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Posted on November 27, 2011 by Ash
I recently spent a fantastic week on my own in Scotland making pilgrimages to big trees and climbing a couple of Munros. At the beginning of my week I walked around the Birks of Aberfeldy on a rather dank and overcast day. The Birks is a small, wooded valley through which flows the Moness Burn. It was originally known as the Den of Moness but the name was changed after Robert Burns visited and wrote the song ’The Birks of Aberfeldy’ in 1787 (‘birks’ is Scots for ‘birches’).
This is a European beech (Fagus sylvatica), although you can’t tell from the moss-covered trunk. Down here in the countryside on the edge of the Peak District, beech trees have beautiful silvery trunks more or less free of moss and lichen. I know our trees would probably have been dripping with lichens before the Industrial Revolution, but I reckon a beechwood is better-looking with its silverware on display.
A statue of Rabbie has been seated by the burn. Someone had attached a Remembrance Day poppy to his lapel.
An oak leaf amongst beech leaves.
I passed a few small waterfalls as I walked up the valley. There was a fair bit of water going over them – it had rained like billyo in the night.
The waterfall on the left drops into the burn just upstream of a wee gorge.
It’s funny how this oak burr is made up of segments that are trying to be hexagonal, as if it has formed like a big, wooden crystal. It kind of looks a bit like a turtle-shell.
Another oak tree – an overgrown coppice.
Eventually I reached the big waterfall, the star attraction of the Birks. This photo doesn’t really do justice to its size and power, but I assure you it was quite impressive in the flesh. There’s a really tall Scots pine growing from the bottom of the braes – you can see part of the trunk running up the left of the photo.
A footbridge over the top of the fall allows for a closer look at the action and the opportunity to walk back down the valley on the other side of the river.
The oaks in their winter coats of lichen really stood out from the bare birks.
A giant old stump exhibited fantastical patterning and had pretty groovy colouration to boot.
If you’re going to encircle a young tree with a metal bench, the tree would probably appreciate if you removed it before… this.
The Birks of Aberfeldy, by Robert Burns
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