Bog Myrtle & Peat

On the whole, the world is a dull place for a black grouse enthusiast. Since 1900, the birds have contracted in range by more than 95%, and it has never been a worse time to see what I regard as the finest creatures on the planet. However, every now and again, life is worth living.

Following a tip off from a friend, I headed into the hills of the Scottish Borders early this morning to see how well things are going on the east side of the country. I didn’t want to come home.

Within a few miles of the recommended spot, I noticed three crows in the meadow below the road. Only one took off. The two others stood up and looked at me with a fimiliar blend of confusion and contempt. As the car ground to a halt, I was astonished to see two first year blackcock standing in the gloomy morning just twenty yards away. They were joined by another, and then another. Looking up to the hill behind them, I saw four older cock birds gathered above a stand of bracken. My eyes started out of my head and left wet marks on the passenger door window.

Within a mile, I had seen another pack of six blackcock picking along a burn side and a single young cock bird standing like a gormless traffic cone on the verge. Further still, and two blackcock soared high overhead.

They crossed the valley and settled energetically amongst a feeding gang of others, pecking and fanning their tails. Their autumn lek will soon be coming on, and although several birds still looked a little patchy and brown, they are certainly back to fighting fitness.

I had travelled over to visit a gamekeeper on an estate with a reputation for blackcock, but although we drove across all the most likely spots in his argocat, we only saw one of this year’s young birds. It was a fine visit, but nothing could compare with having seen more black grouse in one place than I have ever seen in my life along just a few miles of public road.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I’m going back…