The Hunter's Chronicles

[milegajo]

Fellow Hunters of Bushcraftuk.com!

I would like to bring you upto speed on my activities, known to many as 'The Hunter's Chronicles. Posted are extracts from my blog www.1nomad.blogspot.com and also posted on another forum of which I am a member.

The Hunter's Chronicles is an account of hunts. A diary kind of. Might be interesting to compare notes and see what nature is upto in your area.
So to kick off.

My Background. I am houseless as opposed to homeless. I live in a small caravan with my partner and our two young daughters one aged 8 and the other 7 months. After a year volunteering at an eco village after escaping the rat race (a journey documented at www.1nomad.blogspot.com), we towed our van back to Gloucestershire and now 'occupy' some neglected woodland surrounded by yet more woodland and fields. I hunt to eat. Everything I kill goes in the pot and as much as possible is used I.e skins tanned/cooked up to make glue, bones cooked for soup then burnt in the fire and used in compost.
Quarry spotted nearby;

Wood Pigeon – lots but elusive.
Pheasant – hard to spot but easy to hear!
Wood cock – Timid, but saw plenty when lamping rabbits.
Rabbit – Plenty of droppings indicating healthy population, but lamp shy and nervous.
Squirrels – Abundant!

Thursday 16th February 2012.

Yesterday morning I was up at the crack of dawn. Seemingly before the squirrels! The little blighters evidently had an hours lie in, so today I too had a rest so as to be 'in sync'.
Quietly walking through the woods the noises of life were everywhere, mostly crows and little birds (Great tits, robins etc) also the odd kestrel, owl and woodpecker.
Prior to the recent cold snap, you only had to be still and sooner or later you'd hear a squirrel. Not of late however. The pesky critters are there, but very jittery. Before, they were bold and seemingly oblivious to my presence, now they appear on edge and bolt for cover well before I'm in range. When you've eaten as many squirrels as my poor family has now, its often a relief to come back empty handed! But meat is meat and these guys are calling for me to up my game.
The tactics of the day were a blend of the usual slow, quiet walk mixed with hiding in brush and keeping dead still.
Nothing.
Then, I spied 2 playing 35-40 yards up a bank. Luckily here was fairly clear and open, often its a battle to thread the pellet through all the spindly twigs. I crouched and slowly approached.
They continued bounding around, but moved elsewhere.
Damn.
Or not. A small female was hopping around in the leaves, she caught my scent and clung to the nearest trunk looking in my direction. I dropped to the knee. All I could make out was the head and neck. The TX200 MKIII took her down with ease. In the game bag she went.
On the way back home, I stayed vigilant, and spied 4-5 more but with no opportunities presented. I have found this on nearly all my hunts. It's almost as though these woodland Gods give you what you need but no more. My empty handed hunts most often occur when I have an animal hanging and waiting for the pot. Almost a “Tutt Tutt, Greedy boy”.

Pics
The Days Catch - Plus a previous one...

The Twins - TX200 MKII and MKIII

- milegajo

 

[milegajo]

Friday 17th February 2012

What's the story morning glory? Well, very different from yesterday! Walked outside and there were three squirrels within spitting distance. I don't know who was more surprised, but their reflexes were functioning better than mine. In a second they were gone. Walked not 50 paces on, and two more nervous squirrels bid a hasty retreat.
I cast my eye about and it snagged on a tuft of white by the base of a tree trunk. A very dead, very stiff squirrel. A kill from yesterday. She'd poked her head ever so slightly round for a peek. I had a pop and the head had disappeared. I'd presumed I'd missed, being such a small target, and she'd run up the tree. Evidently my aim was true. Bonus!

With the amount of prey about I didn't want to miss out so I tried a different approach. Instead of the softly, softly I went 'swift and bold'. This was quite effective. They seemed surprised and as they gathered their senses on the trunk of the nearest tree, bang, I took my shot. One was less than ten yards away to my left frozen to the spot. Didn't even move until my pellet peirced his ear.

Unlike yesterday, this morning was warmer and overcast. The strong sunlight of yesterday made things a challenge with lens flare and shadows. No so this morning.

I covered a much greater distance, far more quickly and ended with three kills plus bonus. I won't be eating the bonus one due to it not having been gutted promptly, this one will be skinned and laid out as an offering to Pan and his fellow woodland spirits in gratitude.

Very pleased with this mornings outing.

- milegajo

 

[milegajo]

Meat for the pot. Skins salted and drying. Heads kept for brain tanning. Tails feet etc 'offered to the woodland gods'.

