Rebel Rose – with a thorn

November 2005

by Lindy Cheyne

No-one forgets having met Ronnie Rose. He is what might be described as a forceful personality. A man of unshakable conviction born of the experience of generations of gamekeepers and naturalists, he has earned a string of accolades as a commanding spokesman for the welfare of wildlife.

Ronnie’s knowledge of his family tree starts in the aftermath of the 1745 rebellion, with Lachlan Rose, a gamekeeper who owned a croft at Newtonmore. He had a family of 10, and one of his sons, Sandy Rose, was caught poaching on the Blair Atholl estate. The duke, who was designing a sporting estate, thought it would be better to have the Roses working on his side. So Sandy, his brothers, Aeneas and William, and their offspring were part of the scene for 50 years as deerstalkers, keepers, masters of hounds, pipe majors and dancing instructors.

Popular with Queen Victoria and the Empress of France, they visited Paris and Copenhagen, to entertain at functions, and when the queen bought Balmoral she employed Ronnie’s grandfather, Dancy Davy Rose, as deerstalker and dancing master to the royal family. Davy lived at Knock Cottage, and held classes all around Deeside.

“When Grandfather took the visitors to places like Glenmuick, the great picnic hampers were brought by pony. The stalkers and ghillies would row out on to Loch Muick, encircling a bay with nets. Towards evening they would bring their catch of fish to be barbecued by the loch side, to the haunting sound of a lone piper.”

Two generations later in 1936, Ronnie Rose was born at West Lodge, Balmoral, into a family that was wedded to the land. The youngest of five children, Ronnie spent much of his infancy in a game bag, carried by his father, David Rose, as he cycled round the estate. From him he learned of the nest-sites of hen harriers, peregrines and golden eagles; where hart’s tongue and alpines grew, how to catch trout and stalk deer. David had met his wife Jeanne in Normandy during World War I, and they doted on their family, four sons and a daughter, unaware of the major events that were about to tear their world apart.

The country went to war; two of Ronnie’s brothers, Dave and Jack, went off to fight with the 51st Highland Division, and his father moved to Loch Lomondside to help establish the Queen Elizabeth Park, now the National Park.

Dave was hit by shrapnel when the 51st landed in Sicily, and spent a year in hospital in Aberdeen recovering from his wounds. He returned to Deeside to find that his beloved Scots pines – from Balmoral to the Linn o’ Dee – had been cut down by Canadians and Newfoundlanders for the war effort. According to Ronnie: “Braemar still suffers from the unforgivable decision not to replant the pinewoods.”

Jack – an accordianist who entertained at the dances – lost his leg on the D-day landings, on his 18th birthday. The Roses considered themselves fortunate in that both sons had returned from the war, but recovery was slow.

“My earliest memories of Braemar are during the war; the long, long bus journey from Loch Lomond via Perth, up Glenshee. The bus had to stop at the tank traps at the Devil’s Elbow and if there were too many folk, we had to get out and walk up the steepest part. If it was a warm day, the bus driver stopped at the well – it’s still there to this day – and filled up the radiator so that we could make it to Braemar. The driver and conductress had to stay in the village.”

When Dave stayed on in Braemar after his wounds had healed, clearing up the Mar Lodge estate after the New Foundlanders had left, young Ronnie helped him.

“Meeting all the stalkers and gamekeepers returning from the war set me on a career in wildlife management. My family was in Lomondside, where my monthly outing was to the cinema in Stirling, but as often as I could I stayed with Dave in Braemar. I spent my holidays with the forestry at Birkhall and the stalkers and keepers at Invercauld, including the famous Bob Scott.

“They were practical wildlife managers, unlike today, when too many desk-bound conservationists are largely responsible for the declining wildlife of Scotland and the disintegration of effective management policies.”

Influenced by his brother George, a career soldier and piper, Ronnie enlisted in the Gordon Highlanders when he was 17, and was with one of the first units to fly into Cyprus. At first he enjoyed army life which, he says, built his confidence, but three years was enough, and he yearned to return to his real vocation. His father moved on to Duchrie, in the centre of the park, and Ronnie took over his beat.

“I was managing the wildlife in the forest and hills where I had spent my childhood, and I was happy. Dave joined Jack at Loch Lomondside as a forest ranger – the Roses were surely among the thorns.”

In 1962 Dave returned to Braemar to be the first nature conservancy warden for upper Deeside and the Lairaig Ghru, living at Lilybank, until 1979.

