Purple Madness

As is often stressed within these pages, shooting is about so much more than what ends up in the bag; Rupert illustrates the point perfectly on a walked-up grouse trip with some friends

- Rupert Butler

It’s the last day of the grouse season and I’ve decided to drag my lazy butt from the comfort of a warm duvet. While travelling back from Scotland last October we happened across some Northern Irish lads in the bar on the ferry. Where else would two groups of Irish shooters meet, I hear you ask? Anyway, to cut a long story short, two of these very same lads are down for a day’s grouse shooting. An hour or so later I go to pick up Darren and Barry from a local service station, a four-hour journey having done little to dampen their enthusiasm.

As those of you that partake in ‘purple madness’ will know, the first climb is always the worst. Your heart starts to race as your breathing increases… and this is supposed to be good for you! I must admit I’m always amused watching people of different abilities here. Some will climb steadily with a confidence born from familiarity; these guys will set a pace that those of lesser ability, or lower fitness levels, will find hard to follow. Instead of taking a break like I do, and as many as I may need, they try and keep pace with the mountain goats among us, resulting in near collapse by the time the first peak is negotiated.

As the lads climb steadily higher I swing to the right slightly, previous experience telling me that this course of action will provide a far easier route. Reaching the nearest brow I immediately spot two birds standing to attention on an old weathered boulder some 50 yards away. Within milliseconds they take to the air, to be quickly followed by five more from the heather nearby.