Peaking Early

I warn you now, this will be brief.

We have a pair of foxes working the extreme North edge of the estate. Between ourselves and our neighbours, we've spent a lot of time spying the area from daybreak. (Which, by the way, means getting up there for about 3.30am.) One fox has been spotted regularly but over a huge area. Every time it has been spotted it has travelled out of everyones view and been lost to us.

The other has only shown muzzle 4 times in the last month. It seems to go around at breakneck speed and gets lost to us in double quick time.

Last night a friend came up with a (very, very expensive) thermal imager. We were up on the top of the highest hill in the area, right through the night, spying for any sign of either fox. And guess what?

That's right; no show.

So it looks like the alarm is going to be set for 2.30am. Again.

 

Foxes and Pussies

Although we are the middle of our 'foxing season', you haven't heard a lot about it. That's because it has been very quiet indeed. So far we've only found 2.5 dens.

If you're wondering about the 0.5 it's because we had a dog fox move onto the far reaches of our ground with a couple of cubs. They were survivors from a den being dealt with by a neighbouring estate.

But, all in all, it's turning out to be a strange season. We are catching few stoats, seeing few 'hoodie' crows, and finding very few foxes. 

There are a couple of foxes been spotted up on our North march too, but they also have eluded us. So far. Unfortunately the weather has broken down again so we're struggling to get good visibility for spying at first light.

We're also catching up with a few maintenance jobs around the place. Last Friday we were sorting up a footbridge, waaay out on the hill when I spotted a moth on one of the handrail uprights. It was bigger than any moth I'd ever seen.

As I had the email address of a chap who comes up here trapping and studying moths, I took some pics and sent them to him. I was surprised that, when he got back to me, he'd told me he'd only ever seen one before and asked whether he could post a pic on the Butterfly Conservation website. (http://butterfly-conservation.org)

Apparently it's called a Puss Moth. You learn something new every day.

Beware Factors Bearing Gifts

A decade ago Angus Council came up with an initiative to boost local rural economies and encourage the public (yes, you!) to take some exercise. The Angus Glens Walking Festival was born.

At the news of the birth, the three wise men of Dalhousie Estates (the laird, the factor and the Head Gamekeeper) offered a gift.  That gift was a Glenesk resident who could help guide the walkers..... and maybe also the organisers. A Trudgin' Horse!

Since being volunteered that first year, I've been back every year bar 1. And I've grown to enjoy sharing my office with these visitors. I also enjoy the opportunity to tell them a little bit about the balancing act that is the management of a highland estate.

I was at it again just a couple of days ago and set out to demonstrate what it takes to get close enough to deer to shoot them. On reflection it was a rather tall order - and I'm not referring to the 1,000ft of climbing here. Rather, it was due to fact that there were 30 of them (plus 2 other leaders) and they were dressed in their most rustly clothes in colours that could be seen from space.

As you would expect, all the 'rare' stuff (sea eagles, golden eagles, hen harriers, adders, merlin, wildcat and otter marks etc) remained stubbornly out of sight. But we did get close to deer and we did see a good variety of 'other stuff'. And whenever I wasn't working their legs, I was working their ears.

They were very polite and gave me some very positive feedback. Personally, I considered it a bonus I survived the day at all after finding out that a couple of them were vegans. Although one chap likened me to Bear Grylls, I'm sure there were others who considered

me an arse.

We're needing a marketing 'hook' for our new wildlife tours. So I've decided to call myself Bear Arse.

 

Surprise!!

A few years back I was lucky enough to be offered the chance of a job exchange. The result was that I spent 3 months working on a remote 100,000ha game reserve on the edge of the Kalahari in South Africa.

From day one, it was incredible. I darted lions. I tracked rhino. I counted game from a low-flying helicopter. I helped in the live capture of 1500 head of game.

To call it a once-in-a-lifetime experience falls far short. It was surreal, like the plot of a cheap novel. But it happened.

The exchange was organised by my employer and one of our regular shooting guests. I spent a lot of time wondering how I could possibly show my gratitude for this amazing chance. The only answer I could come up with was to keep them up to date with my adventures. I emailed a daily blog.

As my time in the Kalahari went on, more and more people asked to be included on my mailing list. On my return to the UK, I was persuaded to keep writing.

My African adventure is 4 years behind me now. However it was such an amazing thing, that I can't bear for it to be over. It HAS to have been life-changing.

