Well the world has officially gone mad. Boris tells me I cannot go out again from midnight tonight and across the Pond two elderly men are hurling insults and accusations at each other whilst they carefully dismantle any vestige of decency in the world of politics.
Any Hoo!
Our little band of hunters is depleted for what is "euphemistically" referred to as a "Cull Day"; two cannot get time off work and a third drops out at 01.12 hours after getting stuck-in at the pre-lockdown village soiree last night. Fair play I say.
I opened the front door at 0200 hours to smell and feel the cold. The Landrover's windscreen was frozen over. Any other make of car and this would be the work of moments. It's not. It's a Landrover; so this is a major issue. I start the old girl up and put the heater on full blast. After about twenty minutes a small patch of clear, begins to appear at the bottom of the screen. At this rate it will be dawn before I can set off. I sit down into my seat as low as I can and lean forward - I now have about three inches of clear glass - that is plenty. I edge out in the deserted country lanes ashamed of myself but telling myself that if I drive slowly nothing could go wrong. I get to the T-Junction and can see out of neither side window. I stop, get out and wipe all the glass until it is "road legal". I mentally make a note to order a Hilux.
A short drive and I am parked up. I place my rife over the 5-bar gate and return to slip into the camouflage "onesie". I stumble about as I force my wellington wearing feet through the legs, heave the arms over my five layers and then zip myself in. A ham sandwich in once pocket, flask of coffee in the other, TI and Binos over my neck. I waddle off back to the 5-bar. For all the world I looked like a contestant on "It's a Knockout" (retro) as I climbed, slid, fell and stumbled over the gate.
I eventually found myself the other side. Picked up the rifle and headed off to the seat. Multiple guns on the ground this morning, so no foot stalking. I scramble up the seat and check the time. It's 0330 hours. I like sitting in this Estate because you can hear the village church clock strike the hour. By 0400 hours I could not feel my fingers. Mercifully, I found a pair of (ironically) fingerless gloves in the "onesie" and gratefully put them on. By 0430 hours you could have cut my fingers off with a butter knife and I would not have felt it.
Time to get the TI out. It shows a Doe with two kids, a fox and a Singleton in the field to my front. The trio are off the the left, the fox is centre and the Singleton is off to my right.
The fox is sat looking in my direction. He is very relaxed. He knows that I do not have NV on the rifle. He knows that he is safe.
I am enjoying the scanning - it was bought just to entertain me whilst I wait for the earth to rotate into the sun on a morning stalk. I have always arrived at the seat too early and having the TI means that I now have something to do. I have enjoyed seeing hitherto hidden wildlife. I would have enjoyed it for longer had the strap not suddenly come loose (is there not someone on SD who makes them?). The TI fell silently 12 feet into the wet grass. I make a note, "Find out who makes those straps for the XQ38F and order one!"
The sky, already lit by a waning Gibbous, was beginning to brighten. I swapped over to my binos. The image quality was shocking. They are a decent set (Swarovski EL 8,5 x 42) which I have had almost twenty years - and they have been serviced twice back in Austria. Perhaps I had knocked the diopter settings? I squinted, I exhaled on the lenses, I looked up at the moon, I cursed; nothing worked. After about an hour I remembered I had put a contact lens in my right eye to help me read my watch and see the setting on the Ballistic Turret. I ripped the contact lens out in disgust. Binos back to perfect.
I have already eaten my sandwich (within about five minutes of arriving as it happens) and was on my third cup of coffee. I was not thirsty but just wrapping my fingers around the cup in an attempt to stave off frostbite.
As the church bells chimed out eight times, it was time to call it a day. I dismounted and waddled back to my truck. Stripping off the "onsie" and a couple of layers I then drove the short distance to the farm where I tend the birds. It is not a big affair. We only have fours days and we have just cancelled the two in November. I explained this to the Hens and Cocks - they are not many and I know them all by name - no it's not a big affair.
As I made my way back to the truck a beautiful Doe with two Kids stepped out in front on me. My rifle was in the car (the bolt in my pocket). They knew.
Fresh air. Nature. Being outside. Enjoying the solitude. Even an "unsuccessful" outing is a joy.
Back home, clean the kit (including the mud off the TI). Lockdown tomorrow.
In the "man cave" I still have one hundred pieces of 32-20 brass that I need to trim down to .310 Cadet.
I also need to knock up some .243 rounds - which I will need again - hopefully in the not too distant future.
