Hunting Overseas Is Less Expensive Than You Think.
Scottish red stag hunting has always been perceived by the American market as expensive, exclusive, and steeped in arcane tradition. Mainly because it is.
There is a way, however, to fulfill your best BBC historic drama fantasies, but with a much less expensive price tag. The hind cull, which takes place every year from October through February, is a management hunt. By signing up to fill an estate’s game larder by knocking down female red deer, or hinds, you can spend as much time on the hill as your calendar allows — you’ll probably run out of vacation days before you max out the credit card.
For hunters in the Western U.S. where we might go for years without ever being drawn for a tag, the concept of taking multiple animals in a day might seem a little bizarre, perhaps even with a guilt trip associated with it. Once you get used to the notion that the Scottish Highlands are massively overpopulated with deer, and you’re actually providing a valuable service to the local economy by thinning the herd (all of which ends up on someone’s plate), then the idea of taking out entire family groups of females and offspring seems logical. For as little as 200 bucks a day, you can be pelted in the face by horizontal sleet, while crawling through an ice-encrusted peat bog to get within rifle range of animals that you’ll never hang on your wall. If that sounds like heaven, we can be friends.
My first experience of big game hunting was the hind cull, so it’ll always have a special place in my heart. While I’ll admit a certain bias, I reckon that having hunted in a few far-flung and special places, I can objectively say that in terms of bang for the buck, the hind cull will give you just about everything you might want from a hunt — multiple stalks, hardship, physical challenge, camaraderie, immersion in nature, and being part of a long hunting tradition. Plus, when you’re done for the day, you get to retire to warm accommodation, stuff your face with comfort food, and drink Scotch.
Because this is low-pressure, relaxed hunting created by leisured Victorian gentlemen, it’s a great introduction to the pursuit of game outside the U.S. It’s also an excellent method of introducing novices to the world of hunting, as they’ll see the entire process of game management from field to fork. And so it was that my buddy Jessica shot her first deer.
The Kildermorie estate sprawls over 8,000 hectares of hills, peat bogs, and valleys, about three hours’ drive north of the Scottish capital of Edinburgh. Stalking is managed by a small team, run by its effusive head stalker, Sam Thompson, a bear of a man with a seemingly endless catalog of stories relating to the terrain, its long history, and the biodiversity of the estate he’s been entrusted with. They can be fairly selective about who’s invited through the gates. According to Thompson, “We had [the crew of] a Bond movie come up and want to use the estate for filming. We told them to f*ck off.” That said, they have a long list of countries from whence their clients hail, “We like Americans. Usually, you guys can shoot.”
Our party consisted of a number of random fellow U.S. citizens, along with one Finn and a Canadian who made for good dinner table conversation. A subset consisting of fellow RECOIL contributor Ashley Spurlin, your humble editor, and our fragrant and much better-looking female companions were housed in a pair of cottages on the estate, typically used for guests who want the flexibility of having their own kitchen. The accommodation is warm, cozy, and very affordable at around 500 bucks a week, so it’s an easy introduction to the Highland experience. Following our arrival, Sam gave the assembled guests a briefing as to what to expect during their stay, which in a nutshell was rain, wind, the probability of disappearing in a peat bog up to your waist, and that the essence of Scottish deer hunting was finding the lowest spots of micro terrain and crawling through it. In an environment that drains poorly and receives about 3 feet of rain a year, don’t plan on staying dry for very long.
The next day, we hit the range to verify zero and give the stalkers a chance to see whether we could consistently land rounds on target at distance, or if we were, in fact, German. Once satisfied, we loaded up the trucks and departed for a spot where about a third of the estate could be seen, rolling out over a beautiful valley split by a trout stream. With everyone on glass, it wasn’t long before we spotted a few groups of stags and hinds, and Sam couldn’t resist breaking out an antique three-draw telescope to get a better look. Originally built in the 1930s for the estate’s owner, it went to war with his son, survived campaigns in North Africa and Europe, and returned home to the hill where it’s still used to judge stags. The rest of the afternoon was spent, as you’d expect, in pursuit of red deer, with a half dozen or so ending up in the game larder that evening. The ghillies, or apprentices, finished off hanging the carcasses, while new friends stood around swapping hunting stories, their vocal cords suitably lubricated with Uisge beatha — the water of life, or to we Americans, Scotch.
