It was one of those mornings that the travel alone would have been beneficial enough.   I had left the house following the ceremonial de-frosting of the land rover.  This involves pouring hot water over the lock and door seals to get it, running the engine, spraying de-icer on the inside of the windscreen and scraping off what I could before moving to the outside and scraping off the ice as you might on a normal car.  Once defrosted the journey along the valley was stunning.  The landscape was carpeted in frost, the sky was blue, and every now and again a patch of mist obscured everything.  As I headed for my last shoot of the season I could feel the annoyances of the week’s work fall away with every mile.

I had offered to beat as well as shoot and to do so had been sent ‘up the hill’.  Normally I am placed as either a walking or standing gun on the lower slopes of the hill, below the woods, so had never seen the landscape above.  Well, it was a bit of a revelation.  No one had mentioned the job of covering the moorland, pushing any stray birds back into the woods below.  I hadn’t even realised that there was any moorland above the wood.

Three of us set off to cover this ground, one with a springer and one with a Brittany.  This was the first Brittany that I have ever come across in the flesh and I find the breed intriguing.  Not a spaniel, but with similarities; not a pointer, but with similarities.  The dog ran well and obviously enjoyed himself, and in doing so put a few birds over the guns which can’t be bad at all.  I do wonder whether there is a role for one of mine up here next season.  We could definitely cover the ground well and, seeing as there are only ever a few birds up there, I can’t see it being anything other than positive.  I will think further on this.

Shooting is so much more than shooting.  Walking through countryside that is not normally publicly accessible is a privilege.  Quite often you come across gems – either landscape from a different angle, old buildings tucked into cwms, wildlife that you don’t expect.  Today it was the buildings that caught my eye.  There are plenty of medieval buildings dotted around this area and on days like this you can see how they are part of the landscape rather than incongruous bolt-ons, unlike some of the more recent results of planning decisions.  I would rather come across an acre of corrugated steel roof on the right building than one more Spanish hacienda in Wales.

So what of the shooting.  Well, we had a good few birds over us.  They were high and as ever, fast.  I had a few shots and had one hen bird.  Between us we did ok.  Plenty of woodcock about with, on one occasion, four flushing at one time, but none was shot.  Not a bad decision, if indeed any decision would have affected the outcome.

I came home and took the dogs out into the woods.  The air was sharp and we had a good walk into the dark of the evening.  I didn’t have a torch which was just as well as I might have missed the bright ceiling of stars.  As I got the dogs into the back of the land rover I could hear a fox shouting in the woods.  Quite an eery sound however used to it you may be.

A great day, in a wonderful place.  I am sometimes asked whether I would move to somewhere else.  Well, I don’t think so.

Not a great deal of dog training has taken place over the last week, not just because of a lack of any real spare time, but because the weather hasn’t been very appealing.  On a few occasions it has been as much as I could do to stand upright in the forest so any planned sessions out on the hill has been postponed.  Both dogs are looking reasonably fit though so I have no concerns over the coming spring count.  This time of year seems to be more about catching up than anything else – catching up with e-mails; catching up with moorland owners and keepers to confirm count dates, catching up with friends to rope them in on the counting, and so on.  The luxury of being ahead of the game is not something with which I am that familiar.

I spent last Thursday in Wiltshire, on the shoot I mentioned earlier.  It was a great day out.  It isn’t often that I get to spend any social time with colleagues, and to spend that time shooting is a first.  I have to say that I use the term ‘shooting’ rather loosely as I genuinely don’t think I have ever shot so badly as I did that day.  So badly in fact that I felt it necessary to apologise to the beaters.  No one seemed to mind that much and whilst I only managed two birds the value of the day stretched well beyond the shooting.  On Saturday I took two of my boys and one of their friends clay pigeon shooting; not just for the fun but to try to work out how I managed to miss so many birds the week before.  I still can’t understand it as I managed a hit rate of about 85% and this was in high wind where the clays dipped and rose, curling out to the sides in a reasonably unpredictable fashion.  I am sure its a psychological hurdle I need to get over.

