I'm moving more and more towards only eating the meat I harvest myself.
The freezer was looking a little bare, with one big roasting joint of venison left and a few rabbits so I thought, time to get some steaks.
I called a friend who said, 'lets drive up to a new permission in the Cotswolds for a look what they have.' I was excited, new place, new challenge, new opportunities.
I arrived at the friends farm to have him sit with a coffee and say that he hadn't made contact and I should go in his field. My heart sank, the field is full of deer, but full of dog walkers and the deer are wary as a result. More often than not you never see them. They come out after dark and scoot to an area they are never shot at.
I sat in the field for an hour and enjoyed the sunshine sitting on grass and feeling warm. Feelings that have been rare for quite some time, I had a slight tinge of guilt that my wife was at home with two tired and grumpy children. I knew it was too early really, I called my friend to ask him about the other farm and was reminded about the need for patience - a point well made! I didn't have any today because of the guilt and said I would go down to the farm and have a coffee before going home.
I stood up and made to move away, took off my camo gloves and, as always took a last look behind me. 90 yards away there he was, a decent sized buck of about two. Gloves make a huge difference, the whites of the outside of the palm of your hand are seen like beacons. I struggled to use my binoculars to see him.
I was stood up, in the open, with my rifle on my shoulder and my sticks on the floor. Nightmare.
I waited perfectly still until he started to graze, them picked up my sticks having dropped to my knees. He looked at me and I froze, when he moved I readied myself again, my heart beating like crazy; so much so I was shaking.
He walked in front of a bank of earth and stopped, backstop, clear shot, all safe. Boom. I saw later I had severed all the blood vessels from the top of the heart, it was quick and clean.
He walked ten paces, dead on his feet before he dropped in clear sight. I gave him a minute and walked on to him, checking he was dead and allowing myself a moment to calm down. The exit wound was clear, the rounds I use now are quite heavy and slow (140 grain), imparting more shock into the animal and causing less meat damage. I find this means that there is usually less reaction and obviously less waste. It's like when you stub your toe badly, you don't feel it for a while and then the pain kicks in badly, but in this situation, the deer is dead before they come out of the shock.
Within an hour the meat was bagged, in the fridge and will have a few days there to tenderise. I prefer the flavour that way to when it is done with the skin on. My wife and I will enjoy steaks on Sunday, the dogs enjoyed some scraps. My bloodhound found a lost deer last weekend for another shooter who had searched in vain for an hour and he is a great asset, it is always good to remind him what he is looking for. It is also great to have a friend into charcuterie as I will also have salami off this animal.
What a way to do it, excitement, a challenge, regret (with every life taken) and ultimately gratitude for this beautiful animal that will feed me, my wife and our children, will allow me to barter (the chap who supplies my car tyres will provide his labour for my meat) and a new hat rack for friends. I'm not a trophy collector as such.
I've become a bit of a fan of Steve Rinella and couldn't put his book Meateater down. If you are interested in this perspective it is worth a read. It's worth looking for him on Youtube too.
I realise I've left myself open here and understand this may seem anathema to many, but I do honestly believe this is the best way to be a meat eater. To work for it, understand how it came about, how it died and be involved in every step of the process. I am proud to hunt what I eat.
The freezer was looking a little bare, with one big roasting joint of venison left and a few rabbits so I thought, time to get some steaks.
I called a friend who said, 'lets drive up to a new permission in the Cotswolds for a look what they have.' I was excited, new place, new challenge, new opportunities.
I arrived at the friends farm to have him sit with a coffee and say that he hadn't made contact and I should go in his field. My heart sank, the field is full of deer, but full of dog walkers and the deer are wary as a result. More often than not you never see them. They come out after dark and scoot to an area they are never shot at.
I sat in the field for an hour and enjoyed the sunshine sitting on grass and feeling warm. Feelings that have been rare for quite some time, I had a slight tinge of guilt that my wife was at home with two tired and grumpy children. I knew it was too early really, I called my friend to ask him about the other farm and was reminded about the need for patience - a point well made! I didn't have any today because of the guilt and said I would go down to the farm and have a coffee before going home.
I stood up and made to move away, took off my camo gloves and, as always took a last look behind me. 90 yards away there he was, a decent sized buck of about two. Gloves make a huge difference, the whites of the outside of the palm of your hand are seen like beacons. I struggled to use my binoculars to see him.
I was stood up, in the open, with my rifle on my shoulder and my sticks on the floor. Nightmare.
I waited perfectly still until he started to graze, them picked up my sticks having dropped to my knees. He looked at me and I froze, when he moved I readied myself again, my heart beating like crazy; so much so I was shaking.
He walked in front of a bank of earth and stopped, backstop, clear shot, all safe. Boom. I saw later I had severed all the blood vessels from the top of the heart, it was quick and clean.
He walked ten paces, dead on his feet before he dropped in clear sight. I gave him a minute and walked on to him, checking he was dead and allowing myself a moment to calm down. The exit wound was clear, the rounds I use now are quite heavy and slow (140 grain), imparting more shock into the animal and causing less meat damage. I find this means that there is usually less reaction and obviously less waste. It's like when you stub your toe badly, you don't feel it for a while and then the pain kicks in badly, but in this situation, the deer is dead before they come out of the shock.
Within an hour the meat was bagged, in the fridge and will have a few days there to tenderise. I prefer the flavour that way to when it is done with the skin on. My wife and I will enjoy steaks on Sunday, the dogs enjoyed some scraps. My bloodhound found a lost deer last weekend for another shooter who had searched in vain for an hour and he is a great asset, it is always good to remind him what he is looking for. It is also great to have a friend into charcuterie as I will also have salami off this animal.
What a way to do it, excitement, a challenge, regret (with every life taken) and ultimately gratitude for this beautiful animal that will feed me, my wife and our children, will allow me to barter (the chap who supplies my car tyres will provide his labour for my meat) and a new hat rack for friends. I'm not a trophy collector as such.
I've become a bit of a fan of Steve Rinella and couldn't put his book Meateater down. If you are interested in this perspective it is worth a read. It's worth looking for him on Youtube too.
I realise I've left myself open here and understand this may seem anathema to many, but I do honestly believe this is the best way to be a meat eater. To work for it, understand how it came about, how it died and be involved in every step of the process. I am proud to hunt what I eat.
