Well the bad news is that I'm going to be unemployed after the 30th of this month, the good news is that I should be able to manage financially until the end of the end of the Sika rut at least!

I've decided to take the summer, and a goodly portion of the autumn, off and go stalking a lot.

I'm off to my patch in the Scottish borders for a week on the 9th July after Roebuck and Sika stags, then back again for the Roe rut a week later, a week or two after that for a bit more Sika, and so on until the fallow rut starts and then off for a red with Ian in Devon!

Any and all tips would be appreciated as this is the first time I’ll be stalking completely on my own.....

Needless to say, I can't wait.

Herewith the packing list:

Rifle
Binos
Rangefinder
Boots
Cammo
"Subtle" cammo
Knife
Roesack with liner
Latex gloves
Length of webbing
map/fac/permission etc
Mobile phone

The beat is 1500 acre valley divided between flattish fields and commercial forestry with a stream running through middle of it.

The Plan:

Stalk into the wind and keep an eye out for deer.

Are there any more methodical ways of scouting out a new patch?

Do you need Tamiflu ?

No but should the worst happen and I find a job a sick note would be much appreciated Doctor

sorry to hear about the employment situation, but great news you are not letting it get in the way of your hunting! Solo hunting is the real thing, and my own suggestion, for what its worth, is to try to view the landscape as the quarry does - where is the shelter, the food, the secure places, where, above all else, is the wind actually taking your scent? Hunt the landscaspe, not the deer.
The wonderful thing about stalking new ground on your own is that you are sure to learn new things about your quarry - so my definite advice is to take no-one's advice and just enjoy it. Have a great time in the rain / snow / sun / midges wind of a British summer, enjoy your hunting and if you kill something, then all the better. Good hunting!

Midges!

bugger, i'd forgotten about those, better add some deet to the packing list...

Thanks mate, expect a long and boring report

Amir, the advice from Cranborne is good.

Try and work out where the deer might be - if it is wet they will want shelter. If it is windy, they will want to be out of the wind. They like the sun on their backs.

For the first night or two try and pick a high point with a good field of view over the surrounding area. Sit there and glass the area. Don't move.

You should also be on the move hours before the deer, particularly in the evening.

Take some novels. Midday can go slowly sometimes.

A flask of tea
A slab of cheese (Mature Cheddar) an apple (Ribston pippin) and a fresh Farmhouse loaf will see you through.

Oh and a Helicopter or All terrain forklift if you are shooting reds at Ian's

Sorry (only if you are?) regarding your employment status. I suspect other doors will soon open. Probably & inconveniently, just when you are getting zoned in to your stalking!

Thanks for tips guys.

I'm not so worried about the job thing, i'm sure i'll talk my way into something if need be.

Midge repellent, books and snacks, got it!

Thanks for the tips Brian, just the sort of information I was after mate.

Any more tips on approaching a fresh ground gentlemen?

Regards,

Amir

Oh yeah, learn to sleep during the day, something I am useless at.

Mate,

you lucky B_ _ _ _ rd,

head Brians Advice, learn to sleep during the day, however after a few days of hunting it sort of comes naturally.

A first Aid kit would be something I´d carry, and for good measure a compass/emergency matches/kindlings and quite a few unscented wet wipes in a zip lock bag,

for well you know all your needs.

Amir, I am saddened that you have lost your job, however we all only live once and I´d say that you are better of hunting than working.

BTW- how big do Sikas get, are they really something one comfortably carries out from the field? I thought they were in the 50kg+ range,

quite a bit of weight, for a weak Swede that is.

Best regards Chris

Thanks for the advice Chris

I think Sika stags are much larger than the hind, I have read they get to about 100 kilos on average.

I will probably be mainly stalking Roe but I harbour ambitions on the Sika

I'll probably not get one.

Oh and when are you coming over then mate?

Amir-

thought so much 100+ kg is hard work getting out of the bogs and fields,

me coming ower, I had hopes for this fall perhaps?

However I getting in on the final round, read last year towards being a Advokat, back over here and there are all these exams and lectures and what´s not to make and attend to,

before I have my title.

So I hope that I might find some time to get across.

If you find any Sika do let me know, I still have that on my list of deer not taken.

Take care mate.

