It's seasonal to devote some space to thoughts about the purple heather. At its best, in the sunshine, purple heather undeniably adds to the prettiness of a scene and at certain points on Blacka along with native trees, from young to quite mature, and the greens of bilberry, some of whose leaves are by now turning red, the patchwork is as colourful as you’re likely to get in predominantly open landscapes. After 11 months during which the heather itself has been drab and monotonous it would seem churlish not to welcome this burst of colour.
For those of us who cringe at the glorification of heather despite its being a lacklustre nonentity for 92% of the year, its decision to don a party frock for a brief period may tempt us to think again. In combination with other essential pictorial ingredients the effect can be transforming. But these other ingredients must be there. Without them we simply have a colour wash. That on its own never made for an interesting landscape scene nor gained entry to the Royal Academy's summer exhibition. It should be noted that this colour wash is not the same everywhere. In fact the vivid purple is a characteristic of the older near sensescent heather such as found here. Other supposedly better managed heather more typical of moors managed for grouse, may get slightly pink but little more than that.
Then the season passes and flowering ceases and we're back to cheerless colouring for the best part of the year. At least the trees add vertical interest and variety, constantly changing in colour and form, and even bracken, much maligned as it is, brings us summer greens and bronze and even gold in late autumn and winter, contributing to some startling sunrise effects in the shorter days. Heather by comparison carries just the one shot in its scenic repertory available only now, and we are made to wait for it over 11 months while all the rest of nature performs constantly.
Those whose visits are confined to August, and I’ve met some of these, get an unbalanced view, one which does get nourished in certain cultural narratives disseminated by interests with something to gain from maintaining this kind of landscape and also those who promote a sense of an identity linking communities with past usage and present appearance. That narrative, like others that come into the 'cultural landscapes' storyline, bears more resemblance to a fairy tale than the reality of past or present. The particular mythology implies that there has been in the past and could be again a kind of idealised heathland, one where the heather is often purple, where human activity, wildlife and farm animals co-exist in a stable and sustainable ideal state always open to the sun and fresh air. Fiction is a polite word for this and I refer you to the fanciful world of Frances Hodgson Burnett.
But more needs to be said about heather and its role here and the influence it has on the management of the moor. A lot more. Unfortunately that is just what the land managers do not want to happen. They are not prepared to discuss the heather. Because heather here is in crisis.
The conservation industry claims of cultural landscape and anthropogenic influence are there to distract from any attempt to look at the landscape afresh and from multiple viewpoints. For if there’s one thing we’ve learned it is that the local managers are powerless before the wealthy pressure groups dominating Natural England. And they have no wish to allow us to decide for ourselves what our publicly owned natural spaces should look like.
As an all-over crop, heather here is unsustainable and failing. It might be compared to 1960s anaglypta wallpaper in a listed building that's peeling off in places beyond any prospect of repair or renovation and anyway all possible measures are ruled out because of regulations and/or lack of resources.
The heather has grown beyond its normal low height like a garden shrub needing serious attention. As it gets leggy other plants that are ‘undesirable’ (yet totally natural and native) push through destroying the mythological hegemony of heathland. When drastic action is taken to ‘restore’ the heath the process is so excessive as to be equivalent to curing the common cold by killing the patient. One prominent section of this heath has now become a nursery for resurgent birch, much of it the same age. Nothing has been done to prevent this – although gullible members of the under-informed public had previously been persuaded that cows would stop this happening!
Now the plan would seem to be to hand-cut this young birch growth (‘scrub’) and deal with a perceived fire hazard from the dry stalks of leggy heather by cutting new fire breaks. Not likely to go down well with those valuing a natural look to the moor. The decision to allow leggy heather to remain is good news for the heather beetle which favours the older stuff but may stroll over to the younger. No certain way of dealing with this has yet been found but if one comes along it will likely be another chemical strategy. That will not endear itself to those who believe a nature reserve should be … well, silly I know, but what about natural?
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