No, this is not a "top shelf" account of Father's Day spent in Shepherds Market so hit my mate Red-Dot's archive if you require spills, frills and deals!
Having spent all week either pondering or acting upon the need to produce an FC compliant Deer Impact Assessment as befits my preference for over-engineering I felt the need to get back into the woods but this time with a pocketful of Varget & Brass rather than score card, notebook and camera equipped drone so, at 03:15hrs on Father's Day I slipped from bed , coaxed the kettle into life and hit the road with the Keef Hartley Band sending badgers and blackbirds, in equal numbers, scuttling for cover.
The vaulted canopy of the drive spread it's arms about me with a welcoming embrace as I slipped the Defender's second gear stick into four-wheel drive and slid down a bank into a bed of mud and bluebells well past their moment of attraction to all but a yearling roe.
With three rounds beneath the PRS Hunter medium action and one up the spout of the double cryo Kreiger .25, I slipped into the dense green woodland with aid of a single stick.
It wasn't long before I found myself glassing the first clearing and subject to the attentions of a ghostly pale and poorly educated fallow buck . Once the buck had moved on I mooched along the fence line and was just about to put the rifle down to cross a fence when a vixen slipped from a bramble patch and squatted on the adjacent mud track. There was no chance of moving to a better position for a BSRC approved sitting or kneeling shot so I slipped the rifle from shoulder and raised it into a leather knot on a single 7ft hazel stick and located the fox in the scope.
The Swarovski's crosshair swayed across the Vixen's chest whereupon I slipped the jewel trigger. The crack echoed around the Ridge and the fox fell over some 80 yards away. I glanced at my watch. It was 04:30hrs precisely and the day had started well.