In For A Shock

Well hello! It's been a while, hasn't it?

I've been away on my holidays. And what fine it was to see the sun again. We- my wife, son and I- had a scorching week on the Greek island of Zakynthos. When we returned, we had a day turnaround before we were off for another few days. This time it was sailing on the West Coast of Scotland.

Where the rest of the country has been languishing under record rainfalls, the North and West has had a mere 15% of what they can usually expect. And I'm happy to report that the trend managed to continue during our visit.

It's now the eve of my return to work. A big chunk of today was spent battling with the undergrowth in our over-watered garden. And tomorrow I start doing up my grouse butts.

This work can only be described as 'graft' and it's going to feel even harder after a fortnight of downing sundowners, extended lunches and expanded waistlines.

At least the forecast is half decent.

A Late Breakfast

4am this morning and you would have found me bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It was a stunningly beautiful morning and I'd been allocated a great place to sit and spy for foxes. From my vantage point I looked down into a huge, steep sided glen. Fox country if ever there was.

I'd been there barely 15minutes before I got a call on the radio. Neighbouring estates were asking for an extra pair of eyes up by the march (boundary) to help them watch a pair of foxes. I was nearest.

20 minutes later I grabbed the rifle and left the rover, picking my way round the steep, rocky side of the highest hill in the area. I found a vantage point and got myself comfortable. Relatively speaking.

For the next hour I followed the progress on the radio. The foxes crossed a river and made their way up into a steep rocky face. Unfortunately for me the rising sun threw this face into steep shadow. It's also a place of deep heather and thick juniper bushes. And it was at least a mile from where I was sitting. I never saw them yet.

But as I watched I heard a grouse tukking away to my right. I gave the area a spy, saw nothing and got back to the job in hand. Five minutes later, more tukking. I took a closer look and this time saw a couple of hinds lying on a heathery bank. They appeared to be staring at something. I looked in that direction and glimpsed a fox.

For the next 10 minutes I scanned the area, unable to pick it uo again in the network of hags. Then I put my binoculars down and saw that Ed (my terrier) was staring intently down the hill. There was the fox! Coming round the foot of the steep, 300-400 yards below me.

The thought of a long shot flashed briefly through my head. Too rich for my blood! I watched it and relayed its progress to a free pair of eyes way down into the neighbours ground.

The fox went out of my sight and a wee while later my 'spotter' informed me he'd lost it in a shaded hollow in a big corrie not far from where I now was. Between us we'd been pretty much covering the exits, or so we thought.

After another half hour and no show, it was decided that I'd take a walk through the place, in case it had lain up. As I was guided in, I was aware of how 'blind' a piece of ground it was. Most of the time, I was only seeing 30m in any direction. I was dearly wishing that I had the shotgun and not the rifle with me.

I crept down the steep brae, trying to make as little noise as possible. My heart was in my mouth. I had the rifle at the ready. The radio hissed "try a wee bit over to your left" and I changed direction without daring to reply.

I'd gone another 20m when I heard a noise above me. I whirled round and there was the fox bounding up the hill away from me. He was chest-deep in the heather and had 50m to go before he was over the skyline and out of my sight. I worked the bolt and shouldered the rifle. He came into the sights and, as he was going slightly left-handed, I aimed down his left side and sqeezed off a shot. Missed!

I reloaded quicky, aware that I was only going to get one more shot. This time I put the crosshair on him. He collapsed to the shot. Huge relief washed through me. But not so much as to prevent me from quickly refilling the magazine. I needent have worried, this mature dog fox was very much dead.

When my pulse was eventually back into double-figures, I conferred with the lads who'd been watching the pair of foxes. They'd lost both foxes in amongst the junipers. It was decided to rally as much support as we could and try a wee 'drive'. I made my way over to where they could pick me up in a land rover. It took nearly an hour of walking.

To cut a long story short, 8 of us tried to cover this large face. Wouldn't you know it, the fox got up next to me. The only one without a shotgun with him. I couldn't get a safe shot at the fox until it was outwith our 'perimeter' by which time it was 200m away and going like a train. I gave it the offer but this time Foxy won through. I suspect the other fox slipped away during all the excitement. We certainly never saw it as we completed walking the face.

Out of pure optimism, we checked a couple of holes that were in the direction that the fox was last seen heading in. No joy. After that I got a lift up the hill as far as was possible and started the long walk back to my landrover.

I arrived at the vehicle 12 hours after I'd left it. The tea in my flask was long-since cold. No matter, it was drained.

