I went out this morning with the express intention of bagging a roe buck using my BSA Mod E in .303 calibre. I've shot muntjac, a few roe does and a fox with it, but it had never been pointed at a roe buck.
All started well. Soon after starting my stalk I saw a roe buck chasing a doe through the sugar beet about 200 yards away. I quickly made my way to the hedgerow of the field they were in to see if they were still there. I got there and couldn't see hide nor hair of them. I was about ready to accept that I was too late and they'd run out of the field when I looked up the hedge and saw the buck strolling back towards me. I put the rifle over my sticks and delivered a text book neck shot at 50 paces. Needless to say, he dropped like a sack of the proverbial! Well, a rifle's first roe buck deserves a photo, does it not? I got the phone out only to discover that the battery was flat. Bu99er!!
Anyway; moving swiftly on. A little later and I crossed paths with a muntjac buck. Shot number two resulted in a solid hit, but the buck darted into some thick gorse. The blood trail to the gorse was easily followed so I made sure the dog got a good sniff of it and let him off into the gorse to pin the muntjac if it was still mobile.
Now then, whenever I've mentioned Sinbad in the past it's always been in glowing terms, describing the archetypal, "bad dog comes good" type story. Today the little bleeder reverted to type. He ran straight past the carcass of the downed buck, which I'd seen almost as soon as I let him off , and chased after a hare that got up. It took him 20 minutes to come back and during that time I could hear him yapping as he was running all round the wood. When he got back he was filthy, soaking (the wood is criss-crossed with drainage channels) and knackered.
While he was away I gralloched the buck, and when he got back I called it a day and came home via the game dealer's.
The dog has done nothing but sleep since we got back about 13:00. It's now 22:40 and he's still curled up in his bed, oblivious.