“Dave was involved in deer stalking and grouse shooting. The close working relationship between nature conservation, the estate owners, the stalkers and keepers was important to him. The wildlife staff kept him informed on eagles, peregrine, rare alpine plants – all part of the interrelated management in Braemar. This, sadly, was brought to an end when Dave retired from the nature conservancy. Academics were brought in to try and work the highland estates, and to this day there is no cooperation between the wildlife management staff and the nature staff – who mainly stay in Edinburgh.”

In 1965 the Economic Forestry Group acquired vast areas on the upper slopes of the Esk valley, planting commercial forest on what had been sheep farms. The government had introduced tax breaks to stimulate investment in forestry, and the 50,000-acre estate was divided into private woodlands, to be managed on behalf of their owners. In 1969 Ronnie became senior wildlife manager for Southern Scotland and Northern England.

“It was a new frontier. Caterpillar tractors were ploughing the hillsides, earth-moving machines were making miles of new hill roads, dozens of men were planting trees by the thousand, and a new landscape was developing before my eyes.”

Ronnie’s first task was to persuade the EFG that it was damaging to plant every inch, that it was unrealistic to fill the upland hills with sitka spruce with no thought for the wildlife. He advocated imaginative planting, incorporating deciduous trees and open grassy spaces into the interminable ranks of dark conifers. His second task was to assure the people still living in the area that a new forest would not destroy the land they loved.

“I had taken the important step of settling my family in the valley, sending my children to the local school and demonstrating my commitment to the community.” This was to be a happy time for Ronnie and his wife Florence; they had three fine children, they loved the area, and the local folk welcomed them.

“My son Ronald was 10 when we came to Eskdalemuir, and he followed keenly in my footsteps. I was determined that he would receive an academic education to complement his practical experience.

“My own lack of academic qualifications would be unacceptable nowadays. Luckily the local school was of such excellence that all our family reaped the benefit in later life. Ronald gained an honours degree in Forestry at Aberdeen University.”

By 1985 Ronnie had been approached by David Beevers, owner of most of the Blackhouse estate some miles north of Eskdalemuir. His desire was to develop an estate where he and his family could spend time surrounded by as many species of wildlife as possible; to diversify the habitat to bring back the flora and fawna that were once part of Ettric Forest.

This was music to Ronnie’s ears, with his particular interest in black grouse, these shy creatures of the forest edge.

“If black grouse are to flourish, they need not only forests, but substantial areas of unplanted heath-lands. From the soil map I could choose areas that would grow suitable grass and produce the caterpillars and flies essential to the young black grouse in the first few days after hatching.”

Ronnie and his team developed the wetland, and built a pond at the centre of the estate; during construction they heaped spruce branches to provide cover for otters until the reed beds grew. They stabilised the banks of the burns and rejoiced when they saw the salmon fry appear – evidence that the water had not been rendered acid by the rain draining from pine needles. They built waterfalls to give the salmon access to the higher reaches. They left an outcrop of rocky ground for nesting ring-ouzels. They controlled the foxes and carrion crows, and the sounds of the curlew, skylark and pipit were the reassurance that the plan was working.

“Some years later it was possible to walk up the bottom of the valley and enjoy the primroses, foxgloves, orchids, meadowsweet and wild thyme that were re-appearing since the sheep had gone.”

The owners supported him throughout the years of development, continually encouraging, and with success came the accolades: the Laurent Perrier award for his management of wild game; the Fred Courtier award for outstanding contribution to wildlife management; the Winston Churchill fellowship that enabled him to study in Scandinavia, Holland and Germany. Ronnie serves on national committees, advises the Scottish Gamekeepers Association and the Scottish Parliament, and lectures at the Actland Training Centre at Eskdalemuir, which is run by his son Ronald.

“My main task now is to act as a consultant on wildlife matters and forest design. I have produced wildlife management plans for estates as disparate as Chatsworth in Derbyshire, and Balmoral on Deeside.

“In spite of all that has been done, Scotland’s countryside is faced by numerous threats, not least from the huge organisations which control more and more of our environment. It is our duty to look after the habitats that support the animals of the forest and the mountain, as none of these creatures belong to us. The breakdown of habitats which follows when traditional land use is replaced with unsustainable, tourist-based industries will lead to a silent dawn.”

Ronnie Rose is no respector of rank or privilege. As he says, anyone who has spent years training gun dogs soon learns that pedigree is no guarantee of wisdom or ability. He accepted his MBE graciously, but the great forest that he created at Eskdalemuir will be his lasting memorial.

LINDY CHEYNE’s grandmother was Margaret Robertson Rose, daughter of Dancy Rose, and cousin of Ronnie’s father David.

This is an article from the November 2005 edition of Leopard Magazine. To read much more like this every month, subscribe to Leopard Magazine.