Having done a lot of shotgun rough shooting with my Dad as a kid and never really taking to it, I have spent the last 20 years or so uninterested in fieldsports. That initial experience put me off hunting, but there has always been a little niggle at the back of my mind that I might be interested in deer stalking. Over the last couple of years I have done a fair bit of tracking and spotting deer whenever I have gotten the chance, with increasing success. As a result my desire to learn how to complete that experience by cleanly taking a deer has come forefront for me to the point where I decided to do something about it. While I had some time off work in September I booked a one-day deer stalking training course with James of County Deer Stalking. That was a very enjoyable and informative day, so once I got home I booked and have now just completed my first stalking outing with CDS in Hampshire.
It was an absolutely beautiful afternoon. Friday 17[SUP]th[/SUP] November - there’d been a Northerly wind overnight so we had our first proper frost in London. The sky was absolutely clear - a clean, dry blue. The autumn colours were still glowing albeit more thickly on the ground than in the canopy. In short, I belted down the A3 & M3 grateful to be leaving my job behind me and speeding into the day ahead. There is a point on the A3 heading South where the higgledy-piggledy post-War London sprawl stops dead, instantly changing to green. I always find myself taking a deep breath when I pass that point. Long live the Green Belt, is all I can say about that.
After a good ploughman’s lunch (ham, mature cheddar - classic) I headed to the rendezvous point and met Peter my stalking guide for the afternoon. Although we had never met he was oddly familiar to me due to the countless Youtube videos I’d watched beforehand. At my request Peter had setup a metal target in nearby woodland so that I could get some more rifle practice in before heading out for real. That was a very useful 45 minutes or so. On the previous training day it is fair to say that I struggled with the shooting. James and I had put it down to a combination of tiredness and a flinch I developed from all that 12-bore shooting I had done as a boy so I wanted to sort that out before shooting at live quarry, and if I wasn’t ready then I wouldn’t do it. The last thing I wanted on my first outing was a wounded animal.
In the first twenty minutes of practice getting the rifle off my shoulder and onto the Viper Quadflex sticks, I didn’t settle and I struggled to hold the rifle correctly without a huge amount of tension in my right arm, shoulder and neck. Peter pointed out that I was trying to hold it like a shotgun (duh), almost square on to the target as though ready to sweep and follow it left or right. I turned sideways on, removed my bulky coat and bingo, the light went on. I relaxed, the rifle settled into my shoulder and I made a 1 ½” group with four shots at about 60 yards. I was very glad to see that happen as I had been worried that I might simply be no good at shooting. I was using Peter’s gun - a Sako 85 synthetic stainless .308 with a rather heavy moderator and a huge Swarovski scope - I’m not sure which model. I left it at 8x and turned the dot on. It was zero’ed at 100yds and loaded with 150gr softpoints. The recoil was much lighter than I expected. I was looking forward to heading out.
We drove to a small piece of woodland where Peter had seen a few deer recently. I had in my mind to take a cull animal - a youngish roe or fallow doe. We stalked around the woods, skirting the quiet, heavy undergrowth. The sun was still high in the sky and the canopy was glorious - golds, umbers and oranges of all hues. The woods felt empty and still. The first deer we (Peter) spotted was a muntjac buck, 60 or so yards away. I mainly saw it’s rear end. Peter checked with me whether I was interested in taking it but I declined so we watched him amble off into the undergrowth. A hundred yards further on I spotted a muntjac doe, watching us again from about 50 yards inside the central undergrowth. The three of us stood, staring at each other for five minutes, neither of us moving a muscle until she settled and started nosing at the ground. This time we were the ones who wandered off first. I had never seen muntjac before so my day was made already. I never tire of those moments when the seemingly empty forest silently dissolves into a large wild animal, staring back at you.
A few minutes later we were winded by two roe does - they bounded off out of reach. We were in a bad position so we let them be and decided to try somewhere else. A couple of pheasants and a woodcock gave our game away further so we ploughed on back to the car.
