FALL OF THE HOUSE OF FALLOW

Meet and Greet

Outfitter: Klemens Bugerling. He does not charge a daily rate or observer fees. At least not if you book directly with him. He only charges trophy fees and arranges your hotel room. He speaks great English and has been my guide in the past. His Alpine Ibex hunter had not tagged out when I arrived. So, I got to hunt with Liudie.

Hunting area: Miesenbach (Klemens told me it translates to Moss Creek). This is a free range hunt with no game fencing. The hunt is a combination of stand hunting from semi-elevated slab wood built shooting stands and spot and stalk/still hunting. I like to walk, and Klemens gladly indulges me in this. The terrain is Alpine standing pine and hard woods. Very clean woods on limestone hill side. In different places there are clear cuts from timber and rolling large green fields/pastures at the edge of the wood line. You hunt up these logging roads with the stands stationed overlooking clear cuts, known wallows or faces where game is known to travel. When I hunt with Klemens we still hunt into one of these stand areas through the logging roads and will take a shooting position at a stand until we want to hunt on out or shoot something.

Guide: Liudie (I have spelled it the way it sounds).

Rifle: Winchester (South Caroline) Super Grade .270 Win. Her name is Brighton.
Ammo: Winchester Black Box Winchester 140 Accubonds.

Game Taken: Fallow Deer Buck skull freshly boiled weighed just shy of 4.9 Kilos. The buck weighed 95.5 Kilos on Klemens' electric scale before gutting. My smart phone says that equals to 210.54 pounds. Google says that Fallow weigh between 70-90 Kilos. I also shot two meat pigs (both boars) that weighed a guestimated 25 and 40 pounds.

Game Seen: We saw Mouflon rams and ewes every time out. We also saw 7 Red Stags and I lost count of the Red Hinds and 5 roebuck buck with does (Klemens swears he does not have any roebuck). We also saw foxes and the world record rabbit. Finally, we saw a very big hawk.

Lodging: Klemens does not use a traditional camp. You stay in a ski hotel/resort called Hotel Schneeberghof. The town is very small nestled like so many in a little valley in the Alp/Alpine terrain. The town you can walk in about 20 minutes. It has a beautiful trout-filled big creek or small river cutting around both sides of it coming out of the mountain. The rooms are very comfortable, the food is great, and my wife enjoyed the spa. Everyone is very hunter friendly.

Airline: Northern Kentucky via Delta to CDG/Paris. From CDG/Paris to Vienna. Klemens meets you at Vienna, and it is about an hour and half drive southwest to Miesenbach.

