IN THE HIGHLANDS 115 



a curly retriever, made himself quite at home in front 

 of the kitchen fire or under the kitchen table, along with 

 various terriers, and there my pet otter used to enjoy 

 many a rough-and-tumble game with them ! 



How distinctly I remember my first day out on the 

 hill in August, 1855 ! I was armed with my little gun, 

 which weighed only three pounds; but I had a real 

 licence to shoot game, and this made me feel very 

 important and quite a man. Away Uilleam (William) 

 and I started, with great hopes. On our way we met 

 the poaching shepherd, Alasdair Mor nan Geadh (Big 

 Sandy of the Geese), who was known by that name 

 because he had been born at a place called Achadli nan 

 Geadh (Field of the Geese), on the shores of one of the 

 Inverewe lochs, where the greylags ate all the little 

 patches of oats. The only news he could give us was 

 that he was sure there were one or two coveys of black 

 game in Coille Aigeasgaig, the only bit of wood on the 

 whole property, which consisted of dwarf, scrubby birch 

 with lots of bracken growing between the trees. I was 

 for making straight for the wood, but Uilleam wisely 

 argued that we should keep it for dessert, and first of 

 all try the open moor by the side of Loch a Bhad 

 luachraich (the Lake of the Tuft of Rushes) . I remember 

 everything as well as if it were yesterday. All we and 

 Shot found in the open were two coveys (if they deserved 

 to be called such) — viz., a pair of grouse with one cheeper, 

 which Shot promptly caught in his big ugly mouth, and 

 another pair with two young birds, out of which small 

 lot I contrived to shoot the old cock as he ran in front of 

 me. Then of! we went to the haunt of the black grouse. 