The sun was no longer warming the ground as we arrived at a small group of fields that Peter knew to be a hotspot for roe. To be honest it looked rather unpromising when we arrived, and Peter began muttering his consternation that nothing was out browsing. We headed as slowly as we could up through the trees at the side of the first field and saw.. absolutely nothing. Some far off crows seemed to be laughing at us, just to complete the scene.
We headed out across the field, hoping to catch sight of something somewhere but again nothing. And more nothing. And then six roe, haring it across the field in front and away from us. They were on the run but we scuttled closer and I got up on the sticks just in case. Two does stopped to have a look. Peter directed me to take the smaller one if I was ready. I confirmed he meant the one on the right, took a second or two, then a buck ran straight in front. I paused, I waited again, then squeezed. The muzzle flipped - I wasn’t gripping it tightly enough - so I didn’t see the hit. Peter was smiling and assured me the young doe had dropped on the spot. I had been so focused on taking the shot that I hadn’t thought about the range until afterwards, when Peter told me it was easily 200 yards. We waited five minutes for everything to settle down. My heart was beating faster but I was not as agitated as I was concerned that I might be. I took a moment to think about what had just happened. In the run up to the day I had wondered how I would feel when the time came to take my first deer - whether I would refuse to take the shot, or be so shaky that I’d shoot badly. When the time came it was different to how I’d imagined. It had all seemed very smooth and natural . It felt right and I did it.
The larger doe was hanging around, so after a few minutes we made ourselves obvious, and strode towards the scene. Just at the point where I was concerned we must have walked too far, I spotted our quarry off to the left. An absolutely beautiful, thick winter-coated young roe doe:
Peter reckoned she would be about 30 pounds, larder weight I presume. The shot was a little higher than I had been aiming for, and after gralloching we confirmed that it had gone straight through her backbone. Peter assured me that it was a great humane kill and I accept that and I am very grateful that it was. I also believe I was lucky not to be too high, given the range and the zero of the gun, so I will need to work on that.
By the time we hung her up in the woods to gralloch and skin her it was getting dark so I helped Peter with my head torch. We agreed that Peter would keep the meat once he butchered it at home, but he is keeping a haunch in the freezer for me to collect. I am looking forward to a good roast sometime soon.
After a Kitkat and a drink of water I was back on the road, and into the London rush hour far too soon.
What an unbelievable, fantastic afternoon. I know I’ve waffled on but to be honest I’ve enjoyed writing this - it’s been a bit like living through it all again. Hope you enjoy reading about it.
It was an absolutely beautiful afternoon. Friday 17[SUP]th[/SUP] November - there’d been a Northerly wind overnight so we had our first proper frost in London. The sky was absolutely clear - a clean, dry blue. The autumn colours were still glowing albeit more thickly on the ground than in the canopy. In short, I belted down the A3 & M3 grateful to be leaving my job behind me and speeding into the day ahead. There is a point on the A3 heading South where the higgledy-piggledy post-War London sprawl stops dead, instantly changing to green. I always find myself taking a deep breath when I pass that point. Long live the Green Belt, is all I can say about that.
After a good ploughman’s lunch (ham, mature cheddar - classic) I headed to the rendezvous point and met Peter my stalking guide for the afternoon. Although we had never met he was oddly familiar to me due to the countless Youtube videos I’d watched beforehand. At my request Peter had setup a metal target in nearby woodland so that I could get some more rifle practice in before heading out for real. That was a very useful 45 minutes or so. On the previous training day it is fair to say that I struggled with the shooting. James and I had put it down to a combination of tiredness and a flinch I developed from all that 12-bore shooting I had done as a boy so I wanted to sort that out before shooting at live quarry, and if I wasn’t ready then I wouldn’t do it. The last thing I wanted on my first outing was a wounded animal.