As was I.

A Whole Lot of Holes

Well, the rest of the heather burning season passed with nary a stick being burnt. If we'd been desperate we might have got a fire in on Friday afternoon but, by that stage, we were all geared up for other activities.

The grouse nesting season fast approaches. It's the time of year that hens are most vulnerable. To say nothing of eggs and chicks. So we've been putting our 'smoke break' to good use by getting all our stoat traps and crow cages set up. We also managed to get a few of our regular maintenance jobs out of the way which will free us up a bit more in the coming weeks.

Which is very good news for now our foxing season is upon us. And that means there just wont be enough hours in the day for the next few weeks.

We started today by walking a chunk of our lowest ground. It some areas, the ground is just riddled with rabbit holes- any of which could be scraped out and used by a fox.

So myself and 5 colleagues walked in a widely-spaced line with our shotguns and terrriers. We walked and we checked out sandholes and cairns as we went. We walked and we checked, we checked and we walked. We started walking at, say 0930 and we stopped at around 1600. That's a lot of holes.

By good fortune we didn't find anything. I say that because if we'd found a den, two of us would have been out all night on a stake-out for the dog fox. And the forecast is appalling.

But we've been there before and survived to tell the tale. Though not in language we could use in front of the children.

And The Weather Will Be Changeable....

Well, we're still not burning heather. The weather has gone from the sublime to the cor blimey. Suffice to say there wont be any runaway fires for a while.

The pics were taken just 4 days apart. If you look closely you'll see a tree bent double under the weight of snow. Coming into leaf obviously increases their surface area.

There's a niggling thought that keeps coming into our heads- in two weeks time we should be starting our foxing season. And with that comes our all-night vigils as we stake out the dens.

Maybe that should be 'fridgils'.

An Early Start for an Early Start

Any readers from this part of the world will be aware of the exceptional weather we've been having. Yesterday saw the highest temperature for a March day ever recorded and I haven't checked to see if that record was beaten today.

Going by the amount of perspiration it took for me to get to the top of the hill, I'd say there was a fair chance of it.

But what it means for us is that we've had to suspend our heather burning activities. Things were already getting 'kittely' last week so it's just not for chancing now.

So we've been getting round our traps and catching up some maintenance jobs. Tomorrow we're going to get on the hilltops for daybreak and see if we can get an early start to our fox season.

The alarm is set for 4.30am- so what the hell am I doing still sitting here writing this??

*Sigh*

See what I mean?

Hanging On The Telephone

Since my last blog we've been doing a lot of heather burning. And each day has been a little drier than the day before. Thankfully winds have been light or else we could have been making the 6 o' clock news.

Today I had a bit of change. We've hired a mini-digger and I've been building up grit piles.

The last time I did this I think I described it as spending a day in a phone box. On reflection, this isn't entirely accurate. Not unless the phone boxes you use are prone to lurching over to damn-near tipping point at the drop of a hat.

Someone once described war as 90% boredom, 10% terror. At least I think it was war.... who knows, maybe he'd had a mini-digger oot the hill.

Before I go, I'd just like to thank all you regular visitor for your continued support. I'm a bit compulsive about checking my website 'stats' and it's seeing people coming back for more that keeps me doing this.

So it's all thanks to you that I've just landed a regular slot with a monthly shooting magazine!!!!!! I write this with a big smile on my face- and bigger butterflies in my stomach.

Blimey.

Heaps of Jobs

The hind season is but a distant memory now. Since that last squeeze of the trigger, we've all been playing catch-up. There are a heap of jobs that have been on hold for a long time.

We now have hundreds of 'gritting stations' all over the estate. These piles create high points that the grouse gravitate to and contained in the pile is a tray of medicated grit. The grouse take the grit (it helps break down the vegetation in their gizzard) and it kills parasites in their gut.

I can tell you I can soon get a bellyfull of grouse grit. Getting round the piles to replenish the grit is bad enough but creating new piles is back-breaking work. Each pile takes 20-30 minutes of digging.

But when it's been dry enough, we've been burning heather. It's also high time to get caught up with some of the stoats, rats and weasels. We're probably 7 weeks away from the grouse starting to nest and that's when they are most vulnerable.

And, of course, there are a heap of maintenance jobs too. Hmmm, I'd rather not think about it too much.

Contemplating My Lunchbox

Much to my relief, the hind season is finally over. And in case I haven't mentioned it before IT HAS BEEN HARD.

Oh, I have already, have I ??

