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The Sandhills of Morayshire: Description of; Origin of — Foxes:
Destructiveness and Cunning of; Anecdote of — Roe-hunting in the
Sandhills — Anecdotes.
Between the fertile plains
of Moray and the shores of the Moray Firth there lies one of the most
peculiarly barren and strange districts of country in Scotland, consisting
of a stretch of sandhills, in most parts formed of pure and very fine
yellowish sand, without a blade of vegetation of any description, and
constantly shifting and changing their shape and appearance on the
recurrence of continued dry winds. Looking from the hills more inland,
this range of sand, in the evening sun, has the appearance of a golden
boundary line to the beautiful picture of the firth. With the magnificent
rocks of Cromarty, and the snow-capped mountains of Ross-shire and
Sutherland in the distance, I know no more striking picture than the coup
d'oeil of this landscape with the smiling plains and groves of Morayshire
as a foreground.
In other parts of these
sandhills are tracts covered with a dry and rough kind of bent; the long
roots of which, stretching along the surface of the sand, and throwing out
innumerable fibres and holders, serve in some measure to prevent the
drifting of the sand. It is a matter of surprise how this bent can find
enough sustenance and moisture in the sand, which is always moving and
always dry. At the extremity, opposite Findhorn, is a peninsula, with a
solitary farm-house, and a tolerably-sized arable farm, with tracts of
broom and furze around it. The furze-bushes are all eaten by the rabbits
into peculiar shapes, as the old yew and box trees in a Dutch garden are
cut into figures to humour the quaint fancies of their heavy-sterned
proprietors. The rabbits ought, by the by, to be well clothed, as they
nibble the furze into regular cushions and ottomans, on which they sit and
look out in the fine summer evenings, without fear or dread of the
sharpness of the thorns, which in this arid district appear to me sharper
and more penetrating than anywhere else.
Westwards, towards Nairn,
the sandhills are interrupted by an extent of broken hillocks, covered
with the deepest heather that I ever met with, which conceals innumerable
pits and holes, many of the latter not above a foot in diameter, three or
four feet deep, and so completely concealed by the growth of moss and
heather as to form the most perfect traps for the unwary passerby. I never
could find out what these holes were originally made for, as they
evidently are not the work of nature. A large part of the ground is here
well wooded; the trees do not, however, appear likely ever to come to a
large size, well as they flourish when young. This district of wood and
heath is here and there intersected by nearly impassable swamps, the abode
of mallards and teal, and occasionally of geese. In the wooded parts are
plenty of roe, who feed about the swamps, and in the warm weather lie like
hares on the hillocks, covered with long heath, and under the stunted
fir-trees in the midst of the wet places. Throughout the whole tract of
this wild ground there are great numbers of foxes, who live undisturbed,
and grow to a very great size, feeding during the season on young roe,
wild ducks, and black game, and when these fail, they make great havoc
amongst the game, poultry, and rabbits in the adjoining country. I have
frequently started and shot a fox here out of the rough heather, when I
have been looking for wild ducks, or passing through the place on my way
to the sea-shore. Farther westward, the sandhills are bounded by a large
extent of marsh and water, terminating at last in an extensive lake,
dreary and cold-looking, the resort of wild fowl of every kind, from the
swan to the teal, but said to contain no fish excepting eels.
I never yet could get a
good account of the origin of these sandhills; I say origin, because they
are evidently of a more recent formation than any of the surrounding land.
In several places, where the sand is blown off, you see the remains of
cultivated ground, the land below the sand being laid out in regular
furrows and ridges, made by the plough; and, from the regularity and
evenness, one would suppose that agriculture must have been well advanced
when these lands were in cultivation. Did the covering that now conceals
these fields consist wholly of sand, one would agree with the popular
story of their having been overwhelmed with it by the wind; but in some
parts the ground is covered to a good depth by shingle and water-worn
stones of a size to preclude the possibility of their having been brought
there by the action of the wind. In certain places, too, there are curious
regularly formed pyramids of shingle, about sixteen feet high, and of the
same diameter at the base. These, and long banks of shingle, having
exactly the appearance of the sea-beach, make me suppose that the
destruction of what was once a fertile country was brought about by some
sudden and, unaccountable inroad of the sea. Indeed, the appearance of the
whole of this barren district would lead one to the same conclusion. At
any rate, amongst the numerous traditions regarding the origin of the
sandhills, I never heard one that quite satisfied, my mind. Whatever it
once was, it is now a mere barren waste, or, as a friend of mine named it,
a kind of Arabia Infelix, inhabited only by wild animals; and it seems a
wonder that even these have not long ago been starved out of it. Whatever
the rabbits and hares feed on, they are larger there than in the more
cultivated and fertile parts of the country; and the foxes are like wolves
in size and strength. Owing to the solitude and quietness of the place, I
have seen the foxes at all hours of the day prowling about, or basking in
the sun, or sometimes coolly seated on the top of a sandhill watching my
movements. I have occasionally fallen in with their earth or
breeding-place. The quantity of remains of different animals which they
have brought to these places to feed their young proves the fox to be a
most universal depredator. Turkeys which have been caught at several
miles' distance, tame geese from the farms, and wild geese from the
sea-shore ; fowls, ducks, pheasants, and game of every kind, including old
roe that have been wounded, and young roe too weak to resist their
attacks, all appear to form part of this wily robber's larder. He also
takes home to his young any fish that he finds on the shore, or that he
can catch in the shallow pools of the streams during the night-time. No
animal is cunning enough to escape the fox; wild duck or wood-pigeon (the
most wary of all birds) fall to his share. Patient and cunning, the fox
finds out the pool where the mallard and his mate resort to in the
evenings, and lying in wait to the leeward of the place, in some tuft of
rushes, catches the bird before it can take wing. One night, seven of my
domesticated wild ducks were taken from the poultry-yard, close to the
house. After some search, we found some of the birds concealed in
different places in the adjoining fields, where the fox had buried them,
not having time to carry them all to his earth that night. He fell a
victim to his greediness, however, being caught in a trap a few nights
afterwards.
