How’do. Warning in advance….. this will be another long one….. 
Well, after three blank days on the Red Stags last year - albeit very enjoyable days - and a fourth day that I’d been unable to make due to changing work commitments it was with a sense of trepidation that I’d arranged a day out on the hill for yesterday (Friday 10th). Whilst I don’t say this for anyone to give me sympathy, the role of HGV Driver doesn’t really allow a man with a family and car finance and all that other jazz to keep throwing money at guided stalking days but equally I’ve never been in a position to opt for access to my own ground that would include reds - without stating the obvious, roe are much easier to extract and process without spending a fortune on kit & equipment!
Anyway…… enough of the preamble!! The first challenge of the day came before the day even began. I’d been informed, during the booking process, that the Estate had a policy of lead free ammunition only and therefore that I needed to get hold of some and get it zeroed with my rifle. Living on a wee croft up the West Coast of Scotland has many advantages but being able to pop to a range of sources to select from numerous options for any product certainly isn’t one of them! I’d done a little research and chatted to a few folks and was hoping to source something in copper around 130gr - my Tikka T3 in .308 being the choice for the day. Couldn’t find anything locally but, with a thousand phone calls and some rather elaborate schemes to fit around travel and work plans (even when you’re actually passing a suitable RFD it’s never as easy as you might think to find a parking space for 44 tonnes!!) I tracked down some copper - heavier than I wanted but fit for purpose all the same. A couple of very busy weeks went by and then, last Thursday I actually got home from work at a decent enough hour to be able to get set up and zero the rifle. Target up, range to firing point confirmed (this is one of the many joys of 63 acres and no neighbours!!) and time to go…. Bolt open, round picked up and into the chamber…. But then the bolt wouldn’t actually close. A bit of head scratching and a few phone calls and I wandered back up the house to grab my normal ammunition just to make sure it wasn’t me being stupid. Both my Sako 123gr & my GGG FMJ cycled perfectly and I chucked a box of FMJ down the range just to cheer myself up! Finally grabbed my Bergara .308 and the copper wouldn’t load into that either - so, either the worst tight chamber coincidence ever, or problem with the ammo. However, the rest of that element of Chapter 1, doesn’t really matter - the issue is now in hand! The element that is important for this story though is that now with a week to go until my stalking day that must include lead free ammo - I don’t have any and I work away in a wagon all week. And then, at the final hour, my local RFD managed to get hold of 1 box of 165gr Federal copper. Literally the last and only box of anything copper he could get his hands on - they came with a story about rocking horses and their excrement…. So, home, Thursday night, ammo collected, drizzly West Coast evening - more of the wee flying beasties than you could shake a stick at and a collection of ewes that didn’t have a right lot of interest in moving from the target area….. Apparently sheep don’t acknowledge red range flags
. First couple of rounds down range - both very high, adjusted about half the required distance and fired two more - this time both low!! At the risk of wasting the best part of a 50 quid box of ammo chasing around a target I made a few final adjustments and fired another two. Not exactly over the moon with the results but ultimately all 6 rounds were within a 3” group and that would equally dead! With the light failing and the midges increasing in number and ferocity I consoled myself in the knowledge that the Estate wanted me to confirm zero at a target the following morning so if it came to it I could spend more time then. Kit prepped, pick up packed, piece made and off to bed rather much later than planned!
04:45 Friday and the alarm broke the silence. Pulled myself round and out of bed. Coffee made, final check that everything was where it was meant to be and off on the road. RV1 (as you’d expect) MacDonalds Fort William for a “Stalkers Breakfast” - or, what some might call, a double sausage and egg McMuffin meal!! On up the road from there to RV2 - a big layby at the crossroads at Laggan near Newtonmore where one of my best pals was sat waiting for me. Recently promoted to WO1 and posted to Kinloss and keen to get into stalking I’d suggested he tag along and enjoy the day out - also I did hope that he’d be able to offer occasional words of military “encouragement” as I’d already been lead to believe that Glenshero could be a little hard going…..!!
