more wintry day never disgraced the month of October. In less than half
an hour we heard the signal cries of the swans, and soon saw them in a
long undulating line fly over the low sand-hills which divided the sea
from the largest loch, where they alighted. My commander for the time
being, then explained to me, that the water in this loch was every where
too deep for the swans to reach the bottom even with their long necks,
in order to pull up the weeds on which they fed, and that at their
feeding-time, that is about two o'clock, they would, without doubt, fly
over to the smaller lochs, and probably to the same one from which we
had originally disturbed them. I was accordingly placed in my ambuscade,
leaving the keeper at some distance, to help me as opportunity
offered--a cold comfortless time of it we (_i. e._ my retriever and
myself) had. About two o'clock, however, I heard the swans rise from the
upper loch, and in a few moments they all passed high over my head, and
after taking a short survey of our loch (luckily without seeing me),
they alighted at the end of it furthest from the place where I was
ensconced, and quite out of shot, and they seemed more inclined to move
away from me than come towards me. It was very curious to watch these
wild birds as they swam about, quite unconscious of danger, and looking
like so many domestic fowls. Now came the able generalship of my keeper,
who seeing that they were inclined to feed at the other end of the loch,
began to drive them towards me, at the same time taking great care not
to alarm them enough to make them take flight. This he did by appearing
at a long distance off, and moving about without approaching the birds,
but as if he was pulling grass or engaged in some other piece of labour.
When the birds first saw him, they all collected in a cluster, and
giving a general low cry of alarm, appeared ready to take flight; this
was the ticklish moment, but soon, outwitted by his manA"uvres, they
dispersed again, and busied themselves in feeding. I observed that
frequently all their heads were under the water at once, excepting
one--but invariably _one_ bird kept his head and neck perfectly erect,
and carefully watched on every side to prevent their being taken by
surprise; when he wanted to feed, he touched any passer-by, who
immediately relieved him in his guard, and he in his turn called on some
other swan to take his place as sentinel.
"After watching some little time, and closely watching the birds in all
their graceful movements, sometimes having a swan within half a shot of
me, but never getting two or three together, I thought of some of my
assistant's instruction which he had given me _en route_ in the morning,
and I imitated, as well as I could, the bark of a dog: immediately all
the swans collected in a body, and looked round to see where the sound
came from. I was not above forty yards from them, so, gently raising
myself on my elbow, I pulled the trigger, aiming at a forest of necks.
To my dismay, the gun did not go off, the wet or something else having
spoilt the cap. The birds were slow in rising, so without pulling the
other trigger, I put on another cap, and standing up, fired right and
left at two of the largest swans as they rose from the loch. The
cartridge told well on one, who fell dead into the water; the other flew
off after the rest of the flock, but presently turned back, and after
making two or three graceful sweeps over the body of his companion, fell
headlong, perfectly dead, almost upon her body. The rest of the birds,
after flying a short distance away, also returned, and flew for a minute
or two in a confused flock over the two dead swans, uttering their
bugle-like and harmonious cries; but finding that they were not joined
by their companions, presently fell into their usual single rank, and
went undulating off towards the sea, where I heard them for a long time
trumpeting and calling.
"Handsome as he is, the wild swan is certainly not so graceful on the
water as a tame one. He has not the same proud and elegant arch of the
neck, nor does he put up his wings while swimming, like two snow-white
sails. On the land a wild swan when winged makes such good way, that if
he gets much start it requires good running, to overtake him."
Confound that Regatta! What on earth had we to do on board that yacht,
racing against the Meteor, unconquered winger of the western seas? Two
days ago we could have sworn that no possible temptation could divorce
us from our unfinished article; and yet here we are with unsullied pen,
under imminent danger of bartering our reputation and plighted faith to
Ebony, for some undescribable nautical evolutions, a sack race, and the
skeleton of a ball! After all, it must be confessed that we never spent
two more pleasant days. Bright eyes, grouse-pie, and the joyousness of
happy youth, were all combined together; and if, with a fair breeze and
a sunny sky, there can be fun in a smack or a steamer, how is it
possible with such company to be dull on board of the prettiest craft
that ever cleaved her way, like a wild swan, up the windings of a
Highland loch? But we must make up for lost time. As we live, there are
Donald and Ian with the boat at the rocks! and we now remember with a
shudder that we trysted them for this morning to convey us across to the
Moors! Here is a pretty business! Let us see--the month is rapidly on
the wane--we have hardly, in sporting phrase, broken the back of this
the leading article. Shall we give up the moors, and celebrate this day
as another Eve of St John? There is a light mist lying on the opposite
hill, but in an hour or two it will be drawn up like a curtain by the
sunbeams, and then every bush of heather will be sparkling with
dewdrops, far brighter than a carcanet of diamonds. What a fine
elasticity and freshness there is in the morning air! A hundred to one
the grouse will sit like stones. Donald, my man, are there many birds on
the hill? Plenty, did you say, and a fair sprinkling of black-cock? This
breeze will carry us over in fifty minutes--will it? That settles the
question. Off with your caulker, and take down the dogs to the boat. We
shall be with you in the snapping of a copper-cap.
