Why Spring and Summer Matter So Much Up High

From March through to late July, the UK's uplands turn into a giant nursery. Curlew, golden plover, dunlin, lapwing, skylark, meadow pipit, ring ouzel, twite, dotterel, merlin, hen harrier and short-eared owl all breed on our moors, bogs and high plateaus — and almost all of them nest on the ground. There is no canopy up there, no leafy cover, just a scrape in the heather, a hollow in the moss, or a tussock of grass.

That makes them extraordinarily vulnerable. Eggs are speckled and camouflaged, chicks are mobile within hours but cannot fly for weeks, and both rely on stillness and secrecy to survive. A single misplaced boot, a loose dog, or a drone passing overhead can end a breeding attempt that began with a migration of hundreds or even thousands of miles. Flushed birds burn precious energy, eggs cool quickly in a Scottish or Pennine wind, and predators such as crows and foxes soon learn where the nests are. Giving these birds room is not sentimentality — it is the difference between a successful season and an empty moor.

Know What You're Walking Past

It helps enormously to know who is nesting where, because the habitats differ so much:

• Curlew and lapwing favour wet, rushy in-bye fields and lower moorland edges, often near farmland.
• Golden plover and dunlin nest on high, open blanket bog and peatland plateaus, often above 400 metres.
• Ring ouzel uses crags, gullies and steep rocky slopes, sometimes with rowan scrub nearby.
• Dotterel chooses the stoniest, most exposed mountain tops, mostly in the Scottish Highlands.
• Merlin and hen harrier nest in deep heather, often on slopes that look completely empty from a distance.
• Skylark and meadow pipit are everywhere on grassy moorland and are usually the first to give the game away.

Learn the alarm signals. A curlew or lapwing calling repeatedly and refusing to settle, a bird flying towards you and swerving away, or a distraction display with a drooping, "broken" wing all mean the same thing: you are close to a nest or chicks. The right response is to stop, retrace your steps the way you came, and move on quietly. Do not stand and scan with binoculars to try to find the eggs — you will simply keep the parent off the nest for longer.

Seasonal Restrictions: Read Them and Respect Them

Many upland areas carry temporary restrictions during the breeding season, usually from 1 March to 31 July, and sometimes into mid-August where late breeders such as hen harriers are involved. In England and Wales these can be imposed on open access land under the Countryside and Rights of Way Act, so a closure is not a grumpy landowner's whim — it is a legal restriction. In Scotland, land managers may ask walkers to follow alternative routes under the spirit of the Scottish Outdoor Access Code.

Look for notices at car parks, gates and stiles, and read the wording carefully. Signs asking you to keep to the public right of way, or to avoid a specific corrie or plateau, are usually narrow and short-lived. There is almost always a good alternative ridge or glen a few hundred metres away. Remember too that under the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981, the most sensitive species are protected from intentional or reckless disturbance at the nest, and that can carry real penalties. If a sign asks you to turn around, turn around — no summit is worth a prosecution or a failed brood.

Dogs in the Hills: Control Isn't Optional

Even the mildest, best-behaved dog counts as a predator as far as a nesting curlew is concerned. Between 1 March and 31 July, keep dogs on a short lead — no more than two metres — on open moorland, access land and farmland. This is the expectation in the Countryside Code in England and Wales, and the Scottish Outdoor Access Code asks for dogs to be under close control, and on a lead or at heel where signs request it or where livestock are present.

• A dog running off the path can flush a sitting bird from 50 metres away or more, long before you notice.
• Scent alone will disturb ground-nesting birds, even if your dog never chases.
• Never allow a dog to investigate crags, scree or deep heather where raptors may be nesting.
• Always bag and remove dog waste, and give cows with calves a very wide berth.

Treading Lightly on Fragile Ground

Upland habitats recover almost unbelievably slowly. Heather, mosses, lichens, cotton grass and dwarf willow can take decades to return after damage, and a bootprint in deep peat may still be visible years later. Eroded peat also dries out, releases stored carbon and loses the bog mosses that hold the whole system together.

• Stay on established paths even when they are muddy; do not widen corners or cut switchbacks.
• Avoid building or adding to cairns — moving stones destroys invertebrate habitat and dislodges lichen.
• Never light fires or use stoves on dry peat or tinder-dry grass; wildfire risk climbs fast in spring.
• Leave drones at home. They cause genuine disturbance, are restricted or banned on many access areas and reserves, and are usually illegal to fly over land without permission.
• For photographs, use a long lens and keep at least 100 metres from nests, crags and flushes. Avoid posting precise locations of scarce nesting birds online.

Planning a Route That Leaves Room for Birds

A little forethought in April or May pays off hugely. Check access notices and reserve information before you set out, and be ready to switch to a low-level glen walk or a busy, well-trodden ridge. Walking mid-morning rather than at first light or dusk reduces disturbance during peak feeding times. Take binoculars so you can enjoy the birds from a distance rather than creeping closer.

In winter, the same courtesy applies in reverse: ptarmigan in white plumage and mountain hares on snow are easily flushed, so keep to paths and keep quiet. Above all, be the walker who sets the tone. If a friend heads off-piste towards a calling curlew, call them back; if a sign says avoid the plateau, suggest a different summit. Our upland birds have enough to contend with. A few weeks of care from each of us can make the difference between a moor that rings with curlew song next spring and one that falls silent.