Sunday saw my second foray into deer stalking, hopefully some of you are starting to know me a little better now so will be interested to find out how I got on.
My mentor is based a couple of hours from me and prefers an early morning stalk, so with a 0045 alarm I was up as most would be going to bed and then on with a pot of tea trying not to wake the dogs. A quick check of the gear I packed the night before and then I hit the road at 0120 - a two hour drive to go stalking is probably not some peoples idea of a fun time but honestly it's the best time of the day to be driving anywhere... no traffic, just the occasional taxi or speed demon. I landed with M at 0315 and switched vehicles into his pickup, back on the road and a 'scenic' (but in total darkness...) thirty minute ride out across open moorland to our destination. We sat in the farmyard in the vehicle for fifteen to let things settle before grabbing gear and getting on our way. Dawn promised to be a spectacular affair with the Perseid meteor shower making startling appearances through huge breaks in the cloud and the familiar warm glow of the sun appearing over the north sea.
It was still dark as we started our stalk across the cow pastures heading towards a broad woodland which dropped away down a steep banking away from us. There was just enough light to see through binoculars but any shots would be unsafe for another twenty minutes or so, I thought. M had put me in charge today so I was in front with slung rifle and sticks, but he followed a yard and a half behind me ready to halt me if my novice eyes missed anything. We paused to glass the land as we followed the contour of the woodland edge, the only sounds coming from a pair of owls screeching somewhere over the dark wood. A lone badger appeared out of the gloom and slipped down the bank into the woodland - passing just a few yards behind us and either not caring or oblivious to our presence. Sharing a grin M and I carried on our way until a sharp poke in the ribs stopped me in my tracks. M had spotted a young dog fox stalking towards us a hundred yards up the way, we held steady and he kept working towards us - the wind blowing our scent away towards the sea and our clothing helping us blend into the woodland edge. He didn't notice us until he was within spitting distance. It's a very funny feeling to watch the hunter become the hunted in an instant; he started, crouched, then ran 5 yards out into the field before turning and standing to see what had appeared in front of him. It took him a moment to realise we were human I think, but once the penny dropped he shot like a dart straight across us and down into the safety of the woods. Moments like this make all of the early morning starts, blank trips, days stood on pegs in the pouring rain, all worthwhile. Regardless of what type of hunting we do, we are very lucky to get out and be part of something a little bigger and more primal. Beats sitting at a desk on a Monday morning dreaming of your next trip anyway...
We tucked up into a sheltered spot as light broke fully, with a good 180 degree view over the stubble fields below, and cow pasture rising up behind that. The rolling nature of the land provided good backstops, but also gave blind spots which could hide deer. We were waiting here because a roe doe was laid in the stubble 97 yards out, facing downwind but intently watching over her left shoulder. Experience told M that there was probably a buck somewhere, either in a low spot or behind a hedge out of sight. After some time she stood, stretched, and walked started her journey to downwind of us headed back where we had come from. She scented us after about ten minutes and quickly disappeared out of sight. We waited a while longer and lo and behold a roe buck appeared about 150 yards away in a gatehole. I wanted to get within 100 yards so I belly crawled over the stubble (fun...) to get into a suitable spot. Unfortunately, I now had to wait for the buck to move to a better backstop. As you would expect, the buck moved the opposite way and disappeared behind a hedge. After a long wait we decided to head back to the woodland edge and stalk 'the long way' to get behind the him but just as we stood up M whispered 'don't move'...
The buck had popped out of the hedge in the opposite direction again, now 150 yards directly upwind and we were stood up, slap bang in the middle of a stubble field. M told me to very slowly get the rifle onto the sticks and get ready to take a shot; 'you'll have to take a head shot at that angle' - I wasn't happy to pull the trigger so I waited. M lost sight of him: 'he's gone mate', but I wasn't so sure - sure enough he appeared a few yards along and stepped right out into the field. He was looking right at us, but seemed unsure of what we were, probably because of our unusual outline (stood touching shoulder over shoulder with sticks and rifle deployed) and was walking very slowly out into the stubble in front of us. I waited, my heart starting to race as he moved ever closer, and eventually he turned presenting me with what looked like a suitable heart shot into a perfect backstop. Aim, breathing, safety off, gentle squeeze. Bang. Flop. Cycle the bolt, crosshairs still on the buck and wait. My own heart practically bursting out of my chest.
M appears in my peripheral: 'he's not getting up'. Big grin on his face, big grin on mine, handshake etc. I dead checked the buck and realised at this point I had cocked up. The exit wound was too far back on the flank, indicated by some guts hanging out of the wound. A sense of disappointment rose through me just as quickly as the elation had moments earlier. I helped M conduct the gralloch, and here is what I can tell you:
2 year old 4 point roe buck, bullet entry through the front of the left shoulder, exited through the right flank. Perfect heart shot, removing the top of the organ. Zero green in the carcass, the liver was destroyed but I had not damaged the stomach or intestines, otherwise fit and healthy. To say I was relieved was an understatement. M was happy with my shooting and shot placement, obviously he suggested that next time I wait for the deer to turn broadside more to allow a better angle for bullet exit. The most important thing of course is that the deer died instantly.