This article, if finished at all, must be written with the keelavine pen
on the backs of old letters--whereof, thank heaven! we have scores
unanswered--by fits and snatches, as we repose from our labours on the
greensward; so we shall even take up our gun, and trust for inspiration
to the noble scenery around us. Is every thing in? Well, then, push off,
and for a time let us get rid of care.
What sort of fishing have they had at the salmon-nets, Ian? Very bad,
for they're sair fashed wi' the sealghs. In that case it may be
advisable to drop a ball into our dexter barrel, in case one of these
oleaginous depredators should show his head above water. We have not
had a tussle with a phoca since, some ten years ago, we surprised one
basking on the sands of the bay of Cromarty. No, Donald, we did not kill
him. We and a dear friend, now in New Zealand, who was with us, were
armed with no better weapon than our fishing-rods, and the sealgh, after
standing two or three thumps with tolerable philosophy, fairly turned
upon us, and exhibited such tusks that we were glad to let him make his
way without further molestation to the water. The seal is indeed a
greedy fellow, and ten times worse than his fresh-water cousin the
otter, who, it seems, is considered by the poor people in the north
country as rather a benefactor than otherwise. The latter is a dainty
epicure--a _gourmand_ who despises to take more than one steak from the
sappy shoulder of the salmon; and he has usually the benevolence to
leave the fish, little the worse for his company, on some scarp or ledge
of rock, where it can be picked up and converted into savoury kipper. He
is, moreover, a sly and timid creature, without the impudence of the
seal, who will think nothing of swimming into the nets, and actually
taking out the salmon before the eyes of the fishermen. Strong must be
the twine that would hold an entangled seal. An aquatic Samson, he snaps
the meshes like thread, and laughs at the discomfiture of the tacksman,
who is dancing like a demoniac on the shore; and no wonder, for nets are
expensive, and the rent in that one is wide enough to admit a bullock.
Mr St John--a capital sportsman, Donald--has had many an adventure with
the seals; and I shall read you what he says about them, in a clever
little book which he has published--What the deuce! We surely have not
been ass enough to forget the volume! No--here it is at the bottom of
our pocket, concealed and covered by the powder-flask:--
"Sometimes at high-water, and when the river is swollen, a seal comes in
pursuit of salmon into the Findhorn, notwithstanding the smallness of
the stream and its rapidity. I was one day, in November, looking for
wild-ducks near the river, when I was called to by a man who was at work
near the water, and who told me that some 'muckle beast' was playing
most extraordinary tricks in the river. He could not tell me what beast
it was, but only that it was something 'no that canny.' After waiting a
short time, the riddle was solved by the appearance of a good-sized
seal, into whose head I instantly sent a cartridge, having no balls with
me. The seal immediately plunged and splashed about in the water at a
most furious rate, and then began swimming round and round in a circle,
upon which I gave him the other barrel, also loaded with one of Eley's
cartridges, which quite settled the business, and he floated rapidly
away down the stream. I sent my retriever after him, but the dog, being
very young and not come to his full strength, was baffled by the weight
of the animal and the strength of the current, and could not land him;
indeed, he was very near getting drowned himself, in consequence of his
attempts to bring in the seal, who was still struggling. I called the
dog away, and the seal immediately sank. The next day I found him dead
on the shore of the bay, with (as the man who skinned him expressed
himself) 'twenty-three pellets of large hail in his craig.'
"Another day, in the month of July, when shooting rabbits on the
sand-hills, a messenger came from the fishermen at the stake-nets,
asking me to come in that direction, as the 'muckle sealgh' was swimming
about, waiting for the fish to be caught in the nets, in order to
commence his devastation.
