Calum Forrest was kin to both Clan Stewart and Clan MacDonald, two of Scotland's most powerful families, a fact further made evident by the location of the water bailiff's croft. The nearest crofting community was in Grotaig, set high above the Loch through dense Scots pine, but Calum's scenic ten hectares, like the land my father had sold to John Cialino, were located right on the Ness's banks, just south of Invermoristion.

It took me twenty minutes before I finally found the single lane dirt access road that led me to Calum's lakeside croft. Barbed-wire fencing marked the property, and its one-story farmhouse and barn were set far back from the water's edge. Six hundred sheep, all congregating close to the dwellings, dotted the fenced-off grassland.

As I rode closer, I noticed a small wooden pier jutting out into the Loch. The water bailiff's boat was nowhere in sight.

Following the unpaved road into the Forrest's driveway, I parked next to an old tractor re-painted lime green, which had seen better days, and walked over to the farmhouse.

I knocked on the door. No answer. I walked around back and peeked in the kitchen door window, but it was dark inside, no one home.

Wind blew off the Loch, whistling through the farm's fence. The wooden posts that supported the barbed wire were gray and rotting, in desperate need of repair.

Most crofters were poor, the land never intended to provide locals with a living. Crofters had to find additional employment in order to support their families, in Calum Forrest's case, it meant working as water bailiff. Still, it helped that he was raising sheep. Highland sheep farms were subsidized by the government. Without these monies most farmers would go bankrupt, a reality blamed on poor soil conditions, harsh weather, and the distance to major markets.

Leaving the farmhouse, I walked to the nearest gate of the grazing fence, staring out at the magnificent view. A late-afternoon storm was brewing, kicking lather off the surface, and even at this distance, I could feel its spray on my face. It must have bothered the sheep, for the animals remained huddled in the near corner of the acreage.

And then I noticed something bizarre.

All the grass nearest the farmhouse had been heavily grazed upon, much of it exposing bare earth, yet the grass closest to the Loch remained high and untouched.

And yet the herd refused to venture away from the farmhouse.

Curious, I unbolted the gate and entered the grazing area. The heavy scent of farm animals filled my nostrils as I moved past the sheep and across the untouched grassland, heading for the far fence that bordered Loch Ness's shoreline.

Arriving at the opposite gate, I immediately noticed several things.