Towards the end of a September several years ago I was so fortunate as to be invited to stalk at Coignafearn, which has always been famous for the size and weight of its deer. On reaching the lodge on a Saturday night, I heard that the head stalker had met with an accident, fortunately not a bad one, but possibly serious enough to prevent his going out with me on the following Monday. He had been out in the forest the day before I arrived, and on going up to a stag to bleed him, the stag had given a sudden unexpected plunge, which had caused the stalker to inflict on himself a nasty wound in his right leg with his knife, which was open in his hand; another instance that no one, not even the oldest and most experienced of stalkers, can be too careful on these occasions. On Monday morning he was much better but not fit to go with me. The season was well advanced, and my host was very anxious to kill the usual number of stags as soon as possible. It was therefore arranged that I should act as my own stalker, and take with me a watcher named Maclennan. I had also two gillies with me and a couple of ponies, and my host told me that he would be only too glad, if I could manage it, if I would kill as many stags as could be brought in. Maclennan had never acted as stalker, but as there is nothing I like better than to do the stalking myself, I was very pleased with this arrangement, for Maclennan knew the ground thoroughly, and I felt sure that his assistance would be invaluable; indeed, without him I could of course have done practically nothing, as the ground was strange to me. We were in the forest and spying by 10 A.M., and very soon we saw a good stag with some hinds. The stalk was unsuccessful, but it was not long before we spied another good stag, and without much difficulty I managed to get into a good position within about 150 yards, and shot him through the heart. He proved to be a good eight-pointer, and weighed 15 stone clean. Shortly after this we spied a large herd of deer which were very restless, continually on the move. There were several good stags in the herd, and these were roaring and fighting and driving the hinds about. Two of them in particular, which looked like the heaviest, engaged in a battle which lasted for some time; but gradually one of them showed signs of being worsted and, watching his opportunity, suddenly turned tail and bolted. It is rarely that battles of this kind end fatally—only once have I met an eye-witness of such an occurrence. The battle was between a switch and a ten-pointer. The combatants were fighting on the side of a hill and were very evenly matched. My informant, the stalker at Attadale, said that after some time the switch, taking advantage of being on slightly higher ground, charged his adversary and, getting past his guard, pierced his side with his antlers. The ten-pointer immediately fell to the ground dead. The stalker ran up and found that the dead stag had been pierced through the heart by his conqueror.

The stag with the best horns is generally not the best fighter and is frequently driven out by a switch-horn or “caberslach,” whose long skewer-like antlers are the most effective horns for fighting. The best fighter of all is, however, the hummel—a stag which has no horns at all, and which is in consequence a very heavy beast.

It is astonishing how a stag will sometimes acknowledge himself beaten without any fight at all. I remember when stalking at Fealar that I had been trying without success for nearly two hours to get a shot at a big black stag which was in pursuit of a large number of hinds and was constantly on the move, skirmishing with smaller stags and driving them away. Suddenly we heard the sound of great roaring and saw coming from the direction of Mar Forest a huge red stag which evidently had for its objective the hinds who were in charge of the black stag. The newcomer kept running for a short distance and then stopped to roar and grunt. We thought that by running hard we might reach a point near enough to get a shot at him. We accordingly ran as fast as we could in order to try to cut him off, but in vain. Before we could get within shot of him he had passed this point we were making for. As soon as he got within sixty to seventy yards of the black stag, who was waiting and every now and then roaring defiantly in answer to his challenge, the latter seemed suddenly to realize that the contest would be hopeless and turned tail and bolted ignominiously, being pursued only for a short distance by his adversary, who then rounded up the hinds and drove them off.

But to return to my story. We tried to stalk the victorious stag, which seemed to be the best beast in the herd, but found it extraordinarily difficult to get within shot of him. There always seemed to be several hinds in the way, and, as it was now getting towards two o’clock, we decided to have luncheon, in the hope that in the meantime the deer would settle down, and that we should then have a chance at the stag we were after. We did not waste any time over lunch and very soon again had the deer in view. They were still on the move and we followed them for some time. The stag which we were after, which we made out to be a nine-pointer, was evidently much troubled by two other stags only a little smaller than himself, and presently, after chasing away first one and then the other, these three stags were between us and the herd. Now at last it seemed there was some chance of getting a shot at the nine-pointer, but before we could get up to him he began again to chase off the other stags, and then turned, and at a good pace followed the herd which was moving away from us. The other stags then also turned and followed in the same direction, though at a respectful distance from the nine-pointer. Maclennan and I, by running and crawling quickly, gradually diminished the distance between ourselves and the deer, and at last, after a quick run when out of their sight, crawled up a small hill and saw the three stags, the nine-pointer watching the other two. The nine-pointer was nearly 200 yards from us when he suddenly stopped and turned, standing for a moment about three-quarters on. I saw that this was my only chance, as the stags were just on the brow of the hill, and in a few moments would almost certainly be out of sight. I therefore decided to take the chance and fired.