"I accordingly went to them, and having taken my observations of the
locality and the most feasible points of attack, I got the men to row me
out to the end of the stake-net, where there was a kind of platform of
netting, on which I stretched myself, with a bullet in one barrel and a
cartridge in the other. I then directed the men to row the boat away, as
if they had left the nets. They had scarcely gone three hundred yards
from the place when I saw the seal, who had been floating, apparently
unconcerned, at some distance, swim quietly and fearlessly up to the
net. I had made a kind of breastwork of old netting before me, which
quite concealed me on the side from which he came. He approached the
net, and began examining it leisurely and carefully to see if any fish
were in it; sometimes he was under and sometimes above the water. I was
much struck by his activity while underneath, where I could most plainly
see him, particularly as he twice dived almost below my station, and the
water was clear and smooth as glass.
"I could not get a good shot at him for some time; at last, however, he
put up his head at about fifteen or twenty yards' distance from me; and
while he was intent on watching the boat, which was hovering about
waiting to see the result of my plan of attack, I fired at him, sending
the ball through his brain. He instantly sank without a struggle, and a
perfect torrent of blood came up, making the water red for some feet
round the spot where he lay stretched out at the bottom. The men
immediately rowed up, and taking me into the boat, we managed to bring
him up with a boat-hook to the surface of the water, and then, as he was
too heavy to lift into the boat (his weight being 378 lbs.) we put a
rope round his flippers, and towed him ashore. A seal of this size is
worth some money, as, independently of the value of his skin, the
blubber (which lies under the skin, like that of a whale) produces a
large quantity of excellent oil. This seal had been for several years
the dread of the fishermen at the stake-nets, and the head man at the
place was profuse in his thanks for the destruction of a beast upon whom
he had expended a most amazing quantity of lead. He assured me that
L.100 would not repay the damage the animal had done. Scarcely any two
seals are exactly of the same colour or marked quite alike; and seals,
frequenting a particular part of the coast, become easily known and
distinguished from each other."
But what is Scrip youffing at from the bow? A seal? No, it is a shoal of
porpoises. There they go with their great black fins above the water in
pursuit of the herring, which ought to be very plenty on this coast.
Yonder, where the gulls are screaming and diving, with here and there a
solan goose and a cormorant in the midst of the flock, must be a patch
of the smaller fry. The water is absolutely boiling as the quick-eyed
creatures dart down upon their prey; and though, on an ordinary day, you
will hardly see a single seagull in this part of the loch, for the
shores are neither steep nor rocky, yet there they are in myriads,
attracted to the spot by that unerring and inexplicable instinct which
seems to guide all wild animals to their booty, and that from distances
where neither sight nor scent could possibly avail them. This
peculiarity has not escaped the observant eye of our author.
"How curiously quick is the instinct of birds in finding out their food.
Where peas or other favourite grain is sown, wood pigeons and tame
pigeons immediately congregate. It is not easy to ascertain from whence
the former come, but the house pigeons have often been known to arrive
in numbers on a new sown field the very morning after the grain is laid
down, although no pigeon-house, from which they could come, exists
within several miles of the place.
"Put down a handful or two of unthrashed oat-straw in almost any
situation near the sea-coast, where there are wild-ducks, and they are
sure to find it out the first or second night after it has been left
there.
"There are many almost incredible stories of the acuteness of the
raven's instinct in guiding it to the dead carcass of any large animal,
or even in leading it to the neighbourhood on the near approach of
death. I myself have known several instances of the raven finding out
dead bodies of animals in a very short space of time. One instance
struck me very much. I had wounded a stag on a Wednesday. The following
Friday, I was crossing the hills at some distance from the place, but in
the direction towards which the deer had gone. Two ravens passed me,
flying in a steady straight course. Soon again two more flew by, and two
others followed, all coming from different directions, but making direct
for the same point. ''Deed, sir,' said the Highlander with me, 'the
corbies have just found the staig; he will be lying dead about the head
of the muckle burn.' By tracing the course of the birds, we found that
the man's conjecture was correct, as the deer was lying within a mile of
us, and the ravens were making for its carcass. The animal had evidently
only died the day before, but the birds had already made their breakfast
upon him, and were now on their way to their evening meal. Though
occasionally we had seen a pair of ravens soaring high overhead in that
district, we never saw more than that number; but now there were some
six or seven pairs already collected, where from we knew not. When a
whale, or other large fish, is driven ashore on the coast of any of the
northern islands, the ravens collect in amazing numbers, almost
immediately coming from all directions and from all distances, led by
the unerring instinct which tells them that a feast is to be found in a
particular spot."
