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......

 

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.

Argony

It's been a real bonus to have a few days leeway between finishing the grouse season and starting our stag stalking. Not that they've been restful.

We've used the time to patch up our roads once again. (And once again that was the cue for the heavens to open and give us a couple of days of spate and floods). We've also cleaned the larder, bothies, rovers, argocat and kennels. I also made time to saw up a tree that was blown across my drive last week. Thanks Katia. (See Splashdance 12.9.11) On Friday morning the farrier was up and shod the ponies.

The final preparation is for us to switch from grouse driving mode to deerstalking mode....and to remember our guests haven't had the benefit of the 5 week warm-up that we've had.

Saying this, I'm not stalking yet. A fence erected along my Southern march by the neighbouring estate has completely scuppered my chances of early stags so I'm now getting round my grit piles.

The good news about doing it just now is that there is no competition for the argocat. I took it out to the far end of my ground today. Seven hours and 70+ grit piles later I returned with my kidneys rattled from their bonds. Shaken not stirred.

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.