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Grouse's Nest — Partridge Nest — Grouse-shooting — Marten Cat — Witch:
Death of — Stags—Snaring Grouse — Black Game: Battles of — Hybrid Bird —
Ptarmigan-shooting — Mist on the Mountain — Stag Unsuccessful Stalking —
Death of Eagle.
I FOUND the nest of a grouse with eight eggs,
or rather eggshells, within two hundred yards of a small farm-house on a
part of my shooting ground, where there is a mere strip of heather
surrounded by cultivated fields, and on a spot particularly infested by
colley-dogs, as well as by herd-boys, et id genus omne. But
the poor bird, although so surrounded by enemies, had managed to hatch and
lead away her brood in safety. I saw them frequently afterwards, and they
all came to maturity. How many survived the shooting-season I do not know,
but the covey numbered eight birds far on in October. If the parent bird
had selected her nesting-place for beauty of prospect, she could not have
pitched upon a lovelier spot. The nest was on a little mound where I
always stop, when walking in that direction, to admire the extensive and
varied view—the Bay of Findhorn and the sand-hills, the Moray Firth, with
the entrance to the Cromarty Bay, and the bold rocky headlands, backed by
the mountains of Ross-shire. Sutherland, Caithness, Inverness, and
Ross-shire are all seen from this spot; whilst the rich plains of Moray,
dotted with timber, and intersected by the winding stream of the Findhorn,
with the woods of Altyre, Darnaway, and Brodie, form a nearer picture.
It is a curious fact, but one which I have
often observed, that dogs frequently pass close to the nest of grouse,
partridge, or other game, without scenting the hen bird as she sits on her
eggs. I knew this year of a partridge's nest which was placed close to a
narrow footpath near my house; and although not only my people, but all my
dogs, were constantly passing within a foot and a half of the bird, they
never found her out, and she hatched her brood in safety.
Grouse generally make their nest in a high
tuft of heather. The eggs are peculiarly beautiful and game-like, of a
rich brown colour, spotted closely with black. Although in some peculiarly
early seasons the young birds are full grown by the 12th of August, in
general five birds out of six which are killed on that day are only half
come to their strength and beauty. The loth of the month would be a much
better day on which to commence their legal persecution. In October there
is not a more beautiful bird in our island; and in January a cock grouse
is one of the most superb fellows in the world, as he struts about
fearlessly with his mate, his bright red comb erected above his eyes, and
his rich dark-brown plumage shining in the sun. Unluckily, they are more
easily killed at this time of the year than at any other; and I have been
assured that a ready market is found for them not only in January, but to
the end of February, though in fine seasons they begin to nest very early
in March. Hardy must the grouse be, and prolific beyond calculation, to
supply the numbers that are yearly killed, legally and illegally. Vermin,
however, are their worst enemies; and where the ground is kept clear of
all their winged and four-footed destroyers, no shooting seems to reduce
their numbers.
I cannot say that my taste leads me to rejoice
in the slaughter of a large bag of grouse in one day. I have no ambition
to see my name in the county newspapers as having bagged my seventy brace
of grouse, in a certain number of hours, on such and such a hill. I have
much more satisfaction in killing a moderate quantity of birds, in a wild
and varied range of hill, with my single brace of dogs, and wandering in
any direction that fancy leads me, than in having my day's beat laid out
for me, with relays of dogs and keepers, and all the means of killing the
grouse on easy walking ground, where they are so numerous that one has
only to load and fire. In the latter case, I generally find myself
straying off in pursuit of some teal or snipe, to the neglect of the
grouse and the disgust of the keeper, who may think his dignity
compromised by attending a sportsman who returns with less than fifty
brace. Nothing is so easy to shoot as a grouse, when they are tolerably
tame; and, with a little choice of his shots, a very moderate marksman
ought to kill nearly every bird that he shoots at early in the season,
when the birds sit close, fly slowly, and are easily found. At the end of
the season, when the coveys are scattered far and wide, and the grouse
rise and fly wildly, it requires quick shooting and good walking to make
up a handsome bag; but how much better worth killing are the birds at this
time of year than in August ! If my reader will wade through some leaves
of an old note-book, I will describe the kind of shooting that, in my
opinion, renders the sporting in the Highlands far preferable to any other
that Great Britain can afford.