We should not wonder if the ancient augurs, who, no doubt, were
consummate scoundrels, had an inkling of this extraordinary fact. If so,
it would have been obviously easy, at the simple expenditure of a few
pounds of bullock's liver, to get up any kind of ornithological
vaticination. A dead ram, dexterously hidden from the sight of the
spectators behind the Aventine, would speedily have brought birds enough
to have justified any amount of warlike expeditions to the Peloponesus;
while a defunct goat to the left of the Esquiline, would collect sooties
by scores, and forebode the death of CA|sar. We own that formerly we
ourselves were not altogether exempt from superstitious notions touching
the mission of magpies; but henceforward we shall cease to consider
them, even when they appear by threes, as bound up in some mysterious
manner with our destiny, and shall rather attribute their apparition to
the unexpected deposit of an egg.
But here we are at the shore, and not a mile from the margin of the
moor. Ian, our fine fellow, look after the dogs; and now tell us,
Donald, as we walk along, whether there are many poachers in this
neighbourhood besides yourself? Atweel no, forbye muckle Sandy, that
whiles taks a shot at a time.--We thought so. In these quiet braes there
can be little systematic poaching. Now and then, to be sure, a hare is
killed on a moonlight night among the cabbages behind the shieling; or a
blackcock, too conspicuous of a misty morning on a corn-stook, pays the
penalty of his depredations with his life. But these little acts of
delinquency are of no earthly moment; and hard must be the heart of the
proprietor who, for such petty doings, would have recourse to the
vengeance of the law. But were you ever in Lochaber, Donald?--Oo ay, and
Badenoch too.--And are you aware that in those districts where the deer
are plenty, there exist, at the present day, gangs of organised
poachers--fellows who follow no other calling--true Sons of the Mist,
who prey upon the red-deer of the mountain without troubling the herds
of the Sassenach; and who, though perfectly well known by head-mark to
keeper and constable, are still permitted with impunity to continue
their depredations from year to year?--I never heard tell of it.
No more have we. Notwithstanding Mr St John's usual accuracy and great
means of information, he has given, in the fifth chapter of his book, an
account of the Highland poachers which we cannot admit to be correct. In
every thinly-populated country, where there is abundance of game,
poaching must take place to a considerable extent, and indeed it is
impossible to prevent it. You never can convince the people, that the
statutory sin is a moral one; or that, in taking for their own
sustenance that which avowedly belongs to no one, they are acting in
opposition to a just or a salutary law. The question of _whence_ the
game is taken, is a subtilty too nice for their comprehension. They see
the stag running wild among the mountains, to-day on one laird's land,
and away to-morrow to another's, bearing with him, as it were, his own
transference of property; and they very naturally conclude that they
have an abstract right to attempt his capture, if they can. The
shepherd, who has thousands of acres under his sole superintendence, and
whose dwelling is situated far away on the hills, at the head, perhaps,
of some lonely stream, where no strange foot ever penetrates, is very
often, it must be confessed, a bit of a poacher. Small blame to him. He
has a gun--for the eagle, and the fox, and the raven, must be kept from
the lambs; and if, when prowling about with his weapon, in search of
vermin, he should chance to put up, as he is sure to do, a covey of
grouse, and recollecting at the moment that there is nothing in the
house beyond a peas-bannock and a diseased potato, should let fly, and
bring down a gor-cock, who will venture to assert that, under such
circumstances, he would hesitate to do the same? For every grouse so
slaughtered, the shepherd frees the country from a brace of vermin more
dangerous than fifty human poachers; for every day in the year they
breakfast, dine, and sup exclusively upon game.
Let the shepherd, then, take his pittance from the midst of your plenty
unmolested, if he does no worse. Why should his hut be searched by some
big brute of a Yorkshire keeper, for fud or feather, when you know
that, in all essentials, the man is as honest as steel--nay, that even
in this matter of game, he is attentive to your interests, watches the
young broods, protects the nests, and will tell you, when you come up
the glen, where the finest coveys are to be found? It is, however, quite
another thing if you detect him beginning to drive a contraband trade.