The idea I had over a co-ordinated approach to moorland management in this area seems to be gathering pace.  I am not sure what the collective noun for keepers is, but a gathering of keepers and moorland owners will be meeting with officers of the local authority towards the end of February to discuss opportunities and options.  I will be chairing the meeting and it will be a challenge.  It is not commonplace for these two distinctly different groups to come together and whilst I am not so daft that I haven’t briefed both groups separately, if we get through the evening without just a little friction I will be pleasantly surprised.  I am optimistic though for a number of reasons not least the fact that both groups seem willing, in principle, to move things forward.

We have our last shoot day on Saturday too.  I am tempted to spend the day beating based on last week’s performance but  we shall see.  No more beating on the estate either.  The season has passed quickly; too quickly really and the two shoot dinners I will be attending over the next few weeks will really mark the end of a winter that never really came.

I was up in the forest a few days ago and looked up at the heather.  My eyes were drawn to the ridgeline by the sound of a vehicle.  It was a tractor cutting swathes in the heather.  The area within which it was working was full of rank senescent heather clinging onto the hillside despite the best efforts of heather beetle larvae.  This can only be a good thing.  I look forward to seeing how this patch recovers.  Considering the fact that Grace is now 6 years old and when I started training her up there, with every intention of counting grouse, there was no management and only slightly more grouse.  Things are moving on, confirmed I like to think by the rainbow.  Onwards and upwards.

photo copyright of the Chilterns Conservation Board

I rarely let my work life cross over into my blogging life, not because they don’t share common principles but because I find writing this diary relaxing and work isn’t always something I like to be reminded about when I am relaxing.  Today, however, I am making an exception.  Monday, and my first day back, saw me traveling down to the Great Wen for a few days.  I had two very useful meetings, one on each day, and on Tuesday before catching my train home called in at the Royal Geographical Society to use one of their rooms as a temporary office.  It was there that I had time to mull over the recent announcement that the High Speed 2 rail link had been given the go ahead – the go ahead to cut through one of Britain’s most treasured and protected landscapes, the Chilterns.  I don’t intend passing judgement on this decision in a diary on dog training but I do feel inclined to point you to the transcript of speech I made at a conference in the autumn on landscape and our relationship with the land.  You will have to scroll through to the title ‘Groves of Renewal’ on page 13 if you want to read it but I am sure those immediately effected by this decision have difficulty expressing adequately quite what their landscape means to them.  Click here.

Well, I am back at work now but this post primarily relates to the Sunday before I went back.  A blue sky and a sudden, almost desperate, urge to make the most of the last day of the last weekend before I went back to work saw me out on the fringe of the hill.  Going back to work throws everything into sharp focus, not least the fact that however well-intentioned, holiday time is rarely spent doing what was intended.  I had planned to be out with the dogs, getting that quartering right and burning off some excess weight, both on the dogs and around my middle.  I went back to work a quarter of a stone heavier leaving dogs no better trained than they were in November.  Best laid plans ‘n all that.

I wanted to work the dogs over a wet area of hill, predominantly covered in willow, bog myrtle, bracken and the odd conifer.  I specifically wanted to work them through the willow that produced the woodcock a week ago, not with any intention of finding a bird but more for the reminder as to who was in charge.  If you remember they both hunted the woodland on their own last week and as a result of my laziness flushed a woodcock on their terms, not mine.  So this is what we did.

