I did not grow up on the farm itself. My mother was the sister of my uncle Ian, and she had been raised there, at the farm called Westerton above the small village of Glenlivet in Speyside. By the time I was a child we were living in Keith, so my contact with the farm came during the school holidays.

There were three periods in the year when I went there: the Easter holidays, the long summer holidays, and what we called the tatty holidays, when the potato harvest took place. During those weeks the farm became my world.

My grandparents lived there. My grandfather was Charlie Grant and my grandmother was Meg Grant. My grandmother had not originally come from that part of Scotland. She had been an orphan from Edinburgh and had somehow made her way north, eventually becoming part of life at Westerton.

My uncle Ian lived on the farm as well. He never married. The farm was essentially his life.

The land around Westerton was typical of that part of Speyside. Lower fields where crops were grown gave way to rough grazing and hills covered in heather. Behind the farm the ground rose gradually toward Carn Daimh. It was open country where sheep could move freely and where the wind was almost always present.

The farm kept around three to four hundred Scottish Blackface sheep. They were hardy animals suited to the hills and they lambed outside on the hill. Bringing them indoors was not something my uncle considered.

There were also about twenty-five cattle. In winter they stayed inside the byre and in summer they grazed outside. Young cattle, known locally as sturks, were also part of the operation.

The lower fields were used to grow feed crops. Barley was grown for animal feed and turnips – neeps – were planted as winter fodder. Whether the turnips lasted the whole winter depended on the weather. Some years they did. In harder winters extra feed had to be bought.

Lambing was the most demanding time of the year. My uncle would go out early in the morning, around dawn, walking quietly through the ewes. Somehow he seemed able to tell which sheep were about to lamb. If there were difficulties he dealt with them himself.

Later in the morning the animals were fed and the lambs sorted. Ewes with twins were separated from those with single lambs.

Sometimes a ewe rejected a lamb. When that happened my uncle used an old technique. If a lamb had died he would skin it and place the fleece over the rejected lamb. The ewe would then be penned with it until she accepted it as her own. If that failed the lamb had to be bottle fed.

Inside the house the centre of life was a large Raeburn range. A kettle was almost always on the stove. Tea was the main drink and my uncle made it unusually strong, boiling the tea with the water. Coffee was not part of everyday life then.

My grandmother kept a single Jersey cow because she loved cream. I remember her making butter by hand. Cream was separated from the milk and churned until it formed butter. This was before freezers became common.

Food was simple. Breakfast was porridge made from oats. Soup was common, especially pearl barley soup.

Supplies from outside arrived once a week by grocery van. There was also a small shop in Tomnavoulin run by Sandy Turner, though it eventually closed. Later people began travelling to Aberlour or Keith and eventually supermarkets appeared in places like Elgin.

Winter could isolate the farm. It was not always deep snow but blizzards that caused the problem. Wind drove the snow into drifts that blocked the roads and sometimes the farm was cut off for two or three weeks.

The wider farming world revolved around livestock markets. Animals were taken to marts in Keith, Dufftown and Tomintoul. Farmers examined animals in the pens and the auction set the price.

There were also the agricultural shows during the summer: Turriff, Keith and the Black Isle Show. Sheep, cattle and horses were judged and farmers took pride in their animals.

The hills held a variety of wildlife: mountain hares on the higher ground, red grouse on the moor, and occasionally ptarmigan. In the sky above the Braes of Glenlivet one might see a golden eagle, though they were wary birds.

Ravens were also present, slow black shapes crossing the sky.

In the valley curlews and lapwings called across the grasslands and small birds such as meadow pipits rose from the fields.

The River Livet ran through the valley before joining the River Spey. My uncle was a fly fisherman, although when we fished as boys we usually used worms or spinners.

There were other sides to life in that countryside as well. My uncle knew a local gamekeeper named Geordie White who had turned to poaching. At night they sometimes went out lamping deer. The meat would later be sold quietly to a butcher.

Looking back now, that world belonged to a particular moment in time. During my childhood many things were already changing. Freezers appeared in houses, supermarkets replaced small shops, and farming slowly moved toward larger commercial systems.

