The stag season has come to an end here in Scotland now, and while in years gone by I’ve spent this time of year among the heather listening to the reds roar, this season I found myself in quieter company under the shady canopy of sitka spruce. The company I speak of is a scowling stranger to these lands, introduced during the 1800s, a stealthy beast that dwells in the places folk rarely go. Lurking in the deepest of plantations, these ghosts of the forest go unseen by most, and as a result have built themselves a reputation as one of the UK’s most challenging and most enjoyable quarries to pursue. I am, of course, talking about sika.
Up until last year I had only had fleeting experiences with this species, but throughout my career the sighting of a sika has seemed to be
