Foxyboy43
Well-Known Member
Wakened at 4am. Bugger! Looked out - dry, full cloud and very dark, hmmm. Tripped over our old lab then did the double on pal’s lab which we are minding for a week, bugger again!
Decision time - back to warm bed or chance it up the hill for that very clever fox that I have seen 3 times with the Axion but never got a bead on. Looked out again - go for it. 10 mins later in the Jimny ready to rock (ish - at my age?). 15 after that pulled into the field, turned the engine off and it started to rain - heavy! Bugger for the third time. Give it 10 mins I decided, then another 5, then a further 5. Right on the 20 mins it stopped raining! Out of the jeep like a gazelle (70 year old gazelle actually) and loaded up the .222 with the statutory 50 gns Vmax - my favourite fox round, Icotech on sling over shoulder, remote on lanyard, Axion likewise, B&Q‘s finest in hand and Remmy on sling cocked and locked and off I set.
Walked up the first field panning (yep - watching too many movies) with the Axion - nothing. Got to the top of the small hill which gives me a view over about 1000 yards over 180 degrees and sure enough - still nothing! Sooo, Icotech or hand squeak? Went for the hand option (behave yourselves!) and started to squeak, and squeak and….. Then it rained. Bugger - another day in paradise.
Headed for the biggest, handiest tree and sheltered there and called again - spotted a few rabbits in the far distance - the thermal really does work in bad weather and decided to head home. Stepped out from under the tree and the comedian upstairs decided to turn the rain off. Walked halfway back down the hill and stopped for a quick sweep over the fields before home. Hmmm, two rabbits over the hedge about 250ish yards away and right behind them a much larger brighter beastie coming towards me like an express train. Of course being in full heading-for-home mode the rifle was over my right shoulder, the Pard 008 was turned off, the Solaris also, sticks folded neatly in my by now clenched fist and the sodding Icotech was clanking against the remote, bugger, bugger, bugger!
Well what abollo faff! In a scene which later reminded me of the late great Terry Wogan’s name for the sadly, also late great, Joe Cocker (younger readers - ask your grandad) - “The Demented Windmill” I actually managed to get the sticks deployed, mount the rifle, turn the Pard on, set it to IR, and switch on the Solaris in what must have been a personal best. Your man here is now standing in the middle of an open field with dawn just starting to reveal surrounding details - especially the eejit now totally exposed and probably skylined as well. Up goes the thermal which quickly revealed a field where only seconds ago had been two rabbits and a very committed fox doing a very passable impression of an Exocet- well, you guessed it - nada, bugger, bugger and bugger again!
Scundered (NI forpis not really that happy), thermal welded to right eye, I squeaked again, more in desperation than expectation and didn’t Mr F just step through the thick hedge right into my field about 120 yards away, and closing at a trot! Like any right-thinking fox shooter with soooo many years and foxes under his belt I felt the rush of blind panic adrenalin and settled myself to the shot. At times like this in my mind’s eye I always see a very young Michael Caine in the classic Zulu movie ordering the troops “at 100 yards - fire!” And indeed at about 100 yards this particular Cetewayo stopped and studied. For a few moments I did the same, I just love these creatures, second in my adoration only to the magical roe. So we each stood and watched each other. In the gloaming, with me pretty obvious in the middle of an open field, just why this fox didn’t turn and run I will never know but despite the thumping in what remains of my old ticker, the reticle stayed centre-chest and as always I heard the strike rather than the shot and down it went, dead.
For me the walk into a shot beast is always a strange blend of excitement mixed with satisfaction and always tinged with an element of sadness. I was of course pleased with the shot and delighted for the lady farmer and her chickens and guineas but they are such a beautiful animal, anyone who thinks differently is not the better for it. So respect for the quarry is my byword.
Needless to say in mypanic rush to get set up, I had forgotten to push the record button on the Axion and unforgivably the Pard as well, silly old fool! So a photo of the fallen is all I have, a poor substitute for what I saw from the initial sighting through the thermal and very soon afterwards the Pard. Still the memory is mine and etched in my brain alongside sooo many others - forever.
PS
If you are hand calling do remember not to lift the shot fox with the same hand that you use to squeak! Having called for a further 10 mins after shooting this one and carrying it away I how have a rather strange taste and bouquet on my lips! I never learn!
View attachment 270085
Decision time - back to warm bed or chance it up the hill for that very clever fox that I have seen 3 times with the Axion but never got a bead on. Looked out again - go for it. 10 mins later in the Jimny ready to rock (ish - at my age?). 15 after that pulled into the field, turned the engine off and it started to rain - heavy! Bugger for the third time. Give it 10 mins I decided, then another 5, then a further 5. Right on the 20 mins it stopped raining! Out of the jeep like a gazelle (70 year old gazelle actually) and loaded up the .222 with the statutory 50 gns Vmax - my favourite fox round, Icotech on sling over shoulder, remote on lanyard, Axion likewise, B&Q‘s finest in hand and Remmy on sling cocked and locked and off I set.
Walked up the first field panning (yep - watching too many movies) with the Axion - nothing. Got to the top of the small hill which gives me a view over about 1000 yards over 180 degrees and sure enough - still nothing! Sooo, Icotech or hand squeak? Went for the hand option (behave yourselves!) and started to squeak, and squeak and….. Then it rained. Bugger - another day in paradise.
Headed for the biggest, handiest tree and sheltered there and called again - spotted a few rabbits in the far distance - the thermal really does work in bad weather and decided to head home. Stepped out from under the tree and the comedian upstairs decided to turn the rain off. Walked halfway back down the hill and stopped for a quick sweep over the fields before home. Hmmm, two rabbits over the hedge about 250ish yards away and right behind them a much larger brighter beastie coming towards me like an express train. Of course being in full heading-for-home mode the rifle was over my right shoulder, the Pard 008 was turned off, the Solaris also, sticks folded neatly in my by now clenched fist and the sodding Icotech was clanking against the remote, bugger, bugger, bugger!
Well what a
Scundered (NI for
For me the walk into a shot beast is always a strange blend of excitement mixed with satisfaction and always tinged with an element of sadness. I was of course pleased with the shot and delighted for the lady farmer and her chickens and guineas but they are such a beautiful animal, anyone who thinks differently is not the better for it. So respect for the quarry is my byword.
Needless to say in my
PS
If you are hand calling do remember not to lift the shot fox with the same hand that you use to squeak! Having called for a further 10 mins after shooting this one and carrying it away I how have a rather strange taste and bouquet on my lips! I never learn!
View attachment 270085
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