees—from representatives of the Wildlife Trusts, Natural England, and Re-wilding Britain, to MPs from various political parties and members of organisations like GWCT, Bug Life, and Aim to Sustain. The diversity of perspectives is incredible. We have also held Why Lowlands Matter events to showcase some of our lowland wildlife.

What’s fascinating about these gatherings is the variety of opinions people bring. Some guests are staunch supporters of shooting, while others oppose it. Some don’t agree with predator control, while others see it as essential. And some have never set foot on a grouse moor but work in fields related to shooting or conservation. What became clear very quickly is that despite these differences, everyone agrees on the majority of issues concerning the moors. Personally, these events have been an eye-opener, providing me with a broader understanding of different viewpoints and helping me approach debates on shooting and conservation with a more balanced perspective.

A typical WMM event begins with lunch and introductions, followed by speeches from local people who live and work on the moors (myself included). After more discussions, we embark on wildlife safaris, which are undoubtedly the highlight of the event. These safaris are a revelation. For many attendees, it’s their first time seeing the moorland up close, and they are always amazed at the wealth of wildlife they encounter. On a two-hour drive, we saw curlew and their chicks, lapwings with their young, grouse with chicks, short-eared owls, snipe, buzzards, oystercatchers with chicks, meadow pipits, skylarks, stonechats, wheatears, and a male hen harrier. The moorland speaks for itself, and it’s a powerful reminder of how vital these landscapes are for wildlife.

These events have helped forge connections between people who wouldn’t normally interact and have raised awareness about the diverse challenges facing moorland ecosystems. The discussions go beyond birds to include broader topics such as rural communities, local economies, flora, fauna, and the wider ecosystem.

Growing up in the hills has instilled a deep passion for managed moorlands in me. I recognise that the shooting industry isn’t flawless—what industry is?—but I also see the value of these landscapes. They are the backdrop to my photography, where I can watch multiple red-listed species raise their young in a single evening. It’s where birds return year after year to the same places. It’s where the local keeper goes out of their way to pick up litter, help farmers rebuild walls, guide walkers along footpaths, and remind everyone about the importance of keeping dogs on leads during nesting season. In winter, they lend a hand to the community when heavy snowfalls hit.

The valley where I grew up relies heavily on the income generated during the shooting season, but more than that, it thrives because of the people who live and work on the moors—a community deeply invested in the land and the cycles of the seasons. They understand the delicate balance between the weather, the land, and the creatures that inhabit it, from farmers’ lambs to the newly hatched chicks on the ground.

To truly appreciate the value of our moorlands, it’s essential to understand the full scope of their management—not just during the shooting season, but year-round. We need to encourage people to visit these landscapes and engage with the communities who call them home. It’s only by experiencing the moors firsthand that one can truly grasp the complexity of their management and the profound connection between the land and the people who care for it.

If you would be interested in attending a Why Moorlands Matter event please visit our website and get in touch! conservationcommunication.com

Emily Graham - Learn more at emilygrahammedia.com