Stag Party

A lot has been going on since my last post.

We've had some beautiful weather with light winds, blue skies and hard frosts (for this time of year; -5). More importantly, the rut has finally come to my beat....with a vengeance!

It's a fantastic time to be 'oot the hill' when the corries and glens are reverberating with the roars of the stags. Strangely, the intensity (and the timing) of the rut seems to vary from year to year.

It's quite unusual to find a stag that has been killed while fighting. I haven't found any in the last two years. Yet three years ago there was a strong rut and I found 3 stags that had been gored to death. From what I'm seeing, I wouldn't be at all surprised to find one or two this year.

On the stalking side, things are a little frustrating. This estate is trying to establish a resident stag herd. To this end we have about 70 stags that stay all winter and are fed. This gives them a big advantage. And a big body. And a big set of antlers.

Unfortunately for me, a lot of these animals find their way onto my patch. And there they hold the hinds against all comers (as it were, ahem). This means that every time I take a guest out stalking I have to make my excuses as we pass these stags over.

So each 'feeder' becomes an obstacle that has to be circumvented in the quest to find a 'shootable' stag. Furthermore, they are also such stiff (ahem, again) competition that the wild stags take one look, get a serious dose of cold...er...hooves, and disappear off from whence they came.

Fortunately nearly all the guests we have are regulars or experienced stalkers. And- all credit to them- they understand our policies and agree with our selective culling. Which is just as well really, seeing as I've just blanked for the second day in a row. Ouch.

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.

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'.

In the space of a week I've gone from famine to feast. Everywhere I turn there are beasts. The hills resound with their roaring and I see fights on an almost hourly basis.

Some years the rut can be a bit of an anticlimax- if that isn't a bit of a contradiction. But this isn't some years. The last time I saw a rut like this was 4 or 5 years ago and that year I found 3 seperate stags that had been gored to death. Finding one is reasonably unusual.

But all these animals don't necessarily make things any easier for me. My problem now is being able to move for deer. And despite their numbers, I'm seeing relatively small numbers of 'shootable' stags. And those I do see always seem to have a pile of hinds, young stags and 'good' stags between them and me.

But with a bit of stealth and cunning- and a chunk of good ol' fashioned luck- I've been bringing home the...er...bacon. I've had 10 stags in the last 7 stalking days and a miss on a wicked switch (a stag with only 2 brow points and 2 top points) that I would have given my eye teeth for! C'est la vie.

On a totally different note, I've been contacted by a TV production company. They are investigating a 'jelly' that occurs in the countryside at this time of year. It appears that nobody really knows what it is. I was told a long time ago that is was stag semen but I have no way of verifying this.

Anyway I have my colleagues on red alert if they come across (sic) any of this stuff. A sample is needed. Just don't put it in the fridge next to the jams, lads.

My Shortest Blog

A picture is worth a thousand words.....

Hallelujah!

Strange. For the past couple of days my feet haven't quite reached the ground when I walk; everything I look at takes on a golden glow and when I listen carefully, I'm sure I can hear choirs singing.

Yes, the stags have finally arrived on the ground! The ones that are old enough and of poor enough quality to be considered 'shootable' are still thin on the ground.

But I don't care.

There are always loads of young stags and 'good' stags in the way.

But I don't care.

It was blowing a gale and lashing with rain yesterday.

But I don't care.

In fact, the only thing I'm bothered about is the fact that I have only 11 stalking days left to my season- or 100 if you include the hinds.

So that's alright then.

Out OF Stalk

Those of you who are regular followers of my blog will know how much I enjoy my stalking. I enjoy it even more when taking a guest out. Stag season used to be one of my favourite times of year.

But I've still no stags on my ground. Guests- many of them regulars whose company I really enjoy- have come and gone from the lodge. They've been out on the beats where they've had more chance of success. Which is as it should be.

As for me, I've been using this opportunity to catch up with a heap of other stuff. My grit piles have all been switched back to medicated grit. I've dug another 50 or so new ones. I've been round my stoat traps, upped my lamping activities, fenced, collected firewood, disinfected kennels.... hell, I've even brashed rides through a small wood. That one's been on the back-burner since I came to this beat 7 years ago!!

I'm told that there is a lodge-full of guests next week and that I'll be stalking, regardless. I must say it will come as a relief; but only if the rut gets going and those blessed stags put in an appearance.

Falling for The Fall

Today is the first of September, which means 2 things:- 1) It is the first day of Autumn and 2) There is a yoghurt in the fridge that constitutes a major biohazard.

With respect to 1), you would well believe it. Today was overcast, cool and windy. Very autumnal and very conducive to driving grouse but perhaps not to hitting them. The guests assured me that it was fun trying, tho'.

But Autumn is definitely here. The Rowan trees are laden with scarlet berries (a sign of a hard winter to come, according to folklore), the brackens are starting to turn yellow and the first leaves are turning on the birches. The swallows are flocking prior to their long migration to Africa and the stags antlers are- for the most part- clean of velvet.

The hills that were bright with the purple bloom of the heather are fading fast and it wont be long until the first frost.

It's a time of year that I love- especially later in the season when we are out stalking and the Red Deer rut is in full swing. At that time our resident population of about 3000 hinds and calves is joined by a further 1500+ stags and the noise and spectacle of the roaring and fighting and chasing is fantastic. Better, even, than the 'toon' on a Saturday night.

But there's plenty going to be happening before that, starting with dealing with 2).

If this is my last blog, you'll know I didn't make it........