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“Spring on the Chayne”
Just wanted to include this brilliant screenprint of a blackcock on the Chayne by Colin Blanchard, formerly of Newtonrigg College, now a man of leisure based over in the distant reaches of Dumfriesshire. Colin has been up to the Chayne a few times over the past couple of years, although the fact that I’ve never… Continue reading
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The Summer’s Gone
Just worth recognising the fact that summer is almost over. We’re certainly not in the autumn yet, but this is now the dead water between the seasons. The bracken has gone back, the rowans are coming on and the heather flowers are just turning. In a few weeks, the pinkfoot geese will be here, followed… Continue reading
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Partridge Pen
The partridges have now been up on the hill for ten days, and they seem to be doing remarkably well in spite of the weather. They look smarter with every passing day, and they are starting to get orange faces to go with their red stripy sides. One of them has somehow managed to escape… Continue reading
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September Lyre
Overnight, the wildfowling season and the partridge season kicked in. I threw a ceremonial scoop of bruised barley onto the flight pond to commemorate the coming of the wildfowling season, even though it will be another three months before I can start shooting the pintail, wigeon and teal that give living within sight of the… Continue reading
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Missed Opportunities
Having decided that there were enough grouse on the hill to have a mini walked up day, the process was duly carried out last weekend. There was a spitting rain as we headed up through the snipe field, but with the wind into our faces, it soon emerged that there was a problem. The birds… Continue reading
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The Homecoming
There was a stressful start this morning when I moved half my grey partridges up onto the Chayne. I’m keeping half back to see if I can breed from them next year, so I didn’t have many to put out in the 12′ x 8′ pen. My transport system worked very well, and it took… Continue reading
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For Peat’s Sake?
My earliest memory is of sitting on the Chayne watching my parents cut peat. I must have been around three or four years old, and I remember the way the peats used to smell when I sat with them in the back of an old Land Rover on the way off the hill. Bit by… Continue reading
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Turnips
I don’t want to rave on relentlessly about how interesting I’ve found my game crop this year, but it is worth mentioning that the turnips have actually done pretty well. There aren’t many of them, but the few plants have produced turnips that are now about the size of large duck eggs. Sadly, if there’s… Continue reading
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Giggling & Bubbling
Ever since getting hold of a domesticated blackcock, I’ve been on an extremely steep learning curve. I’ve had an amazing opportunity to get to know him at close range, and I’ve picked up things that I might never have learned in a lifetime spent working with wild birds. On his first night, I tried to… Continue reading
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Flower Power
This year’s game cover mix is turning out to be the gift that just keeps on giving. All very well, the radishes bolted and most of the kale seems to have washed away, but each step along the way has brought benefits to the hill. At the moment, the most obvious benefit is the amount… Continue reading
About
“Shout on, Morgan. You’ll be nothing tomorrow”
Swn y galon fach yn torri, 1952
Also at: https://andtheyellowale.substack.com
Bog Myrtle & Peat 