WILDLIFE
the nickname ‘sweet mart’ proves that the pine marten is not odorous like its
close relative the polecat.
Young Graham’s aroma, for example, was akin to damp leaf litter on the woodland fl oor.
To Victorian gamekeepers, pine the capercaillie – they are thought While many of the visitors enter the house,
and in fact often come looking for their human associates if the food is not there, the animals are always fed at the window on a table specially made for them. This is to minimise familiarity with other humans outwith the area, and to keep them away from the road. Thus far they have shown no sign of being familiar with humans other than within this ‘safe’ house. Life is not dull in the garden. The martens do
their fair share of fl ower arranging – often bulbs are dug up and eggs planted instead. They are full of devilish playfulness: support netting for runner beans is commandeered as hammocks and swings, and youngsters frequently slide off the greenhouse roof and into the vegetable patch to enjoy seasonal produce. The Wilsons have built them an adventure playground with tunnels and obstacles, which they relish. Pine martens have yellow-gold bibs stippled
Above: This Victorian engraving shows the pine marten in its preferred habitat – up a tree. Right: Luxuriant fur has always made the marten a target.
with individual markings, making recognition easier. The Wilsons have kept a detailed photo- graphic record of their visitors, each of whom has been given a name – as well as Graham, there’s Doc, Dean and Millicent among others. They have a penchant for nesting in cars.
Capercaillie and mince pies The pine marten had been all but wiped out in Scotland by the 1870s, just clinging on in a few remote parts of the north-west. By 1915 it had gone from England. Humans have long been the animal’s biggest foe, thanks to confl ict with game interests. Its fabulous rich, dark brown fur (their collective term is ‘a richness of pine martens’) was also highly sought after, though in medieval times only royalty were permitted to wear it. As someone once commented: ‘The higher your rank, the more rank the fur,’ though
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martens were the ‘scourge of the glen’. Eggs of ground-nesting birds and young chicks make easy prey, but tales suggesting they could rip out a sheep’s throat were surely mythical. They’ve made an incredible recovery and are now present in much of Scot- land. Increased commercial forestry and legal protection have helped, but they still have many enemies; and despite the law they are fre quently ‘mistaken’ for mink and killed. Their role in the demise of to be
consuming eggs and chicks – is a problem. It is a worrying issue with few easy answers (a proposal to cull pine martens to save the capercaillie is a peculiarly crazy solution that caused uproar). Capercaillie numbers have fallen because of increasingly wet breeding seasons, loss and fragmentation of habitat, increased pressure on wild places by walkers, dogs and mountain bikers, deer fencing, and the continual march of urbanisation. Pine martens certainly don’t help, but human disturbance is far more damaging. The animals undoubtedly know how to make
a nuisance of themselves, though. Any visit to the henhouse will end in a killing spree. Roof spaces make ideal dens – listen out for strange rumblings overhead next time you stay in a remote holiday cottage. They broke into the village shop at Kilchoan one Christmas and their passion for mince pies quickly got out of hand, tucking into a new box nightly (the expensive brandy- laced ones rather than the economy variety). The shop owner managed to catch one of them in a live trap and took it back up the peninsula to Glenuig. Some wag later sent him a postcard of a pine marten with the simple message: ‘Having a lovely time, wish you were here – P. Marten.’ I once had a call about a ‘legless’ pine marten
in a pub in Kinloch Rannoch. He was a poor thin old boy with few teeth, weak and starving. He had clearly been living for years with three legs as the stump was perfectly healed. Before he was put down, we made up a gourmet last supper: strawberries, day-old chicks, steak, peanuts, jam and digestive biscuits. The jam especially went down a treat. The pine marten: opportunist omnivore and
arboreal acrobat, dressed in immaculate fur and with an insatiable sweet tooth – and now back in most of its old haunts.
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