 |
| The remote shooting lodge on Broomhead Moor |
Earlier today, I walked two miles along a rough moorland track that leads to a grouse shooters' lodge. You can imagine them, during the grouse shooting season, driving up there in Land Rovers and other rough terrain vehicles. They'll be dressed in earthy colours with waxed Barbour jackets and flat caps.
They'll have their prized rifles and boxed cartridges with them as well as bottles of beer and flasks of whisky. There'll be handshakes and manly guffawing and a sense of anticipation as they contemplate the killing spree that will occur in an hour or two. There will be an unspoken shared belief that it is perfectly all right to blast moorland birds out of the sky as they come flying over the heather horizon.
They will be waiting in grouse butts, their hearts beating faster. Guns at the ready. Isn't this what it means to be a man? Besides, weren't grouse born to be shot? I say, what sport! How many did you bag Mortimer?
 |
| Typical grouse butt on Broomhead Moor |
Up there on the featureless moortop I separately disturbed three mountain hares. They scooted off as if they had just seen Frankenstein's monster. Little did they know, that it would be my dream to simply stroke their fur and look into their eyes. I also disturbed three red grouse. They rose from clumps of heather just in front of me cackling in their familiar way and just about making me jump out of my skin.
 |
| Track from the shooters' cabin |
It was good to be up there on the quiet moors with a compass in my hand and my trusty Sony camera slung over my shoulder. Three hours after leaving him snoozing under roadside pines, I returned to my moody South Korean companion - Mr Clint. He was quite grumpy when I woke him by inserting the ignition key.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed.
And then we roared off - back to the city - in time to make Nurse Pudding a delicious evening meal. Later, I watched the last episode of "Unorthodox" courtesy of Netflix. Excellent. I might blog about it next time.
 |
| High on Broomhead Moor with my compass |
There seems to be a rough track there in the moor's growth. Does it lead from one place to another? Or is it a watercourse for the rains? Is this Wuthering Heights scenery? Thanks.
ReplyDeleteHello Joanne. That is not a rough track in the moorland's growth. It is in fact a peaty gully where in times of rain rivulets begin to flow. I have visited Top Withens near Haworth in West Yorkshire. It is a farm ruin and it is widely believed that Emily Bronte based "Wuthering Heights" upon it. The scenery up there is very similar. Thanks for calling by and say "Hello" to Ohio for me.
DeleteStill spreading the virus I see, well done!
ReplyDeleteNot sure where (or why) you are coming from. How can one spread - in the middle of nowhere - what one hasn't got? Am I dumb or something or are you just being funny?
DeleteU
Thank you for your common sense support Ursula. My exercise was in full compliance with current official guidance and as you insinuate - even if I was unknowingly carrying the virus nobody else's health was compromised. I am afraid that the visitor you responded to specialises in making nasty remarks and I would have again deleted its comment if you had not responded. Thanks for calling by once more.
DeleteFeel free to post/link/repost any 'nasty' comment yorkie, go on do it, back up your assertion!
DeleteEven this response is poisonous. As my mother used to remark, "If you can't say anything nice don't say anything at all". I think that this is a motto that you would do well to adopt. Even your pseudonym, "The Cheat" is unpleasant. Why would you choose a handle like that? Nobody likes cheats or cheating.
DeleteNormally, I don't read anything you write, I just delete your comments knowing that they will always have an undercurrent of nastiness and judgmentalism. This is my blog and I would prefer it if you simply kept away. I don't want you here. Please go and judge somebody else and leave your characteristically unpleasant comments elsewhere. Thank you.
Finally, another idea for you. Why not create your own blog? I am sure that you would soon attract plenty of visitors.
DeleteRather a sad response, why be so aggressive against someone who has a different opinion to yourself?
DeleteAs to the name I was given, you are so wrong, I don't cheat in any way, but I may have cheated something in the past, not that I owe you any explanation. At least I am not so shallow as to judge someone on the 'nickname' given to them many years ago!
You have never said anything nice or pleasant in your comments. If you are right that I am both "aggressive" and "shallow" then why on earth do you even come to this blog? Please - just keep away. It is such a chore to have to keep deleting your comments. There are many other places in the blogosphere where you could go - maybe places where you will be welcomed.