“You have him, sir,” said Maclennan, as the stag, evidently hard hit, disappeared over the brow of the hill. We made our way as fast as we could over the hill, but saw no sign of the stag.

The ground was rocky and very broken, and I felt sure that he could not have gone far, and was lying down hiding himself. We began to search, when suddenly the stag jumped up from under a rock about some eighty yards from us, and after running for about 500 yards farther lay down behind a rock, showing only the point of his horns. I had not shot at him again, as he was end on, and was evidently in such a condition that he could not go very far. We followed up, keeping well out of sight, but found it impossible to get a chance of shooting, so cleverly had he concealed himself. Whilst hesitating as to what would be the best course to take, the stag suddenly got up again and bolted, but this time he gave me a fair chance of a shot, and I killed him before he had gone more than a few yards. On getting up to him, we found that my first shot was not sufficiently forward, but was a raking shot through the body, and the stag could not in any case have gone very far. He was a good beast with a strong horn, and later turned the scale at 16 stone 9 lb. clean. After gralloching the stag, one of the gillies went off to signal to the ponyman; and Maclennan, the other gillie, and I proceeded to work our way back to the lodge, hoping to get another shot on the way home. We soon spied a good stag with a number of hinds, and, after a long stalk, I got a good chance of taking a quick shot at a little over 100 yards and fired. The stag disappeared. Maclennan thought I had hit him, but I was very uncertain, and think I must have shot over him. A long and careful search on the ground, which was very broken, showed nothing. There was no sign of the stag, nor were there any marks of blood to be seen, and I felt satisfied that I must have missed him, though Maclennan and the gillie had thought otherwise.

We again started to work our way back, and had not gone very far before Maclennan suddenly stopped and brought his glass to bear on the face of a hill about half a mile away. He then said there was a stag with a fine wide head lying down, and that we ought to be able to get close to him without difficulty, as the ground was very broken. I proceeded to stalk this stag, and got without great difficulty within about 180 yards of him, when I saw that he was up and looking very suspicious, and that I should have to take my shot as soon as I could. We quickly got the rifle out of the cover, and crawled to another hillock about 100 yards from where the stag was. Arrived there, I pushed the barrels of my rifle over the top of the hillock and slowly raised my head. The stag was standing nearly broadside on, looking straight at me. I fired. There was a thud as the bullet struck him, and he turned and galloped off, disappearing round a corner of the hill. I felt confident that the bullet had gone home; and we found the stag, who had been, as I thought, shot through the heart, lying dead about sixty yards from the place where he had been standing when I fired at him. He was a ten-pointer, and had a fine wide head with a good horn, and when we got him home we found, curiously enough, that his weight was exactly the same as that of the first stag that I had shot—15 stone clean.

Leaving the gillie to gralloch the stag, Maclennan and I now proceeded homewards, keeping a sharp look-out, and presently we saw a considerable number of stags, which were moving across the valley from one hill to another. We saw that if they were not disturbed they would probably cross a little hill not far from us, at a point from which we could, if we moved quickly, get to within shooting distance. So, running and walking quickly, we reached a spot about 140 to 150 yards from the point at which we expected the stags to pass, and arrived just in time. The stags were moving slowly almost broadside to us in single file, and were passing over a little knoll, at which point I had a fine chance of a shot.

“Take the second one, sir,” said Maclennan, who had his glass on them. I was just about to fire when he said: “No, not that one, but the third; he’s better.” Again I was on the point of shooting when Maclennan said: “Wait, sir, wait; take the fifth, he’s the best.” Directly the stag topped the knoll I fired, and he ran a few yards and fell down. On coming up to him I found it necessary to give him another bullet through the neck. We found that this stag was by far the best we had seen that day. He was a royal, in splendid condition, and weighed 17 stone 6 lb. clean. He had a magnificent head, with very thick black horns, and long points with white tips. After gralloching him, and tying a handkerchief to his horns to scare the eagles and foxes, we made our way back to the lodge. I had several good days in the forest subsequently, with one or other of the regular stalkers, but none more enjoyable than this one, in which, without the assistance of a regular stalker, I had the good fortune to kill four stags averaging over 16 stone clean, without heart or liver.