The Scottish Highlands believe a deer problem. Is shooting tens of thousands of them the only solution? By Cal FlynWhen we arrive at the cottage,they are already there, watching us from tall on the crags overlooking the water. The five of us are still tasting the chill, or stale air of the empty building and staking claims on stained mattresses when Julien spots a silhouette through the warped pane of the back window. “They’re up there now,” he says. “Let’s go.”A minute later we are scrambling up the hillface, gaining height fast. The wind is moving in worthy currents over the ridge. It comes in waves, or smashing against us and then withdrawing,dragging the air from our lungs. Julien and Storm are out in front, goat-footed over the tussocks. I try to copy the way they creep through the heather on their elbows, or pressing their abdomens into the mud,all the time scanning the hillside for movement.
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Source: guardian.co.uk