A couple of the pictures show the grand finale to the season. If you're wondering, the whisky was a gift from some grateful guests. (As if we would have pinched it from THAT lot!) Very welcome it was too. Thanks lads.

And so to today. Today I was setting up my long-neglected stoat traps. I don't think I've yet recovered from the marathon that was the hind season because by 11.30 I was feeling absolutely knackered. I hunkered down in the lee of a bank to have my piece. Trying with little success to shelter from the drizzle carried on an icy blast.

My banana had a sticker on it and- as I've done 1000 times before- I stuck this to the lid of my lunchbox. Then as I sat there I started reading the names on all the different stickers. Braeburn- New Zealand; Cape- South Africa; Fyffes- Belize, Costa Rica, Panama, The Windward Islands.....

Those far-flung lands have always sounded exotic, but never moreso than right then. Strangely, I could almost feel the warmth of the sun....

They say hypothermia can get you like that! It was time to get round more traps.

Boy, do I need a holiday.

Taking the Plunge

It's a sair fecht!

The light covering of snow is making heavy weather of the stalking. There are no short-cuts when you stick out like a sore thumb. Furthermore, the long detours (to keep you out of sight of the deer) force you higher up the hills and into snow up to your f..f..f..fetlocks.

Generally speaking, the deer are still in great nick. This becomes very apparent if you make the slightest mistake.

Take yesterday, for example. I had a regular guest- John- out. The deer were low down on one side of the glen. So we took a long, slow plod over the hill above them. And as we did so, the deer casually crossed the glen.....

So John and I had a long belly crawl down a (mostly) frozen burn to cross the floor of the glen without them seeing us.(See pic!) As we did so I noisily broke through some ice. Brrr! 500 yards away one or two hinds got to their feet.....

By the time we were able to move freely again, most of the 400-strong herd were on the move. By the time we got to our shooting point there was 1 scrawny hind and her scrawnier calf left- and they had their bags packed and their passports stamped. John managed to nail the calf.

It was a massive amount of effort for 15kg of venison but it's typical of what this season has been like.

Today, for the first time in ages, I managed to come home with a decent bag. But it required a long walk, two long stalks and nearly all the daylight that was available.

I love my stalking but I have doubts as to what is going to come first- the end of the season or the end of my tether.

The Makeover

I've just had the office done up. New floor coverings and lighting. How do you like it?

Now to get that escalator ordered......

Waiter, This Venison is Tough!

Well things aren't getting any easier. The mild weather continues and the deer are playing hard-to-get. Very hard-to-get.

Every year we stalkers get a beast each for ourselves. Needless to say, they're usually the biggest and best beasts of the season, and clean-shot. But getting near enough to them to be sure of a neck shot is no walk in the park just now. More like a walk in the minefield, in fact.

It dawned on me that, with the end of the season fast approaching, I was running out of time to get my beast. As Tuesday was a horrendous day of driving rain, I thought I'd make getting one good hind my sole objective for the day.

The good news was that the foul weather had pushed a herd onto some handier ground. (Relatively speaking.) The bad news was that they were in a spot that turned out to be nigh-on impossible to get near.

I snuck up a wee burn and waaay before I was anywhere near the beasts I was crawling-to avoid disturbing sheep. (The Red Deers answer to NATOs Early Warning System.)

Anyway I crawled into the next postcode and to within 250 yards. The deer were still on their feet and grazing towards me at this point. Then, one by one, they lay down. Nooooooo!!!!

Dismayed, I crawled up and down the same stretch of burn 4 or 5 times trying to find any way of getting closer. With 150 pairs of eyes looking down the hill at me? Not a chance.

My only option was to wait. And wait. And wait.

I was starting to feel decidedly chilly (and not a little frustrated) when the weather took a turn for the even-worse. The freezing rain started coming down in sheets.

"Thanks very much!" I muttered heavenward. .....then the deer started getting to their feet. Perhaps this cloud really did have a silver lining.

The filthy weather was too much even for these tough hombres. They got up,turned their bums to the rain and walked away. When the last pair of lugs disappeared over a nearby rise I could have wept with happiness- I could move!!

I followed them on and as I crept around the corner I found most of them already out of range and still moving into the vast open stretch of a sheltered bowl. Utterly unstalkable. Lifting my head a little higher I found that a handful had stalled- and lain down just after entering the bowl. And looking through my binoculars, I could see that one was an absolute clinker.

