What with one thing and another, I see it has been September, since I was last out with the rifle.
This morning was meant to be a bit of a cull day, on one of the properties we manage.
One of the Guns, has to cancel late last night for reasons as yet unknown. Another of the Guns has to cancel for reasons very well known.
That leaves three of us. The other two have a couple of hours drive to the location, I am a wee bit more fortunate in that I am minutes away.
I check the forecast (as I always do) and note it is hovering around the -2 mark. I note this. I do not remember this. This faux pas will almost ruin the morning.
Any hoo.
0500 hours, I am in the seat and scanning for wildlife - between then and light, I see fox, squirrels, badgers, Doe and the occasional Cock Pheasant.
By 0600 I have eaten my sandwich (not terribly nice, but then I made it).
Note to self.
Do not row with your wife the evening before you are due to go out stalking - if you do, she will not make you her delicious sandwiches, and you will find yourself eating something that resembles an old flip-flop, and does not taste much better.
Gradually, the sun wins its battle with the moon, and I can see another beautiful day in the countryside as it begins its short life.
It is indeed a cold and frosty morning. I have more layers than a wedding cake, and I am also squeezed into my onesie.
At about 0800 (ironically sunrise), I start to see deer. I see a Muntjac on her travels in a shaw about 140 yards away, but she is on a mission and she is not stopping. I can see Roe over in the next field, where one of the other Guns is placed.
At 0803, a shot. 0804 a second shot. Is that a deer and a follow up shot or is it two deer? I find out later it is indeed two Roe Doe.
On a cull day, I would not normally dismount from my allotted seat, but I am confident that I can do so today, and just make ground towards the neighbouring fields without spooking anyone else's deer, or (more importantly) becoming anyone else's backstop.
Dismount I do. I shoulder the Vorn rucksack, cradle the rifle and reach for the sticks. I have a long reach, I am a big and tall bloke, but not even I can reach back as far as my garage - which is where I have left my sticks.
I soldier on.
I have only made about 100 yards, when there, sticking his head out of the shaw, is a nice Muntjac.
Slowly dropping to the icy grass, I extend both bipods and go prone.
I try and get behind the rifle but the Vorn is preventing me from lifting my head. I am fcuked.
Rolling slowly onto my back, I somehow wriggle out of the Vorn, in a feat that would have made Harry Houdini blush .
I get back on the rifle and the Buck is still there. He is looking at me and trying to work me out. Good luck with that...
Drawing a bead on him, I place the crosshairs in the centre of his neck. I go to gently push the safety forward into the 'fire' position, and nothing happens.
I try again. Still nothing. I drop the magazine, cycle the round out and reload and chamber the round again. The Buck is apparently mesmerised by this idiot dicking about on the icy mud and grass.
Then I identify the problem. Do you remember when I said that I had noted the weather (-2) but neglected to remember it?
Well now I did. -2 degrees. The safety of the rifle was frozen on 'safe'. Somehow, I crawled up the side of the rifle and cupping my hands on the catch, blew enough hot air onto it, to get elected into Parliament.
Amazingly, it worked. I managed to free the catch and returned to the business in hand - which was dealing with perhaps the unluckiest Muntjac in the UK.
I did a suspended gralloch and carried him back to the truck.
He would larder at 13Kg.
Now I can't hang about - I have a walked-up day on my wee shoot and I am taking the Muzzle Loader out for another bash at 'breaking my duck"...
This morning was meant to be a bit of a cull day, on one of the properties we manage.
One of the Guns, has to cancel late last night for reasons as yet unknown. Another of the Guns has to cancel for reasons very well known.
That leaves three of us. The other two have a couple of hours drive to the location, I am a wee bit more fortunate in that I am minutes away.
I check the forecast (as I always do) and note it is hovering around the -2 mark. I note this. I do not remember this. This faux pas will almost ruin the morning.
Any hoo.
0500 hours, I am in the seat and scanning for wildlife - between then and light, I see fox, squirrels, badgers, Doe and the occasional Cock Pheasant.
By 0600 I have eaten my sandwich (not terribly nice, but then I made it).
Note to self.
Do not row with your wife the evening before you are due to go out stalking - if you do, she will not make you her delicious sandwiches, and you will find yourself eating something that resembles an old flip-flop, and does not taste much better.
Gradually, the sun wins its battle with the moon, and I can see another beautiful day in the countryside as it begins its short life.
It is indeed a cold and frosty morning. I have more layers than a wedding cake, and I am also squeezed into my onesie.
At about 0800 (ironically sunrise), I start to see deer. I see a Muntjac on her travels in a shaw about 140 yards away, but she is on a mission and she is not stopping. I can see Roe over in the next field, where one of the other Guns is placed.
At 0803, a shot. 0804 a second shot. Is that a deer and a follow up shot or is it two deer? I find out later it is indeed two Roe Doe.
On a cull day, I would not normally dismount from my allotted seat, but I am confident that I can do so today, and just make ground towards the neighbouring fields without spooking anyone else's deer, or (more importantly) becoming anyone else's backstop.
Dismount I do. I shoulder the Vorn rucksack, cradle the rifle and reach for the sticks. I have a long reach, I am a big and tall bloke, but not even I can reach back as far as my garage - which is where I have left my sticks.
I soldier on.
I have only made about 100 yards, when there, sticking his head out of the shaw, is a nice Muntjac.
Slowly dropping to the icy grass, I extend both bipods and go prone.
I try and get behind the rifle but the Vorn is preventing me from lifting my head. I am fcuked.
Rolling slowly onto my back, I somehow wriggle out of the Vorn, in a feat that would have made Harry Houdini blush .
I get back on the rifle and the Buck is still there. He is looking at me and trying to work me out. Good luck with that...
Drawing a bead on him, I place the crosshairs in the centre of his neck. I go to gently push the safety forward into the 'fire' position, and nothing happens.
I try again. Still nothing. I drop the magazine, cycle the round out and reload and chamber the round again. The Buck is apparently mesmerised by this idiot dicking about on the icy mud and grass.
Then I identify the problem. Do you remember when I said that I had noted the weather (-2) but neglected to remember it?
Well now I did. -2 degrees. The safety of the rifle was frozen on 'safe'. Somehow, I crawled up the side of the rifle and cupping my hands on the catch, blew enough hot air onto it, to get elected into Parliament.
Amazingly, it worked. I managed to free the catch and returned to the business in hand - which was dealing with perhaps the unluckiest Muntjac in the UK.
I did a suspended gralloch and carried him back to the truck.
He would larder at 13Kg.
Now I can't hang about - I have a walked-up day on my wee shoot and I am taking the Muzzle Loader out for another bash at 'breaking my duck"...
Last edited by a moderator:
Ps keep em coming 