Day three of our Caledonian adventure arrived heralded by the sun, after the previous days’ clouds had been blasted away by an overnight storm. We headed out at the crack of 10 (I told you this was a gentleman’s sport) and were soon locked on to a small herd of deer. Feeling confident after seeing others take animals off the hill, Jessica volunteered to get behind the gun.
One of the great aspects of Scottish stalking is that you almost guarantee multiple opportunities in a day. Blow a stalk and your hunt isn’t over — just glass up another herd and try again. Which isn’t to say that the distance between attempts are inconsequential — you’ll be covering mile upon mile on steep, uneven terrain in order to get within range, but that’s all part of the experience. Suck it up and drive on. As you do, you’re rewarded with experiences you’ll treasure, subtle gems of memories that you can call on to escape mundane life. Like ravens keeping tabs on you as you creep through the dappled ground, communicating with that unmistakable “cronk” — they’re smart birds and have figured out that crawling humans plus deer equals a free meal. Or watching black grouse fly below you from a vantage point on the side of a hill.
With the pressure off, Jessica and Ranulph, our stalker for the day, crept up a small watercourse that fed into a cascading burn. After a quarter mile or so, the cover afforded by it ran out, so it was time to belly-crawl through the heather, seeking the low spots between tussocks. As they were setting up on the rifle about 250 yards from the target animal, the hind decided the perfect time for a quick nap was right now and bedded down with her vitals obscured by vegetation. Lying in a puddle, Jessica counted off the minutes until the hind eventually stood.
By now thoroughly soaked, she pushed the safety forward on the Tikka .270 and sent a Barnes 130-grain TTSX through the vitals. Congratulations all round followed, along with the old ritual of smearing blood on the cheeks and forehead. Kildermorie is strong on tradition, and this extends to recovering the animals, too. While the convenience of gas-powered vehicles is appreciated by all, there’s romance in taking deer off the hill the old way, using Highland ponies bred and trained for the task. Because of their sturdy legs and hardy constitutions, Highland ponies were used extensively in World War I to carry supplies to the trenches of France and Belgium. As a breed, they were almost completely wiped out by German artillery, small arms, and gas, remaining a rarity to this day.
Once the ghillies had finished using a pony to carry a deer off the hill and down to a waiting pickup, the saddle was removed and the horse turned loose to trot the five miles home. Encountering free-running white pony emerging from the mist with its flanks streaked with blood is an incredibly surreal experience, one which Hollywood would only screw up by shooting it in slo-mo and adding an inappropriate soundtrack.
After a hot shower and dry clothes, it was time to gather around the dinner table for the kind of camaraderie only shared hardship and physical exertion can create. New friendships were made, plans for future adventures discussed, and the world’s problems put right. So, if you’ve ever contemplated hunting overseas but were put off by language barriers, expense, or paperwork, you may want to investigate hunting during the hind cull in Scotland. What at first glance are barriers turn out to be as insubstantial as Highland mist.
Field Notes
Getting There:
There are direct flights to Edinburgh from several U.S. cities; otherwise fly to London Heathrow and catch a shuttle to Inverness. Rail transport from either location is an option, too.
Gear:
Quality rain gear should be top of your list, followed closely by hiking boots and gaiters. You won’t need a large pack for hunting, as no one will be staying out overnight, but spare clothing will be appreciated. Good binos and a rangefinder will be very useful.
Rifles:
Despite the UK having some of the most draconian firearms laws in the world, it’s still feasible to take your own rifle. Apply for a temporary permit a couple of months in advance; just don’t expect to be able to bring your semi-auto. If you feel the hassle isn’t worth it, fear not — the estate will rent you a rifle for the duration.
Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in Carnivore Magazine Issue 9.