Within seconds of casting the dogs off Archie was on point.  The willow was thick so I dropped Grace and went in to road Archie in.  The cacophony coming from a jealous Grace who whined continually was a stark reminder of the difference between these dogs but there you go.  I roaded Archie in and we produced nothing.  He then relocated and pointed but moved forwards himself, pulling up alongside a fence.  It was here that he went on point….with his head through the netting.  The fact that he followed the scent of the bird along the fence line for some distance would indicate to me that we were following a pheasant, not a woodcock.  I had a choice – put Archie over the fence to road in further or pull him off and go and get Grace whose location wasn’t difficult to determine.  I did the latter and Archie didn’t seem to mind one bit.  Maybe not the most desirable ending but there you go.

I am beating tomorrow and, where possible, I will try to learn something from watching the guns – mount, stance, speed of swing and so on.  I am, quite honestly, a useless shot.  A group of us from work have the privilege of a day’s shooting at Barney Stratton’s shoot in Wiltshire.  Now this is extremely generous and will be an experience to savour but Barney writes a column in a well known shooting monthly and if we get a mention I want it to be for the right reasons!  Roll on Thursday.  I will let you know how it goes.

Oh, and I have an informal meeting on Monday night with the local authority regarding this idea I have to bring the local moorlands back into production.  Will let you know how that goes too.

Friday was the last real day of my Christmas / New Year break so I wanted to make the most of it.  I ventured into the forest with the intention of walking through the forest and getting out onto the hills to do some proper training.  As I got out of the land rover I saw a cock pheasant strutting about in the path only about 20 yards away quickly moving into a shallow ditch before heading into the scrub.  Not wanting to miss an opportunity to work on a controlled flush I let Archie straight out of the back of the land rover having first slipped a lead on Grace.  Within seconds Archie was on point and, with Grace on the lead, I roaded Archie in for about 30 yards before he finally came to a halt within feet of what must, up until now, have been a very stealthily running bird.  I encouraged him forward and up shot the very vocal bird.  Archie dropped.  I then sent Archie in to work out the area even though the chance of  another find was minimal.  When he had finished I let both dogs run off some steam.

On the moorland I worked the dogs on a cheek wind until I figured I had walked far enough, then turned to head in an arc back towards the land rover.  This meant bringing both dogs in to heel, then casting them off in a straight line followed by a tail wind.  The theory being that they would turn after a reasonable distance, cut out across the wind, then work back towards me working into the wind as normal…with me standing still in front of them rather than walking behind them.  I sent both dogs off and Archie, rather sensibly, took the path of least resistance, namely the path of neatly cut heather, and within seconds was out of sight.  Grace on the other hand took the harder route, running through the deep heather.   After a few minutes, and not seeing, as expected, Archie appear out to my right I walked forwards until I could see what was going on.  This is what I saw…Archie’s head poking out above the heather on the right.  He had turned as expected, then picked up scent and stopped dead.  Grace had also gone out to the right and, spotting Archie, charged across to park herself directly in front of him before going on point.  A stolen point if ever I saw one.  My greatest regret is that I was too slow to stop her before it happened.   I then had a few options.  I could walk ahead, through unworked heather to get behind them, or work Grace into the birds from where I was.  Grace’s next action reduced my options.  She roaded forward 15 yards, stopped, a pair of grouse flushed noisily another 15 yards ahead of her and I then dropped her on the whistle.  Archie continued to back Grace, despite it being his point, and watched the birds away as they flushed.  I called both dogs to me and gave Archie a lot of praise.   They were the first grouse of the year and whilst it was great to find them they really should have been Archie’s birds.  Never mind, in the scheme of things, he will have his birds before too long.  I am only thankful that he had the cock pheasant at the outset.

The wind had been howling all night and all morning but on account of it being towards the end of my Christmas holiday I decided to make the most of it and head onto the hills.  When I got there I rather wimped out, deciding to work the dogs around the moorland forest edge.  The area is a patchwork of conifers and heather / bilberry mix and whilst I have never found grouse on this patch feel it has promise.  We approached the hill through the forest and Grace was on scent before we crossed the fence.  Once over I encouraged her to work out the area that she has signaled held something but it came to nothing.  It was the first time I noticed Grace looking a bit middle aged.  She is six and although she isn’t the slightest bit overweight somehow looked older.  Maybe its just the lightening coat on her muzzle.