But during those holidays at Westerton the older farming life of Glenlivet was still very much alive.

Life on the hill farms of Glenlivet was closely tied to the presence of wildlife. Sheep farming took place in open landscapes where animals shared the land with birds, predators and scavengers. Farmers were accustomed to this and understood that the hill was never controlled completely by people.

On the farm at Westerton, where my grandparents Charlie and Meg Grant lived and where my uncle Ian Grant farmed, the hills held a wide range of birds and animals. Some were simply part of the landscape. Others required active management.

Among the most visible birds were the ravens. They were large and unmistakable, often seen moving slowly across the sky or sitting on rocks on the hill. Ravens were present in the area, but they were not especially common around the farm itself during my childhood.

More frequent were the hooded crows. Local farmers believed that these birds would sometimes peck at lambs, particularly weak animals or lambs that had died shortly after birth. It was commonly said that crows would go for the eyes. Whether this happened before or after death was often difficult to know.

What was clear was that lambing required close supervision. Lambs were rarely alone. The ewe was normally very protective and the shepherd was expected to check the flock regularly, particularly during the lambing period.

My uncle would go out at dawn to inspect the ewes. Later in the morning there was another round of feeding and checking, and again in the evening before dusk the flock would be looked over once more. Lambing was an extremely intensive period of work.

Because of this close attention most problems were detected quickly. If a lamb was weak or if there were complications during birth, the shepherd would intervene. The idea that large numbers of lambs would simply be left unattended on the hill did not match how the farm actually worked.

Bird control was also part of farm management at the time. Carrion crow nests were often destroyed and sometimes birds were shot. The intention was not to eliminate them entirely but to prevent them from becoming too accustomed to farm animals.

There was also a tradition of hanging dead crows on fences as a warning to other birds. In practice most farmers regarded this more as superstition than an effective method, but the practice still appeared occasionally in rural areas.

The landscape itself supported many other species. Higher up on the moor there were mountain hares and birds such as red grouse and occasionally ptarmigan. Birds of prey were present as well. Buzzards and hen harriers could sometimes be seen, and on rare occasions a golden eagle passed over the hills.

These birds were part of the wider ecology of the Highlands. Sheep farming existed within that system rather than outside it.

The rivers and burns also supported wildlife. The River Livet flowed through the valley before joining the River Spey. My uncle was a fly fisherman, though as boys we often fished using worms or spinners for trout.

Looking back, what stands out is how closely everyday farming was connected to the surrounding landscape. Farmers knew the behaviour of animals and birds not from reports or studies but from daily observation over many years.

This knowledge was practical rather than theoretical. It came from walking the hill every day, watching the flock, and understanding how weather, terrain and wildlife interacted.

That experience shaped how farmers viewed predators and scavengers. They were not abstract conservation questions but part of the real environment in which farming took place.

Lambing on hill farms in the north-east of Scotland was the most demanding period of the year. On the farm at Westerton in Glenlivet, where my grandparents Charlie and Meg Grant lived and where my uncle Ian Grant farmed, the entire rhythm of the farm changed during this time.

The sheep were mainly Scottish Blackface, a breed adapted to the hills and the weather of the Highlands. These animals lambed outside on the hill rather than indoors. The system depended on the shepherd being constantly present and attentive.

My uncle began the day very early. Around dawn he would go out to the hill to walk through the flock. This was not simply a quick inspection. Over years of experience he had developed the ability to read the behaviour of the sheep. Certain signs – the way a ewe stood, the way she separated from the flock, or the way she moved – could indicate that lambing was about to begin.

If he suspected that a ewe would lamb that day he would keep a closer watch on her. In difficult cases he intervened himself. Experience with lambing complications was considered an essential skill for shepherds.

The next main activity on the farm took place later in the morning. Between roughly ten and eleven the sheep were fed. During winter and early spring this feed consisted mainly of barley and turnips, known locally as neeps. The availability of these crops determined how well the sheep came through the colder months.

After feeding, newly born lambs were often sorted. Ewes with twins were separated from ewes with single lambs. This allowed the weaker animals to receive more attention and improved their chances of survival.