/Chris

Fresh Ground?
Study the Ordnance Survey Map & Google earth and get a feel for what it looks like from the air and where there may be cover for both you and the quarry.
Take a walk around with a pair of secateurs in your pocket. Look for sign of deer, trails that are used regularly etc. Look for dead areas where these spots can be approached unseen.
Cut sticks from willow or alder and stick in the ground at 100 yd intervals with a bit of wool tied to them as a wind indicator that you can see through your glasses. Figure out how you are going to get the carcase back and all those other problems before you even think of venturing out with a rifle.
If there's enough in the way of sticks, make yourself a few hides at strategic locations with a bit of cammo net. Know which ones will suit differing wind directions. The longer they are up, the more they become part of the scenery.
Go easy on that back of yours, be prepared to joint a kill rather than banjax yourself trying to get it out in one piece.

Deet around the wrists where the gloves finish - also the tops of your socks if wearing boots rather than wellies.

A MIDGE NET.

Words cannot describe the full horror of a swarm/flock/herd or 'gerrorf yer soddinbarsteewards' of the winged menace, as they descend vampire like towards your exposed skin.

Have a great one.

Rgds Ian

Ungralloched I would be suprised to find a Sika stag over 60 maybe 65kgs.But someone is going to correct me.
The real problem is they always seem to end up in a ditch or a nice deep hollow.A right bitch to get out.
break the shoulders with your shot.I have seen plenty of sika,stags and hinds run a lot further, with the heart and lungs shot out, than you would think possible.
They are a very resilient animal,dead but they don,t know it.
Happy hunting, not the worst way to pass the summer.
Oh a dog,get a dog,any dog.No, a vision of a Prince Charles Cavalier just crossed my mind.
Anyway most dogs do a better job than us at locating deer.

Some tips (learned the hard way)

Take your time on the shot. If you're not comfortable, steady and confident on a broadside shot don't shoot even if it means passing up an opportunity. Avoid head, neck and frontal shots like the plague when starting out. The head and neck will be an issue as cover is going to be tall I suspect.

Ensure the quarry is correct before you shoot. Be especially careful not to identify the animal before hand, watch it go behind a clump of grass and then assume it's the same one when it comes out the other side.

Most important. When you have shot note the place where the animal was, where you last saw it and where you were. Try to replay the sight picture, how you shot and how the deer reacted as soon as the deer is down. This is vital for not losing deer and also to learn.

See in first light stationary (woodland edge etc) walk in the morning. See out first light from a stationary point eg woodland edge.

You will need S hooks, gambrels and fly nets if your carcasses are to be presentable. If you are going to shoot sika then you will need a winch. Have you sorted somewhere to store them or a place to sell them. For the latter you will need your trained hunter number at the least.

Can you gralloch a deer in the field on it's back. If you can it will make life a lot easier and the carcass better.

Have you got a carcass tray?

A sika can be quite a drag. If you're fit and the terrain level it's not such a problem but go careful. I would say at this time of year there's a chance you might be able to shoot more than one in one go - never great to have to pass on other deer but it's not a bad idea to stick to one. The second deer is more likely to suddenly move as you shoot and it's tempting to rush. 90% of the problems I have had to follow up from friends and clients come from shots on second deer.

Don't let any of this put you off! It takes a lifetime to get some of this sorted. Half the fun is looking back and remembering the time you tried to lift a fallow buck without a winch!

Solo stalking is where it's at - well done for going it. Take care over the main dangers which IMHO are driving, sleep deprivation, knives, high seats and lifting. Have you thought about how you would deal with a broken femur in the middle of your patch at last light (very realistic - falling down a badger hole while carrying a roe carcass) - don't just rely on a mobile, have some other system if you are not bback or don't call by a certain time.

I would alsosuggest you have the number of someone experienced that you can call if you are unsure of something.

Drop me a PM if you like.

If you are going where i think you are going
some phone net works will not work
orange is very hit and miss
also you say you are going for a week
as the valley is only 1500 acres you may find if you do get a shot the report will echo around the valley thus scaring a lot of the sika straight out of the place possibly for days
the ground cover also may be a little high and i do not expect the roe to really be rutting by then so they will still be hard to locate
also hav you thought about where you will store a carcass if you shoot one on the first couple of days as the temp might well be 20+ degrees
sourcing a local fridge or fellow stalker up there with fridge access will be handy
you could always use the brook to cool the carcass down for a day or 2

and also one with a dog too just incase
taking your own dog may not be the best idea as the midges will play merry hell with it especailly if the dog is not used to midges
a good sika stag will be in the region of 120lbs
so easily can be carried out of the valley bottom the rest you can drag it down the slopes to the roads
as for tips on how to find the deer
well that's another matter
all the fun of going to a new piece of ground
just don't stalk down any of the open plains keep close to the tree lines and go slowly looking lots at shapes and clours that look like they should not be there
as roe will be Reddy brown and the sika from Black to Reddy brown
where are you stopping in digs or on site caravan
also another tip i just thought about is to ask IanF to post you a pic of his drag strap showing you it's uses from suspended gralloch to carrying out a carcass
it is superb

Amir,

A few ideas:

If you think you are going slow enough go slower)while stalking and as Brian will testify going to and from the ground!! )

If you think you've glassed it all then glass it again

Shooting it is the easy bit, and after you back history make sure extraction is REALLY possible.

