Aug 23 2024 8 mins
Looking ahead to the new grouse season, I think about my own birds in Galloway and the national picture at a time of great change and upheaval in Scotland.
The signs are set for a decline into autumn, and the moor grass has turned into straw. The start of the grouse season is upon us, and there’s a certain amount to look forward to in the hills of home. Despite some rough weather in the middle of June, the hatch in Galloway was fine and clear when it came in the last week of May. There were grouse chicks in the moss from the 27th, and some of these little birds were bold enough by the time the weather changed that it didn’t faze them.
Grouse which lost their eggs at the first attempt were still sitting when the cold rain came, so today there’s something of a split between well-grown, almost-adult birds which fly strongly when flushed and tiny little cheepers which buzz around in the moss like bees. The next problem is heather beetle damage which became obvious in early July on several of the estates where I work across the Southern Uplands. This can be a major issue in the short term as grouse abandon beetly areas, but the damage is rarely so bad as it seems at first and repair is usually straightforward.
When forecasts are posted about grouse prospects each summer, they often refer to the most productive areas of moorland in northern England and north east Scotland. From the highest point of my hill, I can look forty miles east towards the big North Pennine moors. Grouse moor management has become ever more localised over the past few years, particularly since large areas of the west have been marginalised and abandoned for sporting interests. Not many grouse will be shot in Galloway this season, and the sport itself now has most of its grouse eggs in a few little baskets. It makes sense that when cold rain blows across the North Pennines at the wrong moment, an entire season can be wiped out in a day or two.