Sometimes a ewe rejected a lamb. This could happen if she had been disturbed during the birth or if the lamb had been handled too early. Shepherds used practical methods to solve this problem. One traditional technique involved using the fleece of a dead lamb. The skin was placed over the rejected lamb so that the ewe would recognise the scent and accept it as her own.

If this method failed the lamb became a bottle lamb and had to be fed by hand.

The work did not end after the morning tasks. The flock would be checked again later in the day and once more in the evening before dusk. Lambing required continuous observation.

This level of attention was necessary because the early hours of a lamb’s life were the most vulnerable. A weak lamb or a difficult birth could quickly become fatal if it was not noticed in time.

Hill lambing therefore depended less on buildings or equipment and more on the experience of the shepherd and the amount of time spent on the hill observing the flock.

Looking back, what stands out most clearly is the intensity of the work. Lambing was not a distant or occasional task. For several weeks it dominated daily life on the farm.

Winter in the hills of Glenlivet shaped the rhythm of the farm as much as any other season. On the farm at Westerton, where my grandparents Charlie and Meg Grant lived and where my uncle Ian Grant farmed, the weather could change quickly and the farm had to be prepared for long periods of isolation.

Snow was not always deep in that part of Speyside, but the wind could turn even moderate snowfall into a serious problem. Blizzards would drive the snow across the open hills and pile it into drifts along roads and tracks. When that happened the farm could be cut off from the surrounding villages for days, sometimes for two or three weeks.

During these periods the farm depended entirely on what had already been stored. Turnips – known locally as neeps – were an essential winter crop. They were grown during the summer months and stored to provide feed for the sheep during the colder part of the year.

Barley was also grown on the lower fields of the farm. This grain was not used for whisky but for feeding livestock. Along with purchased feed pellets, it helped maintain the sheep when grazing became limited.

The cattle were brought indoors for the winter and kept in the byre. There were about twenty-five head of cattle on the farm, and keeping them inside protected them from the worst weather. During the summer they grazed outside, but winter management was more controlled.

The sheep remained largely on the hill. Scottish Blackface sheep were well adapted to these conditions. They were able to graze through rough grass and heather and withstand cold winds better than many other breeds.

Nevertheless the flock still had to be checked regularly. My uncle would walk out to the hill even during poor weather, making sure that animals had not become trapped in snowdrifts or separated from the flock.

Inside the house the centre of activity was the large Raeburn range. It provided heat for the kitchen and was used for cooking. There was nearly always a kettle on the stove. Tea was the standard drink and it was prepared strongly, often by boiling the tea directly with the water.

Food in winter was straightforward and practical. Breakfast was usually porridge made from oats. Soups were common as well, particularly pearl barley soup. These meals were filling and well suited to the cold climate.

Supplies were limited during the winter months. A grocery van normally came once a week from nearby towns such as Aberlour or Keith. If the roads were blocked by snow the delivery might not arrive at all, and the farm had to rely on whatever food was already available.

Because of these conditions the farm maintained a degree of self-sufficiency. Milk came from a Jersey cow kept by my grandmother, who particularly valued the cream. Butter was made by hand in the kitchen, a practice that had been common long before modern refrigeration.

Despite the difficulties winter also brought a certain stillness to the hills. Work continued every day, but the landscape became quieter. Snow, wind and long nights created a different atmosphere from the busy months of lambing and summer farming.

For those living on the farm it was simply another part of the annual cycle of life on the Highland hills.

Farming in the north-east of Scotland was not only about the work on the farm itself. The wider agricultural world was connected through livestock markets, agricultural shows and a network of neighbouring farms that depended on one another.

On the farm at Westerton in Glenlivet, where my grandparents Charlie and Meg Grant lived and where my uncle Ian Grant farmed, livestock markets were an important part of the yearly routine. Farmers regularly travelled to the marts in nearby towns such as Keith and Dufftown. Another important market was held in Tomintoul.

These market days were significant events for farmers in the region. Sheep and cattle were brought in trailers and placed in pens where buyers could examine them before the auction began. Farmers spent time walking along the rows of animals, discussing prices, bloodlines and the condition of the stock.