 

[milegajo]

Friday 17th February (Night Patrol)

After what felt like one helluva marathon gutting and skinning session my back was aching and thumbs sore. Squirrels are darn fiddly to process and tough, well built machines.
Life for me then pretty much consists of the basic essentials. Water and wood (food taken care of!). Water collected, wood sawn, I went for a wander, a wander with a purpose. What I failed to include in my previous account was that on the return leg of my morning hunt I ran into a dog walker who gave me a hot tip on some wascally wabbits. He told me where I could find them and who owned the land. It was to this landowners residence that I wandered to around 17:00.
A quick summary of who I was and my intentions and he readily accepted my offer and granted me full permission. This is the chap who, it turns out, happens to own most of the valley... He trains and keeps race horses and the field I was interested in had just had new grass sown upon it. He was not happy with the rabbits feasting on it. His only proviso was that I text him prior to my outings, Not a problem sir!
Eager to get cracking I hurried home, scoffed my tea, and whizzed through the washing up like a school kid wanting to watch cartoons.
I saddled up the MkII Tx200 (has a bushnell banner dusk and dawn scope) with my solarforce lamp kit and hot footed it back to the field.

My first sweep of the field my heart sank. Nothing.
Had I been too eager? Had I come too early (it was gone 8 o'clock and quite dark now).
Had I made too much noise?
Had I got the right field?
Shut up lad.

As all you seasoned hunters know, looks can often be deceiving.

I walked along the hedgerow as softly as I could. The creak of my boots suddenly seemed deafening. I had attached the red filter and immediately regretted it. The lights of the village beyond almost canceled it out.

Ahhh but whats that I spy just off to my left? A twinkle? And so it was. A little rabbit hunkered down. Of course I near enough wet myself with glee and fluffed the shot. Goddamit!
Still, live and learn. Shame because that rabbit has just done the same.
On I crept, optimistic that the hordes of bunnies I had been promised lay just around the next bend in the hedge. To be sure I dazzled them and the tactic of cutting off their path with a dazzling beam of light, I detached the filter. It didn't cut the mustard let alone enough of the darkness.

I rounded the bend and touched the pressure switch mounted to the stock with masking tape. Zshwing my lamp was now a light sabre boring its power into the retinas of two slightly bemused rabbits.
Twang. Zing! What the! A miss?! The rabbits were even more bemused only hopping slightly.
Quick, reload.
Right, lets be sure on range, darkness being tricky and all. I light sabred them again, they edged closer to the hedge but my sword of light stopped them in their tracks. Now then, the closest bunny looked about to bolt, it turned its head giving me a lovely view between his ears. And that was the last thing he ever did.
No twitching. Just rolled over and lights out. Literally.
I switched to head torch (his mate scarpered) and inspected my prey. A neat hole at the back of the head, not perfectly in the middle, but just in from the left ear was the entry point and a slightly protruding eyeball showed where the pellet came to rest.

That was enough for me. I did sit and wait half heartedly but it wasn't long before I gave up and headed home. On the way back I scanned another field of this permission. Just one set of eyes glared back. I want a hot chocolate and my family has enough food for now. Enough perhaps for me to make some jerky!

- milegajo

 

[milegajo]

Tuesday 28th February.

Wow wee, what a day!

First blood(s) for the 97k. One male, one female Squizzer. No glory shot sorry I forgot. But! I have some better ones...

Had me singing "Female Squizzer roasting on an open fire..." to the tune of the xmas jingle.

Now then children, listen carefully, for it was t'whilst I was butchering Mr Squizzey Whizzer that me ears did hear a melodious sound emanating from yonder tree. Hark, says I, Mr Pujin... So off I sloped to my Nissan Terrano mobile shed to get the MKIII TX200. I did not want to miss this shot.

Mr Pujin was oblivious to me scheming and I sloped past the wood shed where I could see him without showing myself. Hmmm, this would require some 'pellet threading'. There his head was. Breathe, first pressure, hold, thunk.
Like a downed flying ace, Mr Pujin plummeted to earth. His brains having pressed the ejector button and exited out the back of his skull.
Yum Yum. Off with his breast.

So the lesson for today is, keep your ears open and ya trusted rifle handy!

Much love y'all.

milegajo

 

[milegajo]

Ever seen The Simpsons episode where Homer is sitting waiting for his gun and all sorts of targets drive past?

That was my day. Nearly.

Quick rewind.

Yesterday, glorious weather. Normally I've been going out lamping with mixed results, so I thought I'd try a change of tactics... I ended up scaring everything away, only catching flashes of white as the wabbits scarpered. I even got so desperate I crawled god knows how many yards stalking them only to fluff the shot. Twice. All in lovely sunshine.

As I've said before, the Great Airgun Hunter in the sky only gives when I need. He must've smiled.

I did however make a fair few mental notes of various telltale signs of wabbit activity. I always try to say it was a 'recce' to console myself after drawing a blank.

Today, whilst out for a walk around 15:10 with Mrs n tiddlywinks, I spied three rabbits basking in more glorious sunshine. They couldn't have given an **** about us. One sat barely 15 yards away, the other two maybe 25. The things you see without your rifle...
When I got home I was off! To repeat yesterdays performance. This time I tried static hunting. And learned I have neither the patience nor the luck. Whilst lying prone in the hedgerow 3 yes 3 pheasants sauntered through my cross hairs. It pains me that this is no jest. I said to myself, "If he puts his head through my crosshairs he'll lose it", three times. Each time I decided against it. 1 because I only asked the owner if I could shoot rabbits, 2 I know the owners relatives breed them and organise shoots and 3 the field is overlooked by a property, if not the whole valley and 4, end of their season (although not if the previous 3 conditions didn't apply and I was hungry!) Not worth it.
I pretend I don't even like the taste of pheasant.