Yet, I feel the same. The only difference is that now I am a writer. My benefactor had my African blogs made into a coffee-table book. As I result of that, I was offered a regular column with 'Scots' magazine. A regular slot in 'Sporting Rifle' has since followed.

It might be small beer (I really don't know) but the fact is the ripples from Tswalu are still spreading out through my life.

If you're a regular visitor, you'll notice that my blogs had 'stalled' of late. Part of this is that I thought that, after 3 years, there wasn't much left to say. Part of it was also that it was getting a bit onerous. And part of it was that I could never find an answer to the question "...and why exactly am I doing this?!"

Well just recently there have been developments. The estate I work for- Invermark- is trying to develop in some new directions. One being wildlife tourism. And this blog is being pushed as a 'marketing tool'.

I still find myself asking "...and why exactly am I doing this?" because- at the moment- there seems to be nothing in it for me.

Apart from keeping those ripples going.

Spot the Difference

This snow, it appears, is as reluctant to shift as a seaside donkey. And while snow at this time of year is nothing unusual, this much for this long is.

Our ability to move about is seriously hampered for all but two of us. That's how many the snowbike can take. And, as a couple of my colleagues have ground far more suited to it, they are the ones who go.

There should have been 4 going out but our venerable old second snowbike decided to give up the ghost. In the absence of other jobs- like traps (buried) and heather burning (hah!)- I got the job of stripping it down. This was done without the aid of a manual. I've had to find out the hard way that nothing can be removed from this machine without first disassembling every other bit within arms length. At least I dont have the aneurysm-inducing 'assembly-is-the reverse-of-removal' chestnut  found in all good manuals. How they must laugh......

While all this has been going on, Scottish Police and Fire Services have 'requested' that all land managers cease muirburning immediately. They back up this request with a long list of reminders of all the different ways you can be guilty of an offence if you have a fire that gets out of control.

I reckon the only way we'd get a fire going anywhere on the place is if we used a kilotonne of napalm. I suppose that'd be an offence too.

It hardly seems like it, but in a couple of weeks the fishing starts on the loch. So it's high time we got the boats pulled from the water and checked over. I'll post a couple of pictures- one from last year and one from today. See if you can spot the difference......

 

Getting the Drift

Well. My last post certainly put the kybosh on the weather! Instead of "feeling the warmth of the sun" we've got brrrrrrass monkeys and snow. More snow than we've had all winter. And these last days there have been strong winds that have rearranged it to make it even more troublesome.

After my last post we had a while of 'business as usual' for the time of year. We burned some heather, cut some firewood, got our stoat traps baited up, checked some fences.....

Then we made the mistake of taking the chains off the tractor and the tracks off the argocat and all hell (albeit without the inferno) broke loose. Since then we have been turning our attentions to indoor jobs. The outbuildings have surrendered 6 bogieloads of 'that-might-come-in-handy-one-day' material. Broken spades have been reshafted, cracked oars repaired and varnished, saddles oiled....

But we're all starting to get a bit stir crazy. There is a limit to indoor jobs and we are all champing at the bit to get 'oot the hill'. We managed a couple of days out on the snowbikes looking for foxes the week before last, but even then the visibility was poor. All last week it was dreadful conditions with low cloud, wind and snow every day.

But if we're getting stir crazy, spare a thought for our wives. They've been snowed-in all week. And if that isn't enough to drive you mad, the school has been closed so they've been stuck at home with the kids forbye.

Today I was all for wading 4 miles up the road to get the tractor and snowplough to clear our drive. Fortunately my colleague (who lives a lot closer to the tractor than that) had already thought of it and came and cleared our drive for us.

We were out of the starting blocks like Usain Bolt; off down the road to stock up on supplies. It was all I could do to stop the missus hugging everyone she met.

High Anxiety

We've had a great spell of weather this last few days. I must say, it feels good to feel some heat in the sun and to feel that winter is coming to a close. Regular readers amongst you will know that it's been a particularly tough one with regard to the hind cull.

I thought I'd take advantage of this good weather and the lengthening days to see if I could fall in with one of these foxes that I know is going about. (Since Christmas I've been seeing signs of them- pad marks, scats, kills. I even had one in my sights when I was out lamping one night. When I lay down to shoot it there wasn't quite enough clearance over the rise in the ground halfway between me and it. Sooooo frustrating!) So I decided to go out and spy a favourite rock face at first light.

The downside of these beautiful, clear, still days is that it gets bloomin' cold at night. And the coldest part of the night is often just before dawn. Which is about the time I was sitting down to spy.

