A Glimpse of Spring

This week has started and finished with cold winds and snow showers. Fortunately the days in between have been glorious.

In response to this, we've been marching all over the place looking for fox dens. Strangely, we haven't found anything despite checking a lot of likely areas.

Either these foxes are thin on the ground this year, or they're getting a whole lot smarter. I hope it's the former because they were quite fly enough as they were.

As you can see, we've spent a lot of the week on steep, rough ground. It's the sort of terrain that foxes love and ankles hate. And in that heat, it wasn't just the terriers whose tongues were hanging out!

On a different tack, the trout season has just started up here. For an opening gambit, one of my colleagues took an evening on the loch. He hooked into something BIG and played it for 15 minutes before it got its head down and took his line into the weed.

It's the second time that's happened to him, whereas I have never had anything bigger than 1lb out of that loch. Mind you, I suppose neither has he!

The same lad had a guest out looking for Roe Buck on Wednesday. Try as they might, nothing worked for them and they returned empty-handed. Wouldn't you know it, I went out for 20 minutes that evening and had one of the best bucks of my career.

Actually, that should be 'one of the best bucks of my car- eer.' And when I skelpit the poor beast with our trusty old VW, career it did. When I came to a juddering halt, the buck lay dead on the road before me. And on the road behind me lay an unbelievable amount of broken plastic. Expensive, broken plastic....

Dish Out the Gruel

I just had to share this pic with you.

I had a lot of fun with the guests last week. It's about the only time of year I'm asked to ghillie on the river or loch and, I have to say, it makes a fine change.

It's also the last bit of light relief before we get stuck in with our shooting season proper.

We were driving grouse today. Despite variable winds, nearly being blotted out by mist, heavy rain and occassional onslaughts by midge hordes we still managed 169 brace for our day.

However we've also lost one beater to a badly twisted knee and we have another who might have to drop out for a day or two. He has that many blisters his feet they look like they've been bubble-wrapped.

And after a week of swanning up and down the riverbank, this all-day routemarching that is grouse beating feels just that little bit... er...GRUELLING!

Ground Rush

The days have sped by since my last blog.

Parachuting types talk of 'ground rush' when their hopefully slow and steady downward progress finishes with Planet Earth leaping up at them when they get within 20 feet. We've had the same thing from our shooting season.

In a final flurry of activity, we've sawn, clogged and split enough firewood to restock the bothies and lodge. It should see both through to the end of the stag season (20th Oct). If it doesn't, they can get their own!!

We've also sorted some roads that, although only sorted a fortnight previously, were washed out by recent torrential rain. The way this weather is going, we could be visiting them again before long.

A couple of our ponies have been shod in preparation for some early stalking. I also gave our resident (and panicky) gardener a hand in the lodge garden.


But all this is history as we are now busy with a lodge full of guests. There are a couple of stag stalking parties out each day and perhaps a roe buck stalker too. Others are going out rabbiting, walking and fishing.

As there are no stags on my ground yet, I've been happy to take folk onto the river to try for a salmon.

Yesterday, conditions were perfect. There were also a lot of salmon showing. They were jumping and splashing all over the place- including at ends of my guests rods.

Frustratingly none would grab hold. Then at 6pm one particularly determined young lady hooked into one. And it was a BIG fish.

She played it for half an hour while I assaulted her with a constant deluge of encouragement and advice. Once or twice we thought the fish was starting to tire only to have it turn and strip line off the reel again.

We'd had occassional glimpses of it through the peaty water but when it did decide to show itself, it did it in style. Out of nowhere it made a leap. It was close to us and therefore on a short line. The line parted like cotton.

We stood on that rock, speechless. When we recovered our senses we made a few philisophical noises and packed up.

Truth be told, we were both gutted and didn't have the heart to fish any more that day.

A Red Letter Day

For some 'keepers getting allocated baby-sitting duty would definately be considered the short straw. I quite enjoy it. This morning I took 8 year old N out rabbit shooting. Earlier this week he called it his favourite thing in the whole world but today you wouldn't have guessed it.

