Eleanor Fairfax
Why the north still belongs to the red squirrel
Red squirrels have been pushed back into a handful of strongholds across northern England and Scotland, and the pattern is no accident. They hold on where large blocks of conifer woodland dominate — Scots pine, larch, Norway spruce — because grey squirrels do less well among dense evergreens with a thin, seasonal larder. In a mixed broadleaved wood you might wait all morning and see nothing but greys. In a quiet plantation edge, high on a fellside, the odds tilt the other way.
That is good news for slow walkers. The places where reds survive are usually the places where the walking is gentle and the crowds are thin: forest drive tracks, waymarked trails through maturing pine, quiet estate woods, and those conifer belts ignored by everyone except dog walkers and people carrying binoculars.
Reading the woodland before you see a squirrel
Squirrels give themselves away long before you spot one. Learn the sign and you will stop scanning empty branches and start looking in the right places.
- Stripped cones. A red leaves a tidy core with the scales nibbled cleanly away, often in a heap at the base of a favoured tree, on a stump or along a fallen log. Greys tend to leave a messier, more scattered trail.
- Dreys. Round, leafy or twiggy nests high in a fork or tucked tight against a trunk. Look, but never approach — a drey disturbed in spring can cost a litter.
- Sound. A scolding, chucking rattle from high up, or the soft scratch of claws on bark. Then a flicker of movement along a branch: usually a russet tail, high, moving fast.
Reds are smaller and far more arboreal than greys. They will often travel through the canopy rather than crossing open ground, so tilt your gaze upward and follow the trunks.
Fieldcraft for a rewarding watch
The single biggest mistake is walking. Squirrels are most active in the first and last hours of daylight, and they read movement quickly. Walk in short bursts, then stop and stay still for longer than feels natural — ten minutes minimum at each likely spot.
- Wear muted colours and skip scented soap or insect repellent; reds have an excellent sense of smell.
- Keep 10–15 metres away and let binoculars or a zoom lens do the closing.
- Never feed them. Handouts encourage dependency, draw in greys and rats, and change natural behaviour.
- Keep dogs on a short lead or leave them at home. Even a friendly dog disturbs ground cover and scent-marks territory.
- Avoid wearing clothing or boots used in grey squirrel areas without cleaning them first, and clean footwear between woodlands. Squirrelpox is carried by greys and is fatal to reds.
Gentle routes for every ability
You do not need to climb anything. Many northern forests have all-ability trails: level, firm-surfaced loops of a kilometre or two, with benches at intervals. Forest drive tracks are often the best of all — wide, gently graded and quiet on weekdays. Some sites lend out mobility scooters or rugged wheelchairs, so ring ahead to check availability and book.
If mobility is limited, consider doing less and staying longer. Find a bench or a hide with a clear view of a feeding area, settle in with a flask and let the woodland come to you. Half an hour of stillness in one good spot beats three miles of walking every time.
Slow seasons, slow days
Late winter into early spring is the classic window: trees are bare, food is scarce, and squirrels are busy and visible. Autumn runs it close, when they cache cones and nuts before the cold. High summer is the quietest — look early, before the heat, and expect long, lazy rests high in the canopy.
Build the day around the walk rather than the other way round. A flask, a notebook, a sit mat and no particular schedule will serve you better than a checklist. Record what you see — date, place, number of animals, whether they were feeding or travelling — and pass it on to your local woodland conservation group. Those records help decide where habitat work and grey control are focused next.
Leaving the wood better than you found it
Red squirrels are with us because people chose to keep them. You can support that quietly and cheaply: stay on the paths, take every scrap of litter home, join a local woodland conservation group, volunteer a morning for survey work or planting, and drop a few pounds in the donation box at the car park.
Buying a coffee and a cake from a small woodland café keeps the place viable, and mentioning your sightings lets wardens know the effort is noticed. Simply being a slow, considerate visitor — no shortcuts, no feeding, no chasing a photograph — is a genuine contribution. Walk gently, wait longer than you think you should, and the north's quietest residents will do the rest.