Actually, I'd seen the forecast and knew that I was to expect about -8C so I took a sleeping bag and thick gloves with me. Just as well. I worked up a good sweat climbing and scrambling over snow wreaths to get to my place. Thereafter there was little to keep me distracted from the nipping of my ears.

By 8.30am I decided to try and stir things up and fired a shot into the rock face. Twenty minutes after that I picked up a fox on a ledge. It looked like a b******d of a place.

This fox faffed about, back and forwards, on that ledge for the next 2 hours before it eventually disappeared  out of sight under a bank. I could move at last, thank God!!

When I got to the floor of the corrie I dumped a heap of gear. Mostly clothes, actually. I had a feeling I was going to be sweating again before long. And I was right. The climb up through the rocks was bad enough but trying to move quietly over deep, crunchy snow was taking even more effort. And I had both the rifle and the shotgun to weigh me down.

At last I reached my chosen spot- only to find branches negating any chance of a clear shot to the ledge. After spying for 30 minutes and seeing nothing, I moved to the next likely spot.

Again, I had the same problem but this time I had a clear shot to one tiny bit of the ledge. I tried a squeak to see if the fox would show. Nothing. I still gave it a good half hour just in case. Then I moved in a bit more.

This time, I had a better view- at the cost of a  more precariuos shooting position. (Have a look at the pic!) So I squeaked and waited.....and squeaked and waited. After an hour I decided enough was enough. I fired a shot into a block of icicles hanging above the ledge, showering the place with a cascade of ice. I reloaded quickly, waiting for the fox to come bolting out. Nothing happened. I gave it another half an hour in case this was one of those foxes with nerves of steel that would come sneaking out after sizing things up. Still nothing....

 I concluded that either this fox had already left, or it was well underground. I decided to walk into the place with my terrier and shotgun. I slung the rifle on my back and started the painstaking approach. I got within 50 yards before I came to a narrow bit in the ledge. I looked down at the possible outcome and backed off. Too rich for my blood!

As a last resort I backtracked right down to the bottom of the corrie and climbed back up through the rocks. This time I approached the ledge from the other side. When I eventually gained a vantage point I fired a rifle shot straight into the bank where the fox had disappeared. Once again, nothing moved. Furthermore, it was obvious there was no way in from this side with terrier and gun. It was time to go home.

 A weary trudge later saw me back at the rover. Now there was a welcome sight! I arrived home some time later with a raging thirst and hunger gnawing at my belly. Little wonder really- it's not every day that I have my breakfast at 5pm.

I

 

Right Out in a Whiteout

Since my last post, I've been stalking hinds every day. And every day I've been attempting to get within shot of herds of 2-3-or 400. It's difficult at the best of times but when there is snow on the ground there is even less cover. I reckon I've crawled the equivalent of Lands End to John O' Groats.

So today was a welcome break from the norm. We had quite a lot of snow fall yesterday and we reckoned it would be dense enough to carry the weight of our machinery. So we went looking for foxes.

Two teams went out- one pair in the tracked argocat, the other pair (myself included) on the snowbike.

As we suspected, the going was heavy until we got a good bit of height, after which the machines were going well. It didn't take long to cut the first set of foxprints.

We tracked the prints for miles then, inexplicably, came across two lonely figures walking the empty wastes. It turned out to be two keepers from the neighbouring estate. They had followed another set of prints for even more miles from their estate. We met where the two foxes had.

After a chat, we left them to hitch a ride home with the argocat while we continued tracking. All the time, the day got greyer and any rises and falls in the ground became more and more difficult to read. Skiers call this 'flat light'- maybe because that's how they invariably end up. For me driving, it meant maximum concentration every yard of the way.

The prints eventually climbed up the steep face of the second-largest hill on the place. The bike wouldn't look at it. Gus reluctantly gave up his pillion seat and started tracking on foot. I made my way round the foot of the hill to see if I might find the fox/ foxes lying up on the lee slope.

It didn't take long to get round there but by then the poor visibility had become no visibility. I sat and had my piece (lunch) huddled behind the bike in a feeble attempt to escape the bitter wind and stinging flakes of snow.

Eventually the radio crackled to life. Gus exclaimed that he was suffering no such problems. Plunging up to his fetlocks in snow was keeping him warm enough apparently. However the foxprints were barely discernable and what remained of them up on top of the hill were drifting in quickly. It was time to pull the plug.