A fox, after he has lost
one of his feet in a trap, is still able to get his own living, and to
keep himself in as good plight as if he had his whole complement of legs
effective. One, which had left a foot in a trap, and escaped on the other
three, lived for two years afterwards about the same ground. We knew his
track in the sand by impression of his stump. This winter, while shooting
in the sandhills, we saw a fox sneak quietly into a small thicket of
trees. I immediately placed the two sportsmen who were with me at
different points of the thicket, and then took my retriever on the track.
The dog, who from his former battles with fox and otter, is very eager in
his enmity against all animals of the kind, almost immediately started the
fox, and, after a short chase, turned him out within shot of a very sure
gun. The consequence was the instant death of Mr. Reynard. On examining,
he turned out to be the very fox whose foot had been nailed up two years
before. He was an immense old dog-fox, in perfect condition, although he
had only three legs to hunt on. The fox is a constant attendant on the
rabbit-trapper, robbing him of most of the rabbits that are caught in his
traps or snares. He sometimes, however, pays dearly, by getting caught in
the wires; and although he generally breaks the snare and escapes, does
not do so without most severe punishment. I shot a fox this season who had
the remains of a rabbit-wire round his hind leg, which was cut to the bone
by his struggles to escape.
When living in Ross-shire,
I went one morning in July before daybreak to endeavour to shoot a stag,
who had been complained of very much by an adjoining farmer as having done
great damage to his crops. Just after it was daylight I saw a large fox
come very quietly along the edge of the plantation in which I was
concealed; he looked with great care over the turf-wall into the field,
and seemed to long very much to get hold of some hares that were feeding
in it—but apparently knew that he had no chance of catching one by dint of
running; after considering a short time he seemed to have formed his
plans, and having examined the different gaps in the wall by which the
hares might be supposed to go in and out, he fixed upon the one that
seemed the most frequented and laid himself down close to it in an
attitude like a cat watching a mouse-hole. Cunning as he was, he was too
intent on his own hunting to be aware that I was within twenty yards of
him with a loaded rifle, and able to watch every movement he made; I was
much amazed to see the fellow so completely outwitted, and kept my rifle
ready to shoot him if he found me out and attempted to escape. In the
meantime I watched all his plans : he first with great silence and care
scraped a small hollow in the ground, throwing up the sand as a kind of
screen between his hiding-place and the hares' meuse; every now and then,
however, he stopped to listen, and sometimes to take a most cautious peep
into the field; when he had done this, he laid himself down in a
convenient posture for springing upon his prey, and remained perfectly
motionless, with the exception of an occasional reconnoitre of the feeding
hares. When the sun began to rise, they came one by one from the field to
the cover of the plantation ; three had already come in without passing by
his ambush, one of them came within twenty yards of him, but he made no
movement beyond crouching still more flatly to the ground—presently two
came directly dowards him ; though he did not venture to look up, I saw by
an involuntary motion of his ears that those quick organs had already
warned him of their approach; the two hares came through the gap together,
and the fox springing with the quickness of lightning, caught one and
killed her immediately; he then lifted up his booty and was carrying it
off like a retriever, when my rifle-ball stopped his course by passing
through his backbone, and I went up and despatched him. After seeing this
I never wondered again as to how a fox could make prey of animals much
quicker than himself, and apparently quite as cunning.
One day this winter, we
attempted to beat the thickets and rough ground in the sandhill district
for foxes. Having appointed a place of meeting, I went with a friend and
four couple of beagles well entered to fox and roe, to meet the owner of
part of the ground and an adjoining proprietor. We were only four guns.