18:15 I gave up with the waning light and trudged home.

20:30 I saddled up the MkII TX200 with the Solarforce L2 Torch and red filter and tried again.

Arrived at the gate. First sweep, a reflection by the hedge to my left, resting on the gate I took an unhurried shot. She just lay flat on her side. Literally bowled over.
This 16 year old secondhand rifle has yet to fail me, and yet when I chronoed her she's only putting out a tired 10.6 ft/lbs, her stable mates a hearty 11.7ft/lbs. Go figure. I know she needs a service, I tell her I'll treat her to a vektor kit someday, but until I can save up my meagre income and muster the courage to rip her guts out, that day seems far away...

No pics i'm afraid. This one is for the imagination.

Peace

milegajo

 

[milegajo]

Hey Hey! Morning all!

06:30 this morning I threw open my curtains. Glorious morning, clear sky, sun just peeking over the horizon and ***! a rabbit lolloping past my solar panels! This is a good morning!
A quick fag and I released the chickens (the newest addition to the household), then I shook the MKIII awake and off I hopped. Nothing.
A walk through the woods. Nothing. Just scared off the woodies one after the other. No squizzy whizzers.
I arrived home with the pellet in the breach being philosophical. Again.
As a habit, after drawing a blank and in order to fire off the action, I walk a few paces into our little woodland where a rabbit sometimes can be seen. Frustratingly he's normally there when you go for a **** as its near to where I keep the bucket.
But NO! There he was munching away. You beauty. I crouched down and gave a squeak, bloody twigs in the way. I slowly rose, the crosshairs ascended and when they rested on the sweet spot. Lights out.

Some folks have expressed an interest in some of the other aspects of my activities so here are some snippets...

Smoking skins...

Breakfast - Thanks Chickens!

Much Love y'all!

 

[milegajo]

Insomnia at four in the morning... what is one to do? A dawn patrol.
This morning had that feeling, a willing animal was out there. Waiting to be delivered to the grassy knoll outside the halls of valhalla. Mist swirled as smoke in the light wind. As I walked through the woods, the trees shivered in anticipation of the day ahead, shedding mini showers. My step was quickened as the nicotine and caffeine conspired in my gut. So distracting was this that I startled roosting pigeons from their nests in succession, chiding myself with each one that took flight.
I approached the venue as the Weihrauch sensed its prey. Out of the fog, the grey silhouette of a candidate was etched on the horizon. I dropped to my knee, taken by surprise at the rabbits bold display. I fired. I thought I saw his legs roll and point skywards, but the lack of a body proved that I had observed his ears as he legged it.
Onwards I went along the hedgerow, crouching, one foot softly leading the other. Movement ahead. The mist enveloped all in its path, providing the hunter with a cloak of concealment and a distinct advantage. A large doe nonchalantly chewed, unaware that in seconds a JSB Exact would be sent her way and send her to the afterlife.

This one was infested with fleas...like rats leaving a sinking ship they congregated on her ears leaping overboard. So many were there that I was grateful for the chance discovery of a discarded dog lead that saved me putting her in the game bag and the job of cleaning it out later...

- milegajo

 

[milegajo]

Our choice of lifestyle and living arrangements means that when my 8 year old daughter needs a wee at night, she has to rouse me so that I can open the sliding doors of the bedroom compartment...
This she duly did at 04:30 this morning.
Fantastic. Fire lit, coffee down the gullet, chickens let out, quick browse of internet searching and slobbering over stuff I can't afford like, airgun tuning, guns and parts and of course, checking the forum etc, all done as the sun was just beginning to rise. Superb.
MkIII loaded, and I slipped into the mist towards a spot I saw pigeons congregating yesterday morning. Farmers are sowing so there are loads of pheasants, pigeons, crows, magpies and jays. Lots of targets (bar pheasants (for the legal eagles)).

I found a great spot that just so happened to be riddled with rabbit warrens, loads of them. Some old, some inhabited. So many I had to watch where I stepped to prevent a broken ankle. I love that aspect of hunting. Often a bonus is thrown in.

Well this time I had another experience that re-enforces my belief that when hunting for the pot not the tally, animals will present themselves willingly. I was quiet and still, scanning the many calls and attempting to locate the source, when a pigeon flew over and landed in the tree directly in front of me not 15 yards away. Down he went with a shot through the neck. Into a F**K off bramble patch. As he died pretty much instantly there was no flapping to guide me in. Eventually I recovered the prize and as I rested and allowed the adrenaline to drain away, two rooks were playing silly buggers within range. Pop, down he plopped. Sadly stuck in Ivy.

