I usually enjoy reading these writeups so thought I should write a quick one of my own about my first ever Roebuck earlier this week.
I’ve been shooting for air rifles & shotguns for a while now, but deer stalking is still completely new to me, and without suitable permission of my own, I was very kindly invited out by someone generous enough to take a chance on an overenthusiastic beginner. With only a single Muntjac to my name, I was keen to graduate from snack-sized deer to something a bit more substantial. I was informed it was the start of the rut, and therefore my chances had increased dramatically
We started the evening testing out the new Buttolo call on the edge of what appeared to be an empty field of barley. Very quickly, we had a doe running circles around us trying to find the source of the noise, often coming within what felt like touching distance. An experience and feeling of excitement I don’t think I’ll ever forget!
After moving on, we saw a buck about 300 yards away. With only a head and neck visible, it was agreed it would be best if we try and creep a bit closer. With very little cover, this involved dropping to our hands and knees and crawling through 100 yards of nettles, rabbit droppings, and the sort of pointy stone you only seem to find with the soft parts of your knee. After the crawling was over, we were in a much better position to take the shot I was more than comfortable with. Unfortunately, temptation got the better of us, and we once again decided to test the Buttolo. With the buck barrelling towards us, it quickly became apparent just how unfamiliar I was with shooting sticks (a brand new concept to me). As I tried to pivot off one leg to track the deer, the other got caught in a large tuft of grass, leaving me and my rifle facing in the wrong direction entirely. By the time I had untangled myself and stopped swearing, the deer had finished laughing and proceeded through the cover on to the neighbouring farm.
Despite the embarrassment, we quickly spotted another buck at the far end of the same field and proceeded on our mission on all fours through further nettles, rabbit droppings, and some even pointier stones. Once in a suitable position and having checked the sticks would not be ambushed by any more tufts of grass, we set the sticks up and slowly rose to take the shot. The buck, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to have a rest and sit down, with only the tips of his ears and antlers showing above the barley. Despite our best efforts with the Buttolo, he remained entirely unimpressed. After several nervous minutes of waiting, he eventually stood and began wandering in our direction. The height of the barley meant only a neck shot was possible, and with him taking moments pause. I took the shot.
I was informed he dropped on the spot, but in our excitement, we forgot to pinpoint the exact location of the buck upon the field of barley (yes, the Sting reference is intentional). After navigating my way over the muddy dyke with the help of the shooting sticks, optimism, and some whispered prayers I wouldn’t lose my balance, I set off in search of the downed buck.
After several minutes of back and forth across the field, I had fully received my botany lesson in what I now know are called ‘awns’, and what happens when you mix them with inappropriate footwear and shorts. Fortunately, before too long I had found my buck. Less fortunately, it appears I wasn’t the first. He had a large, infected wound across his shoulders from a poorly placed shot from another hunter.
I wonder now if he hadn’t been lying down or ignoring the Buttolo out of caution or disinterest, but simply because he was unwell. Upon closer inspection, his ribs were beginning to show, and insects were visibly moving within the wound. While it’s unfortunate that the meat wasn’t safe for consumption (my main reason for stalking), I am glad that my first Roebuck still served a purpose, sparing him what would have likely been a slow and painful end.
A couple of days later, the nettle stings have faded, and my knees have forgiven me for crawling across what felt like a gravel trap at Silverstone. Lessons learned, mistakes made, but I cannot wait for the next opportunity!
I’ve been shooting for air rifles & shotguns for a while now, but deer stalking is still completely new to me, and without suitable permission of my own, I was very kindly invited out by someone generous enough to take a chance on an overenthusiastic beginner. With only a single Muntjac to my name, I was keen to graduate from snack-sized deer to something a bit more substantial. I was informed it was the start of the rut, and therefore my chances had increased dramatically
We started the evening testing out the new Buttolo call on the edge of what appeared to be an empty field of barley. Very quickly, we had a doe running circles around us trying to find the source of the noise, often coming within what felt like touching distance. An experience and feeling of excitement I don’t think I’ll ever forget!
After moving on, we saw a buck about 300 yards away. With only a head and neck visible, it was agreed it would be best if we try and creep a bit closer. With very little cover, this involved dropping to our hands and knees and crawling through 100 yards of nettles, rabbit droppings, and the sort of pointy stone you only seem to find with the soft parts of your knee. After the crawling was over, we were in a much better position to take the shot I was more than comfortable with. Unfortunately, temptation got the better of us, and we once again decided to test the Buttolo. With the buck barrelling towards us, it quickly became apparent just how unfamiliar I was with shooting sticks (a brand new concept to me). As I tried to pivot off one leg to track the deer, the other got caught in a large tuft of grass, leaving me and my rifle facing in the wrong direction entirely. By the time I had untangled myself and stopped swearing, the deer had finished laughing and proceeded through the cover on to the neighbouring farm.
Despite the embarrassment, we quickly spotted another buck at the far end of the same field and proceeded on our mission on all fours through further nettles, rabbit droppings, and some even pointier stones. Once in a suitable position and having checked the sticks would not be ambushed by any more tufts of grass, we set the sticks up and slowly rose to take the shot. The buck, meanwhile, had taken the opportunity to have a rest and sit down, with only the tips of his ears and antlers showing above the barley. Despite our best efforts with the Buttolo, he remained entirely unimpressed. After several nervous minutes of waiting, he eventually stood and began wandering in our direction. The height of the barley meant only a neck shot was possible, and with him taking moments pause. I took the shot.
I was informed he dropped on the spot, but in our excitement, we forgot to pinpoint the exact location of the buck upon the field of barley (yes, the Sting reference is intentional). After navigating my way over the muddy dyke with the help of the shooting sticks, optimism, and some whispered prayers I wouldn’t lose my balance, I set off in search of the downed buck.
After several minutes of back and forth across the field, I had fully received my botany lesson in what I now know are called ‘awns’, and what happens when you mix them with inappropriate footwear and shorts. Fortunately, before too long I had found my buck. Less fortunately, it appears I wasn’t the first. He had a large, infected wound across his shoulders from a poorly placed shot from another hunter.
I wonder now if he hadn’t been lying down or ignoring the Buttolo out of caution or disinterest, but simply because he was unwell. Upon closer inspection, his ribs were beginning to show, and insects were visibly moving within the wound. While it’s unfortunate that the meat wasn’t safe for consumption (my main reason for stalking), I am glad that my first Roebuck still served a purpose, sparing him what would have likely been a slow and painful end.
A couple of days later, the nettle stings have faded, and my knees have forgiven me for crawling across what felt like a gravel trap at Silverstone. Lessons learned, mistakes made, but I cannot wait for the next opportunity!
