Not going to lie, having been on six stalks recently with nothing to show for it, it’s been a slightly disappointing couple of months. Having been up on the sticks four times on those outings, I never actually took a shot and as much as I have enjoyed being out and the adventure of the stalk, whether it being branches in the way, a sloppy sidestep or waiting for the nod to take the shot, Lady luck wouldn’t have it...
Being slightly superstitious, I reviewed my previous successful adventures and having worn my GTX boots for most of the season, I narrowed it down to my merino boot socks my aunt bought me for my 40th that I hadn’t worn recently due to wearing wellies in the wetter months. Sad I know, but don’t get me started on magpies...
Having also changed the potentially unlucky bullets that have been in and out of their wallet so many times and armed with renewed confidence, I had a morning date with Sikamalc on the Holmbush. Malcolm was on top form, albeit a bit tired after the previous night's effort as a team of four guns had culled 6 beasts the night before, however as much as I enjoy Malcom's stories, all I wanted to do was stick my fingers in my ears to avoid tempting fate...
Malcom advised that they were extremely spooky this late in the season, so asked me to load the mag in my rifle but keeping the bolt out. We got in his truck at the edge of light and slowly crawled round the estate while his truck's windscreen defrosted heading for the previous night's successful ground. Within minutes, sure enough we came across a 20+ group of fallow on the track who bolted into the woods. Thinking that having disturbed them my unlucky streak would continue, my confidence dropped slightly, however Malcom had other ideas as he calmly said we will cut them off as they cross into another wood. We continued up the track and arrived at our destination some 300 yards diagonally to our original sighting, and we had barely walked 10 yards when true enough the group came steaming through in front of us, none of them giving us a second glance as they fled into the opposite wood. Suddenly I hear "behind you!" and I swivel on my Primos trigger stick and there 50 yards away was an impressive doe broadside up against a tree lined backdrop. Boom, she drops on the spot and we are back at the larder at 7.10am.
Now originally I had booked a roe doe stalk, so back in the truck we get to the roe grounds. Within minutes of parking up on the farm and while walking along a tree lined chalk path, I spot three roe ahead. Malcom acknowledges activating his ninja mode while shepherding me to the side and into his silhouette. With a small wind in our face, we stalk them for minutes getting within 100 yards with them completely oblivious, when they slowly mooch left off the path onto a wooded ride. Thinking how successfully his earlier pincer movement was, we peg left along an earlier ride hoping to catch them on the parallel junction. We get to the ride parallel to the chalk path, we wait, nothing shows so we move on squaring the rectangular wood. Still nothing until we get to 30 yards from the chalk road where we saw them first step into the woods, suddenly 30 feet in front of us the brambles erupt and the deer run for their lives in the opposite direction. A missed opportunity but thrilling none the less getting that close.
We then break out of the wood onto some open ground as the sun begins to heat the fields giving a low eerie mist. With the ground now frosty in the shade we tab left, keeping close to the margins as the field opens and there on the left hand side sunning themselves in the dip of the land are another three beautiful copper roe. With the wind still in our face but with the sun behind us, we creep using the cover of the hedge line to the apex looking to identify a female. With no signs of antlers or velvet, we look for the brush. We agree on the middle one and up the primos tripod goes silently. With the rifle now on the stick and with me covering the doe, my heart starts beating like a racehorse after the national. Everything is perfect, the scenery, the safe backdrop, the broadside shot but the chosen target is 120 yards away. While I am confident with my rifle and have shot accurately up to 500 yards with it, this was the longest shot Id attempted on any deer. While the adrenaline coursed through my veins, I covered her for minutes while trying like a monk to control my breathing. Still broadside she then stops, she looks directly at me, has she clocked my breathing, it's now or never. Snap goes the trigger and my federal 100gr special delivery impacts with a thud. She drops on the spot, not even flinching.
I stood there for a moment gathering my thoughts thinking that this would be something that I would remember and cherish for ever. Even now a day later it gives me goose bumps.
Now you may wonder why I've titled this thread "my lucky socks" as when walking a mile back to the truck sharing the load of the beast I asked Malcom why he didn’t have his roe sack on him and his reply was "nah it's not that lucky"....
Thank you Malcom for a most fantastic morning. Your knowledge, field craft and interest in all things wild is truly amazing and I cannot wait to join you again later on in the year to start my DSC2.
