Out yesterday in a wild wood in Gloucestershire, which neccesitate an 0330hrs start from Devon, but I enjoyed the very familiar drive, for thinking time and avoiding the usual road hogs.
It’s been several months since my last muntjac so I was keen to get on with it - I elected to stalk the top end of the wood and spotted the heat of two animals in the thick brush within the first half an hour. The paths are seldom used and quite overgrown, so animal tracks make better sense for making progress, but it’s slow work; thermal, step, step, step, pause, listen, glass a bit at some heat, glare at a squirrel, turn a bit, lose the heat, step, step, and so on. I was enjoying getting close (ish) to well-covered deer, in thick brush and feeling happy to have found my “deer feet” again, not bumping anything.
And I then took a step too far out of cover without checking and the barking that ensued from a buck, in full view, 30 yards to my left and up the bank, nearly made me drop my sticks!
Suitably chastened, I gave it 5 minutes, whilst the buck retreated, telling his mates all about the idiot in his domain. Once the noise had receded into the distance, I set off again. 40 minutes later and I had a much better view, head on, of a nice young, unconcerned, representative buck - just what I had hoped for, as this was a freezer trip.
On the sticks, 50 yards, come on, turn…and so he did - whilst trotting into cover. I waited for a moment and I could still see some heat, but nowhere near enough for any ethical shot. As I watched him, he continued to walk, tail down, minding his own business, but getting further and further away. So I followed him. When he moved, I moved. When he stopped, I stopped. I was gaining ground on him, one eye on the stand of trees he was heading towards, where it opened up a bit. My final gamble was to pick a gap and wait on the sticks. I stopped him with a shout and sent a Norma Evo green his way. Shoulder shot, slightly quartering, 60 yards. I lost the sight picture for a moment, my first kill shot with a new-to-me short-barrelled .308.
Then, instead of the bang flop I expected with that placement and the energy of a .30 cal, all I saw was the fluffy white tail retreating at speed down the hill into the woodland.
I paused. A miss? Really? Must have pulled it. I peered in the direction with the thermal and could see white spots at the shot site. B****ks, have wounded it? I went forward with my eyes on the shot site, marking the tree and nearly tripping over brambles and roots so as to not lose sight of it. At the tree I had marked, I could see the heat source - blood, lots and lots of it! It can’t have gone far, I told myself, loaded gun on safe ready for a follow up shot. The trail went on and on, for about 30 yards, before I found the buck, very dead. The gralloch showed me a smashed shoulder and an exit wound about an inch across, through the ribcage, 4 inches back, taking out heart, lungs, lacerating the liver, almost no blood left in the carcass. That was one tough muntjac! Despite the internal mess, I got two good haunches, both backstraps, an intact shoulder and a nice amount of neck meat. Lots of fat under the skin and around the kidneys. I thought .308 might be too much gun, but it goes to show how unpredictable bullets can be once they hit bone.
It’s been several months since my last muntjac so I was keen to get on with it - I elected to stalk the top end of the wood and spotted the heat of two animals in the thick brush within the first half an hour. The paths are seldom used and quite overgrown, so animal tracks make better sense for making progress, but it’s slow work; thermal, step, step, step, pause, listen, glass a bit at some heat, glare at a squirrel, turn a bit, lose the heat, step, step, and so on. I was enjoying getting close (ish) to well-covered deer, in thick brush and feeling happy to have found my “deer feet” again, not bumping anything.
And I then took a step too far out of cover without checking and the barking that ensued from a buck, in full view, 30 yards to my left and up the bank, nearly made me drop my sticks!
Suitably chastened, I gave it 5 minutes, whilst the buck retreated, telling his mates all about the idiot in his domain. Once the noise had receded into the distance, I set off again. 40 minutes later and I had a much better view, head on, of a nice young, unconcerned, representative buck - just what I had hoped for, as this was a freezer trip.
On the sticks, 50 yards, come on, turn…and so he did - whilst trotting into cover. I waited for a moment and I could still see some heat, but nowhere near enough for any ethical shot. As I watched him, he continued to walk, tail down, minding his own business, but getting further and further away. So I followed him. When he moved, I moved. When he stopped, I stopped. I was gaining ground on him, one eye on the stand of trees he was heading towards, where it opened up a bit. My final gamble was to pick a gap and wait on the sticks. I stopped him with a shout and sent a Norma Evo green his way. Shoulder shot, slightly quartering, 60 yards. I lost the sight picture for a moment, my first kill shot with a new-to-me short-barrelled .308.
Then, instead of the bang flop I expected with that placement and the energy of a .30 cal, all I saw was the fluffy white tail retreating at speed down the hill into the woodland.
I paused. A miss? Really? Must have pulled it. I peered in the direction with the thermal and could see white spots at the shot site. B****ks, have wounded it? I went forward with my eyes on the shot site, marking the tree and nearly tripping over brambles and roots so as to not lose sight of it. At the tree I had marked, I could see the heat source - blood, lots and lots of it! It can’t have gone far, I told myself, loaded gun on safe ready for a follow up shot. The trail went on and on, for about 30 yards, before I found the buck, very dead. The gralloch showed me a smashed shoulder and an exit wound about an inch across, through the ribcage, 4 inches back, taking out heart, lungs, lacerating the liver, almost no blood left in the carcass. That was one tough muntjac! Despite the internal mess, I got two good haunches, both backstraps, an intact shoulder and a nice amount of neck meat. Lots of fat under the skin and around the kidneys. I thought .308 might be too much gun, but it goes to show how unpredictable bullets can be once they hit bone.