I sent both dogs on and they hunted well, not going too far and really getting into the cover.  After a few minutes I noticed the back end of Archie sticking up in the air.  He had come across something mid stride and from his position I could tell he was almost on top of it.  I got closer and Grace was pointing to the left.  I can’t say whether she was backing or on the same scent but it was a great little picture.  The light was good and we were out of the wind but the howling of the wind through the trees above us gave it quite an atmosphere.  I sent Archie in and he flushed a woodcock.  Both dogs then worked out the ground but there was nothing more.

I hunted them around the moorland edge for a further fifteen minutes before heading out onto the hill proper.  Both dogs got into their stride quickly and soon opened up, covering quite a distance between them.  It amazes me how they can work closely one moment then get out maybe 200-300 yards as soon as the space allows.  Grace had a point on a snipe on the moor but that was it.

On the way back I headed towards a willow spinny that usually holds at least one woodcock.  I sent the dogs in from a distance and then made an error.  I decided I wouldn’t trek through the bog to reach them but ‘steer’ them through the wood from a distance using my arm signals.  This worked until they went out of sight.  I recalled them….nothing.  This could only mean that one or both of them was on point.  I started walking towards the spinny when a woodcock flushed.  I whistled and both dogs came running back.  I shouldn’t have let them do this on their own as I have no idea what went on.  I would like to think that Archie dropped to flush but will never know.

Anyway, a good session.  Two woodcock, one snipe, and a cock pheasant on the way back to the land rover.

The week between Christmas and New Year always highlights the passage of time.  Everyone works so hard in the run up to Christmas Day and then, in a flash its all over and time marches straight on to New Year’s eve.  The weather at home has been unseasonably mild…until today, and any thoughts of coming home to burst pipes a wasted thought.  My brother, his wife and family all came here for New Year and we had another good break.

We exercised the dogs, by and large, in horizontal rain and low cloud, that is until today.  Yesterday my brother and his family left, and it so it appears did the mild weather.  The temperature dropped from 10 degrees C yesterday to minus 1 degrees C.  This brought with it some advantages, not least the blue sky and ability to get back on the hill, but I should have taken gloves.  It was bitter.

Both dogs ran well.  They hadn’t had this level of free running for a while so seemed to make the most of it.  They ran together which didn’t matter too much in this context, although it isn’t something I would do when working them, and I think they both egged each other on.  I couldn’t accurately calculate the beat they covered but I suspect it was in the region of 300 yards each side.  I ran them where I suspected they wouldn’t find birds and I was right.  They had some good exercise today, felt the heather under their feet, and ran well.  It also snowed again.  Much more seasonal I feel.

Before I cast the dogs off I looked at one of the hills ahead.  Three years ago this was covered in uniform heather with little management.  It is starting to look quite promising now.  Only the spring and summer counts will tell.

We went away for Christmas.  Not too far, but far enough to feel that we had a good break.  My brother, his wife and family hosted us in Hampshire and it all went without a hitch…good company, good food, possibly too much of the sloe gin/champagne cocktail, and oddly warm weather.  It cannot be the norm to have no heating on in December, the windows open at night, and to lay in bed at night listening to the song of a blackbird singing its heart out all night under the false dawn of street lamps.  We are only 200 miles north of Hampshire but having already had a small fall of snow at home the week before Christmas the warm weather felt very odd indeed.  A good break though and very enjoyable.  Shame it went so quickly.