Why did I shoot him? I did so almost instinctively. They are also tough to get close to. I think it was that reason that was behind my assassination of a magpie. Shot him right underneath the eye and was puzzled why I did... Do I dare admit to myself that on those occasions I may in fact have killed for 'sport'!? Oh God.

Lunch. Stir fried. Yumm

 

[milegajo]

Birch sap is reputed to be very good for the kidneys, helping to combat kidney stones and dissolve sand etc from them. I don't doubt it on the grounds that I had a bottle before bed and at 05:05 this morning my bladder was rather larger than usual. Fire lit, porridge cooked on it chickens let out into the run coffee drunk, and off it was for a stalk. A beautiful clear morning, the sort that usually follows the preceding clear frosty night. I had barely entered the woodland when I spied a pigeon alighting upon a branch high in a tree 40 odd yards away. Adjusting for both range and elevation, not much just half a mildot, I took a standing shot through the myriad of twigs and branches. Like an adversary of Biggles, he fell to earth. As I hastily hunted for him (the coffee had kicked in...) an owl burst from a holly bush to my right. The word "Wow" escaped my lips. Incredible sight. A quick squat, and I eventually found him at the foot of his previous perch.

For the sake of a leg stretch and to enjoy the glorious daybreak I sauntered on. I reached a notorious spot for squizzy whizzers, and I wasn't disappointed. A heavy female bounced along the ground to my right, paused for too long and she felt a JSB enter her heart and lungs. By the time I got to her her eyes were still open, life expired too quickly for the body to react.

On the way back, no pellet loaded this time, I was pretty happy with my bonus, a little male hopped across the ground to my left. I dropped to a knee, thumbed in a pellet and slowly rose. He scrabbled along the branches and paused. A JSB passed through his brain and down he tumbled.

Three pellets, three instant dispatches, all standing shots, from 20-45 yards. I'm very pleased and glad I took the time to properly learn the rifle, the hold overs and study chairgun to establish the optimum zero range. It really pays off. As does the purchase of a £50 combro. An invaluable and essential piece of kit. Matched by not skimping on the buying of quality pellets that suit your gun. No 'cheap' product will do the job as well in my experience, frustration is normally the result.

Replenishing the Birch Sap supply.

I always enjoy seeing the smoke gently rising from the chimney on mornings such as these.

The collection.

The end product. I wasn't exactly sure how one eviscerates a pigeon, but I made it up as I went along. I normally just slice off the breasts but the waste has never sat well with me. His heart was enjoyed by the chickens, and the rest given a rather fitting burial in the woodland he enjoyed. His bones to be cremated in the woodburner and returned to the earth via the compost heap. As demonstrated by the spring and the re-emergence all around, from death, comes life. I'm still puzzled as to why chickens seem to enjoy eating feathers though... Bizarre creatures...

 

[milegajo]

Monday 26 March 2012

Spring truly is a season that is alive. Alive with the magic and miracle of life in all its abundant forms. A chance to welcome the return of seemingly long lost companions you mourned the fading of not 3-4 months prior. It is little wonder that it was cause for many a celebration for our fore-fathers and a time to rejoice in the gift that you and your fellows managed to preserve in the cold dark times now past. There are few grounds upon which I can doubt as to why they named this 'now', this moment, the 'present'. Of course, it is also mellowed with the memory of those who may not have made it. Like the many squirrels, pigeons, and even perhaps a friend or relative. A great dose of perspective not bestowed upon those for whom the seasons have little impact. They who spend their lives under artificial light locked away in the same fashion 'industry', the very same machine they perpetuate, imposes upon the wretched broiler house chicken.

All these thoughts came to me as I, in direct contrast, prowled the fields drenched in the rising warmth of the morning sunlight. Feet bathed in dew. A cool breeze frigid enough to warrant an extra layer in spite of the suns efforts and the scene witnessed by the eye.

A long reconnoiter culminated in an ideal spot under a tree frequented often by the pigeons that cooed all around.

As I waited in silence (pausing sometimes to reply to hunting life comments on my mobile) I cast my eyes about to see what other opportunities may be exploited in future. Pheasants were all around, confident and bold almost as though they were aware of our rules and legislations. A crow mobbed a buzzard, always a sight of awe at his bravery as each time I measure the disparity between the size of the combatants. So fierce and persistent is the crow, that I cannot help but pity the bird of prey and question why he doesn't rip the cocky devil to shreds!
Otherwise only the odd lone rabbit could be seen, timid and fearful way out of range.

It wasn't long before I fluffed my first opportunity, it wasn't long after that before I was more careful and took my time.

This time, two settled in the tree, my target chosen by the clearest path. I wasn't entirely happy witb the shot he presented and no sooner had I mulled this over when a third arrived. Scope adjusted to 6x mag crosshairs settled one the head with only slight elevation for gravity, it was lights out upon impact with a direct fall to the ground.

A victory cigarette and a half assed attempt at stalking a young rabbit, then it was off home to tell you guys all about it!