By this time the visibility  had deteriorated so much it was like being inside a giant lightbulb. Albeit a very well ventilated lightbulb. I wondered how we were going to find each other again. Even the sounds of fired shots wouldn't carry far in this wind.

As it was, Gus came down off the hill in roughly the right direction. And fortunately he was on the ball enough to spot when he intersected the snowbike tracks (which were also starting to get obscured). All I had to do was backtrack until I found him. It was quite a relief when I eventually picked up his figure looming out of the gloom.

He clambered back onboard with great enthusiasm and I was most pleased to be heading for home. Within twenty minutes we had dropped out of the mist but the journey back was still long and slow. And the more height we dropped, the heavier the going got and the more I had to wrestle the bike.

We got home with a couple of hours of light to spare and I was feeling well and truly knackered. Maybe not as knackered as I would have been if I had been out on my skis (as has so often been the case). And certainly not as knackered as our two neighbours, I would guess.

And We Know What Happened To The Mammoths

Well we've had a load of snow this week. More than we can cope with to be honest with you, although saying that 'sticks in my craw' after bleating for months that we need harder weather.

Anyway, there's so much snow, that we've hardly been able to get to our hinds. There's about 2 feet of it, plus there was serious drifting too.

I've spent a fair amount of the week digging or- better- snowploughing with the tractor. The snow is so soft and deep as to make our snowbikes and snowtrac useless.

I've included pictures of the two days I did get stalking. The first was after some 'handy' hinds not far away but up a steep face. Getting up there was a real battle and I was glad of the help from our young trainee to drag them back down.

The second time was yesterday. I was joined by a good friend and we decided to have a look out the floor of  a wee side glen. We found deer alright but resorted to walking up the river rather than the thigh deep plunge that was the alternative.

It took about 2 hours to go a mile. We eventually got stalked in and bagged a couple of yeld hinds. Eric brought Fergus up, and when he was loaded, it took another 2 hours to get back to the rover. It was a mammoth effort (har).

All the time I was doing this I wondered why I bother. It must just be in my nature to give it 100% every day. It's a shame it counts for so little.

Infamy

Happy New Year to you, one and all.

Over the Christames break, my colleagues and I have been praying for some harder weather to 'bring the deer in' a bit. It didn't happen.

I also though that, with my ground left quiet for a fortnight, the deer might have settled down a bit. I even thought the big herds might have broken up and spread out a bit. Didn't happen.

We're now 2 days back in the yoke. And both days we've had mist and rain and very little to show for our efforts. Personally, I'm getting extremely windy about how far I'm behind with my cull. The problem is, there is very little any of us can do about it. Even if we were to get the hard weather now, I really don't think we could make up the numbers we need to.

I can't remember if I mentioned it in a former blog, but I had a(nother) cameraman out with me a few weeks back. This one was filming for an internet programme called The Shooting Show.

As it turned out he also (I say also because this is the second cameraman I've had out with me recently) had very poor conditions to film in. All I can say is that the camera never lies- this is what we've been having to put up with all season.

You can catch the programme (dated 7.1.13, I think) on www.theshootingshow.tv.

Enjoy.

On The Silver Screen

Well I managed to survive until the Christmas break. Out of the last 6 working days, 5 have featured mist, wind and lashing rain.

On the last stalking day I managed to bag 4 beasts. Although it was a refreshing change to get more than one shot off, it did come at a price. That price was that this required 2 trips with the horse.

 I got so cold waiting for Eric and Fergus to return that any distraction would do....like taking pictures of  my misery, for example.

On a similar note, I had a filmmaker-Rob- out with me a few weeks back. He was doing a promotional video for wild venison. As luck would have it, the day he came out was a fair representation of what a days hind stalking entailed.

As we trundled away from the larder in the morning, Eric asked as to whether he had a rain cover for his (rather expensive looking) camera. When he responded in the negative, Eric offered to fetch a bin-liner.

By the time we came off the hill, that bin-liner was in tatters. Those tatters, however, were still being carefully wrapped around the camera after each sodden attempt at a take. By the time the stalking party was down on the flats of the glen, the misted lenses rendered the camera useless. Which was a pity as a pair of salmon were putting up an excellent display of spawning in a shallow pool just a few yards away.

As it turned out Rob returned for another day and managed to get the shots he needed. You can get a sneak preview of the drier parts of our first outing on http://vimeo.com/53165007 . Hopefully I'll be sharing the second outing with you soon.