So, what we onto now - chapter 3??! Final few minutes long the road - along the side of the Spey, weaving between the partridges, pheasants, occasional grouse and a whole host of ewes and lambs wandering along the side of the road; over a little bridge and thorough the gates and arrived at our FRV - The Sawmill. Met with Bruce, the Head Stalker and his assistant, Iain and young Edward the Ghillie. Intros made, quick crack and a bit banter about the world and life and along to the range for a check zero. At this point I’m going to go back and blame the midges, the weather and the end of a very long week for the shocking grouping the night before as 1/2” straight away. Happy days. Quick run through what was to expected for the day and a couple of admin points and into the estate pick up. Driving up through the estate and you start to get an idea of just how big it actually is - 35 1/2 thousand acres - river, reservoir and hills as far as you can see and a herd of around 1500 Reds plus some
Sika and a small group of Fallow. So, surely it couldn’t turn into another blank day? Surely?!
Pick up parked up, Argocat out of the trailer and we all started to glass the hills in the distance. The morning mist was showing no signs of clearing - visibility was poor higher up and apparently this had been the case for the previous few days. Eventually we spotted a small group of stags on the far face of the hill directly in front of us. The majority lying quietly with only a few on their feet giving away their location. The two estate men quickly discussed options and a plan was made. Into the Argo and off up onto the hill….. I mean, when I say hill….. maybe it should be “mountain” - I’ve been out in an Argo a times, but the Glenshero terrain really gave an opportunity to see what these machines are truly capable of - particularly when the operator has been working with deer since he was 15 and he’s now almost at retirement. The first close quarters sighting of the day literally appeared across our path - a young spiker and a hind stood right in our way - that strange moment then occurred when we all just froze - the two deer stood perfectly still, Iain turned the engine off and we all just gazed at each other for a few seconds. Man and deer momentarily in harmony. Without speaking a word or exchanging any signs, the deer simply turned and wandered off quite calmly down the hill, seemingly knowing that one was out of season and the other too young to be our intended quarry. Iain fired up the Argo and the journey continued. A suitable point to demount was reached and that was us. Edward was our man for the day, still learning his trade but with five years already under his belt and the combined knowledge of Bruce & Iain’s “many” years to support and train him and I was growing in confidence that we’d have a good day…..!!
The journey continued on foot, upwards - seemingly ever upwards!! The hills around us just seemed to keep growing. We reached a ridge with a suitable vantage point and glassed out across the valley ahead, larger hills rose up in the distance - peering out of the mist. The group we’d seen earlier were still well out of sight but a much larger herd could be seen away in the distance - possibly close to 100 stags together, grazing and working their way down the far face. Edward began to explain the difficulties of taking an individual from such a large group and how that would change as the rut draws closer and the stags split up and spread out. He explained that we’d continue down and round towards these deer with the intention of moving them on but without pushing them too far away. This would hopefully allow us to stay the good side of the wind and move the larger herd on without them altering the group we were headed for. All went well - quite a wonderful sight, watching the first few heads rising and looking straight at us, judging our threat and knowing we were well out of range and then eventually deciding it was time for them to move and the whole herd turned and gracefully ran away down the ridge and very soon out of sight. It’s quite amazing to see how quickly and seemingly effortlessly they cover what, for those of us with only two legs, is very difficult ground. We continued our stalk and started to climb again. The plan was to clear a ridge and hopefully be about 100 metres above the original group we’d spotted. Iain was able to spot both ourselves and the group of stags and was able to feed occasional location reports via the radio. At this stage, Edward asked my pal to make himself comfortable while we made the final move forward to the ridge.
The tension started to build as we neared the edge, whilst I was partly hoping my day wouldn’t end quite so quickly, my legs were also considering that a might be a blessing!! The mist was starting to lift a little and visibility improving quickly. The air though remained very still with hardly any wind at all. We reached the ridge and crawled up and peered over - the group of around 20 stags was right there. They’d climbed slightly higher than we’d expected and we were almost on top of them. Edward indicated that we’d withdraw and re-approach from a slightly different position but just as we were about to move, the wind picked up slightly and swirled right round the face of the hill - one of the stags lifted his head and looked straight at us - probably only 10 metres away and before I could blink, he and the rest of the group were up and running, covering the ground effortlessly and out of range. We were now left with a very difficult choice - that old one - between a rock and a hard place! Both the large herd and the smaller group were now well off in the distance on the largest slope on the estate. The going would be very difficult for either option and which ever we opted for it would be almost impossible not to disturb the others whilst making our way across. As with many of my best decisions, the consensus at this point was it was best to consider matters over our piece equally giving time for the mist to continue to clear.