October 20th.—Determined to shoot across to Malcolm's shealing, at the
head of the river, twelve miles distant; to sleep there; and kill some
ptarmigan the next day.
For the first mile of our walk we passed
through the old fir woods, where the sun seldom penetrates. In the
different grassy glades we saw several roe, but none within shot. A
fir-cone falling to the ground made me look up, and I saw a marten cat
running like a squirrel from branch to branch. The moment the little
animal saw that my eye was on him he stopped short, and curling himself up
in the fork of a branch, peered down on me. Pretty as he was I fired at
him. He sprang from his hiding-place, and fell half way down, but catching
at a branch, clung to it for a minute, holding on with his fore-paws. I
was just going to fire at him again, when he lost his hold, and came down
on my dogs' heads, who soon despatched him, wounded as he was. One of the
dogs had /earned by some means to be an excellent vermin-killer, though
steady and staunch at game. As we were just leaving the wood a woodcock
rose, which I killed. Our way took us up the rushy course of a burn. Both
dogs came to a dead point near the stream, and then drew for at least a
quarter of a mile, and just as my patience began to be exhausted, a brace
of magnificent old blackcocks rose, but out of shot. One of them came back
right over our heads at a good height, making for the wood. As he flew
quick down the wind, I aimed nearly a yard ahead of him as he came towards
me, and down he fell, fifty yards behind me, with a force that seemed
enough to break every bone in his body. Another and another blackcock fell
to my gun before we had left the burn, and also a hare, who got up in the
broken ground near the water. Our next cast took us up a slope of hill,
where we found a wild covey of grouse. Right and left at them the moment
they rose, and killed a brace the rest went over the hill. Another covey
on the same ground gave me three shots. From the top of the hill we saw a
dreary expanse of flat ground, with Loch A-na-caillach in the centre of
it, a bleak cold-looking piece of water, with several small grey pools
near it. Donald told me a long story of the origin of its name, pointing
out a large cairn of stones at one end of it. The story was, that some few
years ago—" Not so long either, Sir (said Donald); for Rory Beg, the auld
smuggler, that died last year, has often told me that he minded the whole
thing weel "—there lived down below the woods an old woman, by habit and
repute a witch, and one possessed of more than mortal power, which she
used in a most malicious manner, spreading sickness and death among man
and beast. The minister of the place, who came, however, but once a month
to do duty in a building called a chapel, was the only person who, by dint
of prayer and Bible, could annoy or resist her. He at last made her so
uncomfortable by attacking her with holy water and other spiritual
weapons, that she suddenly left the place, and no one knew where she went
to. It soon became evident, however, that her abode was not far off, as
cattle and people were still taken ill in the same unaccountable manner as
before. At last, an idle fellow, who was out poaching deer near Loch A-na-caillach
late one evening saw her start through the air from the cairn of stones
towards the inhabited part of the country. This put people on the lookout,
and she was constantly seen passing to and fro on her unholy errands
during the fine moonlight nights. Many a time was she shot at as she flew
past, but without success. At last a pot-valiant and unbelieving old
fellow, who had long been a serjeant in some Highland regiment, determined
to free his neighbours from the witch; and having loaded his gun with a
double charge of gunpowder, put in, instead of shot, a crooked sixpence
and some silver buttons, which he had made booty of somewhere or other in
war time. He then, in the most foolhardy manner, laid himself down on the
hill, just where we were then standing when Donald told .me the story,
and, by the light of the moon, watched the witch leave her habitation in
the cairn of stones. As soon as she was gone, he went to the very place
which she had just left, and there lay down in ambush to await her return.
