DECEMBER dusk, a young man and his terrier rummaging through thorny scrub at the fingertip of an unkempt wood and the fleeting silhouette of long bill and dark wings against half an ochre sun. A snap shot at best, but the bird folds soft as cotton and tumbles into the shadows as only woodcock do.
Wind the clock forward 40-odd years and I’m deep into the rocky, heathery heart of the far north-west of Scotland, having tramped for hours without so much as a chance. My spaniel has disappeared over the horizon, but the terrier is sitting patiently beside me. Bored of waiting for Sid to return, I pick up my gun and, as I take a step closer to the sea, a red grouse—magnificent in winter sunshine —erupts from the heather. As the gun jumps to my shoulder, I see the vivid red stripe above his eye before he puts 30 long yards between us, falling with a thump onto the sward.
Two shots I will always remember among thousands long forgotten. The setting for each, a landscape close to the heart—the first a wild, straggling wood where I was free to roam with dog, gun and ferret at youthful will, the second a terrain so rough and remote that I never came close to seeing (let alone meeting) another human soul during seven long hours on the hill. On such days, fieldcraft is paramount—the lie and contours of the land, the speed and direction of the wind must be constantly reappraised, for, without this knowledge, truly wild quarry will never come readily to hand. Both shots were also memorable for the dogs with whom I shared the sport—my first (and current) terrier, from a long line of flawless hunters, and a dear, scatty spaniel, which, like so many gundogs, has had his day and more.
Denne historien er fra September 30, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra September 30, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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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