We arrived in Vienna on October 6, 2017 at around 4:00 p.m. Klemens’ wife met us at the airport and drove us in. My wife and I had dedicated October 7, October 8, and October 9, 2017 to hunting. We would then spend three nights in Vienna. We arrived at Klemens’ home at approximately 5:30 p.m. We had tea and coffee as we waited on Kelemns to get in from his hunt with another client. He arrived about 6:00 p.m. after dropping the other client off at the hotel (more about this later). Klemens is a very easy going, hearty fella. He is a little profane, but so am I. I am sure that if he gets any hint from a particular client that profanity at all is not to be desired. He would not be profane at all. He speaks English well and fully. I had my fingers crossed I would get to hunt with him, but knew when I booked it was a 50/50 shot. I understood that the hunter who booked before me for Alpine Ibex would hunt with Klemens if he was still in camp when I got there.
After greetings were exchanged, I asked Klemens how his season had been. Two years ago I hunted with him about two weeks later after the Red and Fallow ruts, in other words late, and was the only hunter in camp. He told me that his season had been great that the Red Stag roar had been very productive. He had a very tall, thick but normal 4 point in each crown Red in the skinning shed. He informed me that the Red roar was at the tail end starting in mid-September and that the Fallow roar would start in about a week. He had picked the dates, because he likes to hunt Fallow right before the roar (think white tail pre-rut). He told me that he and his guides had been seeing a lot of big Fallow while hunt Reds. That in his words, “They are still very fat and strong from not rutting down. But are starting to turn on.”
We discussed what I was looking for. I reiterated, “You know I am looking for anything at or above 3.5 Kilos. However, as long as he is mature and is something you are happy with, I do not care if he is 3.0 Kilos or whatever Kilos. I know you have animals, and if we get beat, as long as I get to hunt, I do not care.”
Klemens laughed at this. When I hunted with him two years ago I only had one and half days to hunt because of plane issues. I could tell then he was very nervous about the time issue two years ago. I had told him essentially the same thing. Hunting on my own at home I figure I got about a 20 percent chance of shooting a buck. So, I am happy to just walk around with a rifle and a chance.
“With your luck and shooting you’ll get a gold medal within the first hour tomorrow morning!” He belted with a crisp slap on my shoulder. This was an illusion to the 250 Kilo gold medal boar we killed two years ago when we went out with less than two hours of daylight after picking me up late from the airport.
I already knew from the situation that I would not be hunting with Klemens, but like a kid hoping to hang out with his cool uncle I asked, “Will I be hunting with you in the morning?”
He responded, “You will be hunting with Liudie. I still have the client before you.”
“Can he speak English?”
“You and him can communicate. I have told him what you are looking for and will get along well I am sure.” He answered.
“I am sure it will be fine as well, do you want to see the rifle.”
“Yes!” He said, his eyes lighting up as big as his smile as he stood up from the table. “What did you bring?”
I bought a 270 Winchester. I think you will really like it.” We had all gotten up and followed each other out to the car. My rifle was in an SKB case in the back of the car. I opened the case and he picked it up. I travel with the bolt out of the action.
“It is balanced so well, Mauser action looking down at the bolt and the wood is beautiful.” He was shouldering and swinging Brighton.
“It is a Super Grade. It was built in the U.S. They are not built in the U.S. anymore.” I know how fond Klemens is of the 30/06. He owns a lot of them one is a beautiful overunder double rifle that he let me shoot last time I was there. I finished, “I should have brought a 30/06.”
His eyes came off the scope, but still holding the rifle. “She is fine, faster than a 30/06.” He emphasizes and elongates “ooought” in 06. “Is the long or short action?”
“It is long.” I replied reaching for the rifle. I placed it back in the case, just so and shut the case and locked it. I placed the case in the back of the vehicle and my wife got back in the vehicle with Klemens’ wife getting behind the wheel. Klemens and I took the hint. I shook his hand and thanked him for his hospitality and climbed in the passenger seat. “Liudie will be there at six, make sure you ask for early breakfast.” Klemens reminded us as he ran around the car trying to close my wife and my doors before we can close them ourselves.

First Night at the Hotel

“I would like the early breakfast please and a four-thirty wake up call, please.”
“Yes, Mr. Lowe, and is there anything in special you want?” The black-haired receptionist inquired. My wife and I both agreed later that she was sweet on me due to various professional niceties she extended to me. I do not usually eat breakfast when hunting. “No, whatever is fine.” I gave as a dismissive response.
I collapsed a dead a sleep about 8:00 p.m. My wife followed about 9:00. I gave up the ghost as she was getting ready for bed. However, the little boy before Christmas mourn found his way into my consciousness. “I am wide awake!” I declared in a very energetic voice rising from the sheets like Lazarus called from the grave. My wife did not respond. I ran around the bed to check her Apple watch; 10:00 p.m.
This scene, in less dramatic ways, played itself out at 2:48 a.m. I got up for good and got my hunting clothes on a full three hours before pick up. I just could not take it. Breakfast was jams, cheese, and really good prosciutto. Actually, it was all really good putting what you can get in a Southeast Kentucky Kroger to shame. Even, the mundane or ordinary is special here.

Meeting Liudie

Liudie pulled up very promptly at 6:00 a.m. It is still dark, very windy howling down the mountain, but not raining. Shaking hands very enthusiastically. Liudie removed his hat. “My name is Joshua Lowe and this is my wife, Becky.” Still shaking my hand he nodded bowed respectfully (not needed or expected but he did). When my hand was released he pointed at himself, “Liudie, Liudie.”
“If I mispronounce your name, I am sorry and mean no disrespect.” I attempted to inform him.
He looked hard with his head cocked sideways with the universal “I do not understand,” look on his face. I repeated it.
Liudie’s expression did not change. “Not enough English. Let’s go hunting.” Liudie does not speak a lot of English. However, he can say big, shoot, yes, Fallow, Red, stag, hind, dinner and fox. This is not a complaint. It is just an accurate report. I would come to find out he speaks five languages very fluidly. English is just not one of them. I am a hunting guest. This is my second trip here. If anything, I should learn some German. I would come to learn also, that Liudie comes from a hunting family were five generations have been professional hunters. Liudie spent five years in professional hunting school to obtain a professional license in Hungary. Hungary is his native country. I got the impression that on the hunting side of Klemens’ business that Liudie was 2nd in command. I was in great hands. I hope I kept up. We communicated the best we could with creative hand singles.

