I don’t post much. Partly because I’ve been so busy, and partly because I wasn’t sure I had earned the right to say much yet. I’m still not entirely sure — but two years feels like a reasonable moment to reflect.
In April 2024, I joined Oxygen Conservation as an Eco-tourism Coordinator. Two years later, I find myself as Estate Manager for Mornacott and Leighon. What happened in between is the subject of this post.
You will learn more at from time spent at OC than from any classroom
I came with a marine biology degree and a background in hospitality. Neither prepared me for the pace of what was ahead. Biodiversity Net Gain, woodland creation, Organic agriculture — none of it was covered in my degree. I stepped into a sector still being shaped and had to run to keep up. I still do. The only approach that’s worked for me is to chase understanding relentlessly and accept that you’ll always know less than you think.
Detail is not optional
Last night I was setting up a room for an event and found myself mixing the sugar in the jar so it sat smooth — so it looked like someone had cared. No one asked me to. No one would have noticed if I hadn’t (Well maybe Charles would have, but we will get onto him later). That demonstrates the impact of what the last two years at OC has done to me. I am not sure I could turn it off now even if I wanted to. Detail, detail, detail. I have spent two years trying to match it. I am still trying.
The drive of the people around you will pull you forward
The team at OC has given me imposter syndrome on a near-daily basis. Sharper, more experienced, more knowledgeable than me across almost every discipline. Charles Owenin particular is one of the most composed people I have worked with. In the early days, we had a metaphorical panic button — and I was the one pressing it. Charles never did. He would absorb the situation, draw on a remarkable breadth of knowledge, and calmly map out a way forward. Watching that enough times changes how you respond to pressure. I can’t remember the last time I reached for the panic button. The lesson: the people around you will pull you forward — if you let them. Stop panicking. Start asking better questions.
Being the youngest in the room
There have been moments in the last two years where I have sat in a room presenting progress and challenges about Mornacott and Leighon, to board representatives and our senior team — as the youngest person in the room. It’s not comfortable, but it is a privilege. And it’s one of the fastest ways to learn. In those rooms, the only things that matter are what you’ve delivered and how confidently you can stand behind it. I’m still working on both.
The work leaves a mark — in the best way
Where there was once a non-native cover crop planted for a pheasant shoot that no longer runs, there are now native hedgerows that we planted, creating space for native wildlife to return. We’ve dug scrapes — deliberately breaking into old field drains, put in place to make the land favour agriculture over nature, stopping it from being what it naturally wants to be. Frogspawn appeared in those scrapes this year. I watched the first buds break on those trees we put in the ground. The connection between action and outcome on a working estate is immediate and visible in a way that very little else is.
I have stood in a field at 10pm watching a barn owl hunt overhead while a group of children on a night safari decided my job title should be “explorer.” I’m still riding that high. Connecting people with the work we are doing is priceless.
What the guests give back
A family stayed at Mornacott last year. Then came back. Then booked the entire estate for a third visit to celebrate a birthday. No incentive. Just the team and place doing what it is supposed to do, to be the best. That, to me, is the clearest measure of success.
On the hours
This is not a 9-5. It never will be. I have watched the mist rise over Black Hill Common as the sun came up and felt properly lucky. I have stood under the Northern Lights above Mornacott trying to capture them on camera, then put the lens down and just watched. I have had that same pinch-yourself moment at Dorback, Manor Farm, Invergeldie, and more of our estates than I can count on one hand. Sunrises, horizontal rain, and starry nights — I wouldn’t change any of it.
To the OC team — thank you. To those who pushed me, gave me honest feedback, and trusted me with two estates I care deeply about — I’m grateful.
I will be posting more regularly from here. First up: what Biodiversity Net Gain actually means at Mornacott — not the policy, but what it looks like on the ground. If that’s relevant to you, follow along.
Author: Archie Barnes, Mornacott and Leighon Estate Manager