We began again, backing away where we’d come from and then altering our path to take us up and away to the North - the intention was that we’d be able to skirt round behind and above both groups and eventually cut down through a saddle pretty much in between the two. The time marched on - my legs continued to remind me that sitting in a truck all day isn’t the most energetic of occupations and the niggling doubt of another blank day and yet another expensive walk kept appearing at the back of my mind.
At the risk of this running into a multi volume novel requiring an entire shelf in the library, I’m going to fast forward though most of the afternoon. The wind well and truly decided it wasn’t going to be our friend - it did nothing for great periods and then swirled around the mountains like crazy. The game of cat and mouse seemed endless - the climbs up, the scrambles down, the feeling of almost being there and suddenly the wind turning against us. On occasions I thought the stags were giggling to themselves - they seemed much happier playing chase than we were. The grounds was a myriad of ridges, false summits and hiding places - the deer clearly knew it even better than our guide and their coats equally as adept as his beautifully crafted tweeds at disappearing before our very eyes. As the afternoon turned into early evening, the mist began to return - slowly at first but then much quicker. All three of us realised things could not only become difficult for a shot but also potentially hazardous getting off the hill - with or without a carcass! We’d spotted a group grazing off to our left - probably a few thousand metres away. Beyond them lay the road where Iain had now relocated with both the pick up and the Argo. The decision was made to try and stalk into this group - knowing that the way to safety and home lay in the same direction. As we got close I could sense Edward’s heart was sinking with every scan with his glass. The group comprised of probably 40-50 stags - all within a few years old, he predicted the oldest in the group would be no more than 4 years old. Not a decent head amongst them and clearly not the target quarry of his choice. I’d always known that despite having a fixed cost for the day, there’d be an unwritten shopping list for the day - the best beasts to remain for breeding heading into the rut and the younger beasts to survive for future seasons. With the herd still forming and travelling in such large groups - picking a stag that met the criteria was always going to prove challenging. However, before we could make a final decision, the wind switched again, almost a complete 180 and the stags had our smell once more. Almost predictably, we stood fixed in our position as they set away up the hillside. My spirits sank and the length of the day and the aching in my legs took complete control. Enough was enough - my pal reported that we’d covered almost 10k’s (according to his “watch”) up, down, across and back up again the hills that surrounded us and felt like they’d surely envelope us. A radio call was made and Iain set out in our direction. Another 1/2hr or so past as he worked his way towards us, tacking this way and that like a yacht in heavy seas fighting with the wind. We continued our march directly towards him. Finally we were back together - Edward seemed very sombre, perhaps feeling he’d let us down and equally disappointed his tutor. A few jokes were cracked and spirits seemed to lift but then settled again as we set off back across the hillside and eventually down towards the road. The Argo was once again loaded up onto the trailer and we sorted our kit. Rifle still snuggly sat in its slip - seemingly unlikely to ever see its intended use. The cost of the day, the debacle of the ammunition and the thoughts of yet another failed outing weighed heavily as I sat quietly in the front of the pick up. At was at this point that Iain gave me one final glimmer of hope - our journey back towards the lodge would include passing by a large forestry block where stags would often emerge at this time of night to graze out on the open fields. The Road turned this way and that and the woodland came into view. Iain began to back off but we continued slowly on. There in the distance were two young stags, lying peacefully by a wee burn. Both young - too young. Away behind them another three or four grazing. We stopped again and glassed slowly and patiently. What seemed like an eternity past, the light was failing and the first signs of rain were beginning to appear. A few more beasts wandered out of the tree line, slowly showing themselves and calmly moving forward to graze. A few older animals were among them - Edward spotted a couple that really fitted the bill he has sought all day. He looked at me and asked if I was up for one last trip. Of course I bloody was!!! Iain and Dan remind in post, watching our every move. We covered the ground away to our left quite quickly - the wind was finally our friend and the stags never sensed a thing. Within five or so minutes we were concealed within the wood and making our way along a ride down towards the corner from which the older stags had emerged. Picking our path carefully, stepping over fallen trees and avoiding low branches, a stag suddenly appeared before us but turned and darted away to our left - in the opposite direction to the beasts outside the wood. Instant