“We Are Hunting Fallow Deer, Not Red Deer!”

We drove to the mid top of a timber road still in the tree line. There is just a hint of rain in the wind. The wind on the other ridge is whipping. The fog is moving, but present. With the sun loosing against the clouds. We arrived at this spot about 7:00 a.m. When we opened the doors, I heard what sounded like a dinosaur from Jurassic Park groaning down below us and out to the left in a stand of timber. On the wind, “Red Roar.” I heard Liudie’s words come into and out of my ears. We eased out, not shutting any doors all the way. I was watching Liudie taking my cues from him. My wife was watching me taking her cues from me. As quietly as we could we dropped the tailgate of the truck, and I opened the case. I clanged the bolt into the action, and each round down into the magazine sounded like I was ringing bells. I could tell the noise was too much. However, the Red kept roaring not moving off. This was some relief to me that maybe I was not green horning this too much. I pointed at the action and with my hands tried to illustrate a round in the barrel asking if he wanted the barrel clear or charged. Liudie worked his hand forward. So, I did charging the barrel. He nodded and we started working our way down with the road toward and paralleling the roaring Red.
At one point I wander wide to Liudie’s right so as not to be walking directly behind him with a loaded rifle. This is how I have everyone do it back home. Liudie whispering and with low hand motions brings me back in line with him. Looking at it later (I analyze everything) I am certain he did not want any game in that stand of timber seeing us. By hugging the cliff/bluff face we were able to pick over the edge and below without exposing ourselves as much. The roaring Red is getting closer but still off to our left. In the distance a shooting stand overlooking a small timber cut, with timber ahead of it, timber to the left appears. This is a sharp roughly 45 degree drop to all to this. We can see a second cut road running to the left at the bottom. The Roaring Red has to be standing about a hundred yards up that road in the timber; just daring any Red Stag or hunter to come take him. We take up shooting positions in the stand. My wife is the dedicated photographer and is in charge of the range finder. The bottom cut is 140 yards. You could shoot another 50 yards into the standing timber to the left if you hand to if game came from that direction. The wood line at the bottom and abating the cut directly across from us was too green and tight to get any shots. Close up to us about 60 yards a fox came trotting out of the mist. I love foxes. He was rolling around and whipping his tail. My wife and I were watching him intently. I love foxes. He pounced catching a squirrel. He would toss it, roll over and grind on it. He was really putting on a show. All along the Red has not stopped roaring. About ten minutes later, “Deer.” Luidie’s voice again comes whispering. We all go scanning around like radar towers trying to find Russian spy planes. Those big 12 by whatever Swarovski binoculars of Liudie seem to draw deer like a Walt Disney cartoonist against the landscape.
“I got it. Red. Hind.” I whispered back turning my scope up to 9 power. This would make my life more difficult than it needed to be later.
“Red. Hind.” Luidie voice repeated back in confirmation. We could see her head and neck, just sticking out of the timber directly across the cut in the bottom like a ground hog standing out of its whole in a pasture. She comes out and works her way across into the more open timber on the right. We follow her. Red Hinds seem to just grow out of the timber to the left walking in, back, and out. The Red Stag still cursing any challenger. He is not getting any closer. It sounds like he is just out of view. Each deer that comes into our eyes Liudie and I take turns whispering them out and with hand singles directing one another’s eyes to see what the other is seeing. Each time we whisper back to ourselves confirming; “Red”, “Hind”.
I am watching a Hind at the left just as the open timber joints the cut. Then as if he comes out of the ground a big stalky 4 point in each crown Red Stag comes out and is chasing another Hind. He has his nose right on her. I admit, I am a little bit louder than a whisper when I see this, “Stag! Red, Red, Red!” The last two “Reds” were more for my own mind than to let Liudie or my wife know what I am seeing.
“Red, Yes.” Liudie calmly assures.
“Becca to the left. Do you seem them? It is a Red Stag. A good one.” I pass along.
“Yeah! He is chasing that female.” She joyfully answers back.
We watch him chase this Hind off to our left through the timber until they are out of sight. He never roared. The roaring Red up through the timber has never let up. When the last vestures of Stag and Hind disappear we all rise up. I from the scope, Becca from the range finder, and Liudie from the binoculars. I wrap about the shoulders with my right arm. I am smiling as if I just shot that Stag, “Hunt Fallow not Red.” I laugh through my teeth. Liudie puts his hands in his face with a big smile and rolls his head and shoulders.