It didn't help that it was a dreich morning, overcast with drizzle on a snell wind. I suspect his action-packed week was also catching up on him. Suffice to say that the shooting was extremely poor. Coupled with the rabbits playing cat-and-mouse (!) with us in the shelter of the sprots and brackens it made for a frustrating time.

When we returned to the lodge, the planned picnic was abandoned in favour of lunch in comfort and warmth. And who can blame them.

I returned mid-afternoon to be asked to take N and his 11 year old sister fishing. After last nights rain I reckoned the river would be perfect so I set up the rods for salmon. This was a bit of a gamble as I knew that their attention would wane if there wasn't the boost of catching the odd fingerling trout or salmon parr but I thought the conditions were too good to miss.

After an hour I was starting to regret the decision. They were starting to get bored and their fly casting was getting sloppier and sloppier. And this meant I was spending more and more time running up and down the river bank retrieving the flies from trees, thistles and rocks -but thankfully not ears, noses or siblings.

Fortuitously, I'd forseen this and had taken along a spinning rod as well. To keep interest up I also moved them on to the next 'lie' after only a few casts; "hit and run tactics" I call it but I quite like another expression a friend came up with recently. Shock and awe!

But even at this the kids were fast approaching 'critical mass'. At this point Providence threw me a lifeline and a salmon jumped right in front of us. That caught their attention!

As we'd already covered this fish with a rapala, I swapped it for a mepp spinner and with the very next cast the fish was on. I made sure N played this fish all by himself, only intervening by helping keep the rod up when the fish threatened to pull it out of his hands. A full quarter of an hour later and I tailed the fish out. A hen fish of about 7lbs and somewhat red, indicating it had certainly been in the river for a while. Normally I would recommend returning a fish like this but you only catch your first salmon once. Furthermore, I reckon if I'd thrown it back, N would have been right in after it.

All credit, 'I' was nothing but delighted at her brothers success and while he was preoccupied with cradling the fish and talking at a thousand words a minute, I had her cast over all the likely spots in the immediate vicinity.

As luck would have it, she hooked into a salmon within 10 minutes and another nail-biting quarter of an hour ensued. This time I didn't touch the rod and 'I' played the feisty fish out all by herself. Again, her first salmon and this time it was a cock fish, maybe a pound bigger than her brothers. Well done that lass!

I confess to having a twinge of concience at keeping this second fish but how could I deny her her share of the triumph. It would be fitting if these fish are used form the centrepiece of one of the lodges exceptional dinners and I,for one, would raise a glass to their captors.

When we returned to the lodge, the kids grabbed their fish and sprinted off into the house. I sincerely hope that they kept them off the furniture! As I packed the tackle away, Tom the butler came out and chatted. It turned out that their older brother had shot his first stag today.

It's a day that I hope will stay with them for the rest of their lives and on my way home I reflected on it and prayed that I'll be able to give my own wee boy the same experiences one day.

Odd

This is the height of the grouse shooting season and thus it feels strange to be having a "guddle aboot". In a nutshell, one of our regular guests has taken the lodge for the week and has come up with just his wife and 3 kids. So instead of highly organised shoot days with 30+ beaters, loaders, pickers-up and 8 shooters we have 'take one of the youngsters rabbit shooting for a couple of hours, take out the lunches then have the rest of the day to catch up on jobs'.

It's very pleasant in a way but this is our best season for grouse for a long time and it's a bit frustrating not to be making the most of it. Och well, we'll be back in top gear again next week.

After all the rain we had on Sunday, I thought the river would be perfect to try for a salmon this evening. When I got there I was disappointed to find the water level about 20cm down on what I expected. Still I flogged and flailed my favourite lies until there was a foam on the water but to no avail. Then as light was failing I misjudged a cast and lost my favourite fly in a tree. He was an old campaigner and had taken a few scalps (possibly the wrong metaphor when referring to salmon!) a Julius Ceaser amongst flies. Rest in beech, Julius.