"'Deed did he, Sir; for auld Duncan was a mad-like deevil of a fellow, and
was feared of nothing." Long he waited, and many a pull he took at his
bottle of smuggled whisky, in order to keep out the cold of a September
night. At last, when the first grey of the morning began to appear, "
Duncan hears a sough, and a wild uncanny kind of skirl over his head, and
he sees the witch hersel, just coming like a muckle bird right towards
him,—'deed, Sir, but he wished himsel at hame; and his finger was so stiff
with cold and fear that he could na scarce pull the trigger. At last, and
long, he did put out (Anglic, shoot off) just as she was hovering over his
head, and going to light down on the cairn." Well, to cut the story short,
the next morning Duncan was found lying on the cairn in a deep slumber,
half sleep and half swoon, with his gun burst, his collar-bone nearly
broken, and a fine large heron shot through and through lying beside him,
which heron, as every one felt assured, was the caillach herself. "She has
na done much harm since yon (concluded Donald); but her ghaist is still to
the fore, and the loch side is no canny after the gloaming. But, Lord
guide us, Sir, what's that ?" and a large long-legged hind rose from some
hollow close to the loch, and having stood for a minute with her long ears
standing erect, and her gaze turned intently on us, she trotted slowly
off, soon disappearing amongst the broken ground. But where are the dogs
all this time ? There they are, both standing, and evidently at different
packs of grouse. I killed three of these birds, taking a right and left
shot at one dog's point, and then going to the other.
Off went Old Shot now, according to his usual
habit, straight to a rushy pool. I had him from a friend in Ireland, and
being used to snipe-shooting, he preferred it to everything else. The
cunning old fellow chose not to hear my call, but made for his favourite
spot. He immediately stood, and now for the first time seemed to think of
his master, as he looked back over his shoulder at me, as much as to say,
" Make haste down to me, here is some game." And sure enough up got a
snipe, which I killed. The report of my gun putting up a pair of mallards,
one of which I winged a long way off, "Hie away, Shot," and Shot, who was
licensed to take such liberties, splashed in with great glee, and after
being lost to sight for some minutes amongst the high rushes, came back
with the mallard in his mouth. " A bad lesson for Carlo that, Master
Shot," but he knows better than to follow your example. We now went up the
opposite slope, leaving Loch A-na-caillach behind us, and killing some
grouse, and a mountain hare, with no white about her as yet. We next came
to a long stony ridge, with small patches of high heather. A pair of
ravens, rising from the rocks, soared croaking over us for some time. A
pair or two of old grouse were all we killed here. But the view from the
summit was splendidly wild as we looked over a long range of grey rocks,
beyond which lay a wide and extensive lake, with several small islands in
it. The opposite shore of the lake was fringed with birch-trees, and in
the distance were a line of lofty mountains whose sharp peaks were covered
with snow. Human habitation or evidence of the presence of man was there
not, and no sound broke the silence of the solitude excepting the croak of
the ravens and the occasional whistle of a plover. "Yon is a fine corrie
for deer," said Donald, making me start, as he broke my reverie, and
pointing out a fine amphitheatre of rocks just below us. Not being on the
look-out for deer, however, I did not pay much attention to what he said,
but allowed the dogs to range on where they liked. Left to themselves, and
not finding much game, they hunted wide, and we had been walking in
silence for some time, when on coming round a small rise between us and
the dogs, I saw two fine stags standing, who, intent on watching the dogs,
did not see us. After standing motionless for a minute, the deer walked
deliberately towards us, not observing us until they were within forty
yards; they then suddenly halted, stared at us, snorted, and then went off
at a trot, but soon breaking into a gallop, fled rapidly away, but were in
sight for a long distance. Shot stood watching the deer for some time, but
at last seeing that we took no steps against them, looked at me, and then
went on hunting. We killed several more grouse and a brace of teal.
Towards the afternoon we struck off to the shepherd's house. In the fringe
of a birch that sheltered it we killed a blackcock and hen, and at last
got to the end of our walk with fifteen brace of grouse, five black game,
one mallard, a snipe, a woodcock, two teal, and two hares; and right glad
was I to ease my shoulder of that portion of the game which I carried to
help Donald, who would at any time have preferred assisting me to stalk a
red deer than to kill and carry grouse. Although my day's sport did not
amount to any great number, the variety of game, and the beautiful and
wild scenery I had passed through, made me enjoy it more than if I had
been shooting in the best and easiest muir in Scotland, and killing fifty
or sixty brace of birds.