I hold up four fingers with each hand at my chest and with emphasis. “Yes, Crown.” Liudie confirms still smiling.
We listen to the Red Roaring for a few minutes more. I am now convinced he is a frustrated boy. We talk back and forth about what we are seeking. Then Liudie looks at us, “Walk on out. Red here. Maybe Fallow somewhere else.”
All I can think to say is, “Yes.” So, slowly climb out of the blind leaving this group of Reds. The one Stag still roaring. I look at my wife. “We never saw that one.”
We start working our way slowly down the timber road stopping, scanning, and kneeling to scan under branches closer to the ground. The forest the entire time is alive with another Red Stag Roaring. Red Hinds are working below us. We are hugging the cliff/bluff made by cutting the road. Liudie stops, “Deer!” This time his whisper is more than a whisper. I can see well over his right shoulder. There is a Red Hind head on to her right no more than 15 yards in front of us.
A second later I can see why his voice carried so much excitement. First his head and neck, then one step brings his entire body to my eyes. For a moment my eyes and mind leave his rack and just focus on the muscle of his body. “He looks like a mule with two dogwood trees on his head!” I am screaming to myself in my mind over and over again. He is no more than 20 yards from us. We can see the wet of his noise glazing. There is another Red Stag bellowing behind him. This monarch has not made a sound all day. Why should he. He has laid claim to the female he wants. She is not even running from him, and he is taking her away from all the lesser lords and ladies. I find my wife out of the corner of my eye. She is behind me and to my right. “Can you see him? I am pushing over the breaths from my open mouth!”
“No.” She insists. She is shorter than me, and Liudie and is tight to the cliff/bluff.
“He is the biggest Red I have ever seen! He looks like a mule with a tree on his head!” I inform her over the breaths I am taking. I lean out to my left. “Can you see him now?!”
“No.” This time I slide my right hand off the rifle that am carrying across my body with the muzzle pointing down. The motion is covered by the rise in the bluff. I grab her and pull her up to me. “Can you see him now?” I beg in breathed tones.
“No.” I dare not move her any further. Sometimes being short is not an advantage. The Hind finally moves off ahead of us. The monarch turns and follows her. Slowly with confidence that she belongs to him and with none of the frantic, desperate dogging of the 4 point from earlier. The timber takes them. The Red Stag we cannot see (the second one) continues his cursing. Liudie’s binoculars come down. He looks back at me as I come up beside him. “That is the biggest Stag I have ever seen!”
“Super Good, Big!” He is smiling. We are being as loud as we dared and as quiet as we can. There is a Red Stag still roaring ahead. We take a minute. I am processing what I just saw. Liudie I am sure is replaying it in his mind. He looks at me, “20 yards!” He then shakes his head.
We continue stalking up the road. I see another Stag off to our right on a rise just in the timber. He roars. There is a Stag we been hearing since the Monarch roaring away. Liudie very slowly against the bluff gets us under and past this Stag I see in the timber. We come to another timbered drop hard to her left, a green clear cut to our left and front, and to our right the timber is climbing back up the limestone face. There head on is the Red that we have been hearing roaring since right before we saw the Monarch. He is not as big in the body as the 4 point Stag we saw first, but is another 4 point stag. Hinds are all around to his left. Eventually, he pushes them off to the right ahead of us and up the bluff. We work our way around to behind the green. Two mouflon are just ahead of us. They take off down the heavy timbered drop.
We take up position on another blind just off the green cut. We hold her for about an hour and half. We look and talk about what we have been in. I tell Becca, “I cannot believe this is the end of the Roar.” I tell Liudie, “End of Roar.”
“Yes, very end.” He responds nodding his head. We watch and we listen for an hour or an hour and half passes. Liudie leans against me, “Hunt out? Maybe?”
On the way back out we see more Red Hinds coming down off new planted brushy clear cut from the top. Above them running after them is a 6 point in the Crown Red Stag. He stops and roars as if to demand the Hinds slow down. They do not, and he pushes on after them. I tell Liudie that if we do not shoot anything I am fine. This is more game than I have ever seen. This ends the first morning’s hunt. Liudie driving us back to hotel points at the trucks clock. “Meet at 3:30 evening.”