 

[milegajo]

Monday 2nd April

After a spell of unintended vegetarianism, it was with great enthusiasm that I set out with the TX200 MKIII. My spirit was set up and concealed under the hedge, lying in wait for that scrummy pigeon to land. All my backside needed to do was catch up.
I was shaken out of my day dreaming by a black sports car as it slowed to a halt beside me the window sliding down and the drivers sunglasses with it. It was the landowner! A welcome stop as he extended his permission to another field just below where I was walking. An old vineyard teaming with warrens and rabbit trails. Super!

I gave it a good scout and watching me was my first candidate. I missed him, twice. That's not normal for the MKIII and I'd checked zero before I came out... hmmm poor shooting then.

Off to wander the rest of the permission. Another chance. This encounter left me shaken and quite frankly angry and ****** off.
A rabbit not 40 yards away just behind a hillock. I crouched and crept to close the distance to 30-35 yards. Took my time and pulled the trigger, the head dropped. Either he was dead, or I'd missed and he'd run into the hedge. Those, I thought were the only two options.
The third, nightmarish one happened.

I approached and, as I drew near, a rabbit ran out into the middle of the field. Strange but not unheard of behaviour... A different rabbit? He stopped and I had a squint through the scope, sunlight glistened off his eye. But something seemed 'off'. I looked harder, yes, blood was pouring down his face. Oh God. This explained his bizarre antics. He was blind to his left. I exploited this in order to put things right and quickly. I was able to very quickly stride to within close range. Miss. WHAT! Reload. Miss. WHAT!!!!! Things got worse as he bolted back towards the hedgerow. Luckily he couldn't negotiate his way through and I was able to put a pellet in the back of his head.

No glory shot. (Definitely no glory) I practically ran back home to see what the hell had happened. A rifle that had been pellet on pellet missing at close ranges?! It was 8 clicks off to the left. Knocked in the bag? Not that I was aware of, I did take a slip in the vineyard... but had held the rifle away from harm. My inspection showed the eye was pierced, the 8 clicks off had probably sent the pellet too far forward on the head missing the brain.

With adjustments made I set out again wondering whether I should have switched to the 97k. Then the MKIII redeemed itself. I kept the range down and bagged three rabbits with clean headshots.

Still haunted by the scene I witnessed, I have decided the MKIII is in the sin bin awaiting a one piece mount and replacement scope when funds allow...

Hunting is not always as straight forward as many would have you believe, I'm sure my experience is not unique no matter how careful and particular a hunter is.

The rabbits were gifted to a random, and grateful, guy in the street. I explained the disparity and challenge of matching hunting to eat with pest control which had resulted in the surplus.

Anyhoo, an eventful and ultimately rather successful days hunting.

 

[milegajo]

Friday 13th April 2012

Der Gestapo - Part Zwei.

The trigger finger was itchy... Something was gunna pop its clogs today. Of the stallions in the stable, it was the mkII TX200 that whinnied the loudest. Took her for a leg stretch in the paddock, pellet on pellet at 30 yards, nice. And off we went.

Glorious sunshine beamed down. The rolling green fields spread out in front, the valley capped by forest either side.

I took up a favoured spot overlooking a much frequented warren. It wasn't long before the MKII took a bite.

He was alot smaller than I thought, mental note, 9x mag makes things look nine times bigger...

Then the TX200 barked again,

Another clean dispatch.


"What are you doing!" I had switched positions and shortly after I was ambushed from behind the gate by a 'senior' looking white haired fellow.
"Hunting"... was my reply. (I'm sitting in full camo with a rifle pointed at a warren..)
"Do you have the owners permission?"
"Mr Farmer's, yes, of course."
"Police are on the phone."
"Sorry, who are you?! And why the devil did you call the police!?"
"I didn't. I live down the road"
"What, just there?" Says I, pointing to the one and only property on the border of the field.
"I've been coming here for over a month now." I stop myself from saying "I'm surprised you haven't seen me..." No I wasn't, I flipped it on it's head,
"I'll take it as a compliment you haven't seen me!"
He gave a genuine laugh which seemed to disarm his abrupt 'you naughty boy tone'.
When I said who I was, he seemed satisfied and promptly disappeared.

I awaited Der Gestapo and I took no chances. I made sure I was at least 50 feet from the road. When I spied their vehicle, I discharged the shot into the ground and swiftly bagged up the TX. What gun?

I rolled a smoke as they chatted behind the hedge.

My turn. I heartily greeted the two agents with a "Good Afternoon! What brings you here?"

Thankfully PC Blonde and PC Tall were not 'Policy Enforcement' officers, rather 'Peace' Officers. My gun wasn't even mentioned by them. They'd had a call from someone driving past the fields , all was well, they were happy. I told them how often I had and would frequent these fields and they promised they'd make a note and inform people I was known to them.

I was bemused by the observation that there were loads of pheasants, "why didn't I go for them?" Ho Ho Ho, I ain't falling for that! No, it was innocent enough, there are loads around. I made the excuse Mr Farmer bred them so they were a no no.

