Devon Red

Where to start on a weekend full of surprise and interest?

Those living outside the UK might find this a bit of a strange read but for us, especially in the south west of the country, warmed by the gulf stream, major snowcover is a rare event and it’s the best part of twenty years since we last had a lot. Consequently we don’t have much in the way of infrastructure to manage it or the skills to drive in it.

Well, the weather wasn’t promising and the snow started as I came around London on the M25 to join the M4. Not a real problem with it until I left the Reading services when the outside lane first became slushy and then white. I tried using it to overtake a few times but it raised such a cloud of spray and slush that I figured it a danger for the vehicles inside me and curbed my impatience with the slower drivers who were in the way.
I stopped off at my mothers for lunch and to drop off the load of firewood in the back of the truck. A good move since, by the time I left again, the snow had stopped and people were driving better.
Got a text message from Ian saying to come off the M5 and head for Taunton since it was blocked further down near Exeter. Lots more snow on the M5 and going over the Quantock hills south of Avonmouth I had it in 4WD as there was snow over three lanes and only one clear with speed down to 40mph.
The satnav voice took me off the M5 and through the towns and villages to Chard and down to Ian’s house. Some exciting moments on the way but I remembered to keep my foot off the brake and steer into the slides.

Ian and Jo were very welcoming and showed me through to the accommodation etc. We spent a pleasant evening eating pizza, drinking wine & port and chatting about various shooting things.
Early to bed for a 0530 start meant we didn’t stay up too long.

Was up early and had a cup of black tea before heading out. The snow was frozen solid on the top in a crust and there were some interesting moments as we headed into the hills in Ian’s 4x4.
It was as we stepped over the first gate that one problem started to reveal itself. We broke through the crust with an audible crunch before going into the powder beneath. By the time we got to the first patch of woodland, the noise of our approach, like wading through a bowl of Cornflakes, put up a wood pigeon from the trees with a flap and a clap, an event that was repeated many times that day.
Entering the wood did not remove the problems since the ground there too was covered in a thin coating of snow and ice which crackled at every footfall.
We emerged at the top of a bank on the far side and looked down towards the stream at the bottom. The hills hereabout are convex and so you can never quite see down over the curve but you can look across the valleys to the opposite slope which is often within range. At the bottom of each valley is the stream that carved it all fringed with hazel and hawthorn. The stream beds are lined with rough stones washed out of the red devon soil and, as your foot picks up the mud, you leave red-ochre rimmed prints in the snow. We moved down the hill alongside the hedge. There was a fair bit of Roe slot and some Red slot in the snow too. One thing the snow did give was some very clear sign.
We stopped to glass every so often. I spotted a couple of reds on a small patch of green in the lee of a hedge about two fields away and we started to make our way down towards them.
Our movement through the snow signalled our approach all too clearly and we put up woodcock, clattering pheasants and woodpigeon every few dozen yards. By the time we got to another vantage point, the deer had disappeared. We walked down to where they had been, All the signs were there but they had gone.
Followed the tracks for a while, went up through the steep woods and arrived breathless at the road. Walked up this to get back to the 4x4 and passed an abandoned car on a particularly icy patch, some rare breed park cattle snuffled at us as we passed.

