Periodically our local hunt organise a ‘Fun Ride’ in and around the forest adjoining my land. I applaud such events for in this way youngsters as well as older people who ride are brought into contact with the sport which needs all the support it can muster following the ban on hunting with hounds.

I was aware this year that there was an increased following in this event by the number of vehicles parked in the vicinity and riders using the bridle paths in view of my house. Fortunately for all concerned the weather was kind in the midst of another wet and dismal summer.

On such occasions I wait until all is finished before walking my dogs up in the forest. There is always the chance that young riders and their mounts might be unnerved by a couple of exuberant Springer Spaniels so I prefer to err on the side of safety.

My eldest son, who now plays a role in the stalking here, was staying with us along with my ten-year-old grandson. I spent the day catching up on outstanding jobs in and around the place. I always find that numerous small jobs, and one seems to find more once a start is made on the proposed schedule, is more tiring than working on a single major task.

Towards late afternoon, when it seemed that all those who had taken part in the Fun Ride had gone home, we decided to exercise the dogs. We had gone less than a 100 yards up the bridle path which leads to the forest when something caught my eye about 100 yards away, amidst the tall grass of a field on our left which was due to be cut for hay in the imminent future.

My first thought was that the rusty colour of its fur was a fox but when it stood up I saw that it was a roebuck. It had undoubtedly heard us and stood facing us, undecided what to do.

It had been lying down resting but now, aware that humans were in the vicinity, it moved away some distance and then commenced to graze. Doubtless it was used to people and dogs using that track and in no way felt threatened.

In all probability this was the same buck which I had encountered here a week or two previously during the rut, one that had been engrossed in the scent of a doe and had approached to within 25 yards before becoming aware of my presence.

Anyway, we continued our walk, somewhat longer than usual, but there was no sign of any more deer in the forest. We returned home and during a somewhat belated evening meal young Gregory voiced his enthusiasm for an evening stalk.

“It could be that the riders have moved some deer out of the wood like the one in the field,” Gavin stated. He, too, was obviously keen to try for a buck on our own land.

I groaned inwardly. I was very tired and for once the prospect was not appealing. I had in mind an outing on the following evening but clearly this would not satisfy a young boy so I sought a compromise.

“You take Gregory with you for an hour,” I suggested. “And then we'll try again tomorrow evening.”

My suggestion was greeted with approval and Gavin and Gregory made ready to set off. The latter has shown a keen interest in shooting sports from an early age but is still some way off having his first .410 due to his small stature. Instead he carries a training gun, a cap-firing miniature facsimile of a hammerless shotgun which weighs just over 2lb.

This has taught him all aspects of safety and has proved to be an invaluable initiation into both stalking and shooting for it gives him a sense of participation. These guns have been available from Alastair Cowan for around 20 years and are priced at around £42 (tel: 01225-466910).

Likewise my young grandson has a full set of camouflage clothing and boots. Thus kitted out the pair set off, bound for the high seat, Gavin carrying the .308 and binoculars. Hindsight can lead to frustration and how I wish I had accompanied them on that short outing!

BIG CATS

It was around eight o'clock on a clear evening with the sun beginning to dip behind the mountains to the west. There was about an hour of good daylight remaining as Gavin, with Gregory at his heels, made their way stealthily through my small wood towards the high seat. They paused to listen and that was when they heard a rustling in the undergrowth ahead of them.

Gavin chambered a round and stood at the ready. It might be fox or badger, it sounded too heavy for a rabbit but it could just be a roebuck. Then the creature emerged on to the recently scythed ride and in my son's own words he froze and could not believe what he saw.

It was a black cat. At first he thought it was a hunting domestic moggie except that it was about three times the size of the average household feline with a tail around a foot long. It saw them, turned and crouched, regarding them with large green eyes, mouth agape in what could only be interpreted as an aggressive snarl.

Gavin held his rifle at the ready whilst behind him Gregory began to shake uncontrollably. Then, almost casually, the creature turned, bounded away and disappeared from view down the steep hillside.

“I was virtually having kittens!” Gavin confessed when they returned at dusk, not having seen a sign of any other species of wildlife. Even the local rabbit population was conspicuous by its absence.

“My main worry was Gregory as if it had attacked my chances of shooting it at close range with a scoped rifle were minimal. One thing was certain, it was angry at us being there and disturbing its hunting.”

So just what was this animal which my son and grandson came upon?

Over the years there have been four undoubted sightings on my land of caracal, another which had all the appearances of a puma in 2002 and, more recently, a very large feline which was believed to be a panther.

This latest was the smallest of them all and the only possible conclusion is that it was an offspring of the latter. There have been reported sightings in the past of big cats with cubs and, whilst I am prepared to keep an open mind, this seems to be the only possibility.

If this is so then it is somewhat disturbing to think that these mythical creatures are breeding in our midst.

In view of the numerous reported sightings of big cats in the UK, and the fact that those released into the wild at the time of the Dangerous Wild Animals Act of 1976, then the original cats have long passed their life span. They must have therefore bred and we could well now have a species indigenous to Britain amongst us.

Exciting? I think it is rather disturbing and I shall certainly be increasing my vigilance from now on.