When they left, I gutted a rabbit and put it out to bait some crows. No luck.

Much later I returned and bagged another bunny.

Thoroughly whacked, I headed off home.

One squizzy whizzer less, but I couldn't claim credit for this one...

 

[milegajo]

Sunday 15th April 2012

Blue above, Green in front. Fantastic.

Today it was time to switch to another warren, The former seemingly close to exhausted, the numbers now down to single figures and consisting mostly of little ones. I'm concentrating on the most visible high profile warrens in order to impress and secure future permission, at the same time, it would be wise not to also bring about the obsolescence of my services. I also hope that a bit of pruning should help stave off any temptation from Mr Mixi...

So here I took up temporary residence. Gamebag underneath the rifle, the shadows extending across the field.

But I was not on form... missing three sitters as I failed to accurately gauge the range.

(Taking the above photo with my mobile free hand kept me amused for quite a frustrating while!)

Cue my latest gadget Strelok, a few minor adjustments and in the gamebag went this little fella...

Fate was not the kindest to this little chap, he decided to lower his head at just the point I fired, the pellet hit where intended, only that spot was now his spine. Thankfully I got to him quickly to swiftly break his neck. Regretful, but this time not down to an error or oversight on my part.

20:00 and I was cold. For the past hour nothing had materialised and yet I knew the field was awash with rabbits and pheasants, behind me. I gave up on the warren I had been observing and slowly turned to the nearest rabbit, by counting the fence posts between me and him, a reference having been taken from me to the warren, I calculated he was approximately 60 yards. Tapped this into Strelok and the app showed me where on my reticle he should sit. Monkey see monkey do, and BLOW ME DOWN if the little beggar didn't give a leap into the air and twitch his last! A pellet right through the ear. By far and away one of the best and definitely the furthest shot of my career.
Hoorah for Strelok (now I'd like a laser rangefinder...)

Another cracking performance from the HW97k and RWS Superfield combo.

In the words of my pal tigger - TTFN!

 

[milegajo]

Tuesday 17th April 2012

Round my way April truly has brought its notorious showers, so with a rather dodgy forecast I decided to make hay so to speak and utilise every dry evening opportunity (dawn is getting to much like hard work!).

Target; Wood Pigeon
Venue; Small isolated woodland surrounded by grazing fields towards the lower half of the valley. Reconnaissance showed heavy concentrations of roosts at the north end on the east side. A steep slope rising from east to west. In order to minimise the angles I chose to hide along the elevated bank.
Trees; mature, broad leaf. Many covered in thick ivy reducing field of fire and line of sight.

​

I arrived about 18:30 to give plenty of time to set up. Often when i'm static hunting and waiting, I check out whats happening on The Hunting Life. Just so happened secretagentmole had pm'd me with some pigeon hunting tips. They were good too, I trialled them on a Jay.

​

Straight through the heart. Thanks Moley! Now, time to get some dinner!

Activity had slowed down considerably, after I had finished giving moley my excuses and just put my mobile away a pigeon landed right in front of me. Crap. For a few seconds i froze so as not to scare it off. having that strange staring match you do as your quarry makes its calculations. I inched the rifle up slowly, slowly. God knows how they do it, but they just seem to know death is close and bugger off!

Damn it!

Had a couple of pops at some others but was really having a crash course in hold under on a .177 . Roost shooting is not my normal approach to bagging dinner and the angles make things a nice challenge, not to mention the bloody twigs!

Finally as the light faded this little fella took pity and hung around to meet his maker.

​

Many thanks to secretagentmole for his 'in field' mentoring!

Was alot of fun, if dry, I intend to visit tomorrow night and exploit what I think will be a better shooting position.

 

[milegajo]

T'would appear I'm not the only one afflicted by 'Itchy Trigger Finger' syndrome. But when I get the urge, I simply drop a text, pick up my gun and step across the road. It is not that simple for others I hear. Some choose to spend their time doing other things that means they can't do what they want when they want. I work too, but am self employed.

As I lay basking in the sun as the clouds passed, I amused myself greatly by rubbing this fact into Mawders' face! I often wile away the time between shots on my mobile browsing 'new content' on here. I've never had a textual relationship whilst hunting before....

It wasn't long before I triumphantly rubbed this in his mush.

A big fat buck.

Dinner stopped play and I headed back out. Eerily just as Mawders sent another grumble, I shot a similar sized Doe. Poor Poor Mawders. If the light hadn't have gotten so low I would've taken another glory shot.

Well fellas just two very quick mooches today. I'm actually trying to hold off the rabbits abit and concentrate on the pigeons before the leaves make roost shooting even more difficult.

Watch this space though because after tomorrow's delivery I'll be introducing our bunny friends to DARTH VADER!!!
[attachment=184765:Stealth.jpg]

 

[milegajo]

Saturday 28th April 2012

Conditions of late have not been favourable.

The paths around our caravan are churned up with thick sticky soil. Where rain has been able to flow, stone has been exposed underneath. The chickens look bedraggled, their run fit to be a scene from the Somme. I wouldn't be surprised if after this I'm treating them for shell shock and trench foot...