relief safe in the knowledge he at least wouldn’t be giving the game away. Another 15 minutes or so and we reached the edge of the wood. Down onto our knees and eventually our bellies and right to the edge of the wood against the fence line. Five or six stags were clearly visible - almost predictably though all quite young. Then just off to one side three older stags. The first presented itself well but Edward was determined that the other two would be a more fitting end to our day. By this time I’d have probably been happy with a roe buck had one appeared or maybe even a takeaway from my favourite Chinese!! But, I behaved myself and waited patiently for Edward’s instructions. We settled on the furthest beast to our left. Again, almost as if he were in possession of a script for the day - he remained facing away, head down, grazing. Each time he began to turn broadside he changed his mind and moved back away. Finally, as if he’d tortured me enough he turned through 90 degrees and gave me an almost textbook target. I looked at Edward for confirmation - received the nod - and back onto my scope. Settled my breathing and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and in the same instant he was down. Reloaded instantly and fixed my gaze upon him. Over the next minute or so I had to work very hard not to get Edward into trouble - both of the other older stags presented themselves beautifully and remained motionless for a few moments. The younger ones had already made good their escape. And I was sorely tempted to have them both - the realisation that we’d never explain to Bruce returning with three along with the memory that the Estate office probably saved my bank details and I just lay and grinned instead watching the final make the way off back into the woods to fight another day. We approached our target and I could see the relief on Edward’s face - I thanked him for his patience and his efforts during the day - and he complimented me on the shot. Clean thorough his lungs and down without making a single yard. Iain was radioed and he and my friend made their way over in the Argo. Photos taken, hands shook, backs slapped and the stag was gralloched and into the bed of the Argo.
The crack on the road back was very different to that on the journey down from the hill. We returned to the larder and helped get my stag inside and assisted with preparations whilst, as one would expect from one old soldier and one serving soldier, rewarding ourselves with a scoop of freshly brewed tea!! Arrangements were made to collect the head, thanks given again and that was us - much, much later than planned but very happy that I’d finally broken my duck and proved to myself that I’m not quite ready to write myself as the unfittest man alive.
On the off chance you’ve actually made it this far, I wont bore you with the two hours or so back to Benderloch via a quick coffee injection at Fort William nor the late night dealing with wet kit and securing the rifle. Instead I’ll leave you with some photos of the day and, perhaps, a mental note to each of you to avoid my essay posts in future unless you’re already sat with a stiff drink and a spare hour……!!
Cheers!!!!
Well, after three blank days on the Red Stags last year - albeit very enjoyable days - and a fourth day that I’d been unable to make due to changing work commitments it was with a sense of trepidation that I’d arranged a day out on the hill for yesterday (Friday 10th). Whilst I don’t say this for anyone to give me sympathy, the role of HGV Driver doesn’t really allow a man with a family and car finance and all that other jazz to keep throwing money at guided stalking days but equally I’ve never been in a position to opt for access to my own ground that would include reds - without stating the obvious, roe are much easier to extract and process without spending a fortune on kit & equipment!
Anyway…… enough of the preamble!! The first challenge of the day came before the day even began. I’d been informed, during the booking process, that the Estate had a policy of lead free ammunition only and therefore that I needed to get hold of some and get it zeroed with my rifle. Living on a wee croft up the West Coast of Scotland has many advantages but being able to pop to a range of sources to select from numerous options for any product certainly isn’t one of them! I’d done a little research and chatted to a few folks and was hoping to source something in copper around 130gr - my Tikka T3 in .308 being the choice for the day. Couldn’t find anything locally but, with a thousand phone calls and some rather elaborate schemes to fit around travel and work plans (even when you’re actually passing a suitable RFD it’s never as easy as you might think to find a parking space for 44 tonnes!!) I tracked down some copper - heavier than I wanted but fit for purpose all the same. A couple of very busy weeks went by and then, last Thursday I actually got home from work at a decent enough hour to be able to get set up and zero the rifle. Target up, range to firing point confirmed (this is one of the many joys of 63 acres and no neighbours!!) and time to go…. Bolt open, round picked up and into the chamber…. But then the bolt wouldn’t actually close. A bit of head scratching and a few phone calls and I wandered back up the house to grab my normal ammunition just to make sure it wasn’t me being stupid. Both