DeleteTo "The Cheat". I will not be posting any links to any of your comments. This is partly because I deleted all of them. But it is also because I feel absolutely no compunction to do so. This is my blog and I make up the rules. As I said before - you never said anything pleasant here - just challenging, judgemental or dismissive comments. I cannot be doing with that kind of thing so I will ask you again to please stay away. There are many other blogs you can comment upon. You don't like what I post as you have made abundantly clear and that is absolutely fine with me. Please stay away.
DeleteThose hunting groups were worlds apart from the rest of us.
ReplyDeleteThey still are Red!
DeleteI have also walked to Top Withens over the Wuthering moors. I once passed a young Japanese girl reading the book and smiling and walking. Smashing photos YP.
ReplyDeleteShe could have tripped up! Walking and reading is never a good combination.
DeleteIt's better than someone texting and walking YP.
DeleteThat should be against the law. Personally, I would hang all offenders.
DeleteI've often thought: "What if the birds and animals were the hunters and the hunters were the prey?"
ReplyDeleteI like that idea! I guess it was partly present in Hitchcock's "The Birds".
Delete"What the hell is going on?" trembled Mortimer.
The grouse were like an air force. They bombarded the shooters, driving them back into the remote shooting cabin.
"Help!" yelled Thompson.
He had tripped in the heather and twenty grouse were upon him in an instant. Pecking voraciously, both of his eyeballs were gone in seconds with their optical nerves dangling like seaweed fronds.
Eeeww. Thank goodness I had breakfast early.
DeleteHope you Didn't have eyeballs in seaweed for breakfast JayCee!
DeleteI like your version of Bonnie's suggestion, YP. Yes, I'm bitter about hunting.
DeleteYour mention of hares reminded me of Wednesday evening, when my friend and I were out for a run (of course keeping the recommended distance, and not breathing in each other's direction anyway) on the nearby fields. The light was magical, close to sunset, and all of a sudden a light brown hare dashed across the field in front of us. But it was not us it was running from - overhead there was a large bird of prey, probably a buzzard, the largest in my area. The hare disappeared under a privet hedge around an allotment at the ede of the field. The soil and the fur of the hare were exactly the same colour, which is why we only spotted the hare when it ran.
ReplyDeleteA magical encounter. No doubt the buzzard will be successful on another day. Every creature has to eat the particular things assigned by Nature.
DeleteI have no views on hunting in England - the pack mentality and bravado is, literally, foreign to me. I also think, and it's a cultural thing, that, in the motherland, hunting isn't as fetishized as it appears to be on these isles; not so much a "sport" as a type of environmental control by people with a deep love of nature and its wonders - to be taken seriously and with a lot of respect for the animal taken down, respect for the seasons. I know a little bit about it because one of my uncles held a licence in a designated area. It appeared to be a solitary pursuit. A bit like his younger brother who went angling in the middle (!) of a lake to escape. Out of reach. My dear sweet uncle, so full of melancholy, yet so full of fun. Come to think of it, among my earliest happy childhood memories when going out on the lake with my grandfather. Such stillness, such happiness. Dig the early worm, row row row the boat, thread the worm, sit quietly, reel in, come home with bounty, kill fish on the grass (it's the only animal for eating I know how to kill with one blow - all others are safe), watch beloved grandmother fry the catch. Bliss.
ReplyDeleteAm I writing my memoirs here or what?
One question, YP, which I have been meaning to ask you for some time: On your walks do you find that landscape influences your mood? The above [landscape] strikes me as pretty heavy going. But then I have never trusted moors.
U
I enjoyed that slice of your memoirs Ursula.
DeleteRegarding the last question, I felt so much at peace and so light-hearted when I returned from that walk. The moors may appear brooding and uninviting places for humans but they have a certain beauty and majesty - just like a forest or an empty beach by the ocean.
I've never understood the hunting for sport mentality. I have no urge to track and kill any living creature, apart from flies. Spiders who stray inside get a second chance and are returned to the outdoors to spin again. Our 5 week lockdown has given ducks a reprieve from sudden death this year.The shooting season due to start in May has been cancelled (too many possible accidents as shooters mistake each other for ducks and then require emergency services) but deer will unfortunately be fair game again from next week. Can't understand the logic there as hunters go bush and shoot each other by mistake too. Maybe they have more political clout.
ReplyDeleteOn a positive note the absence of cars in our cities over the last month has led to an influx of rarely sighted native birds returning and lots of people out walking to see and enjoy their songs. It's made many people aware of what we have been missing in our noisy neighbourhoods and how much better our lives could be if lived at a quieter and slower pace.