After the gralloch he went into the roe bag and onto my back ready for the hike back to the truck.
Once packed up we left this area and drove to another block of land. Turning from one field to another down a rough track M spotted a buck a few hundred yards downhill in the standing wheat. He quickly killed the engine and kicked me out of the door with instructions to keep quiet and keep your belt buckle on the floor. Back to crawling then! This was a long, rough crawl down an overgrown track. It took a while as I was trying to keep the noise down, couldn't see anything because the grass was high, and was as rutted as you like. I worked my way along and downhill, occasionally pausing and raising my head just enough to check that the buck was still there and I was going the right way. After what felt like an age I got myself to 60 yards on an area with a good view, M's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head as I got the rifle onto the bipod and gently jostled for a position not blocked by long scraggy grass. The buck was browsing in the standing wheat, perfectly broadside with just the top of his back, head and neck visible. I was calm this time, confident in my ability and that of the rifle, and shooting prone from the bipod. More importantly I suppose, but the deer was calm, not moving and totally unaware of my presence. Thinking back to M and his training on shot placement, range, and risk; I aimed for the high neck and took the shot. I know that some of you do not like them and I don't want this to become a debate on the ethics or mechanics of it, but that is the shot I selected in the situation I was in and with the express permission of my guide who knows my ability with the rifle.
The shot was good, and the buck was promptly being prepared for gralloch but this time by me. I bled him, got him suspended and barring a little help with the finer points of the anus and finding the perfect place for splitting the joints, gralloched him, and loaded him into the truck. M estimated his age at four years and he was noticeably bigger and stronger looking than the first.
Back at the larder and the first buck weighed out at 33lb. M showed me how to skin it and it went into the back of my vehicle as a surprise for the wife...
The second buck weighed out at 37lb and was left skin on in the fridge to hang.
Needless to say I have well and truly got the bug. I had a great outing and even if I hadn't pulled the trigger I would have had a perfect day. To bring home a beautiful roe buck for the freezer, and to have shot my first and second deer, is just a bonus - though one I am very grateful for. Once again I learnt a lot, probably more than my brain can retain in one sitting, and I can't wait to get out there again. M said he wants to find out how strong I am next time we are out, and has some reds that need attention...
My mentor is based a couple of hours from me and prefers an early morning stalk, so with a 0045 alarm I was up as most would be going to bed and then on with a pot of tea trying not to wake the dogs. A quick check of the gear I packed the night before and then I hit the road at 0120 - a two hour drive to go stalking is probably not some peoples idea of a fun time but honestly it's the best time of the day to be driving anywhere... no traffic, just the occasional taxi or speed demon. I landed with M at 0315 and switched vehicles into his pickup, back on the road and a 'scenic' (but in total darkness...) thirty minute ride out across open moorland to our destination. We sat in the farmyard in the vehicle for fifteen to let things settle before grabbing gear and getting on our way. Dawn promised to be a spectacular affair with the Perseid meteor shower making startling appearances through huge breaks in the cloud and the familiar warm glow of the sun appearing over the north sea.
It was still dark as we started our stalk across the cow pastures heading towards a broad woodland which dropped away down a steep banking away from us. There was just enough light to see through binoculars but any shots would be unsafe for another twenty minutes or so, I thought. M had put me in charge today so I was in front with slung rifle and sticks, but he followed a yard and a half behind me ready to halt me if my novice eyes missed anything. We paused to glass the land as we followed the contour of the woodland edge, the only sounds coming from a pair of owls screeching somewhere over the dark wood. A lone badger appeared out of the gloom and slipped down the bank into the woodland - passing just a few yards behind us and either not caring or oblivious to our presence. Sharing a grin M and I carried on our way until a sharp poke in the ribs stopped me in my tracks. M had spotted a young dog fox stalking towards us a hundred yards up the way, we held steady and he kept working towards us - the wind blowing our scent away towards the sea and our clothing helping us blend into the woodland edge. He didn't notice us until he was within spitting distance. It's a very funny feeling to watch the hunter become the hunted in an instant; he started, crouched, then ran 5 yards out into the field before turning and standing to see what had appeared in front of him. It took him a moment to realise we were human I think, but once the penny dropped he shot like a dart straight across us and down into the safety of the woods. Moments like this make all of the early morning starts, blank trips, days stood on pegs in the pouring rain, all worthwhile. Regardless of what type of hunting we do, we are very lucky to get out and be part of something a little bigger and more primal. Beats sitting at a desk on a Monday morning dreaming of your next trip anyway...