my Sako 123gr & my GGG FMJ cycled perfectly and I chucked a box of FMJ down the range just to cheer myself up! Finally grabbed my Bergara .308 and the copper wouldn’t load into that either - so, either the worst tight chamber coincidence ever, or problem with the ammo. However, the rest of that element of Chapter 1, doesn’t really matter - the issue is now in hand! The element that is important for this story though is that now with a week to go until my stalking day that must include lead free ammo - I don’t have any and I work away in a wagon all week. And then, at the final hour, my local RFD managed to get hold of 1 box of 165gr Federal copper. Literally the last and only box of anything copper he could get his hands on - they came with a story about rocking horses and their excrement…. So, home, Thursday night, ammo collected, drizzly West Coast evening - more of the wee flying beasties than you could shake a stick at and a collection of ewes that didn’t have a right lot of interest in moving from the target area….. Apparently sheep don’t acknowledge red range flags
. First couple of rounds down range - both very high, adjusted about half the required distance and fired two more - this time both low!! At the risk of wasting the best part of a 50 quid box of ammo chasing around a target I made a few final adjustments and fired another two. Not exactly over the moon with the results but ultimately all 6 rounds were within a 3” group and that would equally dead! With the light failing and the midges increasing in number and ferocity I consoled myself in the knowledge that the Estate wanted me to confirm zero at a target the following morning so if it came to it I could spend more time then. Kit prepped, pick up packed, piece made and off to bed rather much later than planned!04:45 Friday and the alarm broke the silence. Pulled myself round and out of bed. Coffee made, final check that everything was where it was meant to be and off on the road. RV1 (as you’d expect) MacDonalds Fort William for a “Stalkers Breakfast” - or, what some might call, a double sausage and egg McMuffin meal!! On up the road from there to RV2 - a big layby at the crossroads at Laggan near Newtonmore where one of my best pals was sat waiting for me. Recently promoted to WO1 and posted to Kinloss and keen to get into stalking I’d suggested he tag along and enjoy the day out - also I did hope that he’d be able to offer occasional words of military “encouragement” as I’d already been lead to believe that Glenshero could be a little hard going…..!!
So, what we onto now - chapter 3??! Final few minutes long the road - along the side of the Spey, weaving between the partridges, pheasants, occasional grouse and a whole host of ewes and lambs wandering along the side of the road; over a little bridge and thorough the gates and arrived at our FRV - The Sawmill. Met with Bruce, the Head Stalker and his assistant, Iain and young Edward the Ghillie. Intros made, quick crack and a bit banter about the world and life and along to the range for a check zero. At this point I’m going to go back and blame the midges, the weather and the end of a very long week for the shocking grouping the night before as 1/2” straight away. Happy days. Quick run through what was to expected for the day and a couple of admin points and into the estate pick up. Driving up through the estate and you start to get an idea of just how big it actually is - 35 1/2 thousand acres - river, reservoir and hills as far as you can see and a herd of around 1500 Reds plus some
Sika and a small group of Fallow. So, surely it couldn’t turn into another blank day? Surely?!
Pick up parked up, Argocat out of the trailer and we all started to glass the hills in the distance. The morning mist was showing no signs of clearing - visibility was poor higher up and apparently this had been the case for the previous few days. Eventually we spotted a small group of stags on the far face of the hill directly in front of us. The majority lying quietly with only a few on their feet giving away their location. The two estate men quickly discussed options and a plan was made. Into the Argo and off up onto the hill….. I mean, when I say hill….. maybe it should be “mountain” - I’ve been out in an Argo a times, but the Glenshero terrain really gave an opportunity to see what these machines are truly capable of - particularly when the operator has been working with deer since he was 15 and he’s now almost at retirement. The first close quarters sighting of the day literally appeared across our path - a young spiker and a hind stood right in our way - that strange moment then occurred when we all just froze - the two deer stood perfectly still, Iain turned the engine off and we all just gazed at each other for a few seconds. Man and deer momentarily in harmony. Without speaking a word or exchanging any signs, the deer simply turned and wandered off quite calmly down the hill, seemingly knowing that one was out of season and the other too young to be our intended quarry. Iain fired up the Argo and the journey continued. A suitable point to demount was reached and that was us. Edward was our man for the day, still learning his trade but with five years already under his belt and the combined knowledge of Bruce & Iain’s “many” years to support and train him and I was growing in confidence that we’d have a good day…..!!