Being slightly superstitious, I reviewed my previous successful adventures and having worn my GTX boots for most of the season, I narrowed it down to my merino boot socks my aunt bought me for my 40th that I hadn’t worn recently due to wearing wellies in the wetter months. Sad I know, but don’t get me started on magpies...
Having also changed the potentially unlucky bullets that have been in and out of their wallet so many times and armed with renewed confidence, I had a morning date with Sikamalc on the Holmbush. Malcolm was on top form, albeit a bit tired after the previous night's effort as a team of four guns had culled 6 beasts the night before, however as much as I enjoy Malcom's stories, all I wanted to do was stick my fingers in my ears to avoid tempting fate...
Malcom advised that they were extremely spooky this late in the season, so asked me to load the mag in my rifle but keeping the bolt out. We got in his truck at the edge of light and slowly crawled round the estate while his truck's windscreen defrosted heading for the previous night's successful ground. Within minutes, sure enough we came across a 20+ group of fallow on the track who bolted into the woods. Thinking that having disturbed them my unlucky streak would continue, my confidence dropped slightly, however Malcom had other ideas as he calmly said we will cut them off as they cross into another wood. We continued up the track and arrived at our destination some 300 yards diagonally to our original sighting, and we had barely walked 10 yards when true enough the group came steaming through in front of us, none of them giving us a second glance as they fled into the opposite wood. Suddenly I hear "behind you!" and I swivel on my Primos trigger stick and there 50 yards away was an impressive doe broadside up against a tree lined backdrop. Boom, she drops on the spot and we are back at the larder at 7.10am.
Now originally I had booked a roe doe stalk, so back in the truck we get to the roe grounds. Within minutes of parking up on the farm and while walking along a tree lined chalk path, I spot three roe ahead. Malcom acknowledges activating his ninja mode while shepherding me to the side and into his silhouette. With a small wind in our face, we stalk them for minutes getting within 100 yards with them completely oblivious, when they slowly mooch left off the path onto a wooded ride. Thinking how successfully his earlier pincer movement was, we peg left along an earlier ride hoping to catch them on the parallel junction. We get to the ride parallel to the chalk path, we wait, nothing shows so we move on squaring the rectangular wood. Still nothing until we get to 30 yards from the chalk road where we saw them first step into the woods, suddenly 30 feet in front of us the brambles erupt and the deer run for their lives in the opposite direction. A missed opportunity but thrilling none the less getting that close.
We then break out of the wood onto some open ground as the sun begins to heat the fields giving a low eerie mist. With the ground now frosty in the shade we tab left, keeping close to the margins as the field opens and there on the left hand side sunning themselves in the dip of the land are another three beautiful copper roe. With the wind still in our face but with the sun behind us, we creep using the cover of the hedge line to the apex looking to identify a female. With no signs of antlers or velvet, we look for the brush. We agree on the middle one and up the primos tripod goes silently. With the rifle now on the stick and with me covering the doe, my heart starts beating like a racehorse after the national. Everything is perfect, the scenery, the safe backdrop, the broadside shot but the chosen target is 120 yards away. While I am confident with my rifle and have shot accurately up to 500 yards with it, this was the longest shot Id attempted on any deer. While the adrenaline coursed through my veins, I covered her for minutes while trying like a monk to control my breathing. Still broadside she then stops, she looks directly at me, has she clocked my breathing, it's now or never. Snap goes the trigger and my federal 100gr special delivery impacts with a thud. She drops on the spot, not even flinching.
I stood there for a moment gathering my thoughts thinking that this would be something that I would remember and cherish for ever. Even now a day later it gives me goose bumps.
Now you may wonder why I've titled this thread "my lucky socks" as when walking a mile back to the truck sharing the load of the beast I asked Malcom why he didn’t have his roe sack on him and his reply was "nah it's not that lucky"....
Thank you Malcom for a most fantastic morning. Your knowledge, field craft and interest in all things wild is truly amazing and I cannot wait to join you again later on in the year to start my DSC2.
As for the lucky socks... I suspect that we all have our own "special" routines for getting prepared/dressed before going out on a stalking, shooting or fishing trip and heaven help us if we change the routine..... definitely catch nothing or miss everything in a ten mile radius!