Still, growth has been incredible upon the trees and the vegetable patch. The rabbits are out in force, so Darth Vader and I seized the longest lull to go a-hunting.

This stretch is an embarrassment. The rabbits are numerous, and on the whole, wary. Here they are visible from the track behind, and ordinarily at least 2-5 can be seen at all times of the day. There are far more than that in total i'm sure, and you can bet your bottom dollar if you said to the land owner, "yep, all done" they would be there, waiting, to call you a liar.

To the right of the gate is a tree. It splits into a vee and has a leafy, but unfortunately placed hawthorn bush that likes to remind of its presence with a poke in the back of the right leg under the bumcheek if you start to relax. Very useful for maintaining concentration.

Here Darth Vader and I waited. A target presented itself, lazed at 62 yards. Didn't bother. The other two warren exit holes were lazed at 28 and 42 yards. After missing a seemingly straight forward shot, i double checked and found it was in fact 48 yards away... my mistake as I think the laser clipped a fence post due to my extreme angle.

Shortly after, Darth Vader summoned this little soul to the gates of Valhalla.

Now yes, Kits are not the most cautious of quarry, and could quite possibly be nailed with a boot to the face, but I was still very pleased with not only Darth Vaders accuracy, but the punch of the .22. As the Kit was face on and not presenting any safe headshot, I elected for a heart and lung shot through the chest/neck. The trauma exhibited on the body showed that death would most certainly have come swiftly even if the vital organs were somehow miraculously untouched.

The clouds released a shower, and we bid a hasty retreat. I aim to head back out with the tx200 and the lamp and see if .177 can't chalk one up too!

 

[milegajo]

Saturday 28th April 2012 - Part II

I supped my cuppa and had a long hard look at the dark ominous cloud formation the other side of the valley through the caravan window. Hmmm. Another check of the forecast. Computer says good, cloud says bad....Stuff it.

I headed out to the Nissan Terrano high security Shed cum Greenhouse (albeit with one constantly and slowly deflating tyre) when I was visited for the second time by a rather interesting agricultural worker. I first met him at 07:00 one morning. He confessed to having been outside since 04:00, a harmless chap who very much enjoyed regaling me not only with the latest songs he had composed but also with his harmonica and theory on the spread of TB.... I later discovered that whilst i was being undeniably entertained, his dog ate one of my rabbit skins that had been pinned on a board to dry...shame it wasn't the cockerel...

I bid him good day after reading his 'star letter' in Cotswold Life magazine and accepting a murray mint, and promised to text him so he had my number...I will, at some point.

A few shots to check zero and out I went again, this time with the MKIII TX200, back to the spot I took the kit with the Stealth.

40 yards down the fence line were two rabbits that seemed not only oblivious to my squeaks, but also to my attempt to kill them. My first shot clipped either a twig or the gate as I crept up on them, they half heartedly darted to the hedge line but very soon returned. By this time I was in the position pictured. And ready.

1-1. Another kit.

Now they seemed to get the message that death was lurking in the bushes and they bid a hasty retreat. I hung on another 20 minutes before retrieving and gutting my kill, then moving on.

I chose a spot 35-40 yards from a major and often frequented warren. It has been the focus of my attention but it sits where a small young woodland meets the field and is no doubt an entry and exit point as well as being homes.
I scanned the valley as I waited.

My faith was rewarded as the light was fading. A large buck scurried out some way into the field and presented me with the side of his skull. That was all that was required for the TX200 to send an RWS Superfield smack between his eye and ear.

I toyed with lamping the warren, but the frigid North wind got the better of me and I tramped home.

2-1 to the TX (although extra time is to be awarded to the Stealth!)

 

[milegajo]

Tuesday 1st May 2012

With the changing of the month came change in the weather. 19:00 I saddled up the TX200 and sauntered to my pigeon patch. Of course, there were bunnies a plenty. Kits lined the roadside, diving for cover when their nerve gave out. Each seemed to hold out longer than the last as though daring the next to out-do his bravado.
As I past my usual rabbit field there were four at least way beyond their usual limits, a quick scamper, but when I froze and remained a statue, they quickly resumed feeding. I enjoyed their company for a while smiling wryly to myself. Soon I tired of them and as I resumed my way, all scurried to the hedgerows in an instant.

Meet my closest neighbours, much more discreet than I!

I arrived in my favoured spot. A small woodland, unclaimed and unowned, inhabited at the weekend by two very friendly people and their equally friendly dog, Foxy.

I plunged into my secret garden through the thicket on the left that conceals the path to the treasures within.

A few paces in I like to stop and remain motionless for a minute or two. I fancy I am 'tuning in' to the surrounding life, calibrating my radar, becoming more sensitive to the subtle signs that betray quarry lurking in the depths... In spite of this, when I move again I very often disturb numerous pigeons who in turn scare the rest with the frantic beat of their wings and snapping of twigs. This has been almost unavoidable as the high winds of late have littered the floor with dead twigs, veritable land mines to the stealthy predator. More ominous and deadly than that are the shining and only recently exposed roots that lurk beneath that will take a foot and send it down the steep slope threatening at best to knock the rifle off zero, or worse, break a bone.