The journey continued on foot, upwards - seemingly ever upwards!! The hills around us just seemed to keep growing. We reached a ridge with a suitable vantage point and glassed out across the valley ahead, larger hills rose up in the distance - peering out of the mist. The group we’d seen earlier were still well out of sight but a much larger herd could be seen away in the distance - possibly close to 100 stags together, grazing and working their way down the far face. Edward began to explain the difficulties of taking an individual from such a large group and how that would change as the rut draws closer and the stags split up and spread out. He explained that we’d continue down and round towards these deer with the intention of moving them on but without pushing them too far away. This would hopefully allow us to stay the good side of the wind and move the larger herd on without them altering the group we were headed for. All went well - quite a wonderful sight, watching the first few heads rising and looking straight at us, judging our threat and knowing we were well out of range and then eventually deciding it was time for them to move and the whole herd turned and gracefully ran away down the ridge and very soon out of sight. It’s quite amazing to see how quickly and seemingly effortlessly they cover what, for those of us with only two legs, is very difficult ground. We continued our stalk and started to climb again. The plan was to clear a ridge and hopefully be about 100 metres above the original group we’d spotted. Iain was able to spot both ourselves and the group of stags and was able to feed occasional location reports via the radio. At this stage, Edward asked my pal to make himself comfortable while we made the final move forward to the ridge.
The tension started to build as we neared the edge, whilst I was partly hoping my day wouldn’t end quite so quickly, my legs were also considering that a might be a blessing!! The mist was starting to lift a little and visibility improving quickly. The air though remained very still with hardly any wind at all. We reached the ridge and crawled up and peered over - the group of around 20 stags was right there. They’d climbed slightly higher than we’d expected and we were almost on top of them. Edward indicated that we’d withdraw and re-approach from a slightly different position but just as we were about to move, the wind picked up slightly and swirled right round the face of the hill - one of the stags lifted his head and looked straight at us - probably only 10 metres away and before I could blink, he and the rest of the group were up and running, covering the ground effortlessly and out of range. We were now left with a very difficult choice - that old one - between a rock and a hard place! Both the large herd and the smaller group were now well off in the distance on the largest slope on the estate. The going would be very difficult for either option and which ever we opted for it would be almost impossible not to disturb the others whilst making our way across. As with many of my best decisions, the consensus at this point was it was best to consider matters over our piece equally giving time for the mist to continue to clear.
We began again, backing away where we’d come from and then altering our path to take us up and away to the North - the intention was that we’d be able to skirt round behind and above both groups and eventually cut down through a saddle pretty much in between the two. The time marched on - my legs continued to remind me that sitting in a truck all day isn’t the most energetic of occupations and the niggling doubt of another blank day and yet another expensive walk kept appearing at the back of my mind.
At the risk of this running into a multi volume novel requiring an entire shelf in the library, I’m going to fast forward though most of the afternoon. The wind well and truly decided it wasn’t going to be our friend - it did nothing for great periods and then swirled around the mountains like crazy. The game of cat and mouse seemed endless - the climbs up, the scrambles down, the feeling of almost being there and suddenly the wind turning against us. On occasions I thought the stags were giggling to themselves - they seemed much happier playing chase than we were. The grounds was a myriad of ridges, false summits and hiding places - the deer clearly knew it even better than our guide and their coats equally as adept as his beautifully crafted tweeds at disappearing before our very eyes. As the afternoon turned into early evening, the mist began to return - slowly at first but then much quicker. All three of us realised things could not only become difficult for a shot but also potentially hazardous getting off the hill - with or without a carcass! We’d spotted a group grazing off to our left - probably a few thousand metres away. Beyond them lay the road where Iain had now relocated with both the pick up and the Argo. The decision was made to try and stalk into this group - knowing that the way to safety and home lay in the same direction. As we got close I could sense Edward’s heart was sinking with every scan with his glass. The group comprised of probably 40-50 stags - all within a few years old, he predicted the oldest in the group would be no more than 4 years old. Not a decent head amongst them and clearly not the target quarry of his choice. I’d always known that despite having a fixed cost for the day, there’d be an unwritten shopping list for the day - the best beasts to remain for breeding heading into the rut and the younger beasts to survive for future seasons. With the herd still forming and travelling in such large groups - picking a stag that met the criteria was always going to prove challenging. However, before we could make a final decision, the wind switched again, almost a complete 180 and the stags had our smell once more. Almost predictably, we stood fixed in our position as