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.

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.

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.