In preserving and increasing a stock of
grouse, the first thing is to kill the vermin of every kind, and none more
carefully than the grey crows, as these keen-sighted birds destroy an
immense number of eggs. The grouse should also be well watched in the
neighbourhood of any small farms or corn-fields that may be on the ground,
as incredible numbers are caught in horsehair snares on the sheaves of
corn. A system of netting grouse has been practised by some of the
poachers lately, and when the birds are not wild they catch great numbers
in this manner; and as in nine cases out of ten the shepherds are in the
habit of assisting and harbouring the poachers, as well as allowing their
dogs to destroy as many eggs and young birds as they like, these men
require as much watching as possible. I have generally found it entirely
useless to believe a word that they tell me respecting the encroachments
of poachers, even if they do not poach themselves. With a clever sheep-dog
and a stick I would engage to kill three parts of every covey of young
grouse which I found in July and the first part of August; and, in fact,
the shepherds generally do kill great numbers in this noiseless and
destructive manner. As the black game for the most part breed in
plantations, where sheep and shepherds have no business to be found, they
are less likely to be killed in this way. But the young ones, till nearly
full grown, lie so close, that it is quite easy to catch half the brood.
When able to run, the old hen leads them to
the vicinity of some wet and mossy place in or near the woodlands, where
the seeds of the coarse grass and of other plants, and the insects that
abound near the water, afford the young birds plenty of food. The hen
takes great care of her young, fluttering near any intruder as if lame,
and having led him to some distance from the brood takes flight, and
making a circuit returns to them. The cock bird sometimes keeps with the
brood, but takes good care of himself, and running off leaves them to
their fate. Wild and wary as the blackcock usually is, he sometimes waits
till you almost tread on him, and then flutters away, giving as easy a
shot to the sportsman as a turkey would do. At other times, being fond of
basking in the sun, he lies all day enjoying its rays in some open place
where it is difficult to approach him without being seen.
In snowy weather the black game perch very
much on the fir-trees, as if to avoid chilling their feet on the colder
ground : in wet weather they do the same.
During the spring, and also in the autumn,
about the time the first hoar-frosts are felt, I have often watched the
blackcocks in the early morning, when they collect on some rock or height,
and strut and crow with their curious note not unlike that of a
wood-pigeon. On these occasions they often have most desperate battles. I
have seen five or six blackcocks all fighting at once, and so intent and
eager were they, that I approached within a few yards before they rose.
Usually there seems to be a master-bird in these assemblages, who takes up
his position on the most elevated spot, crowing and strutting round and
round with spread-out tail like a turkey-cock, and his wings trailing on
the ground. The hens remain quietly near him, whilst the smaller or
younger male birds keep at a respectful distance, neither daring to crow,
except in a subdued kind of voice, or to approach the hens. If they
attempt the latter, the master-bird dashes at the intruder, and often a
short melee ensues, several others joining in it, but they soon return to
their former respectful distance. I have also seen an old blackcock
crowing on a birch-tree with a dozen hens below it, and the younger cocks
looking on in fear and admiration. It is at these times that numbers fall
to the share of the poacher, who knows that the birds resort to the same
spot every morning.
