After our successful roebuck morning, an invitation had been extended to flight some ducks come nightfall. Being a waterfowler/wildfowler at heart – this was something not to be passed up. At dusk we set out towards the pond, of course Scotland being Scotland, a nice gentle rain began to fall as well. The mallards worked well, as did Emrys the pick up dog. Twenty five minutes of shooting brought 17 birds to hand for 4 guns. For me, this was a repeat of a great experience, night flighting with lead on a baited pond, three things that are federal crimes in the US.
A very short night found us out in the morning for geese, and at best it was a mediocre shoot. While setting decoys under the light of the moon, we planned a rising sun and wind at our back, but prior to sunrise the wind began to swing. By sunrise or shortly thereafter, we had wind in our face and sun at our back, so a quick move was in order. This helped little, as now we had the wind quartering and geese finishing into the sun. With 5 hard earned birds we decided to quit and go lick our wounds. That evening was spent out for a nice seafood meal in Scrabster, and we actually made it bed at a reasonable hour.
The next morning, ever willing to take more abuse, we headed to a different goose field. This time we had a reliable, albeit quite strong wind at our back coming right off the North Atlantic. The geese were more cooperative and our bag was bit larger, but the real story was the weather. We started the morning with sun, then a bit of misting rain off the ocean. Then more sun, then a bit of sleet, back to sun, then ice pellets, more sun, snow, sun, driving rain. With the driving rain we decided it was time to quit. As far as experiences go, it was interesting to see several separate rainbows that morning, each using a different form of precipitation.
Although raining most of the afternoon, we decided to try night flighting again, and had some success. I can say this – although I consider myself a better than average shotgunner, teal at night will humble any shooter. Had it not been for one daft mallard I would have ended the night with a zero.
Day three, although the windiest day yet, ended up being the Goose day we had waited for. Consistent flights beginning early and continuing on until we decided we had taken enough. Excellent shooting by all, and a nice mixed bag. Truly a memorable morning. I had brought over a couple American goose calls, tuned by the maker for pinks and grey. These calls were a significant part of the success that morning, and I was beyond pleased to be calling as well as shooting. As a parting gift I left these with LeviGSP.
The wind calmed considerably as the day went on so we headed back to “Foggy Moor, with stags now out of season and hinds in. From the road we saw several groups of deer, but even without the fog to slow us, the heather and boggy ground was much more of an obstacle to us than it was to the deer. We ran out of light without closing on the herds. On the plus side, they were much closer to the road, so hopefully they would be in the same area in the morning.
Come morning, we were, back on “Foggy Moor”, except this time it was ‘Misty Moor”. We were also again joined by Stephen, who demonstrated the resilience of youth. While we old men had all headed to bed the evening prior, he had a date with his girl and a party to make an appearance at. Being very keen on stalking and seizing every chance to go, he promised that come hell or high water he would be there in the morning. True to his word, he was there. Bleary eyed, barely awake, chugging an energy drink, but he was there.
In an almost repeat of the prior morning on the moor, brother was again into deer quickly, and from the same collapsed stone crofters cottage he shot a nice hind. And to add to the theme of repeat, I was also into deer as well, and again ended up “close but no cigar”. When I say close, I was within 40 yards this time, but pushed my luck too far. Maybe if I was younger and more full of blood lust I might have been upset, but I had enjoyed 3 heart pounding stalks, two at exceptionally close range, and just couldn’t quite cross the finish line. Back at the truck we offloaded the argo and followed nearly the same tracks as earlier that week for another retrieval.
Adding further to the sense of deja vue, we also ended up soaked to the skin and needing an afternoon and evening to dry out. My supposed waterproof insulated boots from Nike, were neither.
The next day was Sunday, and gave us a chance to play tourist again. Morning services at the Canisbay Kirk (where Prince Charles attends when he is up north), followed by a visit to John O’Groats and then south for tea and a visit to the Whaligoe Steps. Evening was a chance to try 5 different venisons side by side, provided by LeviGSP. CWD, Muntjac, Roe, Sika and Fallow loins were all seasoned and pan seared then oven finished in an identical fashion. Likely to open an argument but I felt the Fallow and Sika both being top for flavor, followed by Roe, with the CWD being last by a long shot.
Monday, our last day afield, was spent helping LeviGSP with his roe cull. First we headed to a local vegetable farmer that had been having issues, but no luck. Eventually we found lots of roe out on another farm. Brother managed a doe and follower, while I posted up along a fence line and took a young antlerless buck. While gralloching a curious (or stupid) young roe appeared, and quickly became roe #4, the final shot. All were well shot and destined for holiday meals according to our host.