Exercising the dogs was different too.  It is always refreshing to visit different places, not just for me but the dogs too, and my brother’s regular walks kept me on my toes.  He has labs…and labs don’t head for the horizon.  We walked in a few different woods, all familiar to me, but all better suited to labs than pointers.  Grace and Archie are used to running flat out when let off the lead and in a dense woodland this means that they are out of sight within seconds.  I really felt for pointer owners who exercise their dogs in this sort of environment on a daily basis; they must either be far more relaxed than me, happy to let their dogs run out of sight for extended periods, or have trained their dogs to behave like labs and keep close. In the run up to Christmas at home three dogs were shot for ‘worrying’ sheep so I wasn’t willing to let mine go out of site for any more than a few seconds.  I hope my brother still has his hearing after a week of my incessant whistle blowing.  A great week.  Shooting clays on boxing day was fun if not slightly frustrating in that it highlighted my ineptitude, but all in all a Christmas to remember.  Thanks Chris and Sue.

The run up to Christmas was also enjoyable, with plenty of beating to keep me and two of my sons occupied.  I managed to get out shooting three times which can’t be bad either, one day on the small shoot with which I am involved, one day shooting with my father in law on a semi-formal mini driven day locally, and one day on our beaters day.  I have to say that all three days were enjoyable but very different.  Our beaters day resulted in a bag of 125 birds, many of which were high and testing.  Having shot 7 myself I can comfortably say that I went home pleased, although the ‘craic’ is probably the predominant memory.  As I mentioned in an earlier post I was about to try to bring together the local estate managers/owners/keepers together around a common aim.  I put thoughts on paper and these have been circulated locally.  It seems that we have good sign up.  I have spoken to the Local Authority and they have signed up in principle to moving this forwards.  We will all meet in late January to decide the next steps.  If you are interested in the first, stream of consciousness, thoughts…inspired in part by the work of British Moorlands then click here.  I am optimistic but fully aware of the long road ahead.

I took both dogs up to the forest and instead of the usual ‘there and back’ walk decided to extend the route into something a little more circular and tiring.  I have no doubt that the dogs care not where I take them really, but I wanted to see how recovered I was.  Armed only with my beating stick we headed off.  It was a lot warmer than yesterday and the air had lost some of its Christmas feel but it was still nice to be out.  So there I was, walking up a wide track, stick in hand, and I notice Grace standing in the middle of the track about 100 yards ahead of me repeatedly looking forward, then looking back at me.  She could evidently see something that I couldn’t.  Archie was hunting in the scrub to my left, his only give away being the crashing of sticks and undergrowth.  To be on the safe side I called them both in to me.  We walked forwards about 20 yards and Archie ran ahead at full speed, followed by Grace.  In the distance I could just make out the shapes of a few people ahead coming towards us.  I pipped the recall whistle and both dogs turned on the spot and came flying back.  I popped them on their leads and eventually met up with a couple of women with their two dogs, all very friendly.  Nothing very exciting there but I remain very impressed with the recall that both these dogs have, even under distraction.  Their responses often exceed my expectations, and these are high.

We later waded our way through some thick scrub, conifers and heather and both dogs swung onto point about 50 yards ahead of me.  I walked up then clicked my fingers to move them in.  A hen pheasant erupted from the scrub about 5 yards in front of them, Archie dropped and Grace watched it away.  I then sent both dogs in to hunt out the area but there was nothing else.  I find it interesting…I have never taught Archie to drop to flush but he does, and I spent years teaching Grace to be steady to the flush and not chase.  She is fine now but I don’t believe that it has anything to do with my training.  She just knows now that a chase is futile.  The puzzle is why it took her years to realise this.

On the way back towards the land rover I heard a very strange bird call; a sort of cross between a popping sound and the sound of a male tawny owl hooting.  I realised that I had heard the same call last year, coming from the same place on the edge of a patch of clear fell about 200 yards from the main path.  I stood and listened and managed to spot the bird it seemed to be coming from, perched high in a tree on the edge of the forest.  It wasn’t until it few off and made a more recognisable sound that I realised I had been listening to a raven.  I would never have believed that this was a raven at all.  It was a very odd sound – more like a child imitating the sound of an Apache.