The crofters living in the shadow of the 'second Highland clearances' The policy is designed to create vacant tenancies for young people and families who, in theory, would farm the land as their 19th-century predecessors did, and perhaps supplement their income by running online businesses. But in many cases the so-called "absentees" say they are being forced to give up land that has been in their family for generations in pursuit of a unpractical romantic ideal. They claim young people willing to replace them are few and far between as it is virtually impossible to make a living from the smallholdings. "It is unrealistic," explains Jeremy Gow. My next-door neighbour does three jobs. He's a lobster potter, builder and a hotelier - just to survive. But only a certain number of people in a community can do that. Though most of the absentees, including Gow, are likely to be allowed to keep their actual properties, the loss of the land that went with them creates a host of new problems. If tenants can be found for the smallholdings, the new residents would have to build homes, potentially blighting their neighbours" views. Gow says this is unnecessary when there is plenty of common grazing land in the Highlands that could be used by any newcomers. Historically, he and the other absentees have been protected by laws guaranteeing them security of tenure and succession, put in place to prevent a repeat of the cruelty of the 18th and early 19th century. Even though the majority remain tenants of their estate owner (some exercised a right to buy in the Seventies) the "crofters" enjoyed the advantage of being allowed to pass their tenancy to their children. But new legislation, passed by the Scottish Parliament two years ago with the aim of repopulating some of the 18,000 crofts in the Highlands and islands, supersedes that. Now the Crofting Commission, set up following the new legislation, is beginning to implement the policy, leaving Gow and other absentee tenants with a stark choice: move into the crofts permanently, temporarily assign their tenancy to a local (problematic as this can confer legal rights like those enjoyed by squatters) or give up the land. Even owner-occupiers could be forced to let their land to a crofter who is willing to live there year round. The commission is currently pursuing some 1,651 absentees. Of the 373 cases concluded so far, more than a third of absentees decided to live on the croft permanently - a result viewed as a success by the commission. But 27 tenancies have been terminated and another 42 could soon follow. "The average age of crofters is over 55," explains Susan Walker, the commission's convener. Young people have got more energy to put the land to good use. Far from "clearing" communities, she says this policy will "grow"" the rural population. In some villages, she explains, more than half of crofters are absentees. If you want to keep community services, you've got to keep your townships populated. She says that Jeremy Gow has been an absentee for 27 years and has had ample time to assign his tenancy to a local crofter, as agreed with the commission a year ago. Mr Gow did not carry out his undertaking so his tenancy will be terminated. Whatever the good intentions behind the policy, Gow does not believe there are enough jobs in the area to support it. His croft is 80 miles north west of Inverness, reached by a single-track road we drive up at a crawling pace to avoid the deer who frequently potter across. Walking the plot with his springer spaniels, he explains that the rocky land will support few crops. He says his work, travelling across Scotland restoring antiques, would make it difficult for him to live here. Any new resident would not have to do likewise. And online businesses may not solve the problem as broadband access is sporadic. Besides, he argues that his absences do not prevent him contributing to village life. "I don't consider myself absent because I am here so much of the time and I know people in the community," he says. I go to ceilidhs, have a wee drink in the pub and a meal at the hotel. He is resigned to surrendering his tenancy next Wednesday, but remains committed to helping others who wish to question the commission's decisions. There is no shortage of requests. Barbara Laird, a retired teacher living in Glasgow but with a croft near Melness has been told her tenancy could be terminated. The commission intervened, despite her attempts to assign her tenancy to locals on two separate occasions in the last four years, which could have earned her £30,000. If the tenancy is removed, she worries she will lose out financially. "They're not going about it the right way," she says. In the villages up north, people already have crofts if they want them. Another owner-occupier in her sixties (who asked not to be named), who was born on her croft, agrees. She intends to retire there but feels pressured into setting a deadline for moving back. "I find the terminology very offensive," she explains. "The form I had to fill in said 'breach of duty" and 'misuse of croft." I am not misusing it. A local man is using it in the traditional manner free of charge until I decide to go back to live there. She sums up the frustration of some absentees who believe the commission does not understand the connection they feel to their communities, despite their 'absenteeism. "I grew up with the cycle of nature and the rhythm of the seasons," she says. Before I was five, I knew the names of all the flowers and all the birds. I knew about lambing in spring and dipping sheep in autumn. It is hard for people from cities to understand. It is my soul that is there.