A game of two halves

5th October I booked some Red Stalking in Dumfries having never shot anything other than Roe before and even then only 3 in total to say I was excited was an understatement. The day before I had unpacked and repacked the gear bag numerous times. Checked everything fitted ok on the rifle then double checked, practised my dry firing in the hall and even stopped off for a third zero check on the drive up ( having never moved a muscle from the first time). Checked into my little bnb and spent a restless night excited about getting amongst them.

5am roll call bellowed out from my phone and I duly dragged my by now almost zombie like backside ( been away roughly for 24 hours at this point such was the level of excitement) out to the car to meet my guide. After a quick chat we drove to the ground a bit of forestry at the base of the open hill. Instantly from out of the pitch black I could here these bloody strange sounding cows making this god awful racket ( hint they weren't cows) after learning they were not cows but big red stags my excitement was now to the point of bursting. As the light lifted we could see a nice 8 pointer moving away through the undergrowth about 200m away. Whilst we could see him he was clearly going the opposite way to us and not going to offer a shot, however out the corner of my eye I spied a monster stag chasing his hinds in a field approximately 400/500m away on another tract of land. He was big and slowly making his way towards the bottom parcel of our land so after a quick nod and inevitable how much is that question we decided to have a pop at him. Just as we were about to move position a nice 8 pointer pops up right below the track about 70 yards from us, sitting stone still he comes marching straight towards us in blissful ignorance. I was thinking about the other chap so didn't really pay heed until he was quite close by which point when I tried to get the rifle on him the movement spooked him and off he toddled.

Now let me tell you how I was feeling right now, if I said I was pumped I think I would have been lying. In all honestly you could have lined up Ali, Tyson, Klitcko and Joshua and I would have had a crack at them all such was the vigour flowing at breakneck speed through my veins.

Casually we sloped off down the bank to try cut off the monster we had seen earlier. It was seriously heavy going and we probably travelled close to 500m across the cut wood and thigh deep bog before we approached a blind corner and bumped two hinds. Getting quickly onto a tree stump I starting looking for my prize but whilst I could hear him was left without a shot. Looking through my scope at the hinds it was clear I had a little bit of a shake going on. We carried on stalking round the outside of the wood and could hear numerous roars emanating from heavily wooded bottom section of the ground. As we approached where we thought they were it went deadly silent, so we crept on very slowly and methodically. Then out of nowhere we heard a huge roar probably about 100 yards away from us so sat down in what I later realised was a bloody 18 inch deep stream. Minutes seemed like hours in the silence before we heard a crash to our right, getting the rifle onto the sticks I clicked off the first stage safety and readied myself for the 80 yard shot down the ride.

Imagine my surprise when out stepped this whacking great beast with a rack the size of an Elk and a body to match no more than 50 ft from where we were crouched down, not sure who was more surprised me the red deer virgin or this monstrous 14pt behemoth standing his ground and grunting with full fury at these minuscule intruders in his patch. Walking straight up to me he finally came to rest about 25ft away by which point I was so transfixed I could literally see every hair on his face with my naked eye let alone look down the scope. Having never shot anything other than side on the prospect of dumping one into his neck or chest suddenly overwhelmed me. I cant for the life of me think of when I have even shot a rabbit at 25ft let alone a whacking great stag. Sure enough before I could compose myself he made one finally grunt and disappeared into the bushes. What an experience and whilst I was left massively disappointed for not shooting him its a memory that I will never forget. Not many people can say the first red stag they had an opportunity to shoot was 14+ points and stood 25ft away threatening to charge you. Sadly I didn't video it which is even more annoying as I normally have my go pro taped to my head but given I was expecting to see shooting out at range I forgot to take it out my pocket. Sure enough that was the only chance of the morning stalk.

A brief recess and it was back out for the afternoon whilst on the way to another perm we spied another group of deer which were fallow, on closer inspection we couldn't see a buck but thought its on the way we may as well have a sneak in. Duly crept up on the to about 150m but couldn't see a buck anywhere however I spied the diminutive roe lurking behind and duly smoked him. Any other day I would definitely have left him but he helped calm my nerves immensely. The shot was about 180m but he dropped on the spot to the .270. A quick gralloch and we continued on our merry way.

At the new ground the weather closed in and the wind seemingly brought on the onset of darkness even quicker than usual. We made our way up trying to get around the wind onto a group of hinds which we did. After a few minutes out stepped this beautiful looking 8pt beast probably close to 300 yards away. I settled down with the scope composing myself and waiting for him to work through the vegetation into shooting range. We could see his path so knew where he was going to be. On my guides instructions I got ready for the shot and out he stepped, I was about to pull the trigger but just as he did a youngster got in the way and obscured the shot. That was to be the only chance of the evening gone in a heartbeat. I left feeling a strange mix of emotion elated, ecstatic, financially relieved and above all else better for the experience.

A quick chat and thank you to the man and agreed to do it again if he had a cancellation in the upcoming weeks.
 
Roll on two weeks and after being ripped by my buddies about bottling it when stalking I got the call to come up and try again. Evening then morning stalk. It was a **** night just like the other times. Windy, rainy and fading light. We had a rough idea where they were settled so just tried to get on them from out position about 1km out. A few small roars but by this point I wasn't feeling overly helpful but my man assured me that if we were patient they would make their appearance. In between us and where we thought they would go lay a small brook so we used its naturally terrain to walk knee deep at times up the brook to get into position. With light failing fast we stalked around the hill to where we could see some hinds. I could just make out the stag in the tree line but he wasn't coming out just yet. After a short wait we heard a roar behind us and decided to investigate so slowly walked back the way we had come. A smattering of hinds quickly bolted into the field chased by a young stag who couldn't possibly have made the noise. Settling down we heard a loud below and this big ole boy came out and shoed off the youngster. This was it about 180m downhill lay in a cowpat I took my shot and heard a whompf as the shot struck. He didn't move a muscle and in the now poor light the guide saw the youngster bolt and thought it was him but there stood my prize unmoving. The shot sounded back I knew it wasn't perfect and my heart was in my mouth. Up until now everything I had shot with my .270 was bowled over and done but this majestic beast was motionless just stood there like a drunk starring aimless at a club doorway. In my mind I was thinking oh god I have hit him in the guts he's going to run and I'm going to get a whacking great bill. Then he dropped first to one knee then to both coming to rest antlers in the ground with him bum in the air ( he was dead by this point I had double lunged him), from our position we couldn't tell if he was alive or not so another shot to the neck to make sure and that was that. At this stage I had no idea of the size and the past 30s though it seemed like an eternity seemed a blur I couldn't remember diddly. Walking up to him he was massive and a big old boy. He jumped slightly after the youngster just as I took the shot but thankfully was far enough forward to still deal a death blow.

Super chuffed and what an experience after being pretty bummed out the first time. But bugger me I had no idea how big and how tough these animals were even though bizarrely I see them normally once every 2 weeks behind a fence when I go clay shooting. Not sure of the weight but even with two of us on wet ground we could barely budge him he was massive but someway smaller than the very first red stag I got eyes on. Oh well always next time ;) First time boiling out the skulls and pretty happy with the results I think I might even keep them this way to remind me of the trip :)

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