Select an image to reveal What Lies Beneath…
Herdsman
The iconic Buachaille Etive Mòr (Great Herdsman of Etive) stands as a sentinel on the edge of Rannoch Moor, its pyramidal form instantly recognisable. From above, the road across the moor blends into the background, hardly more visible than the deer trails that crisscross the ground below. Seen as a picture postcard, human intervention can seem diminished in the landscape, while the deer—their trails largely invisible from ground level—leave their own mark, shaping the vegetation in ways we’ve stopped noticing, their impact hidden in plain sight.
Muirburn
A patchwork of irregular shapes marks many upland areas of Scotland—evidence of muirburn, the controlled burning of heather to encourage new growth that provides both food and shelter for red grouse. Bulldozed tracks wind through the landscape, giving easy access to the many shooting butts that pepper the hillsides. From above, the scale of intervention is unmistakable, what appears wild at first glance is, in reality, carefully managed to encourage grouse to flourish—so they can be shot for sport.
Regeneration
The Cairngorms tell a story of depletion—and now, of renewal. Centuries of overgrazing by deer and sheep stripped away what was once a thriving ecosystem, leaving behind open moorlands and fragmented habitats. Today, as grazing pressure is reduced—through controversial deer culls, policy changes, and shifts in land management—signs of natural regeneration are beginning to appear. Young trees and native plants are reclaiming ground, hinting at what the landscape could become if allowed to recover. Yet this transformation is contentious, dividing landowners, conservationists, and local communities over questions of identity, economy, and the future of the Highlands.
Oak Woodland
Kinclaven Wood is one of the largest remnants of native oak woodland in Scotland — extensively replanted after the Second World War and now managed by the Woodland Trust, who promote it as the Bluebell Woods. At the boundary between the old woods and newer plantations stands a solitary beech, made famous by Outlander, where it was known as the Witness Tree. From above, its broad crown marks the meeting point between the textured canopy of native woodland and the darker, uniform lines of conifers.
Hut Circles
A dammed river, plantations, sheep pasture, bare hillsides—it could be almost any Scottish glen. But beneath this familiar landscape lie hidden stories. The remains of abandoned buildings hint at lost settlements, while close to this spot is a memorial cairn for Robert Campbell (1808–1894), a native of the glen and a notable explorer of the Arctic regions of Canada. His life spanned a time when sweeping changes forced many to seek opportunity far beyond their home—a pattern that continues today, as economic pressures and limited prospects still drive people from the land.
Potato Furrows
Much of the landscape in lowland Scotland is dominated by agriculture—fields have become vast canvases, their scale visible only from above. What appears to be countryside at ground level is, in fact, a patchwork shaped by cycles of cultivation, where the natural contours of the land are overlaid with geometry and repetition—a landscape engineered to meet our needs.
Pheasant Cuts
From the ground, it might pass unnoticed—but from the air, the landscape is etched with an intricate pattern of cuts. Here, swathes of heather have been mown to encourage fresh growth, providing food and cover for pheasants and grouse bred for sport. This intervention shapes the moorland with a geometry which is starkly revealed after a fresh a covering of snow.
Hill Tracks
Winding across the landscape, hill tracks are often unnoticed from the ground—but from the air, their presence is unmistakable. Many are created as “permitted developments,” allowing landowners to construct tracks for agricultural or forestry use without full planning permission—a process frequently used by sporting estates to reach remote areas for shooting. Alongside drainage channels—visible in both images—these routes reshape fragile upland areas, altering the ecology, appearance, and experience of the landscape for generations.
Fort Grouse
The Highland landscape is shaped by competing interests—sporting estates, plantations, and wind farms all leaving their mark. In the foreground, a heavily managed grouse moor shows the effects of burning and cutting, interventions designed to encourage new heather growth for game birds. These practices, deeply embedded in Scotland’s sporting traditions, spark ongoing debate between conservationists and estate managers. Below, an Iron Age vitrified fort stands as a relic of an older form of land control, its shattered stones serving as a reminder of Scotland’s ancient past and a stark contrast to the modern land use seen above.
Tank Traps
A surprising amount of Scotland’s land is dedicated to golf—more per capita than almost anywhere else in the world. At Gullane, the links stretch along the coast, their fairways and greens a striking example of how leisure has reshaped the landscape. Just inland, a line of concrete tank traps slices through the rough—reminders of wartime anxiety, when defence against invasion seemed an urgent necessity. From above, the patterns of leisure and conflict intersect, revealing a landscape where history and recreation are layered one upon the other.