Bog Myrtle & Peat

One of the main features of Langholm was the abundance of letterbox traps. It sometimes seemed like there were traps on every hill, and watching one through a pair of binoculars, I saw three crows poised sulkily on the top beam as a call bird flickered and fluttered around inside. Nearby, a blackcock wandered through the white grass without a care in the world.

The traps work like large lobster pots, and once they have slipped inside, crows find it impossible to escape. Their large size means that they are suitable for catching many crows at once, and if I can gather the materials together over the next few days, I plan to make one of my own for the Chayne. Crows are becoming more territorial by the day, and listening to a lone snipe sqeaking around his territory for the first time last night, it is clear that something needs to be done about them soon.