Drove to another wood with some exciting 4 wheel drift moments en route and this wood, mostly tall pines was a bit less covered. Walked up through the trees and spotted a Roe doe who stood there looking at us. Ian views them as particularly stupid and I can see what he means because it waited too long.
I took the shot but something wasn’t right. No thump, no spray and the deer was gone away to the right. Ian could see a bullet mark in the tree behind. We walked up there. No pins, no blood, no deer! Went to look at the mark on the tree. There was my bullet embedded in it and quite high up. I was puzzled, had I missed over the top? A serious moment of self-doubt here. The rifle might have lost its zero somehow? Had it got knocked somewhere? Went back to the position where the deer stood and tried to get my head in the line of site. Strange, it should have hit it. Started to follow the slot in the snow to check I was in the right position and suddenly spotted some pink in the snow.
Advantage number two of snow, it shows up claret beautifully. Moved towards it and spotted more, great gouts of it. We quickly followed the trail to the doe, down but with head up. I offered to knife it but Ian preferred to neck it.
On the ground it looked smaller and there was evidence of scouring round the anus. It was when I saw the lungs during the gralloch that bells started ringing in my head. Big white lumps the size of marshmallows. TB very likely. Not a carcase you could confidently put into the food chain and not one that many would want to eat. We put it in a plastic bag, lungs and all for an examination by a DEFRA vet. A further stalk around the wood revealed nothing more so we headed off for breakfast.
Very,very mixed feelings in my head. The round, a Nosler 150 BT, had gone straight through the animal without expanding. I’d put a lot of work into developing the load. Had I backed the wrong horse? I’d missed the vital spot too and not put the animal down square. I’d been too quick to assume I’d missed completely and had I followed that line of thought too far would have walked away from a mortally wounded beast. The beast itself was diseased and while it was a duty to remove infected animals from the pool, it doesn’t give half the satisfaction that a good one for the pot does.
Breakfast was an English classic and I felt a bit better after the hot food although, to be honest, my confidence had taken a knock. We discussed conditions and agreed that we wouldn’t have been any louder if we’d worn Swiss cow-bells around our necks.
After breakfast we headed back for the hills again experienced a number of exciting moments as the conditions challenged to tyres to keep their grip. The Devon hedges around here are made of a bank of earth and stones with bushes planted along the top. In the lee of these, the snow had dropped heavy into the lanes making getting through difficult. Ian’s got some serious off-road tyres and its kind of a pleasure to feel them giving their all and doing the business. That said, only once did we have to turn back when it became clear that we were likely to lift the sump and wheels clear of the ground.
We parked out of the lane in a field, dropping the wheels nearly up to the axles in some tractor mud and snow, went off downhill and across a stream to another wood climbing up yet another steep hill and entered working our way through to a logging ride. Plenty of slot here, some of it quite large.
Again, we couldn’t avoid making quite a lot of noise as we crunched through the crust. Is it better I wondered to do it slowly and try and ease through quietly, or fast and short? I even tried to halve the noise by walking in Ian’s footprints but you can’t do that and be looking around at the same time.
Finally we spotted a red hind and then several more. We tried to work our way around them but the logging ride was suddenly blocked by a fallen holly tree with a steep bank to the left and slope to the right. By the time we had climbed around it and come around the wood, our quarry had gone. Out of the wood and into the dazzling white of the field. Plenty of slot in the snow on the hilltop but no sign of the animals themselves.
Getting the 4x4 out of the mud was a challenge. I pushed as the tyres carved some deep tracks in the saturated ground under the snow and the 4x4 slid sideways threatening to go down the hill to our right pushing a tide of mud and turf before it. But we were going backwards too and somehow Ian got some traction and shot backwards through the gate, just avoiding ripping off the wing mirror. I was quite well decorated with mud in the process.