Home consumption may be winked at--foreign exportation is most decidedly
an unpardonable offence. The moment you find that he has entered into a
league with the poulterer or the coachman, give warning to the offending
MelibA"us, and let him seek a livelihood elsewhere. He is no longer
safe. His instinct is depraved. He has ceased to be a creature of
impulse, and has become the slave of a corrupted traffic. He is a
noxious member of the Anti-game-law League.
This sort of poaching we believe to be common enough in Scotland, and
there is also another kind more formidable, which, a few years ago, was
rather extensively practised. Parties of four or five strong,
able-bodied rascals, principally inmates of some of the smaller burghs
in the north, used to make their way to another district of country,
taking care, of course, that it was far enough from home to render any
chance of identification almost a nullity, and would there begin to
shoot, in absolute defiance of the keepers. Their method was not to
diverge, but to traverse the country as nearly as possible in a straight
line; so that very often they had left the lands of the most extensive
proprietors even before the alarm was given. These men neither courted
nor shunned a scuffle. They were confident in their strength of numbers,
but never abused it; nor, so far as we recollect, have any fatal results
attended this illegal practice. Be that as it may, the misdemeanour is a
very serious one, and the perpetrators of it, if discovered, would be
subjected to a severe punishment.
But Mr St John asserts the existence of a different class of poachers,
whose exploits, if real, are a deep reproach to the vigilance of our
respected friends the Sheriffs of Inverness, Ross, and Moray, as also to
the Substitutes and their Fiscals. According to the accounts which have
reached him, and which he seems implicitly to believe, there are, at
this moment, gangs of caterans existing among the mountains, who follow
no other occupation whatever than that of poaching. This they do not
even affect to disguise. They make a good income by the sale of game,
and by breaking dogs--they take the crown of the causeway in the country
towns, where they are perfectly well known, and where the men give them
"plenty of walking-room." On such occasions, they are accompanied with a
couple of magnificent stag-hounds, and in this guise they venture
undauntedly beneath the very nose of "ta Phuscal!" The Highland poacher,
says Mr St John, "is a bold fearless fellow, shooting openly by
daylight, taking his sport in the same manner as the laird, or the
Sassenach who rents the ground." That is to say, this outlaw, who has a
sheiling or a bothy on the laird's ground--for a man cannot live in the
Highlands without a roof to shelter him--shoots as openly on these
grounds as the laird himself, or the party who has rented them for the
season! If this be the case, the breed of Highland proprietors--ay, and
of Highland keepers--must have degenerated sadly during the last few
years. The idea that any such character would be permitted by even the
tamest Dumbiedykes to continue a permanent resident upon his lands, is
perfectly preposterous. Game is not considered as a matter of such
slight import in any part of the Highlands; neither is the arm of the
law so weak, that it does not interfere with most rapid and salutary
effect. No professed poacher, we aver, dare shoot openly upon the lands
of the laird by whose tenure or sufferance he maintains a roof above his
head; and it would be a libel upon those high-minded gentlemen to
suppose, that they knowingly gave countenance to any such character, on
the tacit understanding that their property should be spared while that
of their neighbours was invaded. In less than a week after the
information was given, the ruffian would be without any covering to his
head, save that which would be afforded him by the arches of the
Inverness or Fort-William jail.
Long tracts of country there are, comparatively unvisited--for example,
the district around Lochs Ericht and Lydoch, and the deserts towards the
head of the Spey. Yet, even there, the poacher is a marked man. The
necessity of finding a market for the produce of his spoil, lays him
open immediately to observation. If he chooses to burrow with the
badger, he may be said to have deserted his trade. He cannot by any
possibility, let him do what he will, elude the vigilance of the keeper;
and, if known, he is within the clutches of the law without the
necessity of immediate apprehension.
The truth of the matter is, that the poachers have no longer to deal
directly with the lairds. The number of moors which are rented to
Englishmen is now very great; and it is principally from these that the
depredators reap their harvest. Accordingly, no pains are spared to
impress the Sassenach with an exaggerated idea of the lawlessness of the
Gael, in every thing relating to the game-laws and the statutes of the
excise. The right of the people to poach is asserted as a kind of
indefeasible servitude which the law winks at, because it cannot
control; and we fear that, in some cases, the keepers, who care nothing
for the new-comers, indirectly lend themselves to the delusion. The
Englishman, on arriving at the moor which he has rented, is informed
that he must either compromise with the poachers, or submit to the loss
of his game--a kind of treaty which, we believe, is pretty often made in
the manner related by Mr St John.