Strong as the blackcock is, he is often killed
by the peregrine falcon and the hen-harrier. When pursued by these birds,
I have known the blackcock so frightened as to allow himself to be taken
by the hand. I once caught one myself who had been driven by a falcon into
the garden, where he took refuge under a gooseberry bush and remained
quiet till I picked him up. I kept him for a day or two, and then, as he
did not get reconciled to his prison, I turned him loose to try his
fortune again in the woods. Like some other wary birds, the blackcock,
when flushed at a distance, if you happen to be in his line of flight,
will pass over your head without turning off, as long as you remain
motionless. In some places, apparently well adapted for these birds, they
will never increase, although left undisturbed and protected, some cause
or other preventing their breeding. Where they take well to a place, they
increase very rapidly, and, from their habit of taking long flights, soon
find out the cornfields, and are very destructive, more so, probably, than
any other kind of winged game. A bold bird by nature, the black-cock, when
in confinement, is easily tamed, and soon becomes familiar and attached to
his master. In the woods instances are known of the blackcock breeding
with the pheasant. I saw a hybrid of this kind at a bird-stuffer's in
Newcastle : it had been killed near Alnwick Castle. The bird was of a
beautiful bronzed-brown colour, and partaking in a remarkable degree of
the characteristics of both pheasant and black game. I have heard also of
a bird being killed which was supposed to be bred between grouse and black
game, but I was by no means satisfied that it was anything but a
peculiarly dark-coloured grouse. The difference of colour in grouse is
very great, and on different ranges of hills is quite conspicuous. On some
ranges the birds have a good deal of white on their breasts, on others
they are nearly black : they also vary very much in size. Our other
species of grouse, the ptarmigan, as every sportsman knows, is found only
on the highest ranges of the Highlands. Living above all vegetation, this
bird finds its scanty food amongst the loose stones and rocks that cover
the summits of Ben Nevis and some other mountains. It is difficult to
ascertain indeed what food the ptarmigan can find in sufficient quantities
on the barren heights where they are found. Being visited by the sportsman
but rarely, these birds are seldom at all shy or wild, but, if the day is
fine, will come out from among the scattered stones, uttering their
peculiar croaking cry, and running in flocks near the intruder on their
lonely domain, offer, even to the worst shot, an easy chance of filling
his bag. When the weather is windy and rainy, the ptarmigan are frequently
shy and wild; and when disturbed, instead of running about like tame
chickens, they fly rapidly off to some distance, either round some
shoulder of the mountain, or by crossing some precipitous and rocky ravine
get quite out of reach. The shooting these birds should only be attempted
on fine calm days. The labour of reaching the ground they inhabit is
great, and it often requires a firm foot and steady head to keep the
sportsman out of danger after he has got to the rocky and stony summit of
the mountain. In deer-stalking I have sometimes come amongst large flocks
of ptarmigan, which have run croaking close to me, apparently conscious
that my pursuit of nobler game would prevent my firing at them. Once, on
one of the highest mountains of Scotland, a cold, wet mist suddenly came
on. We heard the ptarmigan near us in all directions, but could see
nothing at a greater distance than five or six yards. We were obliged to
sit down and wait for the mist to clear away, as we found ourselves
gradually getting entangled amongst loose rocks, which frequently, on the
slightest touch, rolled away from under our feet, and we heard them
dashing and bounding down the steep sides of the mountain, sometimes
appearing, from the noise they made, to be dislodging and driving before
them large quantities of debris; others seemed to bound in long leaps down
the precipices, till we lost the sound far below us in the depths of the
corries. Not knowing our way in the least, we agreed to come to a halt for
a short time, in hopes of some alteration in the weather. Presently a
change came over the appearance of the mist, which settled in large fleecy
masses below us, leaving us as it were on an island in the midst of a
snow-white sea, the blue sky and bright sun above us without a cloud. As a
light air sprang up, the mist detached itself in loose masses, and by
degrees drifted off the mountain side, affording us again a full view of
all around us. The magnificence of the scenery, looking down from some of
these mountain heights into the depths of the rugged and steep ravines
below, is often more splendid and awfully beautiful than pen or pencil can
describe; and the effect is often greatly increased by the contrast
between some peaceful and sparkling stream and green valley seen afar off,
and the rugged and barren foreground of rock and ravine, where no living
thing can find a resting-place save the eagle or raven.
I remember a particular incident of that day's
ptarmigan-shooting; which, though it stopped our sport for some hours, I
would not on any account have missed seeing. Most of the mist had cleared
away, excepting a few cloud-like drifts, which were passing along the
steep sides of the mountain. These, as one by one they gradually came into
the influence of the currents of air, were whirled and tossed about, and
then disappeared; lost to sight in the clear noonday atmosphere, as if
evaporated by wind and sun.
One of these light clouds, which we were watching, was suddenly caught in
an eddy of wind, and, after being twisted into strange fantastic shapes,
was lifted up from the face of the mountain like a curtain, leaving in its
place a magnificent stag, of a size of body and stretch of antler rarely
seen; he was not above three hundred yards from us, and standing in full
relief between us and the sky. After gazing around him, and looking like
the spirit of the mountain, he walked slowly on towards a ridge which
connected two shoulders of the mountain together. Frequently he stopped
and scratched with his hoof at some lichen-covered spot, feeding slowly
(quite unconscious of danger) on the moss which he separated from the
stones. I drew my shot and put bullets into both barrels, and we followed
him cautiously, creeping through the winding hollows of the rocks,
sometimes advancing towards the stag, and at other times obliged suddenly
to throw ourselves flat on the face of the stony mountain, to avoid his
piercing gaze, as he turned frequently round to see that no enemy was
following in his track.