The auction itself moved quickly. Animals were brought into the ring and bids were called out as the auctioneer worked through the sale. Prices could vary depending on the season, the quality of the animals and the general state of the market.

For many farmers these marts were also social occasions. It was a place where news was exchanged, where farmers from different glens and farms met each other and where the wider agricultural community remained connected.

Agricultural shows were another important part of this rural network. During the summer months farmers travelled to large regional shows where livestock, machinery and rural crafts were displayed.

Among the most important shows in the north-east were the Turriff Show, the Keith Show and the Black Isle Show. These events attracted farmers from across the region.

Animals were judged according to breed standards. Different classes existed for sheep, cattle and horses. Farmers took considerable pride in presenting their best animals and winning a prize at one of these shows carried real prestige within the farming community.

My uncle Ian became well known locally for his Scottish Blackface sheep and sometimes travelled with friends to these shows. Preparing animals for exhibition required time and attention, and farmers often discussed breeding lines and flock quality during these gatherings.

Beyond the livestock competitions the shows also had a broader role in rural life. Agricultural machinery was demonstrated, local businesses displayed their equipment and there were various side attractions for visitors.

For many rural families these shows were one of the few occasions during the year when large numbers of people gathered together. Farmers, families and visitors moved between the livestock rings, machinery displays and food stalls.

These markets and shows formed an essential part of the agricultural landscape of the north-east of Scotland. They connected individual farms to the wider economy and maintained the social ties between farming communities across the region.

Looking back now, they represent an important element of a farming culture that was still very strong during the years when I visited the farm at Westerton during the school holidays.

Farming in the north-east of Scotland was not only about the work on the farm itself. The wider agricultural world was connected through livestock markets, agricultural shows and a network of neighbouring farms that depended on one another.

On the farm at Westerton in Glenlivet, where my grandparents Charlie and Meg Grant lived and where my uncle Ian Grant farmed, livestock markets were an important part of the yearly routine. Farmers regularly travelled to the marts in nearby towns such as Keith and Dufftown. Another important market was held in Tomintoul.

These market days were significant events for farmers in the region. Sheep and cattle were brought in trailers and placed in pens where buyers could examine them before the auction began. Farmers spent time walking along the rows of animals, discussing prices, bloodlines and the condition of the stock.

The auction itself moved quickly. Animals were brought into the ring and bids were called out as the auctioneer worked through the sale. Prices could vary depending on the season, the quality of the animals and the general state of the market.

For many farmers these marts were also social occasions. It was a place where news was exchanged, where farmers from different glens and farms met each other and where the wider agricultural community remained connected.

Agricultural shows were another important part of this rural network. During the summer months farmers travelled to large regional shows where livestock, machinery and rural crafts were displayed.

Among the most important shows in the north-east were the Turriff Show, the Keith Show and the Black Isle Show. These events attracted farmers from across the region.

Animals were judged according to breed standards. Different classes existed for sheep, cattle and horses. Farmers took considerable pride in presenting their best animals and winning a prize at one of these shows carried real prestige within the farming community.

My uncle Ian became well known locally for his Scottish Blackface sheep and sometimes travelled with friends to these shows. Preparing animals for exhibition required time and attention, and farmers often discussed breeding lines and flock quality during these gatherings.

Beyond the livestock competitions the shows also had a broader role in rural life. Agricultural machinery was demonstrated, local businesses displayed their equipment and there were various side attractions for visitors.

For many rural families these shows were one of the few occasions during the year when large numbers of people gathered together. Farmers, families and visitors moved between the livestock rings, machinery displays and food stalls.

These markets and shows formed an essential part of the agricultural landscape of the north-east of Scotland. They connected individual farms to the wider economy and maintained the social ties between farming communities across the region.

Looking back now, they represent an important element of a farming culture that was still very strong during the years when I visited the farm at Westerton during the school holidays.

The landscape around Westerton in Glenlivet was not only shaped by farming. Rivers, wildlife and the traditions surrounding them were part of everyday life in the area.