they set away up the hillside. My spirits sank and the length of the day and the aching in my legs took complete control. Enough was enough - my pal reported that we’d covered almost 10k’s (according to his “watch”) up, down, across and back up again the hills that surrounded us and felt like they’d surely envelope us. A radio call was made and Iain set out in our direction. Another 1/2hr or so past as he worked his way towards us, tacking this way and that like a yacht in heavy seas fighting with the wind. We continued our march directly towards him. Finally we were back together - Edward seemed very sombre, perhaps feeling he’d let us down and equally disappointed his tutor. A few jokes were cracked and spirits seemed to lift but then settled again as we set off back across the hillside and eventually down towards the road. The Argo was once again loaded up onto the trailer and we sorted our kit. Rifle still snuggly sat in its slip - seemingly unlikely to ever see its intended use. The cost of the day, the debacle of the ammunition and the thoughts of yet another failed outing weighed heavily as I sat quietly in the front of the pick up. At was at this point that Iain gave me one final glimmer of hope - our journey back towards the lodge would include passing by a large forestry block where stags would often emerge at this time of night to graze out on the open fields. The Road turned this way and that and the woodland came into view. Iain began to back off but we continued slowly on. There in the distance were two young stags, lying peacefully by a wee burn. Both young - too young. Away behind them another three or four grazing. We stopped again and glassed slowly and patiently. What seemed like an eternity past, the light was failing and the first signs of rain were beginning to appear. A few more beasts wandered out of the tree line, slowly showing themselves and calmly moving forward to graze. A few older animals were among them - Edward spotted a couple that really fitted the bill he has sought all day. He looked at me and asked if I was up for one last trip. Of course I bloody was!!! Iain and Dan remind in post, watching our every move. We covered the ground away to our left quite quickly - the wind was finally our friend and the stags never sensed a thing. Within five or so minutes we were concealed within the wood and making our way along a ride down towards the corner from which the older stags had emerged. Picking our path carefully, stepping over fallen trees and avoiding low branches, a stag suddenly appeared before us but turned and darted away to our left - in the opposite direction to the beasts outside the wood. Instant relief safe in the knowledge he at least wouldn’t be giving the game away. Another 15 minutes or so and we reached the edge of the wood. Down onto our knees and eventually our bellies and right to the edge of the wood against the fence line. Five or six stags were clearly visible - almost predictably though all quite young. Then just off to one side three older stags. The first presented itself well but Edward was determined that the other two would be a more fitting end to our day. By this time I’d have probably been happy with a roe buck had one appeared or maybe even a takeaway from my favourite Chinese!! But, I behaved myself and waited patiently for Edward’s instructions. We settled on the furthest beast to our left. Again, almost as if he were in possession of a script for the day - he remained facing away, head down, grazing. Each time he began to turn broadside he changed his mind and moved back away. Finally, as if he’d tortured me enough he turned through 90 degrees and gave me an almost textbook target. I looked at Edward for confirmation - received the nod - and back onto my scope. Settled my breathing and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out and in the same instant he was down. Reloaded instantly and fixed my gaze upon him. Over the next minute or so I had to work very hard not to get Edward into trouble - both of the other older stags presented themselves beautifully and remained motionless for a few moments. The younger ones had already made good their escape. And I was sorely tempted to have them both - the realisation that we’d never explain to Bruce returning with three along with the memory that the Estate office probably saved my bank details and I just lay and grinned instead watching the final make the way off back into the woods to fight another day. We approached our target and I could see the relief on Edward’s face - I thanked him for his patience and his efforts during the day - and he complimented me on the shot. Clean thorough his lungs and down without making a single yard. Iain was radioed and he and my friend made their way over in the Argo. Photos taken, hands shook, backs slapped and the stag was gralloched and into the bed of the Argo.
The crack on the road back was very different to that on the journey down from the hill. We returned to the larder and helped get my stag inside and assisted with preparations whilst, as one would expect from one old soldier and one serving soldier, rewarding ourselves with a scoop of freshly brewed tea!! Arrangements were made to collect the head, thanks given again and that was us - much, much later than planned but very happy that I’d finally broken my duck and proved to myself that I’m not quite ready to write myself as the unfittest man alive.
On the off chance you’ve actually made it this far, I wont bore you with the two hours or so back to Benderloch via a quick coffee injection at Fort William nor the late night dealing with wet kit and securing the rifle. Instead I’ll leave you with some photos of the day and, perhaps, a mental note to each of you to avoid my essay posts in future unless you’re already sat with a stiff drink and a spare hour……!!
Cheers!!!!
..... And then back to the joys of Benederloch - too many drunken nights with friends there!