Having placed the other three in passes along the edge of the swamps,
through which the roe and foxes would have to make their way on going from
one wood to the other, I went into the thickets with the keepers and
hounds. We had hardly entered when up got a fine buck, and the beagles
were immediately laid on, and away they went; I ran to a small height,
from which I had a good view of the country—away went the buck at a
rattling pace, and the gallant little pack hard on his track, making the
woods echo with their enlivening cry. The buck first took a line into the
roughest part of the ground, expecting no doubt to throw off the dogs at
once, as he probably had often done with sheep-dogs or curs that had
chased him; but finding that his persevering little enemies were not to be
so outwitted, after standing still for a short time to deliberate, he
turned back and went straight for the swamp where the guns were, but
seeing the hat of one of the gentlemen posted there, and not liking to
cross the water directly in his face, he turned along the edge of it, half
inclined to go back. But just at this instant the little pack came full
cry out of the wood—their deep notes sounding in full chorus as they came
upon the open ground; they were rather at a loss for a moment or two, and
I ran up to put them on the scent. The buck, who had been watching us as
he went quietly along, was decided as to his course by seeing this, and
the moment the dogs' cry gave notice that they had found the scent again,
he dashed into the water at a place where there was no pass—it was not
above a hundred yards in width, and excepting two or three yards in the
middle where he had to swim, not deeper than a few inches. The beagles
came full cry on his track, and just viewed him as he was cantering up a
steep ascent on the other side of the water; they at once dashed in, and,
encouraged by a view holloa, swam through the water and took up the scent
immediately—away they went, till we lost all sound of them; presently we
heard their notes borne down on the wind from a great distance—the sound
came nearer and nearer and soon the buck appeared on the top of the brae,
near the water's edge, directly above two of the guns, who had got
together tired of waiting, and were discussing the price of
railway-sleepers, etc. The deer stood watching them for some minutes, till
the hounds came within fifty yards of him in the thicket behind him; the
gentlemen, hearing the dogs, ran to their respective posts, and the roe
came down the brae, passed between them unobserved, and crossed the water
again; the dogs full cry and all together immediately behind them. Hark
away ! Hark away ! was the cry, and away they did go, in a straight line
towards the sea-shore. The buck (whom I constantly saw) appeared quite
bewildered, and was evidently getting distressed; after a twenty minutes'
burst along the shore and the open part of the cover, he turned back and
passed me within a hundred yards at a slow canter ; the hounds had got
well warmed to their work, and never lost the scent for a moment. The
buck, after a great many turns and windings, was fairly driven to the
swamp again, which he crossed this time quite slowly, stopping in the
water every now and then, as if to cool himself; but the dogs did not
leave him much time, and were soon at the edge of the water. The buck
crouched down in the middle of a small heath-covered island in the water,
which was here of a considerable width : the hounds, however, went right
across the water, and began trying for the scent along the opposite edge.
I had seen the roe stop where he was, and ran down to call the hounds
back, but before I could do so, one of the pack, a very excellent young
bitch, whom I had got from the New Forest in Hampshire, gave a cast and
got the wind of the roe, giving a quiet cheep, sufficient, however, to
warn the rest of the pack, who all joined her : she trotted through the
water straight up to the island, and very soon the whole of them in full
cry were at the roe's heels, and driving him directly in the face of one
of the guns, who finished the hunt with a cartridge, killing him not
twenty yards ahead of the dogs. When the roe was opened afterwards, the
whole cartridge, wire and all, was found embedded in his heart, a proof of
the great efficacy of this kind of charge, and the superiority of its
strength over that of loose shot.
After resting the dogs and
talking over the chase, I left my friends at their passes again, and went
back to draw the cover for another roe. The dogs were very soon in full
cry again, and as luck would have it, out of four roe that had started
they had got on the track of a fine buck; this roe was run for some time
in as good style as the last, and after he had narrowly escaped being shot
two or three times, I shot him dead about fifty yards before the hounds.
During the run I saw two foxes start; one of them waded quietly through
the swamp towards my English friend, who however, did not shoot at him,
because he was afraid, he said, of losing a chance at the roe; but I
rather suspect, that having been bred a fox-hunter in his own country, he
had a kind of holy horror against killing a fox in any but the orthodox
manner which he had been accustomed to.
After having opened one of
the bucks and rewarded the beagles with the entrails, liver, etc., we
repaired to a cottage at hand, where our host for the day had provided a
capital luncheon.
Frequently when passing
these swamps and rugged ground, I have seen roe start up from the rough
heather, or feeding knee deep in the water, on the rank weeds and herbage.
The best part of this ground for wild-fowl is gradually getting drained,
and what was (a few years since) a dreary waste of marsh and swamp has now
become a range of smiling corn-land. I shall not easily forget my old
keeper's explanation on his first seeing one of his favourite spots for
stalking wild-fowl turned into an oat-field. We had walked far, with
little success, but he had depended on our finding the ducks in a
particular spot, not being aware that it had been drained since his last
visit to it. Having taken a long and sonorous pinch of snuff, according to
his usual custom when in any dilemma, he turned to me, muttering, " Well,
well, the whole country is spoilt with their improvements, as they ca'
them. It will no be fit for a Christian man to live in much longer." He
thought that oats and wheat were a bad exchange for his favourite ducks
and geese.
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