Tending our wild isles
It’s 7am when I wake, in ancient oak woodland on the Hebridean island of Ulva. My bed crunches as I roll over: beneath me lies a forest floor carpeted with dried leaves. The morning sunlight filters through branches tufted with beard lichens. Wrens are peeping and, in the distance, the cows are calling.
There are few more intimate ways to experience nature than to sleep outdoors. Often even the wildlife doesn’t notice you. I’ve woken to find deer standing over me; I don’t know who was more surprised.
When I’m alone with nature, I always manage to find peace. But I feel doubly fortunate to be on