Two Shots One Fallow

Liudie arrives promptly at 3:30. He is carrying a very tall walking stick. I try to joke with him pointing at the stick, “At least you have not had to hit me with that.” He looks hard at me.
“Oh, shoot off this.” He responds unfolding the stick into a bipod. “Make more steady.” I honestly did not know it was a bipod.
“I have a three leg set at home.” I explain. I try the joke again this time with hand signals demonstrating him hitting me with the stick. “Sorry not English.” In the truck he explains to us with five fingers and some English that he is fifth of five generations of professional hunter. That he was from Hungary and spent five years getting hunting school.
“Five years.” I repeated to let him know I was following.
“Yes, five.” He said looking at me. “In Hungary.”
“Tell me about Hungary.”
He took one hand off the wheel and made flat shape. “More flat.” I declared.
“Yes, Mountains beautiful!” He said looking around and motioning with his hand. Hungary flat.
“What is your favorite thing to hunt?”
“Me?” was his reply.
“Yeah, you.”
“Red in September beautiful, Mouflon beautiful, but me, boar. Hungary hunt them in tall (using his off hand to show tall) grass. Hard see.”
“Boar me too.”
We drove back to where we began the hunt that morning. On the left in the timber toward the bottom we saw three more Red Hinds and on up two more mouflon. We came around a corner. My wife was the first to see, “Deer!” I heard from behind. I looked to the left.
“Yes, Deer.” I repeated back up to Liudie. He comes back to us, and he and I are trying to confirm what and where Becca and I saw. His magical binoculars are now up. Buck, Fallow! He says looking back at me with eyes that match his smile. I find the Fallow again. All I can see is a long, really long beam, and then a paddle when he turns his head and a black head, not a face, head. The Fallow are below us in the timber to our left going away from us. We start stalking down to the Fallow. As we descend on the stalk we lose sight. Finally, we come around the corner below us Liuide binoculars reveal on to him a Fallow down in the timber. I come to the left. I can see the head of a Fallow, one side of the rack, very front of a shoulder, and his neck. My wife is videoing all of this with her Iphone. You cannot seem him from the video down in the timber over the bank. Liudie slides his shooting sticks up, and I slide Brighton over them. I am very happy with what I see in the scope. You cannot hear it in the video, but I am hissing, “Take him, Shoot, I need to take him to Liudie under my breath.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Liudie trying to get a look at the other side of the rack. I can see in scope this Fallow is not the one I saw, but I do not care. The other side of his rack could be broke off at the main beam. I am thinking to myself, “I sure hope he lets me shoot this thing. I wait, but permission to shoot does not come. Out of the corner of my right eye, but not coming off the scope I see Liudie left hand going up and down like he is boarder line, ok, but if you want to shoot him. “Take him?” I ask.
Finally, Liudie relents, “Yes.”
I am running a mental check list, “Brighton steady, cross hairs on the neck, scope too high, but I have his neck, no his head turning, when his head turns back to me” and the shot goes off. I work the bolt, but in my mind I cannot believe what I am seeing, he turns completely in my scope. I keep him in the scope but I cannot believe it. I am in my head “What did I do wrong! Did I pull it, the cross hairs were on the neck, he is twitching his tail was it a body shot, the cross hairs were on his neck all the way through the shot!” Anyhow, I am off the sticks and following him as he I moving fast through the timber. I know I took a knee and tried to time him as he cleared some pines, but instead he turns behind trees. Safety on. I am up walking parallel to him until he finally drops off the other side. “Safety on.” This time I say it as we come off him.
Liudie and I look at each other, “No problem.” He is saying over and over again just above a whisper. If he is upset he is not showing it. “It is no problem.”
“Did I miss him”? I ask mostly to myself in desperation.
Liudie looks at me. With hand signals we get it out. “Over. No problem.” He articulates.
More thinking out loud, “No way I missed him.”
“Blood no, at shot in glass.” Liudie reassures lifting up the glasses. I stand there. “No problem. He reassures again. Then with hand singles indicates he wants to go stalk out the timber below us. “We look for blood?”
“No, I trust you. Say no blood. No waste time let’s stalk.” I point down to the timber. Liudie smiles and off we go.
