However, in the eyes of the state, Osmussaar does not have permanent population status, as it does not pass the threshold of a minimum of five year-round dwellers to qualify for that, and the state support that comes with it.

Prior to World War Two, Osmussaar had been settled by coastal Swedes (Rannarootslased), Swedish-speaking Estonians who mostly fled in the teeth of the Soviet invasion of Estonia from 1944. During the Soviet occupation of Estonia, like much of the coastline, it was off-limits to the public and used for military activities.

The family of Rita Koppel, who is essentially the island's caretaker, moved to the island 20 years ago, making it essentially permanently populated.

In November of last year, Osmussaar's population stood at 14, yet in the eyes of the state, it still had no permanent population at all. Since the start of the new year, the island is once again been considered in the eyes of the state as being home to permanent residents, after two more people moved there, bringing the registered total to the baseline of five required.

Osmussaar was previously struck off the register of permanently inhabited islands four years ago, after the deaths of Koppel's parents. Finding new residents is no simple task, and small island life doesn't suit everyone. It is also not viable to set up a home on Osmussaar due to its protected status, where even building a new house on an old foundation is not allowed.

Koppel said of the struggle to regain Osmussaar's status: "I felt it was unfair to just grab some random person and say, now you'll register yourself here on the island and then we're immediately again a small island with permanent settlement. For this reason, it took us several years to regain the status of a permanently inhabited island."

Over the years, several people have come and gone, attempting to live on the island, but in the winter in particular, they have given up rather quickly.

Last year, people moved to the island who had first come there years ago as tourists and kept returning, eventually becoming much more closely acquainted with it. One such newer Osmussaar resident is professional diver Algis Sepp.

He said: "Any life over the sea or by the sea is expensive. It's great to live here, but you need to have your own income. You have to work on the mainland. My work can't be done from home or an office anyway, since there's no fixed location. I go wherever the work is. When there's less work, I can stay more on the island," said Sepp.

A key downside to falling off the register of islands with permanent residents is the automatic loss of state support. Koppel is very grateful to her local municipality, Lääne-Nigula, as despite its tight budget has helped the island community survive over the intervening years when state support was lacking.

"No one has dismissed me from the post; I am still the island caretaker, and every year, in cooperation with the municipality, we've managed to keep the harbor," said Koppel.

Koppel said it would be fairer if the state recognized the island as permanently inhabited even if there were just a single full-time resident.

Riigikogu MP Mart Maastik (Isamaa) said he finds the requirement of five permanent residents to be a legislative blunder. The original small islands law didn't include any quota — this was added in 2017. For small islands, however, the status of permanent habitation is vital.

Maastik, who heads the Riigikogu's islands support group, said: "First, it enables eligibility for relevant support, and second, it allows applying for additional funding from certain funds and ensures better connections to those islands. If you don't have permanent residents, then the state does not guarantee to maintain transport connections with those small islands."

According to Maastik, there have been repeated discussions within the Estonian Islands Association to the effect that the law has to be changed, but over the years, no concrete action has ensued.

As of now, the people of Osmussaar still have seven months to wait, as the right to receive small island support only comes 12 months after being declared an island with permanent settlement. Until then, life on Osmussaar continues as before.

Tourism provides some work for the islanders in summer, and a bit of extra income comes from raising Icelandic sheep and the iconic Highland cattle from Scotland. Then again, while livestock farmers on the mainland receive subsidies, Koppel doesn't qualify for this support either, as she cannot meet the agricultural funding authority PRIA's requirements.

To do so, she would have to be able, with only a few days' notice, to amass in one place the roughly 100 head of Highland cattle and 500 sheep roaming free on the 480-hectare island, so that officials could count them properly, as required.

"Let's be honest — over the years, these animals have come to see themselves as the masters here; they know where they are and what they are, and they won't congregate and they can't be herded together — only in winter, when it's very cold and snow conditions are harsh, then they all come to eat, but no inspector comes to check them at that time," Koppel said.

Despite the bureaucratic apparent absurdities, Koppel says life on Osmussaar remains beautiful. She says that 20 years ago, when she moved to the barren island, she could not have imagined life there could be so interesting.

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