The River Livet runs through the valley before joining the larger River Spey. Both rivers are well known for their salmon fishing. On certain stretches of the river, known as beats, fishing rights were controlled and anglers needed permits. These beats were usually fished with fly rods, and experienced anglers travelled from other parts of Scotland and beyond to fish them.

My uncle Ian was a fly fisherman. Fly fishing was considered the proper way to fish for salmon, but as boys we usually used simpler methods. Worms or spinners were more practical for catching trout in the smaller streams and burns that ran down from the hills.

Sea trout were not common in the upper parts of the Livet valley. They were more often found further north, closer to the Moray Firth, or in larger rivers such as the Deveron or the Dee. The Livet valley lies relatively high, and by the time the river reached that area most of the sea trout had already turned back downstream.

The streams around the hills held brown trout and sometimes rainbow trout. These small burns were part of the everyday landscape and boys could spend hours along them with simple fishing tackle.

Fishing in the region also had another side. Some people fished at night using lamps or torches to locate fish in the water. Others used gaffs to take fish directly from pools. These practices existed alongside the formal fishing beats and permits.

Wildlife in the hills was abundant. The higher slopes held mountain hares, while the lower valleys supported rabbits, although rabbit populations were badly affected by myxomatosis during certain periods.

Birdlife was also characteristic of the open landscape. Curlews and lapwings were common in the lower fields. On the hills there were red grouse and occasionally ptarmigan. Smaller birds such as twite and redpoll could be seen in suitable areas.

Birds of prey were present as well. Buzzards and hen harriers were known in the region, and golden eagles could sometimes be seen in the more remote hills, particularly toward the Braes of Glenlivet and the higher ground leading toward Badenoch.

Ravens also lived in those hills, though they tended to stay in the deeper and quieter parts of the landscape rather than around the farm itself.

Another part of rural life that existed quietly alongside farming was poaching. My uncle knew a local gamekeeper named Geordie White. At some point he had turned from gamekeeper to poacher, an irony that was not uncommon in rural Scotland.

Deer were sometimes taken at night using lamps. This practice, known locally as lamping, involved shining a strong light into the fields or hillsides to freeze the animal momentarily before taking the shot. The venison would then be sold quietly, sometimes to the same local butcher who might have bought estate venison through official channels.

Such activities existed on the margins of rural life. They were not openly discussed but they were understood as part of the landscape of the time.

Looking back, the hills around Glenlivet formed a complex system in which farming, wildlife, fishing and the traditions of the countryside all overlapped. The farm at Westerton was only one part of that wider world.

Timestamp: 06.03.2026

This page forms part of the wider documentation framework of the Berans-Pennet Data Room. The purpose of this section is to connect personal landscape experience with structured field observation and terrain analysis.

My background in sheep farming landscapes in the north-east of Scotland shaped how I look at terrain and animal movement. Hill farming required constant observation of weather, wildlife and grazing behaviour. Over time this develops a particular way of reading landscapes: ridgelines, sheltered valleys, feeding areas and natural corridors.

These same structural patterns also appear in the landscape of the northern Black Forest. Animal movement often concentrates along terrain features where several landscape elements intersect.

A detailed terrain study of such locations in the northern Black Forest can be found here:

Geländeanalyse der Wildwechsel – Badener Höhe, Bernsteinrück und Schwarzenbachtalsperre

This analysis documents terrain structures between Hornisgrinde, Badener Höhe, Hundseck and the Schwarzenbachtalsperre where wildlife movement corridors may occur. These corridors typically arise where landscape features intersect, such as:

• ridge lines
• forest edges
• valleys and watercourses
• transitions between open land and forest

Such structural landscape features are not unique to the Black Forest. Similar movement corridors exist in hill farming regions such as Glenlivet in Scotland, where wildlife and livestock share the same terrain.

The documentation on this site therefore combines several layers:

• historical farming experience
• landscape observation
• terrain analysis
• wildlife movement patterns

The goal is not advocacy but documentation. Understanding how animals move through landscapes requires observation of terrain, vegetation structure and human land use.

Further material and structural documentation can be found in the main archive of the Berans-Pennet Data Room.