As the old year draws to a close, Adrian Dangar heads to Hamanavay on the Isle of Lewis, where he delights in the ancient sporting art of shooting elusive and wily woodcock over pointers.
The Outer hebrides in early December present a very different landscape to the shimmering green hills, turquoise seas and white-powder beaches of high summer—it’s as if the heavy autumn rains have washed all traces of greenery from the land and bleached the rock-strewn hills into a dull and inhospitable yellow.
Deer on the vast hamanavay estate on the Isle of Lewis’s west coast nudge ever lower during long winter nights in search of vanishing grass and the last runs of silvery salmon and sea trout ended months ago. however, as one celebrated migrant departs, so another appears to enchant and frustrate the sportsman in equal measure.
‘We expect a big fall of woodcock around the time of the first full moon in November,’ explains the estate’s stalker, Simon Hunt. ‘And, after that, they just keep coming, especially if the mainland is frozen and it’s mild here.’ I’ve joined a small group of friends to take part in one of the most challenging and exciting of all field sports, for the dedicated pursuit of woodcock in wild and mountainous country is a demanding pastime unfamiliar to all but the keenest shots.
Team leader Patrick Steuart Fothringham is a regular visitor to this desolate landscape in which the Perthshire pheasants he has forsaken would perish within weeks. ‘Driven shooting is predictable and easily accessible,’ he asserts. ‘However, up here, one has to work hard for every bird and you never know whether to expect feast or famine.’
Denne historien er fra January 04 2017-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra January 04 2017-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
