The Cairngorm Reindeer Hill Trip offers the only chance to meet Britain's free-ranging reindeer herd. Photo / Alex Smith
The Cairngorm Reindeer Hill Trip offers the only chance to meet Britain's free-ranging reindeer herd. Photo / Alex Smith
The Highlands of Scotland are famed worldwide as the home of two iconic creatures: the elusive Loch Ness Monster and the shaggy-haired Highland cow. But another enchanting animal roams Scotland’s rugged hills and you can meet this one up close, writes Erica Bray.
My young daughter’s eyes grew wide as thefirst few reindeer trotted into view against the backdrop of the Cairngorm Mountains bathed in summer sun.
I half-expected giddy squeals or a chorus of “Rudolph!” Instead, she fell silent, mesmerised by the majestic creatures calmly approaching our group.
We were on a Cairngorm Reindeer Hill Trip – the sole way to meet Britain’s only free-ranging herd of reindeer. Roughly 210km north of Edinburgh, deep in Cairngorms National Park, lives a herd of about 150 reindeer: graceful, soft-nosed animals that seem almost mythical in the Highland light.
“I’ve seen tears in people’s eyes at this point,” says Ruth Molloy, a herder and guide with the Cairngorm Reindeer Herd, recalling the emotional moment when visitors come face-to-face with the reindeer, sometimes for the first time.
The reindeer up close at Cairngorm, Scotland. Photo / Erica Bray
Reindeer roamed much of the British Isles thousands of years ago but eventually vanished from the landscape. That changed in 1952, when Mikel Utsi, a Sámi reindeer herder, and his wife, Dr Ethel Lindgren, reintroduced the animals to the Scottish Highlands. Utsi saw the Cairngorm plateau, with its cold climate and carpets of Cladonia lichens, as the perfect habitat.
The experiment flourished. The small herd grew steadily, eventually transforming into a family-run attraction that protects and supports this unique population.
We booked our Hill Trip online a month before our July visit. These guided treks run daily, apart from Christmas and New Year’s Day, with a five-week winter closure. Booking early is essential – especially in winter, when the Highlands resemble a Christmas card, with powdery drifts and reindeer crunching through snow-laden hills. “The reindeer look great in their winter coats,” Molloy says of the fluffy, two-layer coat grown to better adapt to winter’s colder climate.
We visited in summer and followed instructions carefully, arriving in hiking shoes and wearing bug repellent to ward off midges. We also brought a hiking carrier for our daughter – a decision that, in hindsight, proved wise for the 20-minute hike to the hilltop. The gentle forest ascent led us to a spectacular setting: a high plateau with sweeping views of the Cairngorms. It felt like something out of a Scottish fairytale.
Then the reindeer arrived, a steady stream trotting towards us, many with antlers cloaked in velvet. Reindeer with names such as Sherlock, Dr Seuss and Holy Moley ambled across the hillside and down wooden walkways.
“The names can be quite wacky,” says Molloy, explaining how calves are named according to a theme. Last year’s was “teas and coffees”, resulting in names such as Cappuccino, Espresso and Chai. This year’s theme was “dances”, resulting in names like Foxtrot, Rumba and Waltz. Some have become social media darlings thanks to their charm.
Female reindeer and their calves in winter. Photo / Alex Smith
As the herd surrounded us, quiet awe gave way to wide-eyed excitement. The guides shared facts, but most of us were too enchanted to fully listen. “We try to keep it relatively brief,” says Molloy of the reindeer education. “We know people just want to get going on the hand feeding.”
Each of us got to hand-feed a reindeer. They eagerly clustered around the guides carrying buckets of feed: a mix of barley, sugar beet and other grains prepared especially for them.
A guide helped us offer a scoop of feed safely. I giggled as one eager reindeer, Dr Seuss, stuck his snout into my hand to gobble up the food. Then, my daughter had her turn. Giggles erupted from her, too (followed quickly by the hand sanitiser).
Having the time of our lives handfeeding reindeer. Photo / Alex Smith
As the feeding session continued, people posed for selfies with the reindeer and peppered the guides with questions: what is the velvet on their antlers? What’s that clicking sound? Who takes care of them?
When the inquisitiveness and excitement waned, guides invited us to linger. This was my favourite part of the visit. Phones tucked away. Cameras silenced. No more posing, just us and the reindeer.
I pulled slightly away from the group, holding my daughter, imagining we were alone up on this hilltop – not on a tour, but transported back in time, when wild herds roamed freely across the Highlands.
Standing there, it struck me: these creatures may not yet share fridge magnet status with Nessie or the Highland cow, but their quiet presence leaves an even deeper imprint. They’re not just festive symbols or tourist curiosities; they’re living, breathing links to this land’s past and its wild heart.