Exmoor was one of the first National Parks to be declared, and is also one of the smallest at c. 69,000ha (the Lake District is 236,000ha). Exmoor’s northern boundary is defined by its vertiginous wooded cliffs along the Bristol Channel. Inland it stretches southwards, mostly through Somerset and a corner of Devon, and includes one of the few areas of upland heath and moor in southern England, reaching a height at Dunkery Beacon of 519m. From a wildlife perspective, it is perhaps best known for its herds of Red Deer and superb Atlantic woods, for example, in the valleys at Horner, Watersmeet and along the River Barle. However, the author has done a magnificent job in laying out the wider conservation importance of Exmoor, from the intricacies of the effect of the breaching of Porlock Bay and the history of the commons in the southern part of the National Park, to highlighting hidden gems such as the inaccessible Yew woods near Woody Bay on the Devon coast.
Flemming Ulf-Hansen was Natural England’s Land Manager and Conservation Advisor for Exmoor for almost 30 years and he has drawn on a wealth of information, some of it not widely available, to present an intricate portrait of Exmoor, which will, I am sure, provide a new depth of understanding for even those who thought they were familiar with the area. His approach is to describe the main habitats of the area, including the ‘Hidden Coast’, which is evidently one of his favourites. One aspect of this account that has impressed me is the author’s extensive use of specialist surveys commissioned by Natural England and its predecessors, from lichenologists and entomologists, members of the Somerset Rare Plants Group and the Exmoor Natural History Society, which provide the reader with a level of information I have seldom seen in the New Naturalist series.
An important final chapter, ‘Conservation: A Crucible of Change’, includes a frank account of the difficulties faced by the National Park Authority and conservation agencies in the early decades of the park. Indeed, some of the examples, involving loss of moorland habitat in the face of a farming culture financed by the Ministry of Agriculture, which viewed such areas as ripe for draining and ploughing, make salutary reading. The enquiries and reports resulting from these conflicts, which played out in remote parts of Exmoor, were in no small part crucial to the eventual strengthening of conservation legislation across the UK. Ulf-Hansen also reviews major initiatives such as the impressive work to restore mires carried out by the Exmoor Mires Partnership, which later widened into the South West Peatland Partnership, and flood alleviation schemes such as on the National Trust estate along the river Aller. The latter project has recently included the introduction of Beavers. The National Park itself owns only 7% of Exmoor (the National Trust has around 10%), so most conservation progress requires working with a range of farmers and landowners, and the author is unflinching in his analysis of the successes and failures of this and the effects of the underlying rollercoaster of funding that underpins such work. Having spent many days tramping across Exmoor’s soggy Molinia dominated ‘grass moors’ (or are they better described as ‘degraded peatlands’?), I found his questioning of such definitions refreshing.
At its heart, Exmoor has a wonderful intricacy, where you can stumble upon sheltered valleys peppered with oakwoods and see the rare Heath Fritillary seeking out banks of Common Cow-wheat, hear Pied Flycatchers and catch the echoing calls of Cuckoos. This place has a character which is subtly different from its near neighbour, Dartmoor. Ulf-Hansen, who clearly cares deeply about Exmoor, has provided us with a magnificent insight into this rather special corner of Britain.