Three Sundays ago, around ten O'clock in the evening, I came home from a damp, drizzly afternoon in Oxfordshire with Willie_Gunn, where I had attempted to erase the shame of my failed foray after roebucks in June, for which I had failed to wake up at 3am as planned. As the train approached my destination, the skies turned leaden, a few drops of rain started to fall. As we returned to the Bluebell Wood - which I am sure has a name, but that's how my mind has catalogued it - the wind rose too, the trees started swaying, and it was all looking quite unappealing for furry wildlife. Still, we persevered, and around half an hour before sunset, W_G spotted a single muntjac through the murk, on the opposite side of a field. We made our way downhill and around, trying to creep around it, checking every so often that it was still there, which became harder as I kept having dry the lenses of my binoculars and couldn't quite tell whether the focus was poorly adjusted or whether I was just looking through water and low-light drizzle. Nature decided for us though, as by the time we arrived, it had gone. We waited at the end of a ride for any passing muntjac for a further half an hour, but I started to lose the ability to see through my 1960s scope, my jeans were soaking wet and then it was dark. On the way back, W_G suggested we try again before the end of the month and the close of the roebuck season. As a result, I did not write up this outing in my shooting diary, hoping that the second half of it would make for a better story.
Three weeks later, Storm Brian had been blowing. We only caught the edge of it in London, but it was windy and wet enough that I hadn't see the flicker of a grey squirrel's tail in the garden for three or four days. But on the Sunday morning, the wind abated, the clouds parted once in a while, and I spotted a squirrel running along the fence. Domestic duties prevented me from reaching for the air rifle, but my Squirrel Barometer was showing wildlife movement again, which boded well. Even better, I found that I had my 28th squirrel of the year caught in my vegetable patch cage trap: you may laugh at my suburban reconnaissance technique, but we must learn to read our environment! Of course on its own, watching squirrels is insufficient preparation. What I really needed were some proper stalking trousers, and so on the Friday I had headed to Decathlon in Canada Water where, after grumbling for half an hour that they didn't actually stock any of the Solognac hunting range advertised on their website, I spotted the giant sign that said "More sports upstairs: gold, hunting, petanque etc". So on Sunday, suitably kitted out in proper stalking trousers and equipped with readings from the Squirrel Barometer, I headed back out to a different patch of ground. This time, the forecast was correct, the sun came out, the wind died down, and after a few days huddled under cover, the deer came out.
2017-10-23_10-50-48 by pinemarten, on Flickr
We stalked over a hill and down onto a ride where W_G slowed to his trademark glacial pace, and with good reason: at the bottom of the slope, he spotted a little muntjac buck just inside the wood. At first it responded to the Buttolo, then ran off up the slope. We waited for a further fifteen minutes or so, and it reappeared, head perched up high, trying to ascertain what we were. With the drilling up on the sticks I tracked it, but two branches were waving in front of it. W_G whispered to me to slowly edge a metre or so to the left where he had a clear view. I did so and sure enough, the muntjac was still there, still peering unseeingly towards us, at an angle but offering a shot. I placed the thick post of the reticle on the front of its' right shoulder to take account of the angle, squeezed and BANG! Off it ran to the right, about ten metres, before collapsing behind a stand of trees.
2017-10-22_08-06-27 by pinemarten, on Flickr
I fumbled around in my pocket for another cartridge (I need to improve this), and we headed into the wood. There it lay, about thirty metres away, in some brambles.
IMAG3174 by pinemarten, on Flickr
After a somewhat messy gralloch due to the bullet entering as planned and travelling diagonally through the deer, we decided to keep stalking. After all, I have no idea when I'll have another good chance and Artemis seemed to be smiling on us that day.
At the edge of the wood we came upon grass field which we glassed for a while. I spotted a grey brown hump at the crest of the hill but dismissed it as a log. Five minutes later, W_G said he'd spotted a roebuck: it was the log. It turned out to be accompanied by at least three female logs. There was no safe shot, we were too far and the wind was all wrong. But we decided to try and walk around the field and approach it from the other side. While we were working out our cunning plan, another muntjac buck appeared right where our planned approach would have taken us. He too had female company! So, did I want to keep trying for the roebuck, or take the muntjac? Well here was a dilemma I'd never had before! I had no answers! I mean, that muntjac was broadside on, oblivious, maybe a hundred metres away, an easy prone shot. But then, I already had one in the bag. And if I was going to take the trouble to take another deer home and do all the larder work, messing up my domestic environment in the process, it was going to be a roebuck. At which point, Artemis decided I'd had my chance and switched the lights off.
