Out of nowhere, a flock of goldfinch arcs overhead, at least 15 of them, gathering to escape the winter months on this exposed moor. The shape they make is fluid and effortless in its constant change, whereas I almost lose balance trying to follow them as they sweep overhead from behind me. I watch as they break around an obstacle, over, around and through, before merging again. Then I realise what the obstacle is. It’s another group, almost as clumsy as I am, but charming nevertheless – a small herd of cattle.
I can see at once that they come in two flavours, red polls and Welsh blacks. They are smaller breeds that are happy on a wild moor, content to get on with the task they’ve been set: reshaping and restoring the moor’s ecology. The landscape around me used to be heavily populated with sheep, and their legacy is everywhere.