All in all, quite an enjoyable and diversified week afield. Next came the part we both dreaded, flight after flight after flight along with jet lag. Whilst in the Inverness airport we toasted our success with our last Scottish pint (ast least for a while). As I boarded the plane, I had a brainworm playing in my ear – Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits singing the line ‘Down south in London town”…. Till next time my lovely highlands!
A very short night found us out in the morning for geese, and at best it was a mediocre shoot. While setting decoys under the light of the moon, we planned a rising sun and wind at our back, but prior to sunrise the wind began to swing. By sunrise or shortly thereafter, we had wind in our face and sun at our back, so a quick move was in order. This helped little, as now we had the wind quartering and geese finishing into the sun. With 5 hard earned birds we decided to quit and go lick our wounds. That evening was spent out for a nice seafood meal in Scrabster, and we actually made it bed at a reasonable hour.
The next morning, ever willing to take more abuse, we headed to a different goose field. This time we had a reliable, albeit quite strong wind at our back coming right off the North Atlantic. The geese were more cooperative and our bag was bit larger, but the real story was the weather. We started the morning with sun, then a bit of misting rain off the ocean. Then more sun, then a bit of sleet, back to sun, then ice pellets, more sun, snow, sun, driving rain. With the driving rain we decided it was time to quit. As far as experiences go, it was interesting to see several separate rainbows that morning, each using a different form of precipitation.
Although raining most of the afternoon, we decided to try night flighting again, and had some success. I can say this – although I consider myself a better than average shotgunner, teal at night will humble any shooter. Had it not been for one daft mallard I would have ended the night with a zero.
Day three, although the windiest day yet, ended up being the Goose day we had waited for. Consistent flights beginning early and continuing on until we decided we had taken enough. Excellent shooting by all, and a nice mixed bag. Truly a memorable morning. I had brought over a couple American goose calls, tuned by the maker for pinks and grey. These calls were a significant part of the success that morning, and I was beyond pleased to be calling as well as shooting. As a parting gift I left these with LeviGSP.
The wind calmed considerably as the day went on so we headed back to “Foggy Moor, with stags now out of season and hinds in. From the road we saw several groups of deer, but even without the fog to slow us, the heather and boggy ground was much more of an obstacle to us than it was to the deer. We ran out of light without closing on the herds. On the plus side, they were much closer to the road, so hopefully they would be in the same area in the morning.
Come morning, we were, back on “Foggy Moor”, except this time it was ‘Misty Moor”. We were also again joined by Stephen, who demonstrated the resilience of youth. While we old men had all headed to bed the evening prior, he had a date with his girl and a party to make an appearance at. Being very keen on stalking and seizing every chance to go, he promised that come hell or high water he would be there in the morning. True to his word, he was there. Bleary eyed, barely awake, chugging an energy drink, but he was there.
In an almost repeat of the prior morning on the moor, brother was again into deer quickly, and from the same collapsed stone crofters cottage he shot a nice hind. And to add to the theme of repeat, I was also into deer as well, and again ended up “close but no cigar”. When I say close, I was within 40 yards this time, but pushed my luck too far. Maybe if I was younger and more full of blood lust I might have been upset, but I had enjoyed 3 heart pounding stalks, two at exceptionally close range, and just couldn’t quite cross the finish line. Back at the truck we offloaded the argo and followed nearly the same tracks as earlier that week for another retrieval.
Adding further to the sense of deja vue, we also ended up soaked to the skin and needing an afternoon and evening to dry out. My supposed waterproof insulated boots from Nike, were neither.
The next day was Sunday, and gave us a chance to play tourist again. Morning services at the Canisbay Kirk (where Prince Charles attends when he is up north), followed by a visit to John O’Groats and then south for tea and a visit to the Whaligoe Steps. Evening was a chance to try 5 different venisons side by side, provided by LeviGSP. CWD, Muntjac, Roe, Sika and Fallow loins were all seasoned and pan seared then oven finished in an identical fashion. Likely to open an argument but I felt the Fallow and Sika both being top for flavor, followed by Roe, with the CWD being last by a long shot.
Monday, our last day afield, was spent helping LeviGSP with his roe cull. First we headed to a local vegetable farmer that had been having issues, but no luck. Eventually we found lots of roe out on another farm. Brother managed a doe and follower, while I posted up along a fence line and took a young antlerless buck. While gralloching a curious (or stupid) young roe appeared, and quickly became roe #4, the final shot. All were well shot and destined for holiday meals according to our host.
All in all, quite an enjoyable and diversified week afield. Next came the part we both dreaded, flight after flight after flight along with jet lag. Whilst in the Inverness airport we toasted our success with our last Scottish pint (ast least for a while). As I boarded the plane, I had a brainworm playing in my ear – Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits singing the line ‘Down south in London town”…. Till next time my lovely highlands!
