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Loch  Meallbrodden Walk

Though south of the Highland Boundary Fault and so, technically, in the Lowlands this walk takes one through as isolated a landscape as one can find anywhere in the Highlands. Take the Crieff Road from Aberfeldy through the Sma Glen (pausing to listen and look for elusive Ring Ouzels in the gullies on the south side of the glen.) As I heard but did not see them a female stoat, so small I thought her a weasel till I saw her black tail tip, carrying a youngster in her mouth ran close by me to vanish into a hole by the road.

At the end of the Sma Glen turn left to Buchanty and then right at East Buchanty farm onto the tiny road signed to Fowlis Wester. The day we went the fields to left and right were teeming with life; at least a dozen Brown Hares grazed among Mistle Thrushes, Lapwing, Curlew and three Blackcock with one, seldom seen, Greyhen close to the car. There was a very good view of a recently arrived male Wheatear; he bobbed at us, his apricot breast bright in the sunlight. Then he flew exposing the white arse from which the name Wheatear was corrupted as the ancient name was considered improper by politically correct Victorians. Rude or no, it’s much more descriptive than Wheatear! A roe deer ran for cover in a copse where, on a former visit, there were six Red Kites in the Scots Pines probably attracted by a dead beast.

The Forestry on the left is clearly marked as Murray’s Hill and the beginning of the walk is at a car park, through a gateway opposite the southern corner of this plantation [OS map reference 930250]. From there a clear track leads a little over a mile to the loch. This is a lovely walk with extensive views south over Strathearn to the low rolling witchy Ochils. Westwards the summit of Ben Vorlich stands high above invisible Loch Earn in the Trossachs. Less charming is the distant whirl of a wind farm on the horizon.

The path begins through massed gorse, heady with perfume on a fine spring day. This is a good place for Linnets, Stonechat, Wheatear, Yellowhammer and, later, Whinchat but on a late April day the main birds were Willow Warblers, Robins and ubiquitous Meadow Pipits. Red Grouse call their proprietorial ‘Go-go-go-backs’ from the moor where sometimes Hen Harriers may be seen quartering their territory for prey. 

Two ex-WD buildings suggest that this was once a commando training ground; far more ancient is a huge standing stone with a stone circle beside it. It is most noticeable that our forbears chose good views when they left their primitive, but durable, marks on the landscape. After the lone derelict buildings the path descends to the wood of Larch and Scots Pine. Stop here and look around; the old building is the only sign of man’s presence in a wide, wild panorama.

In the wood there are the noises of invisible Goldcrests and Coal Tits feeding in the conifers where Song Thrushes sing ‘you‘ll do it, you‘ll do it’. The half mile of the loch is exquisite; a trout-dimpled emerald green reflection of the surrounding budding larches. On a sunny spring afternoon by the dam it was full of mating frogs and a proud pair of Canada Geese escorted five early, fluffy yellow  goslings. A fiercely territorial cob Mute Swan marshalled the young family out of his patch; the goslings wisely diving out of reach of an aggressor many times their size. Other waterfowl included Little Grebe, Tom Pudding they are called in some parts, and a number of handsome Tufted Duck, the males smart in their black and white breeding plumage with contrasting blue bills. Across the loch, high on a Scots Pine, is an untidy Osprey nest. The birds have bred here for years but in 2007 one of the pair died and, so far, they have not returned this season.

It is possible to cross the dam and return on the north side of the loch to regain the track. In a short walk you may see as many as twenty or thirty bird species in area of great serenity.

When you return to the car park go on down the hill to Fowlis Wester (pronounced Fowl’s Wester) for its fine Celtic Cross makes a good finale to a beautiful walk reminding one that this countryside has been enjoyed by man for millennia and that the birds seen today have hardly changed at all since someone took the trouble to raise the great megalith on the moor with nothing more than brawn, levers and rollers.

By Robin Hull