Moor for your money

Looking to pursue the king of gamebirds on a rather less than kingly budget? Charles Hartley outlines the various, more affordable options

- Charles Hartley

Even in the lee of the moorland edge, the wind pinned me to the steep tussocky hill. Driving onwards, I started to hear the crackle of grouse amid the swirls of air. These came like specters across my ears, gone before direction or distance was known. Near the top, the final gritstone lip hung over me; as I hid beneath it, the wind fell away, taking all sound with it as if time had stopped. I drew my gun from its slip, dropped a handful of cartridges into my trouser pocket, and stashed my bulky top layer among the rocks as I got ready to make the last climb over the parapet and on to the moorland top after my first ever grouse.

Wall of wind

I leaped over, ready to be greeted by eruptions of grouse-breaking cover, but instead was met by nothing but a wall of wind. The first 200 yards brought dismay as the moor that usually groaned with life was deadly silent; all had gone to ground to wait for a break in the weather. I moved through short bilberry-laced heather and into deep welly-pulling marshland; still, nothing came. Within the deeper heather, things started to flitter around me. Brown feathery flashes buzzed across my peripheries and back to the ground before the stock could meet shoulder, heartbeat raised.

Getting to the end of my first run, I turned 180 degrees, picked a new path and began again to thrash through the undergrowth. With the wind now from a different approach, birds started holding in the air much longer, allowing hope to creep back.

Finally, a cock bird rose to my left, curving behind me to join the wind and pick up pace quickly. I pivoted around, drove my gun into my shoulder, and swung with the momentum from my initial spin.