We tucked up into a sheltered spot as light broke fully, with a good 180 degree view over the stubble fields below, and cow pasture rising up behind that. The rolling nature of the land provided good backstops, but also gave blind spots which could hide deer. We were waiting here because a roe doe was laid in the stubble 97 yards out, facing downwind but intently watching over her left shoulder. Experience told M that there was probably a buck somewhere, either in a low spot or behind a hedge out of sight. After some time she stood, stretched, and walked started her journey to downwind of us headed back where we had come from. She scented us after about ten minutes and quickly disappeared out of sight. We waited a while longer and lo and behold a roe buck appeared about 150 yards away in a gatehole. I wanted to get within 100 yards so I belly crawled over the stubble (fun...) to get into a suitable spot. Unfortunately, I now had to wait for the buck to move to a better backstop. As you would expect, the buck moved the opposite way and disappeared behind a hedge. After a long wait we decided to head back to the woodland edge and stalk 'the long way' to get behind the him but just as we stood up M whispered 'don't move'...
The buck had popped out of the hedge in the opposite direction again, now 150 yards directly upwind and we were stood up, slap bang in the middle of a stubble field. M told me to very slowly get the rifle onto the sticks and get ready to take a shot; 'you'll have to take a head shot at that angle' - I wasn't happy to pull the trigger so I waited. M lost sight of him: 'he's gone mate', but I wasn't so sure - sure enough he appeared a few yards along and stepped right out into the field. He was looking right at us, but seemed unsure of what we were, probably because of our unusual outline (stood touching shoulder over shoulder with sticks and rifle deployed) and was walking very slowly out into the stubble in front of us. I waited, my heart starting to race as he moved ever closer, and eventually he turned presenting me with what looked like a suitable heart shot into a perfect backstop. Aim, breathing, safety off, gentle squeeze. Bang. Flop. Cycle the bolt, crosshairs still on the buck and wait. My own heart practically bursting out of my chest.
M appears in my peripheral: 'he's not getting up'. Big grin on his face, big grin on mine, handshake etc. I dead checked the buck and realised at this point I had cocked up. The exit wound was too far back on the flank, indicated by some guts hanging out of the wound. A sense of disappointment rose through me just as quickly as the elation had moments earlier. I helped M conduct the gralloch, and here is what I can tell you:
2 year old 4 point roe buck, bullet entry through the front of the left shoulder, exited through the right flank. Perfect heart shot, removing the top of the organ. Zero green in the carcass, the liver was destroyed but I had not damaged the stomach or intestines, otherwise fit and healthy. To say I was relieved was an understatement. M was happy with my shooting and shot placement, obviously he suggested that next time I wait for the deer to turn broadside more to allow a better angle for bullet exit. The most important thing of course is that the deer died instantly.
After the gralloch he went into the roe bag and onto my back ready for the hike back to the truck.
Once packed up we left this area and drove to another block of land. Turning from one field to another down a rough track M spotted a buck a few hundred yards downhill in the standing wheat. He quickly killed the engine and kicked me out of the door with instructions to keep quiet and keep your belt buckle on the floor. Back to crawling then! This was a long, rough crawl down an overgrown track. It took a while as I was trying to keep the noise down, couldn't see anything because the grass was high, and was as rutted as you like. I worked my way along and downhill, occasionally pausing and raising my head just enough to check that the buck was still there and I was going the right way. After what felt like an age I got myself to 60 yards on an area with a good view, M's eyes burning a hole in the back of my head as I got the rifle onto the bipod and gently jostled for a position not blocked by long scraggy grass. The buck was browsing in the standing wheat, perfectly broadside with just the top of his back, head and neck visible. I was calm this time, confident in my ability and that of the rifle, and shooting prone from the bipod. More importantly I suppose, but the deer was calm, not moving and totally unaware of my presence. Thinking back to M and his training on shot placement, range, and risk; I aimed for the high neck and took the shot. I know that some of you do not like them and I don't want this to become a debate on the ethics or mechanics of it, but that is the shot I selected in the situation I was in and with the express permission of my guide who knows my ability with the rifle.
The shot was good, and the buck was promptly being prepared for gralloch but this time by me. I bled him, got him suspended and barring a little help with the finer points of the anus and finding the perfect place for splitting the joints, gralloched him, and loaded him into the truck. M estimated his age at four years and he was noticeably bigger and stronger looking than the first.
Back at the larder and the first buck weighed out at 33lb. M showed me how to skin it and it went into the back of my vehicle as a surprise for the wife...
The second buck weighed out at 37lb and was left skin on in the fridge to hang.
Needless to say I have well and truly got the bug. I had a great outing and even if I hadn't pulled the trigger I would have had a perfect day. To bring home a beautiful roe buck for the freezer, and to have shot my first and second deer, is just a bonus - though one I am very grateful for. Once again I learnt a lot, probably more than my brain can retain in one sitting, and I can't wait to get out there again. M said he wants to find out how strong I am next time we are out, and has some reds that need attention...
nice right up 
