Grouse shooting

A covey, a starburst

and a broken duck

Shooting over dogs on the Glorious Twelfth, a Gun bagged his fi rst

grouse in a perfect place for such a special event, says Patrick Laurie

G

alloway used to be a grand
place for grouse. The old
game books are fi lled with
record days and bags that
groaned and strained with the weight
of birds. You can still see the butts
on many moors and it is not so long
ago that blackgrouse were poached
and dealt as a kind of illicit currency
between farms and pubs.
But most of that is history now. The
hills were extensively planted with
commercial forestry in the 1970s and
many of the best moors have been
grazed out of existence by livestock.
Gamekeepers were put out of work
and went away, and now there is little
in the way of grouse culture. In the
spring you will be lucky to see three
or four other plumes of smoke in a
30-mile spread of hill country.
A few farmers and gamekeepers
keep the old traditions burning in the
west, but the real grouse work takes
place over the river Nith and into
Dumfriesshire; bigger estates towards
Lowther, Queensberry and Sanquhar.
I’ve been part of a small grouse
D. IRELANDsyndicate in Galloway for the past 10

16 • SHOOTING TIMES & COUNTRY MAGAZINE

Got one! The writer

bags his grouse on

the Glorious Twelfth

years, working away in rough country

above the Solway Firth. Half a century

ago, hundreds of grouse were being

shot on this ground, but then the trees

came and broke up the continuity of

a wide moorland place. This is never

going to be a major concern for grouse

again, but it is not a complete loss.

We have exchanged driven days

for the company of hundreds of

woodcock in winter and the forests

are home to a resurgent population

of wild boar. There are still enough

grouse on the hill to make a few

walked-up days worthwhile at the

start of the season. In a good year

we can take fi ve or six brace over

two days. In a less promising year,

the day is closer to an armed ramble.

Wild boar

Access is generally terrible in this

place. It’s a long walk in through

sheep country and a wide fringe of

rough pasture. Wild boar descend

from the forests to rootle through

this land under cover of darkness

and their diggings show up dark and

messy when dawn breaks. This might

The Editor, Patrick Galbraith, starts to regret

bringing a heavy over-and-under on a walked-up day