We went back to town for an afternoon cup of tea and a bun and talked over what to do next. Ian offered advice and coaching in a very friendly and constructive way and gave a more formal brief on what would happen next. A military man him, quiet, resourceful, knows his ground and always stopping the locals in the lanes to get intelligence!
He had decided to take me back to the valley we had been to first thing in the morning.
Another exciting ride through the lanes ensued and then we went from snow to muck through a farmyard and back to snow again.
We walked over some fields and back to a bank on the opposite side of the valley. The morning’s footprints were still visible opposite in the snow. We sat down on a bracken bank, set the sticks up and waited. As I scanned, Ian called the ranges of various features. I looked at all the odd bits closely. In the past I’ve spent a lot of time staring at deer shaped bushes in the twilight and found that it pays to memorise them in the light so that you don’t get distracted as it fails.
After a while I lay back and listened to the valley settle down. It’s always quiet when you arrive somewhere but once you stop doing stuff, the normal, local pulse returns. I was tempted to have a snooze but something clicked in my subconscious so I put the glasses up to check. There at the bottom of the wood was the back half of a deer’s bottom.
“Have you spotted something” asked Ian? “A deer’s bum” I said and described the position.
I put the rifle up but no shot presented itself and it disappeared. “It’ll probably come out halfway up the wood” he said. Sure enough, it did. “210 yards” he said. It wasn’t standing quite square on and I kept looking and waiting.
Finally it turned its head and I thought it about to move off. Now or never, I fired. It was gone. I worked the bolt and somehow got a cartridge jammed. Tried to free it but couldn’t. Dropped the magazine out from under and was fiddling about inside with my fingers as Ian watched the hind and five others moving away to our left.
“Get your head down” he said, fired and dropped it. I finally sorted out the two rounds causing the problem and reloaded. The remaining deer were stood in the field watching the one that was down. “Looks like you shot the lead hind” he said. “The others don’t know what to do”. He offered me the chance of another shot and I put the rifle up but they were all at the wrong angle. Then wiser thoughts prevailed and he reminded me that the hard work started once you pulled the trigger. Shooting two would double it.
We left the gear where we sat and I started to walk off to cross the stream and look at the beast. A brace of pheasants got up from the patch of soft rushes right at my feet and more followed. It was like a firework display or something. Certainly made me jump!
Halfway up the other slope, Ian caught me up and overtook me. I was puffing like an old man.
The hind lay in the snow with some blood around. The light was failing now and we took a couple of photos. The reason why she ran off was apparent too. I hadn’t allowed for the distance and had used the 100yd zero. The bullet had grazed her sternum and gone through the leg behind. A poor shot and no excuse.
Yes, Ian had been there and able and capable and level headed and experienced enough to sort out my mistake as a good guide should but, I was still faced with the uncomfortable fact that I should’ve done my stuff better.
We attached a tape to the neck and dragged her downhill and across the stream. This was hard work and we were quite puffed by the time we got it to the other side. Ian left me to do the gralloch whilst he went to see if he could get the 4x4 any closer.
There was a lot of fat inside her and I worked away with the head torch on and knife in hand trying to do a neat job.
After I’d finished, I tried to drag her up the hill by myself to the start of the path and the position where we’d shot from. It was only about 30 yards but it was all I could do to shift it that distance. Pushing your foot through the crust and trying to get some purchase seems to knock it out of you like running on soft sand.
Ian returned, he’d tried to move the 4x4 closer but ended up further away, defeated by the mud under the snow. It was full dark now and a bit of a moon showing. We wrapped the body in a tarp and both pulling on the tapes, started off.
After about 50 yards we were both winded and stopped. Set off again, 40 yards, again 30. 2-3 heave....
Finally we reached the field boundary, only one field to go.
Again we set off, starting, stopping and starting again until we finally reached the 4x4. At this point, we could remove the head and put the carcase in the back.
Back onto the tracks and roads we went. The temperature had dropped with the sunset and the surface was getting icy again. Again some interesting moments as the tyres barely gripped, lost it and found it again.
We drove back to Ian’s and unloaded the carcases to the store and cleaned up.

2030 and a quick cup of coffee from Jo and I had to be on my way back to London. Again the roads and motorways were a challenge but, fortunately there were few other vehicles about and I made good time, getting to bed with a stiff whisky inside just before 1pm.


So there you go. A truly fantastic day with experiences in the snow I couldn’t hope to repeat in Devon again.
Lots of animals about if only you can get onto them and a stunningly beautiful bit of country that gives up its secrets slowly but has plenty to hide.
I was thinking I might go to Arran this year but now I plan on going back to Devon....

Health Warning….
Stalking with Ian may well have you looking around physical and mental curves that you didn’t expect to be facing.
Are you fit?

Dave,

you lucky bastard,

you have put proper words to how it is to stalk with Ian and Jo,

words I lack due to a languge barrier.

Nice story and solid ending.

Best regards Chris

Great yarn! Weidmannsheil on your successful outings!
- mike

quote:

Health Warning….
Stalking with Ian may well have you looking around physical and mental curves that you didn’t expect to be facing.
Are you fit?

Well done mate. An honest story well told.

