This is an engaging and worthwhile contribution to the deer debate, but it fails to address some of the complexities involved, writes Katharine Hay
Deer management is one of Scotland’s most contentious environmental debates, often pitting competing views of the land and how it should be managed against one another. So there is little surprise that it makes a good subject for a new book. In Locked Antlers, Mike Daniels, researcher and lecturer at the Centre for Mountain Studies at Perth College, explores the ideological impasse on the topic between traditional sporting estates, environmental organisations and, at times, the Scottish Government.
The book is an illuminating examination of a debate that can feel intractable, but it often brings the reader into the echo chamber for one side of the conversation rather than offering a balanced account of the topic.
Daniels makes a compelling case for why deer management in Scotland needs to change. The pressures deer place on some habitats, the challenges of balancing conservation with land use, and the need to rethink incentives and management practices are all important issues. His exploration of approaches adopted elsewhere, including Slovenia, offers interesting possibilities for reducing deer numbers and making what is often viewed as an elitist activity more accessible. The book is at its strongest when setting out these challenges and considering how things might be done differently. The author also brings to life a fascinating timeline detailing humans’ relationship with deer over thousands of years.
However, Locked Antlers is less convincing when it turns its attention to those working within Scotland’s traditional estate system. At times, the criticism of estate workers, particularly gamekeepers, becomes something of a tirade, painting a broad group of people with the same brush. A comparison Daniels makes between those who value knowledge gained on the hill over generations and anti-science movements feels particularly reductive. Generations of observation and skills passed down through rural communities have an important place alongside academic research. While Daniels does acknowledge this, it is often overshadowed by a heavy focus on how bad traditional estates are in his view. This imbalance is frustrating because it overlooks the diversity within estate management and the progress made by some of those working on the ground.
While there is value in documenting the hostility that arises around deer management, the entrenched positions that have obstructed change and the activism that has led to positive change, Daniels’ focus on the worst examples from one camp, while appearing more sympathetic to the other, risks reinforcing the very divisions he describes. At times, the tone feels closer to a social media polemic than the balanced analysis the subject deserves.
The book is also overly preoccupied with the Victorian sporting-estate model, as though it remains the defining feature of land management across Scotland. That model is undoubtedly part of the story, and Daniels is right to examine the legacy of its influence. Yet estates are not static institutions, and many have been adapting in response to government policy, changing social attitudes and environmental pressures for years. Increasingly, large estates are passing into corporate ownership, with natural capital and environmental investment reshaping the landscape. This transition deserved more attention than the book gives it.
Because of Daniels’s fixation on the failings of the Victorian estate model, I didn’t feel there was enough consideration of the potential consequences of proposed reforms, whether good or bad, for rural communities and the interconnected livelihoods built around estate management. Deer management is not simply a matter of conservation and sporting interests. Traditional estates are also bound up with employment, local identity and the practical realities of living and working on the land.
The alliance between Assynt crofters and gamekeepers, which Daniels appears to find surprising, is perhaps less unexpected when viewed through this lens. Both groups have a close relationship with the land and may find themselves united when external policies threaten their way of life, even if their reasons for defending it differ. Scotland is a mosaic of landscapes, habitats and communities, so universal, top-down change will naturally create conflict for those who work the hills and call them home.
Ultimately, Locked Antlers is an engaging and worthwhile contribution to the debate, particularly in its explanation of why Scotland must confront the ecological consequences of deer management and consider new approaches. Daniels effectively lays out a case for change, but I felt the book’s strengths were too often undermined by its predictable framing of estates with more traditional set-ups. This ultimately obscures the complexity of the people and livelihoods involved, as well as the evolving nature of Scottish estates. In a debate already marked by locked horns, a little more balance might have helped unlock it.
Locked Antlers: The Battle Over Scotland’s Deer, by Mike Daniels, Birlinn, £10.99
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