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.

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.

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.

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.

Sore Calves

As I had guessed, going back to work after a fortnights holiday was a bit of a shock to the system. Especially as I was straight in to doing up my grouse butts.

The first line we went to was a brisk 45 minute walk with a nice wee pull up a brae to finish. And it just about finished me.

Well here we are 3 days on and today I started off doing a grouse count then continued by touring round some gritting stations. We have to withdraw the medicated grit from the grouse diet in advance of the shooting season so I have to get round all 200++ of my trays in the next few days.

Today I got round 80. And if you consider they are 200 yards apart, that's a lot of yards. (That's certainly what my legs are telling me.)

I thought you'd enjoy these pics. One is of a red deer calf that Ed latched onto. Normally you try and leave a calf like this alone- and not put any scent on it- but I had to ward off Ed and 3 spaniels.

The other pic was taken right up by my march with the neighbouring estate. It took me over an hour to walk up there but I'd rather that than a road like the one in the shot.
I had to do a double-take when I first saw this pic- I thought the dogs were practicing their circus trick.

The Stuff of Nightmares

The earless rabbit featured in my last blog really had me in stitches. Here are some pictures that give me the Screaming Abdabs.

I was walking the last mile home when I heard a squeak from the bank next to me. It must have been the voles last breath. When I went to investigate, I could see its tail sticking out of the moss and though it strange it wasn't moving. As I slowly uncovered it I suddenly noticed this adder just at the other side of my hand. Yikes.

I cleared a small area around the dead vole and waited to see if the adder (unusual colour- I wonder if it's because it is a young one) would return. It did.

Ears Something You Dont See Every Day

I woke at 3am to mist and rain. Just for a change. So another morning gone without us getting out to the foxes.

On the plus side, I had a day catching up with my traps instead. Unfortunately catching up was the only catching that was going on.

I'd checked my last trap and was walking home when I came across a sight that brightened up my day. I just had to share it with you.

Dawning More Clothes

Those of you who are regular visitors will know that I have a big hind cull in the winter. And because of this I have to be stalking nigh on every day, regardless of the weather.

This isn't a problem- once I'm out of the landrover. And when the rain is rattling on the roof and the wind is whistling, that can be a serious challenge. But it comes with the territory and, well, that's what you expect in a highland winter. I sigh a big sigh, don the waterproofs and get on with it.

"Why the hell is he talking about hind stalking?" I hear you ask.

You'd think, maybe, that getting out of your bed at 3am- as we are doing just now- might be a similar challenge. And you'd think right. But once you've levered your eyelids open and looked out, the tiredness quickly passes. You see the hills silhouetted against a paleness creeping into the clear night sky and know you are in for something special. Dawn in the hills can be breathtaking.

Knowing there are still foxes out there only goes to further spur you on. The visibility a clear morning gives you, added to the hear-a-pin-drop silence greatly increases your chances of falling in with foxy. And you know it.

So every morning for the last God-knows-how-long the alarm clock has gone off at Stupid O' clock. And every morning I've looked out at a cloudy/windy/drizzly/misty predawn.

Some mornings I've thought "Well, the light wont be good but at least I'll be able to see" and gone out. And seen nothing.

Some mornings I've thought "Well it looks like it might clear" and gone out. And it hasn't.

And some mornings I've thought "It's not worth going out" and gone back to bed only to doze fitfully and continually look out in case I'm missing a chance.

The mornings I have gone out have been cold. There were sleet showers blowing through on Wednesday morning. So what young grouse the foxes aren't killing, the weather is.

It must be nice here in the summer, tho'...............

Seasons Greetings

What you can't see from there is that this blogsite has a new dashboard. When I log on, it screams at me "BLOGGER HAS A NEW LOOK!" This translates into is "YOU CAN NO LONGER WRITE IN PARAGRAPHS, DIMWIT." Ahh, progress..... The pictures show what I woke to this morning. The only thing that matched this sullen weather was the sullen faces of my colleagues when I arrived at work. This does not bode well for our grouse. There is also a shot of a Green Plover (we call them 'teuchats') and her young. It wasn't long before they were back under their down duvet. Poor mites.

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!

Waiter, This Venison is Tough!

Well things aren't getting any easier. The mild weather continues and the deer are playing hard-to-get. Very hard-to-get.

Every year we stalkers get a beast each for ourselves. Needless to say, they're usually the biggest and best beasts of the season, and clean-shot. But getting near enough to them to be sure of a neck shot is no walk in the park just now. More like a walk in the minefield, in fact.

It dawned on me that, with the end of the season fast approaching, I was running out of time to get my beast. As Tuesday was a horrendous day of driving rain, I thought I'd make getting one good hind my sole objective for the day.

The good news was that the foul weather had pushed a herd onto some handier ground. (Relatively speaking.) The bad news was that they were in a spot that turned out to be nigh-on impossible to get near.

I snuck up a wee burn and waaay before I was anywhere near the beasts I was crawling-to avoid disturbing sheep. (The Red Deers answer to NATOs Early Warning System.)

Anyway I crawled into the next postcode and to within 250 yards. The deer were still on their feet and grazing towards me at this point. Then, one by one, they lay down. Nooooooo!!!!

Dismayed, I crawled up and down the same stretch of burn 4 or 5 times trying to find any way of getting closer. With 150 pairs of eyes looking down the hill at me? Not a chance.

My only option was to wait. And wait. And wait.

I was starting to feel decidedly chilly (and not a little frustrated) when the weather took a turn for the even-worse. The freezing rain started coming down in sheets.

"Thanks very much!" I muttered heavenward. .....then the deer started getting to their feet. Perhaps this cloud really did have a silver lining.

The filthy weather was too much even for these tough hombres. They got up,turned their bums to the rain and walked away. When the last pair of lugs disappeared over a nearby rise I could have wept with happiness- I could move!!

I followed them on and as I crept around the corner I found most of them already out of range and still moving into the vast open stretch of a sheltered bowl. Utterly unstalkable. Lifting my head a little higher I found that a handful had stalled- and lain down just after entering the bowl. And looking through my binoculars, I could see that one was an absolute clinker.

I started crawling forward to get a clear shot- all the time aware that I was coming into sight of more and more deer. And as I crawled I noticed the 'stragglers' were, one by one, getting up and following the herd again. It was a case of 'take your time but hurry'.

When I got to my firing point there were only 3 beasts left in range- but the clinker was one of them. As I got the crosshairs on her I saw her looking about as if to say "Hey, where has everybody gone?"

She became the dearly departed just a moment before she deerily departed. Getting her two companions was the icing on the cake. Albeit a very moist cake. I was ecstatic....right up until I contemplated the monster drag that awaited me.

Boy, she had better taste good.