I started crawling forward to get a clear shot- all the time aware that I was coming into sight of more and more deer. And as I crawled I noticed the 'stragglers' were, one by one, getting up and following the herd again. It was a case of 'take your time but hurry'.

When I got to my firing point there were only 3 beasts left in range- but the clinker was one of them. As I got the crosshairs on her I saw her looking about as if to say "Hey, where has everybody gone?"

She became the dearly departed just a moment before she deerily departed. Getting her two companions was the icing on the cake. Albeit a very moist cake. I was ecstatic....right up until I contemplated the monster drag that awaited me.

Boy, she had better taste good.

Winter Lite

I would love to say that my latest silence was because I was taking a break on my yacht in San Tropez, or that I was owf skiing at St Moritz. Then again I'd love to say that Jennifer Anniston keeps bugging me to be her Friend on facebook. Dream on...

Nope, the simple truth is that I've been snowed under. I seem to have had so much on my plate just recently that all you can see of the Willow Pattern is a swallows tail.

Recent storms haven't helped either. On 3 seperate occassions in the last month, we've had winds of nearly 100 mph. Thats 180kph in new money. What that means for us on the ground is that it's a battle to move about the hill, a greater battle to shoot straight and- when you eventually get some time to yourself- there's a power of tidying up to do back home.

And in the past month I've had to reglaze half our greenhouse, re-fix some of the corrugated iron sheets on our shed, cut and split some fallen trees... and I've yet to get round to re-felting the kennel roof and raking up the ton of branches littering the garden.

And yet, this could never be classed as a hard winter; anything but. We've hardly had any snow and hardly a frost. This has meant that our deer are keeping an extremely healthy (for them) distance from us. Recently I've been spending a lot of my day hiking out to where the deer are. And then it takes another big chunk of the day getting it horsed home.

The soft weather also means the deer haven't had the edge knocked off their condition. As a result, as soon as a shot is fired the rest are racing for the horizon. Last week, for example, I had 10 beasts for 10 stalks. That's just plain hard work.

All this might be about to change. The weather does seem to be getting a bit more seasonal. You'll see from the pics that we had some heavy snow showers today- and we managed some outdoor curling at the weekend.

They say 'be careful what you wish for.'

I say "Bring it on!!"

The Post of Christmas Past

Happy New Year to you all.

I was shocked to see how much time had passed since my last blog. In my defence, I've managed to cook up a couple of plausible excuses. My first is that the run-up to Christmas became more akin to a desperate scramble for me. The second is that we stopped our culling on the 20th December as there would be no collections from our Game Dealer after that.

I have to say that I was more ready for a break than I ever remember. I like to get 100 hinds in the bag before Christmas if I can. This year I had 95 and it feels like they've come harder than ever. I put this down to a)having lots of guests to take out b)open weather(ie no snow)allowing the deer to stay a long way out on the hill c)a lot of really crappy weather in the way of wind, mist and rain making every task more difficult d)getting older!!!!

And as I write this, the house is being battered by 90mph winds and thick sleet is blowing past the window. You've got to feel sorry for anything 'oot the hill' on a day like this.

Mind you, it wasn't much different yesterday and I took a friend out just to see if we could get a beast for him to buy. They say a picture speaks a thousand words; the one I've posted of yesterday is uttering nothing but expletives!

And there were a few more when we missed!!!!!

Operations will be back to normal on the 9th but before then I'll hopefully be taking my 14 year old niece out for her first hind. If it happens, I'll keep you posted.

A Fresh Pair Of Eyes

You may remember that I recently had a young lady out stalking. It was her first time and I thought it might be of interest to all you out there to hear what she thought of the experience. So here you are!

A week or two ago, Andy invited me to spend a day stalking. As a meat-eater who is also determined to choose the ethical option – I buy free range and wild food whenever I can – I was really interested in this. At the same time, I didn’t know how I would feel about shooting an animal. But I know the deer population in the hills has to be controlled, mainly because we no longer have top predators such as wolves to curb numbers.

I had never used a rifle before, so Andy and I started off at the range. He showed me how to use the sight and explained that I’d need to squeeze the trigger gently. I was surprised at the lack of kick from the gun. I aimed at the deer target amongst the trees, hit it first time, so I was ready to head up the glen. Andy explained that, if possible, we’d be waiting for a beast to stand side on, which gave the best margin for error. I was worried I might miss the target area, and maim the deer. But Andy assured me that if this happened, he would take the rifle and shoot it properly.

