"W hen
the older Buck stops moving James - shoot it."
I instructed in a hoarse whisper.
- This was my friend Jame's second outing stalking Roe
Bucks this week - and he had one carcass hanging in the
game larder already. This second Buck however, was a
much better animal than the first, and showing a good 6
point head.
- As
I grow older, the greater the pleasure I gain from
guiding friends on dawn and dusk stalks. It is fine to
stalk and shoot a good Roe ones self, of course - but to
take out a friend and meet with success, gives a quite
unique feeling of satisfaction.
- The land which we found ourselves hunting over on
this particular evening, is well known to me. I have
hunted it now for little over 20 years. As the seasons
change, the deer prefer to feed on different crops - in
different areas. On this particular evening, I was
pretty sure that they would move out of the Birch woods
at dusk, to feed on the newly grown, Spring grass.
- We had quietly and carefully made our way along the
edge of a hill top plantation, ( newly planted saplings)
and found ourselves sitting ready in the high seat, at a
little after 7.30 p.m. If a Buck was going to show, it
would be sometime during the last hour of daylight - and
we were ready for his appearance.
- As those who have spent many hours in a high seat
will know - the time spent in waiting is never wasted.
How many other people have - whilst sitting silently -
watched the sun rise above the horizon on a Summer's
morning, like a burning orange ball - or have witnessed
the Red Squirrel, scuttering up the scaly trunk of the
Scots Pine tree? Or, have seen the striped Badger on his
evening patrol, as he snuffles down the woodland ride,
in his search for beetles and worms? Not many I would
venture. Perhaps 20 minutes or so of our vigil had
passed, and I was listening with pleasure to the crowing
of the cock Pheasants, going to their roost in the tall
Birch trees - when a flicker of movement on the woodland
edge caught my eye. As I levelled the binoculars on the
spot, I noticed a young Roe Buck - his antlers still
covered in velvet - step out of the trees. As he did so,
he bounded forward, and then looked back over his
shoulder - indicating the something else was following
him.
- In a low whisper, I warned James to, "Get ready"
- as I thought the young Roe was being chased by an
older, larger Buck. Within seconds, my suspicion was
proven correct, as charging down the edge of the Birch
wood, came
 a
good, solid, 6 point Buck. He was no more than 100
metres in front of us, and clearly intent on driving the
younger animal out. James has enough experience to know
a shootable animal when he sees one, so readied himself,
by taking a good solid rest with the rifle, on the
wooden front rail of the high seat.
- I instructed James to shoot the Buck, "As soon
as he stands still". After perhaps 40 metres the
Buck did just that. With my binoculars locked onto the
animal, I awaited the sound of the shot - and as the
Buck presented himself broadside - Jame's .25-06 roared
out.
At the shot, I clearly saw the bullet kick up the
hair on the animal's chest, and witnessed the
unmistakable lurch of a mortally wounded deer.
Recovering slightly, the Roe ran across the field
for perhaps 20 metres, and staggered to a halt.
James asked if he should fire again - but I knew a
second shot would be unnecessary for this Buck.
Almost before I could answer - the 6 pointer was
down on the ground - and dead.
My friend unloaded his rifle, and carefully, we
descended from the high seat. Walking through the
wet grass, we approached the Buck, and found him
lying dead - shot cleanly through the heart. James
gave a smile - as much from relief as happiness -
and we shook hands firmly.
This was a fine trophy Buck for him to take south -
and for me, meat for the dinner table over the
coming weeks
We both agreed that it was now time for a
celebratory Malt Whisky - and a crackling log
fire!
-
Bericht und Fotos:
Julian Schmechel
|
