Stark contrast between the dark, scorched earth of a recent muirburn in the foreground and the vibrant green of a valley in the distance. The burn area shows blackened earth and charred vegetation with two small, bare trees. A conifer plantation is visible in the midground, perilously close to the burnt area. The distant hill of Cold Moor complete the scene.

Scorched Earth: A Cool Burn on Hasty Bank

Ah yes, the wonders of the so-called “cool burn”—a delightful little exercise in setting fire to the heather in supposedly small, controlled patches. The idea, we are told, is to clear out the old heather without charring the peat or moss underneath, thereby avoiding carbon loss and allowing for quick regrowth. The fire, they assure us, is kept at such a mild temperature that it only singes the top layer, kindly leaving the roots unscathed. How very considerate.

A landscape image featuring Bilsdale with its mix of green fields, forested areas, and distant hills under a blue sky with scattered clouds. The immediate foreground shows the stark effects of Muirburn, with a blackened, burnt hillside contrasting dramatically with the lush greenery of the surrounding landscape.
View down Bilsdale.

And yet, this morning on the steep slopes of Hasty Bank, we stumbled upon what can only be described as a rather enthusiastic interpretation of a “controlled” burn. A vast stretch of land, blackened and lifeless, where the fire had clearly spread from the flatter top of White Hill and gone rampaging down the southern slope. What was meant to be a neatly managed burn appears to have taken on a life of its own—essentially a wildfire, but let us not get caught up in semantics.

I do wonder whether the required licence had been issued for this particular spectacle, given that burning more than half a hectare on a steep slope or rocky terrain supposedly requires special permission from Natural England1Natural England and Department for Environment, Food & Rural Affairs. “Heather and grass burning: rules and when you need a licence”. Last updated 18 January 2024. https://www.gov.uk/guidance/heather-and-grass-burning-apply-for-a-licence. A closer look at the scorched earth revealed an utter lack of surviving mosses or grasses, with small mammal runs left cruelly exposed. Meanwhile, up on the moor top, the newly burned swiddens at least showed some promise of regrowth—grasses merely singed rather than obliterated, offering at least some cover for the wildlife that had not already been incinerated.

We are constantly reminded that muirburn is a marvellous conservation tool, an ecological necessity even. And yet, looking at the devastation, one might begin to suspect otherwise. It must annihilate untold numbers of reptiles and insects, including no doubt many legally protected species. On peat bogs and wetlands, it destroys vital habitats, releases vast quantities of carbon, increases flood risks, acidifies the water table, and pollutes water supplies. But no matter—let us not allow minor inconveniences like environmental destruction to cloud our appreciation of this fine tradition.

Of course, the true purpose of this rotational burning has nothing whatsoever to do with biodiversity or wildlife conservation, despite the polite fiction that it does. No, the objective is rather simpler: to curate the landscape for the convenience of shooting parties. Older heather for nesting, younger heather for feeding, and freshly burned patches for new growth—an endless cycle designed to maximise the number of Grouse per acre, all for the noble cause of allowing well-dressed gentlemen to massacre them in great numbers come the Glorious Twelfth. Conservation, indeed.


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