Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them

Massive Galloway stags can weigh as much as 25st — a throwback from wapiti blood introduced in the 19th century, says Patrick Laurie

We crouched down behind a massive boulder. A glacier had dumped this chunk of granite on top of the hill and it had endured thousands of winters here. I stared into the stone and counted the flakes of lichen to pass the time. Half an hour had dribbled by, during which time the rain had started to fall with a deafening clatter. I could see the tread of my friend’s walking boots as he lay a few yards away.

I often forget that stalking is defined as much by tiny, random details as it is by grand, sweeping vistas. While most of the day is spent in glorious scenery, the nuts and bolts often take place in strange corners where attention is focused on a few square feet. While we waited for the stag to emerge from his gully, my day shrank down to nothing but those flakes of lichen and the soles of those size-10 boots.

We were up on the high ground near Carsphairn, approaching the final days of the stag season in pursuit of a Galloway monster. Centuries of human tradition have washed over this landscape, leaving a fantastic array of placenames. I looked towards the Dungeon past Mulwarcher and the Wolf Slock. A tiny nick in the hills revealed a corner of Curlywee and the Buckdas of Cairnbaber.

If the day had been any clearer, we might have been able to see everything from Jura to the Isle of Man, including big swathes of Northern Ireland and the Pennines. As it was, the rain brought visibility down to a few miles, and the clouds began to descend.

The stag had been with his hinds but a swirling wind seemed to have blown our scent in their direction and they had dropped out of sight. A wicked old hind stared back over her shoulder at us before leading the group slowly away. I was left to mull over the enduring image of a vast, black beast with dark, heavy antlers walking slowly in the rear.