Still waiting on my FAC so actually shooting something is off the cards. Hopefully you'll still consider this worth reading. However, after a long day at work (stayed late doing admin), I went to once again fail to find a queen I'm trying to replace in one of my bee colonies and to put the hens away on the way home.
My dad happened to be passing so dropped in to say hello. Consequently it was the evening one of the cockerels repeatedly gave me the run around- just because there was an audience. After some amusement, Dad and I both decided we were knackered and it was time to head to our respective homes, which somehow translated into getting the thermos out for a cuppa.
As I waited for the tea, brewed at 08:00, to reach a drinkable temperature, I had a feeling it might be worth looking into one of the neighbouring fields and seeing if any deer might be called in. A different feeling to opposed to my usual forlornly hopeful 'I'll have a look' feeling, which I've ignored of late- this was more prickly.
Dad, who is not into country sports, rather unenthusiastically crunched his way over the gravel from the car towards a patch of grass where I was, from which the nearest neighbouring field could be seen. I call it a patch of grass, it was grass once- parched stubble, the mass graveyard of a lawn, is more accurate currently.
Whilst dad's foot generated din approached me, there was movement on the edge of the field as something ambled into view from out of sight. I grabbed the binos and confirmed a roe, which promptly paused and looked in our direction as if asking for an explanation of the distinctly antisocial gravel-induced breach of the peace.
Handing the binos to dad, despite his quietly murmured (muttered?) protest about not being interested and needing to get going, I crept to the hedge looking for a strand of grass that might vaguely resemble the colour green, finding one several metres later. Dad's unimpressed stance turned to a murmur of surprised appreciation as the first squeak on the grass led to our observer starting towards us eagerly, bounding perhaps 15m closer whilst maintaining the backstop of the field rising away behind him.
Time slowed, the buck came a little closer in fits and starts and spent a good few moments patiently waiting in between my sqeaks as I repeatedly and frustratingly lost tension on the blade of grass, him eventually coming to perhaps 50-75m from me. My squeaks sadly deteriorated further and he ambled off back towards whence he'd wandered but it was good to know that I theoretically could have had dinner (FAC, firearm and permission notwithstanding!), even if my doe impressions aren't quite as desirable as the real thing.
I explained to dad the why behind what had just happened. We then finished up and went our separate ways with a new shared memory. It was worth staying late at work and being evaded by my stock just for that.
My dad happened to be passing so dropped in to say hello. Consequently it was the evening one of the cockerels repeatedly gave me the run around- just because there was an audience. After some amusement, Dad and I both decided we were knackered and it was time to head to our respective homes, which somehow translated into getting the thermos out for a cuppa.
As I waited for the tea, brewed at 08:00, to reach a drinkable temperature, I had a feeling it might be worth looking into one of the neighbouring fields and seeing if any deer might be called in. A different feeling to opposed to my usual forlornly hopeful 'I'll have a look' feeling, which I've ignored of late- this was more prickly.
Dad, who is not into country sports, rather unenthusiastically crunched his way over the gravel from the car towards a patch of grass where I was, from which the nearest neighbouring field could be seen. I call it a patch of grass, it was grass once- parched stubble, the mass graveyard of a lawn, is more accurate currently.
Whilst dad's foot generated din approached me, there was movement on the edge of the field as something ambled into view from out of sight. I grabbed the binos and confirmed a roe, which promptly paused and looked in our direction as if asking for an explanation of the distinctly antisocial gravel-induced breach of the peace.
Handing the binos to dad, despite his quietly murmured (muttered?) protest about not being interested and needing to get going, I crept to the hedge looking for a strand of grass that might vaguely resemble the colour green, finding one several metres later. Dad's unimpressed stance turned to a murmur of surprised appreciation as the first squeak on the grass led to our observer starting towards us eagerly, bounding perhaps 15m closer whilst maintaining the backstop of the field rising away behind him.
Time slowed, the buck came a little closer in fits and starts and spent a good few moments patiently waiting in between my sqeaks as I repeatedly and frustratingly lost tension on the blade of grass, him eventually coming to perhaps 50-75m from me. My squeaks sadly deteriorated further and he ambled off back towards whence he'd wandered but it was good to know that I theoretically could have had dinner (FAC, firearm and permission notwithstanding!), even if my doe impressions aren't quite as desirable as the real thing.
I explained to dad the why behind what had just happened. We then finished up and went our separate ways with a new shared memory. It was worth staying late at work and being evaded by my stock just for that.
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nice write up.