Finally, I'd like to thank all you folk out there in cyberspace for your continued support. My last blog must have had an air of despondency about it. It garnered a few comments of encouragement which were just the tonic I was needing.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas and all the best for the coming year.

 

New Bloods

A couple of blogs ago, I mentioned that we'd behaving a different sort of group coming stalking for the week. Well they're here- and they couldn't be more different from the group who were staying at the lodge last month.
This lot are dossing down on the floor of the village hall. There's not a square inch of tweed to be seen. And, although a lot of them have never stalked before, they know one end of a rifle from the other.
They are a group of army snipers and this is 'Adventure Training' for them. When I hear that expression my brain automatically replaces it with 'Busmans Holiday'.
A lot of them were here for the first time last year (see blog of 16th December 2011) and it's great to catch up with them again. But it's also nice to see there are some new faces with them. This means we'll get to give the new bloods a blooding. As I've said many times, I love introducing 'virgins' to what I consider to be the most challenging and rewarding of all fieldsports.
It's also great to see that the weather has improved; although some would not see -10C as an improvement. As you'll see from the pics we've also had a bit of snow. Not enough to shove the deer right 'in aboot' but enough to have totally stymied the delivery driver who took his van down my drive to deliver one tiny parcel.
Speaking personally, my only regret about the snow is that I have to leave Lottie (my young terrier) at home. She's not yet steady enough not to dance about while I'm stalking in. This isn't too much of a problem on 'black ground' but she sticks out like a sore thumb on the snow.
The forecast sounds like there will be a lot of rain arriving at the end of the week so maybe it'll be 'business as usual' for us both come Monday.
In the meantime, there's a lot of miles to do with this lot. And they don't ever seem to need to stop for a 'breather'. Unfortunately.

 

Water Biscuit

Those of you who live in the uk will need no telling about the weather we've had this last week. Flood warnings are in place the length and breadth of the land.

For us, Monday was diabolical. Not a day for the hill at all, really. But with us falling behind further and further with our hind cull, I felt I had to go out and try.

Tuesday turned out to be even worse. And I had a guest out that day. I'd like to think we'd have had a result as well but the wind changed on us when we were only 200 yards of the beasts. Then later mist obscured another lot just at a crucial time. Excuses, excuses....

But Thursday really took the biscuit. And what a soggy biscuit it was. Again I had a guest and we were fortunate that, although we had lashing rain, the cloud base remained high enough to be able to see what we were doing.

As it was, we got a couple of beasts and a good soaking.

As I write this I can see a greyness to the very tops of the hills. But we're needing a lot more snow than that if the deer are to be shoved in to our more accessible ground.

I heard that some Danish scientists, monitoring sea temperatures off iceland, are predicting a very hard winter. Be careful what you wish for? Bring it on, I say.

For a wee while anyway.

A Rough Start

Time's up!! The time for waiting is by. There were guests out on all 5 stalking beats today.

As we left the landrover I did what I do on the first stalking day of every season- rack my brains to think of anything that I might have forgotten. I've actually developed a little mantra. It goes; riflebulletsbinocularstelescoperadioandbackupstagropesdragropesdogstickguest.

It works very well but doesn't cover all the one-offs that come with the first day- like remembering that your horse is still 3 miles up the road in his summer lodgings.

As it was everything was where it needed to be apart from the stags. First indications were that the rut had started. I could see various groups of hinds, scattered about, with stags in attendance.

On closer inspection, all these stags proved to be our humungous 'pet' stags. If I shot one of them it would be a hernia for the horse and the high jump for me.

However, as I investigated one group, I could make out a young stag that didn't look right. When I got the binoculars on him I could see he looked thin and rather hingin'-luggit (his ears were drooping). Then I noticed these growths on his underside and I made the decision to shoot him.

I've come across fibroids before but never as bad as this.

The Waiting On Game

Since my last blog I've been doing a lot of thumb twiddling. Sure, there have been plenty of things needing seen to; I've been round and round my traps; I've walked my cairns and rock faces in the forlorn hope of picking up a fox; I've sorted fences; patched roads; replaced a bridge....but I'm really, REALLY just wanting the stags to come onto my ground so I can start stalking.

Everything else is ready. Fergus (my pony) is shod, his tack is all sorted and oiled and waiting. I've got a heap of feed for him waiting at his winter quarters. My rifle is zeroed. I carry all the parephenalia (telescope, radios, drag rope, stag straps etc etc) every day on the off-chance I'll be sent out.

