Decision taken for sake of good ‘elf’
Stalking is never all about the kill. For me, it is being out in wild, often unspoilt places. It’s about solitude, immersing myself in the landscape and pitting my wits against a quarry that is constantly on the alert and whose very existence is wholly reliant on instinct and finely tuned senses — senses we have long since lost.
Returning home empty-handed takes nothing away from a few hours of peace where I am moving slowly and blending in, mostly just watching and listening.
If I am ever joined on a stalk, there becomes an expectation of success. If it is no longer just me and the hound, a sort of self-induced pressure begins to build. Extra company changes the dynamic of a stalk, and you feel it is almost your duty to find and