I wish you all a safe lockdown and tonight I will raise a glass with the rather premature toast "2020 can do one!"
Any Hoo!
Our little band of hunters is depleted for what is "euphemistically" referred to as a "Cull Day"; two cannot get time off work and a third drops out at 01.12 hours after getting stuck-in at the pre-lockdown village soiree last night. Fair play I say.
I opened the front door at 0200 hours to smell and feel the cold. The Landrover's windscreen was frozen over. Any other make of car and this would be the work of moments. It's not. It's a Landrover; so this is a major issue. I start the old girl up and put the heater on full blast. After about twenty minutes a small patch of clear, begins to appear at the bottom of the screen. At this rate it will be dawn before I can set off. I sit down into my seat as low as I can and lean forward - I now have about three inches of clear glass - that is plenty. I edge out in the deserted country lanes ashamed of myself but telling myself that if I drive slowly nothing could go wrong. I get to the T-Junction and can see out of neither side window. I stop, get out and wipe all the glass until it is "road legal". I mentally make a note to order a Hilux.
A short drive and I am parked up. I place my rife over the 5-bar gate and return to slip into the camouflage "onesie". I stumble about as I force my wellington wearing feet through the legs, heave the arms over my five layers and then zip myself in. A ham sandwich in once pocket, flask of coffee in the other, TI and Binos over my neck. I waddle off back to the 5-bar. For all the world I looked like a contestant on "It's a Knockout" (retro) as I climbed, slid, fell and stumbled over the gate.
I eventually found myself the other side. Picked up the rifle and headed off to the seat. Multiple guns on the ground this morning, so no foot stalking. I scramble up the seat and check the time. It's 0330 hours. I like sitting in this Estate because you can hear the village church clock strike the hour. By 0400 hours I could not feel my fingers. Mercifully, I found a pair of (ironically) fingerless gloves in the "onesie" and gratefully put them on. By 0430 hours you could have cut my fingers off with a butter knife and I would not have felt it.
Time to get the TI out. It shows a Doe with two kids, a fox and a Singleton in the field to my front. The trio are off the the left, the fox is centre and the Singleton is off to my right.
The fox is sat looking in my direction. He is very relaxed. He knows that I do not have NV on the rifle. He knows that he is safe.
I am enjoying the scanning - it was bought just to entertain me whilst I wait for the earth to rotate into the sun on a morning stalk. I have always arrived at the seat too early and having the TI means that I now have something to do. I have enjoyed seeing hitherto hidden wildlife. I would have enjoyed it for longer had the strap not suddenly come loose (is there not someone on SD who makes them?). The TI fell silently 12 feet into the wet grass. I make a note, "Find out who makes those straps for the XQ38F and order one!"
The sky, already lit by a waning Gibbous, was beginning to brighten. I swapped over to my binos. The image quality was shocking. They are a decent set (Swarovski EL 8,5 x 42) which I have had almost twenty years - and they have been serviced twice back in Austria. Perhaps I had knocked the diopter settings? I squinted, I exhaled on the lenses, I looked up at the moon, I cursed; nothing worked. After about an hour I remembered I had put a contact lens in my right eye to help me read my watch and see the setting on the Ballistic Turret. I ripped the contact lens out in disgust. Binos back to perfect.
I have already eaten my sandwich (within about five minutes of arriving as it happens) and was on my third cup of coffee. I was not thirsty but just wrapping my fingers around the cup in an attempt to stave off frostbite.
As the church bells chimed out eight times, it was time to call it a day. I dismounted and waddled back to my truck. Stripping off the "onsie" and a couple of layers I then drove the short distance to the farm where I tend the birds. It is not a big affair. We only have fours days and we have just cancelled the two in November. I explained this to the Hens and Cocks - they are not many and I know them all by name - no it's not a big affair.
As I made my way back to the truck a beautiful Doe with two Kids stepped out in front on me. My rifle was in the car (the bolt in my pocket). They knew.
Fresh air. Nature. Being outside. Enjoying the solitude. Even an "unsuccessful" outing is a joy.
Back home, clean the kit (including the mud off the TI). Lockdown tomorrow.
In the "man cave" I still have one hundred pieces of 32-20 brass that I need to trim down to .310 Cadet.
I also need to knock up some .243 rounds - which I will need again - hopefully in the not too distant future.
I wish you all a safe lockdown and tonight I will raise a glass with the rather premature toast "2020 can do one!"