We drove to the top of a hill, leaving Eric to collect Fergus the pony. Another ghillie, Angel, came with us, then went back down with the Land Rover. Andy and I set off with Ed the dog. The weather that day (swirling mist), was less than ideal for stalking, but it lent a certain atmosphere to the occasion. As we walked off, Andy explained the principles of stalking – you have to imagine where the deer would be on that day, and then try and approach them so they don’t know you are there. One of the most important factors is wind direction, because you don’t want the deer to smell or hear you coming. So we set off upwind to where Andy thought they might be. We found some very fresh deer droppings on a path, and so decided to follow their tracks. As we rounded a corner, we stopped and waited rather than push on in the thick mist. The tactic paid off as, a minute or two later, it lifted just enough for us to make out shapes on the next ridge.

Andy signalled to me to drop down, and we crawled through the heather towards them. The mist was swirling about and kept blocking our view, but then it would clear again. The deer didn’t seem to know we were there. Andy set the rifle in position for me, and showed me which hind would be a good target. He picked one grazing, side on to us, with no other beasts around it. I got into position and looked through the sight. It took me a while to ready myself for the shot, and in that time the mist had come back in, so I had to wait for it to clear again before I could shoot.
Then, when I could see properly and the deer was in place, I squeezed the trigger. Andy was a bit unsure of the shot so he took the rifle and shot it again. The gralloch (removing the stomach and intestines) revealed that my shot had hit the liver. Andy assured me it was a killing shot but with the poor visibility, he had erred on the safe side.

As I had never shot an animal before, it was now time for my “blooding”, which is a ritual performed after shooting. Andy drew blood across my cheeks as a mark of respect for the dead animal. We then radioed Eric with the pony and set off down the hill with Andy dragging the hind. As it was still morning, we dropped off the beast on the pony path and headed back up the hill for lunch. After sandwiches and thermoses of tea on the side of the glen, we set off again to look for more deer.

This stalk was much longer. It had been far too easy in the morning! But, eventually, as the light was starting to fade, we found another herd, and we crawled into place. This time I was quicker at getting into position and readying myself for the shoot. I squeezed the trigger and shot the hind. My shot was much better and the beast went down first time because I had hit a major blood vessel in the chest. Again we gralloched the animal, and then dragged the beast down the hill, this time through a burn! We met Eric and Angel on the pony path, loaded the hind on to Fergus, and walked out as the sun was setting.

All in all it was a very interesting experience. I am a keen hill walker and mountaineer, so I was doing something new in a very familiar environment. I realised stalking is a special skill and I couldn’t believe how close we could get to the deer (a necessity on a day with such low cloud) without them knowing we were there.
I certainly didn’t get any kind of thrill from shooting an animal, but I have a great respect for the skill involved in stalking, and I feel that if you are going to eat meat, wild, organic meat is the most ethical choice.

The Old Dear

Yesterday was the first clear day we've had for ages. It was so useful to be able to spy my ground from a vantage point and see where all my deer had been hiding.

While I was doing this I spotted a single beast lying in a tiny hollow on a face a mile distant. Unusual.

However I made a mental note of it and carried on with Plan A. Eventually, after Plan A had mutated into Plan F, I returned to the land-rover with a couple of beasts. When I spied back across the glen, the single beast was exactly where she had been. Highly suspicious.

Although there was only about an hour of light left, I decided to go and see if I could get this beast. I was pretty sure that if I did, I would find that there was something wrong with her.

Three-quarters of an hour later and I was crawling around on that hillside, trying desperately to find a place from where I could see into the little hollow. Fortunately for me she stood up and presented me with a shot.

When I went up to her, I could see she was a big hind in seemingly good condition. I checked her legs, body and head for damage- nothing. As I gralloched her I found nothing untoward apart from the wall of her rumen was so thin that my fingers went through it as I tried to remove it.

Puzzled, I looked at her again. She looked rangy- big framed but a bit thin. I could see from her coat that she wasn't old but I decided to have a look at her teeth anyway....and all became obvious.

Her teeth were worn down to the gums. It turned out she was one of the oldest beasts I've shot in a long time.

I have to say, I felt a huge admiration for this old dame. She had been a huge hind in her day and was still in incredibly good strip for her age. But, more, she'd managed to give me, my predecessor, and probably the stalkers on two or three of the neighbouring beats the slip for about 14 years. The only reason I'd eventually caught up with her was that she was so done in that she could no longer keep with the herd.

There is a real sadness to shooting an exceptional beast like her but it would have been far worse- in my eyes- to have left her to a lingering death in the depths of a winter storm.