In the first twenty minutes of practice getting the rifle off my shoulder and onto the Viper Quadflex sticks, I didn’t settle and I struggled to hold the rifle correctly without a huge amount of tension in my right arm, shoulder and neck. Peter pointed out that I was trying to hold it like a shotgun (duh), almost square on to the target as though ready to sweep and follow it left or right. I turned sideways on, removed my bulky coat and bingo, the light went on. I relaxed, the rifle settled into my shoulder and I made a 1 ½” group with four shots at about 60 yards. I was very glad to see that happen as I had been worried that I might simply be no good at shooting. I was using Peter’s gun - a Sako 85 synthetic stainless .308 with a rather heavy moderator and a huge Swarovski scope - I’m not sure which model. I left it at 8x and turned the dot on. It was zero’ed at 100yds and loaded with 150gr softpoints. The recoil was much lighter than I expected. I was looking forward to heading out.
We drove to a small piece of woodland where Peter had seen a few deer recently. I had in my mind to take a cull animal - a youngish roe or fallow doe. We stalked around the woods, skirting the quiet, heavy undergrowth. The sun was still high in the sky and the canopy was glorious - golds, umbers and oranges of all hues. The woods felt empty and still. The first deer we (Peter) spotted was a muntjac buck, 60 or so yards away. I mainly saw it’s rear end. Peter checked with me whether I was interested in taking it but I declined so we watched him amble off into the undergrowth. A hundred yards further on I spotted a muntjac doe, watching us again from about 50 yards inside the central undergrowth. The three of us stood, staring at each other for five minutes, neither of us moving a muscle until she settled and started nosing at the ground. This time we were the ones who wandered off first. I had never seen muntjac before so my day was made already. I never tire of those moments when the seemingly empty forest silently dissolves into a large wild animal, staring back at you.
A few minutes later we were winded by two roe does - they bounded off out of reach. We were in a bad position so we let them be and decided to try somewhere else. A couple of pheasants and a woodcock gave our game away further so we ploughed on back to the car.
The sun was no longer warming the ground as we arrived at a small group of fields that Peter knew to be a hotspot for roe. To be honest it looked rather unpromising when we arrived, and Peter began muttering his consternation that nothing was out browsing. We headed as slowly as we could up through the trees at the side of the first field and saw.. absolutely nothing. Some far off crows seemed to be laughing at us, just to complete the scene.
We headed out across the field, hoping to catch sight of something somewhere but again nothing. And more nothing. And then six roe, haring it across the field in front and away from us. They were on the run but we scuttled closer and I got up on the sticks just in case. Two does stopped to have a look. Peter directed me to take the smaller one if I was ready. I confirmed he meant the one on the right, took a second or two, then a buck ran straight in front. I paused, I waited again, then squeezed. The muzzle flipped - I wasn’t gripping it tightly enough - so I didn’t see the hit. Peter was smiling and assured me the young doe had dropped on the spot. I had been so focused on taking the shot that I hadn’t thought about the range until afterwards, when Peter told me it was easily 200 yards. We waited five minutes for everything to settle down. My heart was beating faster but I was not as agitated as I was concerned that I might be. I took a moment to think about what had just happened. In the run up to the day I had wondered how I would feel when the time came to take my first deer - whether I would refuse to take the shot, or be so shaky that I’d shoot badly. When the time came it was different to how I’d imagined. It had all seemed very smooth and natural . It felt right and I did it.
The larger doe was hanging around, so after a few minutes we made ourselves obvious, and strode towards the scene. Just at the point where I was concerned we must have walked too far, I spotted our quarry off to the left. An absolutely beautiful, thick winter-coated young roe doe:
Peter reckoned she would be about 30 pounds, larder weight I presume. The shot was a little higher than I had been aiming for, and after gralloching we confirmed that it had gone straight through her backbone. Peter assured me that it was a great humane kill and I accept that and I am very grateful that it was. I also believe I was lucky not to be too high, given the range and the zero of the gun, so I will need to work on that.
By the time we hung her up in the woods to gralloch and skin her it was getting dark so I helped Peter with my head torch. We agreed that Peter would keep the meat once he butchered it at home, but he is keeping a haunch in the freezer for me to collect. I am looking forward to a good roast sometime soon.
After a Kitkat and a drink of water I was back on the road, and into the London rush hour far too soon.
What an unbelievable, fantastic afternoon. I know I’ve waffled on but to be honest I’ve enjoyed writing this - it’s been a bit like living through it all again. Hope you enjoy reading about it.