Once again, I'd like to thank Willie_Gunn for his invitations, eyes, and guiding. I look forward to returning for a stalk at Bluebell Time. Also, next time a shot like that presents itself, with a stock-still deer at thirty metres, I will shoot it in the neck. I'm not a novice anymore an that was pretty unpleasant lardering work. And maybe I should have taken that second muntjac. But maybe it's best not to fill the freezer too much so that I have a decent excuse to come back. Oh, and wear the right trousers, and watch the squirrels.
IMAG3176 by pinemarten, on Flickr
Three weeks later, Storm Brian had been blowing. We only caught the edge of it in London, but it was windy and wet enough that I hadn't see the flicker of a grey squirrel's tail in the garden for three or four days. But on the Sunday morning, the wind abated, the clouds parted once in a while, and I spotted a squirrel running along the fence. Domestic duties prevented me from reaching for the air rifle, but my Squirrel Barometer was showing wildlife movement again, which boded well. Even better, I found that I had my 28th squirrel of the year caught in my vegetable patch cage trap: you may laugh at my suburban reconnaissance technique, but we must learn to read our environment! Of course on its own, watching squirrels is insufficient preparation. What I really needed were some proper stalking trousers, and so on the Friday I had headed to Decathlon in Canada Water where, after grumbling for half an hour that they didn't actually stock any of the Solognac hunting range advertised on their website, I spotted the giant sign that said "More sports upstairs: gold, hunting, petanque etc". So on Sunday, suitably kitted out in proper stalking trousers and equipped with readings from the Squirrel Barometer, I headed back out to a different patch of ground. This time, the forecast was correct, the sun came out, the wind died down, and after a few days huddled under cover, the deer came out.
2017-10-23_10-50-48 by pinemarten, on FlickrWe stalked over a hill and down onto a ride where W_G slowed to his trademark glacial pace, and with good reason: at the bottom of the slope, he spotted a little muntjac buck just inside the wood. At first it responded to the Buttolo, then ran off up the slope. We waited for a further fifteen minutes or so, and it reappeared, head perched up high, trying to ascertain what we were. With the drilling up on the sticks I tracked it, but two branches were waving in front of it. W_G whispered to me to slowly edge a metre or so to the left where he had a clear view. I did so and sure enough, the muntjac was still there, still peering unseeingly towards us, at an angle but offering a shot. I placed the thick post of the reticle on the front of its' right shoulder to take account of the angle, squeezed and BANG! Off it ran to the right, about ten metres, before collapsing behind a stand of trees.
2017-10-22_08-06-27 by pinemarten, on FlickrI fumbled around in my pocket for another cartridge (I need to improve this), and we headed into the wood. There it lay, about thirty metres away, in some brambles.
IMAG3174 by pinemarten, on FlickrAfter a somewhat messy gralloch due to the bullet entering as planned and travelling diagonally through the deer, we decided to keep stalking. After all, I have no idea when I'll have another good chance and Artemis seemed to be smiling on us that day.
At the edge of the wood we came upon grass field which we glassed for a while. I spotted a grey brown hump at the crest of the hill but dismissed it as a log. Five minutes later, W_G said he'd spotted a roebuck: it was the log. It turned out to be accompanied by at least three female logs. There was no safe shot, we were too far and the wind was all wrong. But we decided to try and walk around the field and approach it from the other side. While we were working out our cunning plan, another muntjac buck appeared right where our planned approach would have taken us. He too had female company! So, did I want to keep trying for the roebuck, or take the muntjac? Well here was a dilemma I'd never had before! I had no answers! I mean, that muntjac was broadside on, oblivious, maybe a hundred metres away, an easy prone shot. But then, I already had one in the bag. And if I was going to take the trouble to take another deer home and do all the larder work, messing up my domestic environment in the process, it was going to be a roebuck. At which point, Artemis decided I'd had my chance and switched the lights off.
Once again, I'd like to thank Willie_Gunn for his invitations, eyes, and guiding. I look forward to returning for a stalk at Bluebell Time. Also, next time a shot like that presents itself, with a stock-still deer at thirty metres, I will shoot it in the neck. I'm not a novice anymore an that was pretty unpleasant lardering work. And maybe I should have taken that second muntjac. But maybe it's best not to fill the freezer too much so that I have a decent excuse to come back. Oh, and wear the right trousers, and watch the squirrels.
IMAG3176 by pinemarten, on Flickr
