The loud clacking of antlers echoed over the valley, almost drowning out the laughter of the onlookers. There isn’t too much that’s funnier than boys, armed with stag racks, battling it out like the young bucks they are.

The hut at High Peak is, without question, my favourite place on the station.

It reminds me of my childhood on Brule Lake in all of the best ways: quiet, off the grid, and isolated from the rushing world. Tom grilled a gorgeous piece of venison back-strap over the fire while Simon patiently explained the finer points of marksmanship to the children.

Gabe went first, with his hat cocked sideways and his long hair dripping into his field of vision. He swiped it back with one hand, squeezed and eye shut and took aim at the can… and missed. His brothers mocked and then encouraged him to try again. The beer can leapt from its stump amid cheers.

Ez was next, screwing up his face with his signature determination. His whole experience is an exercise in keeping up with the big guys. He’s quite committed to keeping pace. Uncle Dick chewed on his cigar and chuckled in the background. Ez “shushed” everyone, drew a bead on the can and pulled the trigger, erupting in a victorious war whoop. He hit the can. First shot. Better than Gabe. There never was a prouder peacock.

Elisha took his time, as he generally does, fiddling with the scope and testing the gun on both shoulders, ultimately deciding to shoot left handed (his dominant). Simon pointed out that when he gets a gun he’ll want one made for lefties, so he doesn’t get a hot shell casing in the face. He closed one eye, drew his mouth up on one side (just like his Dad) and took the shot. And missed. Elisha isn’t easily deterred. He furrowed his brow, adjusted his eye and aimed with care… and missed again. Gabe and Ez whispered to one another. Elisha ignored them. Third time’s a charm, the can bounced off into the tall grass.

Hannah was reticent to shoot. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she is loathe to be shown up by her brothers in anything, but especially in something that might be considered “masculine.” Nonetheless, we pressed her forward.

“Wanna make a bet?” I whispered to Tony. He raised one eyebrow, “No, because we both know she’ll wipe the floor with them!”

Uncle Dick muttered, “She’d better get her cheek down on that stock and her eye back off that scope….” He bears a crescent shaped scar between his eyes that says he knows of which he speaks.

One long breath out. Squeeze. Bang.

She nailed it. Tying Ezra for the top prize.

It’s hard to say what the children’s favourite part of High Peak was:

• The dinner with the Guild Family, filled with laughter, jokes and music
• The tour of the farm, in which Mr. Guild pulled a falcon out of thin air… rarer than the elusive Kiwi in NZ
• Firing the .22 at the hut
• Battling one another with old stag antlers
• Riding horses along the rim of the gorge
• Skipping stones with Simon on the river
• Pretending to cut carrots and potatoes into the hot tub with themselves to make soup
• Eating a wide swath through Bridget’s lovely offerings
• Or just hanging out with their Uncle Dick

The Guild family might be known for their conservation efforts, their fantastic farming, and their unique spot for hunting red stag, but their real gift is in their homespun hospitality. We arrived as collaborators, but we parted as friends. Thank you, James & Anna, Simon, Kate & little Paddy, Bridget, Tom & Amelia, for one of the most spectacular weeks in our family history! We can’t wait to return the favour when you find yourselves in our neck of the woods!