Shooting Times & Country Magazine
Stalking Diary
Peeping Tom, Mummy’s Boy, Stud and Gandalf the Goat are just a few of the characters emerging during the roe rut in the Scottish Borders
TPersonalities
Charlie Blance is a stalker, fishing gillie and conservationist working across Scotland he roe rut is in full swing here in the Scottish Borders and that August feeling is certainly in the air. I feel this month marks the beginning of the ‘good time of year’ — the warm gales of wind and the rich scent of the rain they carry bring me both a euphoric and a nostalgic feeling that is only amplified in September.
The summer is coming to a close and autumn is just around the corner — the deer are rutting, the bushes are yielding berries, birds will soon be in season and the wild mushrooms are springing up left, right and centre. As a deerstalker and a wild food enthusiast, I’m awfully excited.
This year was my first roe rut. For most of my career, I’ve worked in various parts of the Highlands with red deer, but at the start of this year I moved to the south of Scotland and began working primarily with roe.
Though I miss the mountains and the reds dearly, these little deer have taught me so much in the past nine months and I’m sure over the next few years I’ll learn many more of their secrets. This buck season has given me a deeper appreciation of the individuality of roe antlers and, without anthropomorphising too much, their individual personalities. I have to admit I’m terrible for nicknaming the deer — always have been, probably always will be.
One of my favourite bucks this season is Peeping Tom. The first time I saw him, I had pulled into a passing place to let a timber wagon pass and he was standing about a metre away from the truck, neck deep in the heather and staring blankly into my open passenger window. He was a four-pointer with incredibly long, sharp top tines and a glaikit expression on his face. It wasn’t until I reached for my camera that he legged it.
A week later, I came across him stalking. He was peering out from deep bracken this time, with only the top of his head and those distinctive antlers showing. I squeaked the Buttolo and he disappeared for a moment, then reappeared a little closer, only the tips of the antlers showing. I squeaked again and closer he came, stretching his neck to see over the cover. One more squeak and out he came into a gap. I exchanged the squeak for a “Woah!”, followed by a twitch of the index finger.
Drookit was a buck I almost disregarded as a doe. The rain had come in hard but not heavy, with small but plentiful raindrops that gave the illusion of mist. I was heading back to my truck when I spotted a sad-looking beastie huddled under a tree. It was hard to see through the wall of wet. I couldn’t see any antlers at first, but something didn’t seem right, so I went closer. It was a buck, his stunted antlers swept back and down behind his ears like a greasy comb-over. On inspection of his carcass, it appeared injury was to blame.
Mummy’s Boy was a young buck that was glued to a doe with kids; Stud is a
“Though I miss the mountains and reds dearly, roe have taught me so much”
cracking, still-living buck who’s made a fool out of me multiple times this season. The list goes on: The Pond Buck, Lopsided, Grease Lightning, Dickless Richard, Gandalf the Goat, Lesley. It’s a bit of fun and it makes it easier to identify what animal or area you’re talking about with the rest of the team.
These silly nicknames reflect the overall mood of this season — a lot of good times had, a lot of laughs shared and many memories made, all of which can be looked back on for years to come. I think this aspect is one of the true beauties of the rut, regardless of the species you chase.