As for the fitness, you should see Ians Eyebrows going ten to the dozen when he thought he would have to carry the Deer and me up the hill!!

I got it to the road though on my back!!


FB

Hi Dave!

It was a real pleasure to see you down in our part of the world - amazing to think that only the week previously we had been sharing a day with FB, when you were pulling down bird after bird with that shotgun of yours. I wasn't quite so efficient on that occasion!

I have to say that the weekend was as much fun for me as for yourself, and it is always great to stalk with new friends. Even if they suddenly drop into conversation that they used to run marathons for fun! In your usual understated style, you also failed to mention that it was you that normally spotted the deer we encountered - or that I would generally give you the heavy end to drag!

Here are a couple photos captured on my mobile phone - apologies for quality, though it gives an idea of the sort of ground we were hunting over.

The road in gave a taste of conditions on the hills ahead:





We managed to find a sheltered spot to park up the Landy, kit on then off over the fields to investigate some of the Devon woods and valleys.




The terrain is gently rounded and provides for some pleasant views - until you get down into the sharp little valleys that make extraction of the carcasses so interesting!






Returning to the transport, we were the object of curiosity for these White Park cattle. One of England's oldest breeds, Chris (HuskyM98)met them at close range when he was hunting on this ground. They can be an bit 'enthusiastic' if you cross their pastures!



Finally, back at the larder, Dave alongside his Devon Hind to give a bit of perspective. Not sure if he really looked that blurred in reality - cameraman I aint! His only advice was to avoid uphill drags in future!



Again, great to share the experience of hunting our part of the country with someone who is willing to put in the effort needed to ensure a satisfying result. Dave, we are looking forward to seeing you again!

rgds Ian & Jo (Artemis)

A story well told

The ice crust on the ground sounds very familiar, but the landscape are so different and beautifull.

Well done mate!

An excellent story, very well told if I may say.

I know all about that terrible feeling when one does not shoot as perhaps one should, your honesty does you great credit.

Hope to see you soon Trappa

Regards,

Amir

quote:

Originally posted by Fallow Buck:

quote:

Health Warning….
Stalking with Ian may well have you looking around physical and mental curves that you didn’t expect to be facing.
Are you fit?

Well done mate. An honest story well told.

As for the fitness, you should see Ians Eyebrows going ten to the dozen when he thought he would have to carry the Deer and me up the hill!!

I got it to the road though on my back!!


FB

Aah yes, the eyebrows!

Anyone who has had the good fortune to be taken stalking by Ian indeed knows all about the calm, cool and considered approach, the supernatural fitness and of course the eyebrows.

I've had them going like a pair of dueling caterpillars so ten to the dozen, pah!

ATB,

Amir

Here's a few pictures that I took:


The lumps are the size of marshmallows and were spread over both halves of the lung.

[URL= ]Dead Red[/URL]

Well, there it was, dead in the dusk and the hard work was about to start.

[URL= ]Ian demonstrates how we pulled the Hind back[/URL]

The head torches were very useful in following our footprint trail over the snow. If Ian's trousers look a bit baggy, it's because he took his belt off to secure the carcase to the tarpauling. It kept sliding off downslope as we dragged it across.

Yes, I last ran the London Marathon in 2005 and I was shocked to discover how much stamina and condition I had lost in so few years !

Interesting.

Strange as it might seem I don't think that TB despite being a notifiable disease is a bar to selling into the foodchain. I'm pretty sure that is the case.

I think, from a legal perspective, you are probably right.
However, from a customer relations point of view, selling meat from a beast in poor condition from an animal known to be suffering from TB suggests a certain lack of scruple on the part of the stalker.

All business relationships are built on trust to some degree.
If the Roe was sold, jacket on, to a game dealer and if he, on skinning found other tubercules, do you think he would rush to buy more from such a source?

Wasn't suggesting you should have! Just pointing out the strangeness that a notifiable disease isn't a bar to entering the food chain.

I've seen cows go through the milking parlour with visible Avian TB syptoms that the milk copany take after testing...

I think you both have a valid point.

FB