Slowly, we stalk out along the road. We are all about seven yards apart. We go past where we saw the Monarch Red, I am looking at the timber above us. The top of this timber is where we took the shot. There almost beside me about 80 yards up and just ahead. I see a darker smaller horizontal shape. I know it, put the scope on it. “Deer…. Fallow.” I whisper very clammy. I have him in a slight quartering away shot. The scope, still on 9 power, is just behind the on leg where the flank hide meets the shoulder into darker hair. I got him, but I wait for Liudie ok. Maybe it is a different smaller stag, or it is a Red and I am too amped. This is only good manners. I have already messed up once. Liudie I am aware is crawling back to me. He comes up and says, whispers, “Yes.” However, as he does the Fallow is moving again. I track him in the scope. Liudie comes back to me, “You can.” He is also tracking the Fallow in his binoculars. The Fallow never stops or gives a good shot. I could have Texas heart shot him, or tried to once or twice, but why. He disappears.
Slowly, we start stalking back out. We are pausing and stalking, pausing and stalking, finally Liudie’s magical binoculars high up the timber lines seeks him. I have not seen the Fallow yet. In time I will. We are paralleling him. When he stops we try to get a shot, then he moves on. Finally, we come almost even with him. He has stopped between two trees about one hundred yards up in the timber. I have finally gotten the scope down to 3 power. I lose him for a minute when I get back on the sticks. I can see in the scope one tree covering almost a whole quarter and the very front of him is covered in another tree. Judging from what I am seeing in the scope, I am facing a one hundred yard shot, but the window is very small. He is also not perfectly broad side as we have gone a little ahead of him. I place the cross hair right where the hid meets the mane and break the shot. Brighton is like shooting ground hogs with a .223. There is no recoil. I watch the impact in the scope. He comes straight down on his right on side. He is rolling down the hill. I can see a bright pink gusher of bright, pink lung blood from the exit wound covering the ground behind him and his flank. I come off the sticks and the rifle. All I can think is “There”. I say it out loud. Lauide is laughing.
In between his laughter he tells me, “rego.” This I take to mean, reload. I operate the bolt. I bring Brighton back to my shoulder and follow the Fallow tumbling down the hill.
“I have no shot.” I inform Lauide. He has moved to my right about five yards to keep a better view. Finally, a broken small tree catches the Fallow. “Take him again, Take him.”
“No.” Lauide responds. At this, I come off Brighton and place her on safe. Laiude comes off his binoclulors. I go to him. He takes my hand, smiling, laughing, and saying “Good, Super” in between laughing.
I soon, as we take grasp of one another’s hands, “I am sorry, I am sorry I missed that first shot and made this more difficult. It should not have been this hard.” I say in total relief.
“No! No! This is hunting! This is hunting! Beautiful! Laiudie explains.
I point at the scope, “I had the scope turned up too high. I shot over him!” Bringing my hand over my head.
“Car too easy.” He responded while making the universal steering wheel sign. He continued, “Out, shoot too easy. This better!”
I am looking back at the Fallow. I look back at Laiudie, “Yes much better.” I agree smiling. “I am sorry he is up there, least I dropped him!” The range finder revealed a 120 yard shot hard up hill.
When we got up to him, his throat has a gash with the hide gone completely to the muscle. You can almost see where the 140 grain Accubond burned against the muscle. I knew I did not miss him. But not giving myself time with the hard, downhill angle. I finally messed up the Kentucky neck shot. My hunting Uncles and Aunts would be most upset with me. I have always made that shot. The wound was not fatal and would have not prevented him from living a normal life. Less than one inch to the left and I would have stoned him. Laiudie’s description of him is perfect, “Super! Good!” We cleaned him up the best we could with dirt and leaves. He was black, big, and beautiful. We both agreed the other Fallow had a wider rack. I did not care. This was exactly what I wanted. I would have shot any Fallow Lauidie would have given the go ahead on. However, a heavy, black animal was what I wanted. He weighed 95 kilos before dressing. His skull was just shy of 4.9 Kilos. I do not deserve him, but could not be happier with him.
The past few years has made me a believer in exit wounds. This is the first time I have ever stone cold, in its tracks dropped something with a lung shot. It is also the first time I have ever killed anything with something as small as .270. In my home the .270 was ok, but why shoot the fast, little gun when you can shoot them with a .30/06 and 180 grain bullets. I am even more a believer in exit wounds, the Accubond for deer size game. And do not tell my Uncles, I love this .270. If I still find the 130 grain bullet too light. I know just shoot 130 grain Branes TTX. I will stick with the Accubounds.

