If you ever go to Darley, don't expect much. There is a roofless cottage, sheets of tin slowly rotting into the earth and a field full of rashes.
In the house, an iron fire surround has become detached from the wall. Almost nothing else is left. It took me a couple of attempts to find the place; it is deep in a maze of stone roads, forest rides, ditches and endless trees. Few people know about Darley despite it being just an hour’s walk from the village where I live.
Perhaps Darley - and the thousand other places like it all over Scotland - is where you and I can meet. I am a hunter, a shooter and an angler and, if you’re reading this, you are probably not. On the face of things, we come from two different worlds: rewilders versus shooters; GoreTex versus Tweed. Turn to your social media platform of choice and you will find us in some kind of stale, petulant squabble. But at places like Darley, I believe we can find common ground.