In the spring I prepared for another campaign, I felt that I knew all
about grouse moors and could take care of myself, but I had yet much to
learn.
I enquired in all directions, and came across a gentleman who leased a
large moor in Perthshire, the Glenshee moor, extending from the Spital
of Glenshee to within a few miles of Braemar.
It was called 30,000 acres, probably might be 20,000.
The representations made to me were very good, and I was referred to
a gentleman in Birmingham, who had shot there one or more seasons,
and who quite truthfully gave me a very good account, so far as his
experience went.
The moor was shot by four guns, shooting in two parties, I took one gun
at £100, finding my share of dogs, ponies, gillies, &c., and I very
naturally congratulated myself that I was well landed, and could not
be otherwise than in for a good thing, and safe from all pitfalls left
open for the unwary.
There was no lodge in Glenshee in those days, and it had to be shot
from the Spital Inn.
The guns had to ride ponies from three to eight miles to get to their
beats, men and dogs walking on beforehand, so that nearly half the time
and labour was taken up in travelling to and fro', but as it turned out
it did not matter much.
The moor was a fine moor, with fine heather, but with too much green
ground upon it.
It included some of the high Grampians, and marched with the Mar Forest
on the one end, and with Caen Lochan Forest on the east side.
For those who cared to climb 3000 feet and more, and risk sprained
limbs on the roughest of broken rocks and boulders, there was a fair
sprinkling of ptarmigan.
I was fairly well dogged, I had my brace of dogs, and beforehand on
faith I had bought a middle aged pointer bitch from the keeper for
£5, and a very good purchase she was; later on I bred some very good
puppies from her and my dog Rap, and in addition to her I had my brace
of dogs and my English keeper to complete my team.
We all reached the Spital, hiring from Blairgowrie, a day or two before
the 12th, in high spirits and hopes for the coming fray.
The morning after our arrival my keeper came to me with a very long
face, he had got it from the gillie that we were done, fairly done
brown, that there was literally nothing on the ground. The moor was
very high, nothing under 1500 feet above the sea, rising to 3000 feet,
the limit of heather, and a severe snow storm late on in the spring had
killed the young birds and driven down the old ones to lower ground,
the lower moors below us were full of birds.
* * * * *
I was very down in the mouth. I had, as I thought, taken every
precaution, and was also rather full of my cleverness at getting into
what I took to be so good a thing, and had bragged considerably; but at
the same time would scarcely credit that such an extent of fine ground
could hold nothing. I said nothing, but waited for the outcome.
On the morning of the Twelfth we went through the usual routine of
ponies, pannier ponies, gillies, dogs, &c., returning at night with a
dozen brace of old birds amongst us, perhaps not so many.
The next day the same farce was enacted on another side of the moor,
with worse results.
That night there was a great talk of what could be done with deer. In
October, perhaps, something might be done, but in August they were well
kept in by the Mar and Caen Lochan Foresters, and the talk ended where
it began.
After that my keeper and I scrambled about on the high hills, after
ptarmigan, an odd grouse, a hare or two. One day I managed to get six
brace of ptarmigan and some dotterel--and very pretty birds they were.
Ptarmigan are curious birds on the Glenshee hills, the ground being so
desperately rough it needed all your wits to walk and take care of your
gun, marking down the birds as they fluttered up like pigeons.
It was useless to shoot at a bird unless you could make sure to kill
him outright, as the wounded birds crept into holes amongst the rocks
like rabbits.
When the birds were marked down you got to them the best way you could,
and had to look very sharp to distinguish them from the colour of the
stones as they crept about. You would then shoot one on the ground,
and take another as they rose.
The old cock birds in their summer plumage were very handsome birds.