Time Team
The 18th Century Salmon Tycoon
These little beauties have come a long way, yet they've still further to travel. The salmon that gather here by the shores of St Cyrus have made their way from Iceland to return to their birth place as their forefathers have done for centuries.
But these fine fish will make a journey their ancestors never did. As the salmon wait for the seasonal rainfall to raise the river for their spawn run, they are caught in our fishermen's nets and for years have been boiled and pickled thereafter.
But now I have developed what I must, immodestly, say is an ingenious system. On my estate I have artificial ponds from which I cut blocks of ice in the winter that are then stored through the summer months in our ice-houses.
This ice is my own little goldmine and has already secured my financial future ten times over. You see, when we take this precious ice and pack it around my little fishies, it means there is no more reason for pickling or boiling.
Rather, we lay the fish in long wooden boxes with pounded ice all around for the long journey to London. And there they have been hailed as revolutionary and really are the very latest thing. Never before have Londoners experienced the delicious, unique taste of fresh salmon - and now they can't get enough.
It's all I can do to meet demand from the fishmongers and restaurants down there, yet I know the market is even bigger, and at the moment seems to be inexhaustible. The city folk can hardly believe they can eat fresh fish in the height of summer that would seem to have been taken from the sea that very day, yet it is true and they pay me handsomely for it.
Even the ice is put to use, and has come to transform the way the society people enjoy a summer drink. On hot days the ladies and gents are now enjoying ice-cool wines with the smell of fresh salmon still on the ice - and it's all thanks to what we do here in St Cyrus.
It really is another world down there. The local folk here couldn't even begin to imagine the goings-on in that city. The people here can barely remember the taste of fresh salmon as it's too good for them now and goes straight into the mouths of the gentry for an ever-increasing price.
None of my men could afford to feed their families salmon now. There are 50 men employed to fish in the St Cyrus parish, manning 14 boats in the summer and about half a dozen in the spring and autumn. A skipper can make about £5 a season, but to keep them keen and keep the darling fish acoming I'll give them a hae'penny for each salmon landed.
That seems to be working well and the trade is booming. You would think we were panning gold in the waters around here. In just 10 years the cost of fishing these waters has multiplied in a way I know I could never have imagined. From 1797 to 1807 the rental on the fishing rights rose from £850 to £2400 - the lairds are getting fat, yet the fisher folk still live a lean life.
But down in the big smoke those beautiful little salmon are in the company of royalty and are long missed from the dinner tables here in St Cyrus.