He came at one time to a ridge from which he
had a clear view of a long stretch of the valley beneath. Here he halted
to look down either in search of his comrades or to see that all was safe
in that direction. I could see the tops of his horns as they remained
perfectly motionless for several minutes on the horizon. We immediately
made on for the place, crawling like worms over the stones, regardless of
bruises and cuts. We were within about eighty yards of the points of his
horns; the rest of the animal was invisible, being concealed by a mass of
stone behind which he was standing. I looked over my shoulder at Donald,
who answered my look with a most significant kind of silent chuckle; and,
pointing at his knife as if to say that we should soon require its
services, he signed to me to move a little to the right hand, to get the
animal free of the rock, which prevented my shooting at him. I rolled
myself quietly a little to one side, and then silently cocking both
barrels, rose carefully and slowly to one knee. I had already got his head
and neck within my view, and in another instant would have had his
shoulder. My finger was already on the trigger, and I was rising gradually
an inch or two higher. The next moment he would have been mine, when,
without apparent cause, he suddenly moved, disappearing from our sight in
an instant behind the rocks. I should have risen upright, and probably
should have got a shot; but Donald's hand was laid on my head without
ceremony, holding me down. He whispered, " The muckle brute has na felt
us; we shall see him again in a moment." We waited for a few minutes,
almost afraid to breathe, when Donald, with a movement of impatience,
muttered, "'Deed, Sir, but I'm no understanding it,"—and whispered to me
to go on to look over the ridge, which I did, expecting to see the stag
feeding, or lying close below it. When I did look over, however, I saw the
noble animal at a considerable distance, picking his way down the slope to
join some half-dozen hinds who were feeding below him, and who
occasionally raised their heads to take a good look at their approaching
lord and master. " The Deil tak the brute," was all that Donald said, as
he took a long and far-sounding pinch of snuff, his invariable consolation
and resource in times of difficulty or disappointment. When the stag had
joined the hinds, and some ceremonies of recognition had been gone
through, they all went quietly and steadily away, till we lost sight of
them over the shoulder of the next hill. "They'll no stop till they get to
Alt-na-cahr," said Donald, naming a winding rushy burn at some distance
off; " Alt-na-cahr " meaning the " Burn of many turns," as far as my
knowledge of Gaelic goes. And there we were constrained to leave them and
continue our ptarmigan-shooting, which we did with but little success and
less spirit. Soon afterwards a magnificent eagle suddenly rose almost at
our feet, as we came to the edge of a precipice, on a shelf of which, near
the summit, he had been resting. Bang went one barrel at him at a distance
of twenty yards. The small shot struck him severely, and, dropping his
legs, he rose into the air, darting upwards nearly perpendicularly, a
perfect cloud of feathers coming out of him. He then came wheeling in a
stupified manner back over our heads. We both of us fired together at him,
and down he fell with one wing broken, and hit all over with our small
shot. He struggled hard to keep up with the other wing, but could not do
so, and came heavily to the ground within a yard of the edge of the
precipice. He fell over on his back at first, and then rising up on his
feet, looked round with an air of reproachful defiance. The blood was
dropping slowly out of his beak, when Donald foolishly ran to secure him,
instead of leaving him to die where he was; in consequence of his doing
so, the eagle fluttered back a few steps, still, however, keeping his face
to the foe. But coming to the edge of the precipice, he fell backwards
over it, and we saw him tumbling and struggling downwards, as he strove to
cling to the projections of the rock—but in vain, as he came to no stop
till he reached the bottom, where we beheld him, after regaining his feet
for a short time, sink gradually to the ground. It was impossible for us
to reach the place where he lay dead without going so far round that the
daylight would have failed us. I must own, notwithstanding the reputed
destructiveness of the eagle, that I looked with great regret at the dead
body of the noble bird, and wished that I had not killed him, the more
especially as I was obliged to leave him to rot uselessly in that
inaccessible place.
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