I threaded my steps with purpose. So slow and cautious was I that a heavy female squirrel nibbled upon a branch ahead oblivious to my presence. I took a standing shot the impacted below the ear. The crack sent two more pigeons off into the skies as she crumpled sideways and rolled off the branch impacting the leaf litter with a muffled thud. As I approached her shivering body, it was evident the life had vanished from the eyes, and yet the nose and whiskers twitched. I placed another pellet through the back of her skull to end the throes of Death.

Onwards, deeper into the forest I went. Songbirds chirped and twittered their chorus above and around me. Pigeons cooed but far off.
I arrived near to my position, eyes roving the canopy, My attention dropped nearer to the floor and it was then I spied the silhouette of another tree rat. This time a tree was perfectly positioned for a rested standing shot.
Crack, thud, roll.

I came to his remains and inspected the damage. There was no reaction, no struggling, no movement. But there was still light in the eyes. The round seemed to have struck just that bit too low and right of the ear. He was paralysed. A swift mercy shot and I held his chest feeling the strong heartbeat continue as blood pumped from his nose and mouth, then begin to falter, weaken, and stop. I tucked him up above where my gun is pictured resting, an offering to the Gods with the words "Lie with, and become one with the tree you loved, as one day I too will return to the soil".

There on in I played the waiting game.

My first opportunity presented itself three quarters of an hour later. The angle was extreme, almost directly above my head in a tall tree in front of my position. I am fairly certain I scored a direct hit, seemingly evidenced by the feathers that see sawed their way down, but he nonetheless escaped my clutches. Did it strike that impervious breast bone causing only a small flesh wound? Or did he fly on the fuel of adrenaline only to crash land to earth and become food for the Fox? I'll never know.

Around 20:00 another offering was made. This time I made the shot count. I held firm until his head protruded clear from the body and branches through which the pellet required threading and took my chance. He fell straight down and rolled with the slope towards me. A headshot, that was clear, but in a cruel twist reminiscent of the film Final Destination, he managed to thread a length of barbed wire through his throat! Evidently no mercy shot was required this time.

My prize gained, I ended my foray. As I alighted from my lair, quite without my noticing, the valley had become enveloped in mist. I arrived home to find my abode swaddled in the eiderdown of the gods. With the smoke of the woodburner rising gently from the chimney it was clear my night recounting my adventures, would be cosy and warm. A pleasant contrast from the North wind that pervaded every opening, chilling and leeching the life from that exposed to it.

As I butchered the pigeon by the light of my head torch, a stream of thoughts entered my mind in the fashion of an obituary. They went something along these lines;

You who once were one with the air and trees,
Who dwelt amongst the Gods and Celestial Beings, the object of the earth bound creatures envy,
Who lived as another expression of the consciousness that creates all things.
A life seen by man as the epitome of liberty.

If your life was the mastery of the elements Air and Wood,
Your demise was through my mastery of Earth and Metal.
You feasted upon the fruits of the farmers labour, I now take it back, less the tax your body exacted.
Our two species have dwelt together throughout history,
Long may our relationship continue.

 

[milegajo]

Sunday 6th May 2012

My recent acquisition, though it has nigh bankrupted me, and tentative return into the world of PCP's enabled me to engage in something not recommended with a spring powered rifle. The use of my DCR-SR32e Sony video camera as a scope cam.
When I bought my first PCP, the Webley Raider 10XS, I went positively all out and bought almost every accessory I could think of which included an IR bulb with my L2 Solarforce Lamping setup. Whilst I haven't fully explored the night vision capability, it was most enjoyable observing the rabbits and photographing them. It also had the bonus of occupying my mind as I observed those out of range, so more often than not, when I glanced up, a rabbit would have popped up in my kill zone.

Unfortunately, when the opportunity presented itself to capture a kill, the Stealth (or my .22 marksmanship) failed to deliver. I believe that either the shot fell short, or the bottle is finally low. Without a pump however, I cannot rule out the latter and for the sake of the rabbit I sincerely hope it was the former.

[media]http://youtu.be/MPjVSTFYblA[/media]

For those purists amongst you who have always rooted for the TX200 over the Stealth, have maintained the springer will be more reliable and deliver when asked, well so far, I have to concede you are right. I too am one of those purists, and so far PCP is not living up to my demands and requirements.

I returned with 'Old Faithful'...

Within minutes she did as her master asked.

But, I am willing to extend my benefit of the doubt. I believe the Stealth and I maybe reconciled despite our calibre differences and preferences. With a tin of Bisley Long Range Gold or H&N FTT I believe she will be able to perform at the ranges of the TX200 yet with a bit more punch.
Lamping is where I think the Stealth will excel, so let us wait, exercise patience and thus be rewarded.