Like you, I find hares fascinating though others consider them pests. There are a couple living in the paddock over our hedge and we love watching them but don't often see them when there are cattle grazing . Hares, rabbits, magpies, weasels,stoats and gorse were all imported by our English forefathers to replicate home, in blissful ignorance of the damage they would cause to native flora and fauna. Everything grows faster and bigger here.
Love your moody moorland photos, they're grouse.
Mr Clint should be thankful that you take him on adventures and allow him to exercise regularly, keeping him in tip top condition. Our cars have been sadly neglected in the daze of lockdown with the inevitable result.. flat batteries. God bless the Automobile Association.
I may have said this before but I have a romantic view of New Zealand's fauna and flora. Before human beings arrived it must have been a veritable Garden of Eden (not Eden Gardens!). Even the Maori, arriving in the fourteenth century brought Polynesian rats. But before then - what it must have been to walk through the landscapes of both islands. Quite unbelievable really and now we will sadly never know. Thanks for calling by again Adele. It still looks as though your country has prevented the worst of COVID 19 with only 1456 cases and just 17 dead - though that is 17 too many.
DeleteI don't understand killing for sport. If you're hungry that's fine but not to prove anything. Why can't they just all drop their trousers, compare dick size and be done with it. And hunting grouse, it's not like it takes any great skill to shoot a bird that has a brain the size of a pea.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, the photos are lovely. The one photo of the track reminds me of Medicine Lake in the mountains, stark, other worldly and just so beautiful.
It's definitely a male thing. I would estimate that 97% of all grouse ever killed were killed by men. The birds are rarely eaten. They are just feathered trophies.
DeleteApparently the early settlers could hear New Zealand before they saw it. All those birds singing in safety, the land covered in trees. We have been slow to appreciate what we had but that has been changing rapidly to a focus on conservation and regeneration through planting native species and creating corridors of food sources for native birds in our cities and predator free areas.
ReplyDeleteSadly many of those 17 COVID 19 deaths are from the one infection source here in Christchurch. 20 elderly residents of the dementia care facility were moved to hospital after testing positive and it has seemed inevitable that all 20 lives will be shortened by the virus. I can't imagine what it must be like for the nursing staff caring for them and for their families waiting without hope.
Tomorrow April 25th is our national day of remembrance ANZAC Day which we share with Australia. There will be no community ceremonies or dawn marches but we will hopefully all stand at the end of our driveways at 6am sunrise to remember those who left these shores to fight for peace and justice .
New Zealand stepped up to the plate in both world wars and tomorrow on ANZAC Day, I shall salute both the Australian and New Zealand dead who made the ultimate sacrifice - often in faraway places.
DeleteFor some reason I am always drawn to what others call lonesome landscapes--the moors, Canyonlands in UT, the Twelve Bens and other places in Connemara, the Badlands in South Dakota. Like you, I find them to have a certain beauty and majesty. Room to breathe.
ReplyDeleteThe places we like point to the kind of people we are. No everyone is wild about wild landscapes.
DeleteI am, as you know, married to a hunter but it's an entirely different situation. He would no more shoulder a rifle with liquor in him than he'd jump off a cliff. He's a meat hunter, not a sports hunter. I guess that's the difference. And until we turn vegetarian I see more honor in the meat he brings home than in the meat I buy at the grocery store. This is not said as support for sport hunters- far from it. I think that probably those guys you're talking about are doing a ritualistic thing, far removed from what their ancestors did to actually feed their families.
ReplyDeleteWhat is absolutely not in question is how beautiful the place where you live is. Thank you, as always, for sharing it.
Here shooting grouse on moors is something that the upper classes and the aristocracy do. They rarely eat the grouse they kill. It is an activity that defines them as being out of the ordinary and they like that exclusivity.
DeleteWhat I love about the moors, is the smaller plants that cluster below the heather and the harebells you occasionally come across. There are grouse butts up on our moors, they follow straight lines and track the foolishness of men with guns and specific uniforms. Anyone can shoot a poor pheasant with one arm tied behind their backs to my way of thinking.
ReplyDeleteThe continued existence of grouse shooting has a direct and unnatural impact on moorland landscapes. If the shooters disappeared then gradually moors would become, botanically speaking, far more diverse and interesting.
DeleteHunting in general is a mystery to me, so yeah, I don't get grouse-shooting. I might shoot them with a camera, but that's as far as it goes.
ReplyDeleteIt's funny how we use the word "shoot" when using cameras - just as if we were using guns.
Delete