But still I'm twiddling my thumbs. If this rut doesn't start soon, they'll be completely worn away.

Ace of Spades

I'm all too aware that you haven't heard from me for a while. The sad thing is, it's because I don't have a lot to say.

I've been trailing around my gritting stations. (Large piles of peat/turves with a tray of grit on top. The grouse take grit to help them break down the food in their crop. A medicated coating on the grit we provide kills the parasites in their gut.)To me, it's one of the most important jobs I do. Unfortunately it's one of the most laborious, monotonous ones too.

So I've not been setting the world on fire. (That's on hold until the heather burning season. Eeek! Did I really joke about that!)But at least I've had the time to get on with the task.

Ever since the neighbouring estate put up a fence along my march, my chance of early stags has diminished to...hmmm, let me see...nil! So, instead of taking stalking guests out, I've been doing a really thorough job with the grit piles.

This has meant building up any that I didn't deem big or prominent enough. Which is tough spade work. I've also been replacing every grain of the existing medicated grit.

The manufacturers have been blowing a fanfare and declaring that the new medicated coating on their grit lasts longer than ever. That it wont melt off in the heat of summer and that the active ingredient wont be neutralised by frosts.They claim it will still be good after a year on the hill.

But these claims have never been verified by an impartial body. So, in the meantime, while I know that we are in the middle of a serious grouse crash, I'm putting fresh grit onto every pile on the hill.

Today I got the use of the argocat for the first time (my colleagues have been taking their turns with it.) and it certainly makes things easier. Even better, I was on a area of hill where all the grit piles were dug with a mini-digger. So no problems with diminuitive piles here, then.

But, by the time I'd rattled round the hill for 7 hours, and dived in and out of the argo 70 times, I was knackered.

And I still am. I'd planned to go out lamping for foxes tonight. But it can wait for another night.

Night, night.

Back to Business

We finished our grouse shooting yesterday. I think I speak for all my colleagues when I say it's a bit of a relief.

Yes, the tie can get thrown to the back of a drawer for a while. And the 'Sunday' tweeds can go back in the wardrobe. Gone are the pressures of the military-like operation that is a day of grouse driving.

But we're relieved because we're not killing any more of our grouse. There are patches on the estate where there are reasonable stocks left. But we've also had an unpleasant surprise from a lot of other areas.

So today I made a start to getting around my grit piles. Disease (tristrongyle worm infestation)has decimated our stocks from last year. And the terrible spring weather meant the survivors bred very poorly. My main concern now is to refresh the medicated grit in all 200+ piles to try and limit any more losses to the worm.

It's also the first day I've been back to 'business as usual' without Ed. I caught myself looking around for him often. Thank goodness for Lottie. She's no substitute but she's a welcome distraction.

It was her first day on the hill with me- at just 16 weeks old. And she behaved impeccably. Keep up the good work Lil'lots.

It Never Rains...

Our day on the hill was a washout. The rain started just after we got lined out for the first drive. By the time we arrived at the butts, everyone was soaked.

We called it a day after the second drive and squelched our way home. So that's what they mean by driving rain.

I couldn't wait to get home and hear news of Ed. It turns out he's still vomiting and still got diarrhoea. On the plus side, there's significantly less blood in his poo.

The vet is now talking about him needing to stay under their care until the end of the week. For the first time, I wondered about how much this is going to cost. Probably more than it would cost to put him up in Gleneagles for a week.

No matter.

Harvest

It's the start of our shooting season. So I've been fishing.

It's certainly no hardship. Although I love my stalking, I'm also extremely enthusiastic about my fishing. I think 'fanatical' is the description my wife favours.

It's been great fun to take some fishing 'virgins' out. Unfortunately the salmon weren't playing (fish)ball but they did manage to keep the hooks out of their ears. Better still, they did succeed in catching some trout- and a couple of nice ones too.

However, I did warn them that the fish weren't the only ones who might end up hooked. Who knows, with a bit of perseverance they too might one day reach 'fanatic' status.

It's a week I really enjoy and it's the gentlest introduction I can imagine into what is our 'harvest time'. For the next 3 months our lodge will be full of guests and we'll be doing our level best for them; be it grouse driving, fishing, stag or roebuck stalking, clay pigeon shooting or whatever.

I'd love to bring you a good report of our first two days of grouse driving but the weather has been atrocious. We've managed 3.5 drives- just- working under a low ceiling of thick cloud. And as I write this, rain is lashing against the windows.

Something tells me this season is going to be a bit of a challenge.