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.

Weather Beaten

After an appalling start to the week, we got walking ground again on Tuesday. It dried up enough for us to risk going to the steep, rocky walls of the main glen on my beat. We has an inauspicious start when one of the terriers stuck in the first cairn we came to. We should have taken the hint... But we deigned to go on, and make the most of the decent weather. (The dog seemed barely stuck and her owner was convinced she'd have made her way out by the time we went back past. Within half a mile we found a den. In a b*****d of a place. Rabbit holes had been scraped out, high up on an exposed, steep grassy face. Worse was the fact that this face had a convex curve to it. This meant short horizons all round about. Not good for a stake-out. And another terrier stuck down a hole. This time we elected to leave the owner (same guy) and continue our search. We hoped we might fall in with one of the adult foxes for this den in our travels. Instead we found ANOTHER den in a cairn a mile further on. This time the vixen was home and bolted within 5 minutes of the terrier going in. We finished our sweep and headed back to the rovers. Our colleague with the stuck terriers continued his vigil. By now time was short. I hurried home. Dogs were fed, equipment gathered, tea cooked, rifle zeroed. By 7pm two of us were heading back out the hill. It was an hours march and a steep climb of several hundred feet before we were back at the first den. We dropped off our gear and took up positions covering the most likely routes that the vixen would come in by. A cold wind sprang up and by the time it was dark I was chittering with the cold. When it got too dark to see. I had the first shine about with the spotlight. A fox ducked away over the skyline as soon as the light hit it. Gus, who'd drawn the short straw to join me, joined me minutes later and we set up camp. (Unpacked our bivvy bags!) Then followed a long cold night of lamping at 15 minute intervals. At 1pm a fox appeared and stood long enough for a shot. To our surprise it was the dog. We got a glimpse of the vixen at the same time- leaving fast. She didn't show for the rest of the night. We were back out the following night. We narrowly missed our colleague who, after a day of digging had managed to recover both of his terriers. There's one lad who would sleep soundly that night. Again that steep climb, again carrying a heap of gear. This time, rain forced us to wear our waterproofs. We were lathered with sweat by the time we reached the den. The forecast had promised wind, rain and mist. It didn't disappoint! Thank God I chose to take a tent with me this time. (To save weight and give us a bit more room, I just took the outer tent. It wasn't so comfortable, but it still saved our lives!) What followed was still one of the most unpleasnt nights I've ever spent 'oot the hill'. And we saw not hide nor hair of the vixen. I should be out there right now, for the third night in a row but the forecast was that bad (winds to 70mph, snow, mist) that we decided to pull the plug. Another two colleagues were staking out the second den. They saw nothing on either night and have called it a day also. If this weather ever clears, we'll hopefully pick up these cagey foxes on an early morning. But for now, I've got some sleep to catch up on....

Fox Pause

Spare a thought for a couple of my colleagues. We've been champing at the bit, wanting to get on with our foxing but the weather has been so bad we've had to put things on hold. Unfortunately those two found a den just before the weather took a serious downturn. Or should that be downpour? They did get the vixen coming in to the hole at 3am on the first night. But there was no sign of the dog. And the weather was awful. So they were out again all last night. They got a glimpse of the dog in the wee small hours but never got a shot. And the weather was worse. As I write this, the last of the light is leaving the sky. The guys will be back at the den by now. It's been a shocker of a day- wind, rain and snow on the tops. And the forecast is for it to deteriorate through the night. Who'd have thought it possible? As for me, it looks like it will be another day of crow cages and stoat traps tomorrow. It's high time I was checking my trees for crows nests too. But with a lot of the trees being up in the rock faces, I'll maybe leave that until the hill is drier and the rocks less slippery. If the recent weather is anything to go by, the trees will be in full leaf by the time that happens. Just so long as they're not turning yellow!

4 Eds Are Better Than One

Would you believe it? I had 3 guys out stalking today and they were all called Ed. This morning, when they asked me the name of my dog and I answered "Ed", they wouldn't believe me!

So I include a picture of the 4 Eds. While you're looking at it, please note the crappy day in the background. We spent a highly frustrating day working the steep walls of the glen in the background. Visibility varied from bloody murky to blotted out. We stalked hinds only to have them obscured by the mist at the crucial time. We winded hinds when the light wind eddied and spun the mist in circles. We stalked shapes only to find they were all stags when we eventually got to our shooting position. We found hinds in a great position at the end of the day when there wasn't enough light left to stalk them and Fergus (the horse) was already on his way home.

I once managed to go an entire hind season without having a blank day. 198 hinds on the trot- as it were. I was hoping I might have managed it again this season.

Looks like it'll have to wait until next year now.

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........