Haven't posted in a while but i've just been reading some of the other posts recounting tales of dangerous game, so, i thought i would bore you with my own encounter.
A chap at work that new i shot asked me if i would visit his brothers small holding to sort out some problem foxes that were taking chickens and worrying his Ostriches!
I visited the place and met the blokes wife she walked me around and i explained we would be calling in one night later in the week.
i asked if i should ring and tell her when but she said not to but i was to park by the house so she and her husband would know it was us.
A couple of nights later we were out lamping and decided to call in, as requested i parked my little Suzuki sj outside the farm house and we set off on foot, we checked all the fields around the buildings and had moved off toward the border of the property to try and call.
1/2 an hour in and no sign of a fox so my mate sparks up a fag and we are leaning on a gate whispering to each other about whether to call it a night or not, when i heard a very familiar click from behind us.
The click was the safety catch of a very jumpy hill farmers side by side, as i turned around i was looking straight down the barrels from about 8 feet, the guy was in full Swat mode and shouted drop yer f***kin guns and put your hands up. despite being terified i managed to say 'are you Dave'.
This seemed to do the trick and he realised we might not be chicken rustlers. i told him who we were and that his wife had said not to ring, he apologised and lowered the gun and then wanted to chat about our rifles and tell us all about foxes.
He had shot a couple with his shotgun and foolishly i asked 'what cartridges are you using? ' 3" no 3s came the reply, this made me feel sick (as if shot size made a difference) and i went absolutely ballistic and told him i was going straight home to ring the police.
Later when the shock had worn off i thought better of it but i went back to talk to him to ask him what did he think we were stealing (we were 1000m from his house) and explain how stupid he had been.
unbelivbly he asked me when we were coming back to shoot the fox.
I learned a hard leson that night.
allways pack spare underwear when lamping new ground.