This upland moor is a place where culture and nature are intertwined. Everywhere we looked on this sun-glazed morning were irregular, if repeated, hummocks and corresponding hollows that are the insignia of old mineshafts.
Derbyshire workmen once followed lead seams across Bonsall and, as they dug, they left mounds of spoil. They are still so contaminated with heavy metals that the livestock can die of lead poisoning and grazing pressure remains light. Bird-planted hawthorns have infilled many shaft hollows and now Bonsall is more covered in thorn scrub than almost any other part of this county. Fieldfares gorged their berries and overhead the heavens were freckled with chakking thrushes.