I've Seen The Light

Finally, after about 3 weeks of mirk and gloom, the sun came out today.

The morning started off as per usual; thick mist to halfway down the hills, dark and with a heavy drizzle thrown in for good measure. As usual, I donned my waterproofs on departure from the landrover. And proceeded to walk the hill in my own personal sauna.

As I started stalking, the mist started to break up. I watched the scraps intently as they drifted this way and that. There was no discernable wind and it was so quiet I could hear the blood thrumming in my ears. (Not the best of times to be in full waterproofs.)

I managed a successful stalk in the morning and another in the afternoon. Just as Eric arrived with Fergus to pick up the second beast, the sun broke through. I swear I could hear a choir somewhere.

"I'm blind, I tell you! Blind!!" I yelled, falling to my knees. Then I thought I'd better get a snap quickly before it went away again.

I offered this rare pic to the Daily Record for £10,000 but they weren't up for it. They did suggest I contact another of the tabloids but I'm damned if I can remember the name of it.....

Roamin' in the gloamin'

Extract from a phone call 20 minutes ago:-

"What was it like out the hill today?"
"Och, just another really dreich day. That's six stalking days out of the last seven been nothing but thick mist."
"And have you been getting any hinds?"
"Aye. I got a couple yesterday and three today. After a lot of trying."
"Has anybody else been getting any?"
"Not these last two days."
"So how do you do it?"
"Och, I just go oot the hill and fire off a wheen of shots into the mirk. Then I have a rake aboot and see what I've got. I found 3 braw rucsacks today and all!"

I was joking of course, but if conditions go on like this for much longer, David Attenborough will be doing a special programme about us. We'll be like those fish that live in pools deep inside caves that have evolved without eyes.

By last Friday I think I was starting to suffer from SAD (Seasonally Affected Disorder) but now I'm definitely AHOLED (Absolutely Hacked Off from Light Emission Deficiency).

As I write this, I've just caught the forecast for tomorrow:- Mild, with South-East winds. It's going to bring in low cloud off the North Sea that might be slow to clear in some areas....for a change.

On a brighter note, the accompanying picture is of a young lady who shot her first hind with me yesterday. I'm hoping to bring you her account of the experience. Once she's recovered.

Shining Bright

The stag season is well behind us now- and it's taken me a few days just to gather the strength to write about it.

You can see from the pics that the whole team could do with a break.

That'll be shining bright.......

The Missing Link

On Monday I had an old regular out stalking. He's been coming here for 20 years and he's known by all as a terribly nice man who's a terribly poor shot.

So we get stalked into a nice shootable stag and he's just lining up for the shot when another stag comes charging up the hill out of the dead ground down to our left- and he's an absolute clinker.

I size him up in the briefest of moments- a big, mature stag with a pure switch antler on one side and the same but with just a token of a trez point on the other. My eyes are just about popping out.

This big stag chases the first one away then stands broadside in exactly the same spot. I can't believe our luck. I'm about to utter the words "remember to SQUEEZE that trigger gently" when the shot goes off. And when I say 'off' I mean miles off.

*Sigh*

The very next day I come across the same stag. I stalk him once but we (I have a different guest with me) can't get a shot with him being on a skyline. (The bullet can go a long way even after passing through a deer.)

The stag and his hinds move off and eventually settle at the foot of the far side of the hill. We have a 2 hour stalk to get into them again. Imagine my dismay when we eventually get there only to find my switch has been ousted by a superior stag. So superior that he's too good to shoot.

*Bigger sigh*

Well today Mr Stagfevers' son was up from London. As we set out I told him of the switch that his father had missed at the start of the week. We both agreed that it would be quite something if he could 'wipe his fathers eye'.

An hour into the day and I'm using my telescope to spy a far hill. Even at that great distance, I recognise the switch immediately. He's in a vast grassy bowl, holding about 40 hinds and surrounded by young staggies.

I know we've got our work cut out but we decide to go for it anyway.

Once onto the same hill, we first have to 'nudge' three 'staggies' out of the way. I do this very carefully, over lunch. When they clear off we start again only to be forced into a big detour to get past another stag. During this detour we bump into yet another. This one goes off a little too smartly and the switch and his hareem move right into the middle of this seemingly featureless bowl.

Which means we have even further to crawl. Often only just managing to find enough cover to remain hidden from all the eyes in that natural amphitheatre. Anyway after an hour of crawling we eventually get into position. And I am greatly relieved to report that it's NOT a case of 'like father, like son'.