Want to Shoot Some Pigs?

Back at Klemens’ skinning shed, Klemens acting as interpreter, we recapped the day’s hunt, some razing about Lauidie wanting to hold out for a bigger one, my report of my poor shooting, Klemens explaining what Lauidie was saying about the Fallow. Lauidie asked, “Sleep in, then go shoot boar?”
“I would love too, but I do not think I can afford too?” I responded very sheepishly.
“No, free, meat.” Lauidie assured.
“Well if Klemens and Becca are ok with it?” I inquired. They both gave the ok.
My wife stayed back to go to the hotel spa. We stalked our way into a wallow. The stalking was on a clear rocky, steep side. This would put us about 60 yards from the wallow and above it. It was very steep. We were crawling across it. Lauidie looked back once to see how I was doing. I was right behind him. With Brighton safely cradled with the barrel out to the left into the bank. He smiled. There was a 130ish kilo boar in the wallow. We could see other pigs moving on the side higher than us above the wallow. We watched the boar. Laughing silently at the situation. Finally, two shooting pigs dived into the wallow from above and to our left. We could not see them until they made their dive. The big boar started to run them around. I am asking Lauidie which I can shoot. They keep running around being chased by the boar. He is trying to tell me to shoot either one. Finally, the smallest one stops backside facing me. I place the cross hair right where the hip joins the spine. I put him down. The big bore takes off. “Super! Super! Good! Again! Lauidie is hissing.
“Again?” I confirm.
“Yes!”
I spine the second bigger of the two small pigs at 60 yards just to prove to myself I still could. “Super!” Lauidie says loudly smacking me.
“I cannot shoot well, but I shoot fast!” I respond.
“Very, very, good!”
“Are you happy?” Hoping I did not shoot something I was not suppose to.
“Yes!”
I cannot post pictures. However, if someone, or anyone, will send me an Iphone number or email I will send them pictures and video from this hunt. They may post them at their leisure.
Some Notes: Klemens’ Alpine Ibex Hunter took the heaviest in horn and body mouflon anyone has seen. His horn does not double curl around, but they are super thick and his body made all the ones Klemens has mounted look small. In addition, before we left for Vienna, they brought in an Alpine Ibex that horns come up and back like a chopper motorcycle. The horn tips touch the flanks behind the ribs. Unfortunately, I do not have pictures. Klemens does.

Great post! I hope someone can load the pictures for you.i would love to see them!

I typed it up on word and had better paragraph/heading indition. When I copied and pasted it looked like the Word formatting. Unfortunately, when I hit post that formatting disappeared into what you see.

I do not have the articulation to describe the hunt. But I tried.

Enjoyed your detailed hunt, Waidmannsheil. I also enjoyed hunting the Fallow Hirsch in Czech, a very interesting member of the deer family.

Waidmannsheil!

Nice report. I don't have this new photo protocol figured out either. I guess photobucket is inoperable.

Great report! Do you have Klemens contact info per chance?

Mr. Norton, I have sent you a PM.

Fantastic report. Thanks for sharing.


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Thanks for sharing
Heading that way in December
Was hunting there in late August
Four pigs, fallow buck, two sika does and one Roebuck
Hopefully in December red deer mouflon pigs and sika

Congratulations on your success and thank you for bringing us a well written and entertaining report on it.

I have been very fortunate to have taken Fallow bucks in several different states here in Australia. You can say I have a bit of a "thing" for hunting them.
No two Fallow antlers are the same.

In saying all of that "our" Fallow would not compare genetically to those that you were hunting.

What i'm slowly getting around to is that i'm absolutely busting to see some pics of your buck if that is at all possible.

Again, congrats on your success and thanks in advance.

Thanks for the report - I enjoyed reading it this morning. Congratulations!

Really great report, Thank You for sharing the experience.

Great report. Brings back lots of good memories!

I believe I have got photos out to everyone who has pm contact info. If you provided info, but no pics, please let me know.

Thank you everyone.

Sounds a great hunt! Can anyone host the photos for you and add to the report?

Have a nice day!

Here's the first half of the photos:

And the 2nd half:

Thank you sir

Great fallow and report, well done.

Great report and pics! Thanks for sharing!