Be concious you don't get too caught up on the moment, if you think you are not steady then don't shoot.

I'm sure you will be fine, have fun and keep us in touch. Your write up of your first solo stalks will be looked forward to.

What 1894 says about driving, knives etc is VERY valid for summer stalking especially, so be careful and safe mate.

some good points here, its opened my eyes to what i often take for granted,
the mobile for one, i always assume it will work and often havnt left word where i am.
most of, in fact all of the gubbins required throughout a stalk live in the landrover all the time, when the urge stikes all i have to do is grab the rifle and ammo and off i toddle.

im so glad we don't have midges on the scale some of you chaps have, is it me or are horse flies on the increase this year? ive just spent the last few days in the woods and have counted 18 bites in various places from the buggers. although what was funny was that one of the guys with me picked up over 25 ticks off himself one lunchtime, that gave us a right laugh, the rest of us couldnt find any on ourselves.

don't forget your camera for your write-ups!!

Kelly kettle? if your camping out, all else fails you can get a brew on then!

i wish you luck, lucky bugger, thy do say every cloud has a silver lining!!!

quote:

as the valley is only 1500 acres you may find if you do get a shot the report will echo around the valley thus scaring a lot of the sika straight out of the place possibly for days

That's an interesting comment Richard, I would have assumed the opposite, that 1500 acres is large enough to constitute more than one 'beat' and even a couple unmoderated shots wouldn't drive animals away for days on end...maybe I'm underestimating the quarry?

We've devised a good risk strategy: Amir will text me a stalking report each night and if I don't get a text I can realiably assume he is dead or in a bad way, I will relay this information to this discussion forum as soon as possible.

A 1500 acre valley, could easily be 2.5 miles long and 0.5mile wide.

More than enough for our hero to get up to mischief in.....

Thanks for the advice lads.

The amount of knowledge provided here, seemingly on tap, is incredible.

thanks to everyone for sharing the benefit of their hard won experience with this clueless city boy!

Regards,

Amir

PS. Thanks boggy, you're all heart. In other and un-connected news I have taken the liberty of placing a certain photograph in safe keeping with instructions to post on the forum should I not return by the 15th. You know the one I trust.

I will say a few words at your wake should you perish in the Scottish countryside.
Maybe the locals will keep you as a pet, there aren't too many Iranian Londoners in the borders...

Thanks mate.

Oh and you're wrong about the demographics, there is definetly at least one Iranian stalker in the Borders region.

He was in sporting rifle and named Bob.

quote:

Originally posted by Boghossian:

quote:

as the valley is only 1500 acres you may find if you do get a shot the report will echo around the valley thus scaring a lot of the sika straight out of the place possibly for days

That's an interesting comment Richard, I would have assumed the opposite, that 1500 acres is large enough to constitute more than one 'beat' and even a couple unmoderated shots wouldn't drive animals away for days on end...maybe I'm underestimating the quarry?

Gabe
i found that sika are the hardest and most shy of all deer to stalk, especialy the area i think Amir is stalking
never took the moderated rifle into consideration
so yes it does change the whole shot and echo issue
but i hav never underestimated any quarry species
every outing they will surprise you
as silly as shit some days , the next off into the next county before yo get the rifle up..
yes i agree 1500 acres is quite large as a whole
but in a valley with a wide bottom
it's not as big as you first think
and it don't take sika long to work out what the noise is and when it is safe to come back out to play
especialy if your sika are prone to sticking to just one area on your beat
enough said or Amir will learn to much
look forward to the report
ATB

It's short for Kate...

Don't forget those little friends who want to get to know you.....

http://www.pressandjournal.co....spx/1281866?UserKey=

Take a pair of long-nosed tweezers and a hand mirror to inspect those outasight bits and creases ;o)

If your up at night, look out for the ISS.

London ...

http://spaceflight.nasa.gov/re...=England&city=London

or home page

http://spaceflight.nasa.gov/re...sightings/index.html

Should be good views from Scotland.
Good Luck on your hunts.

Ghubert,
Sometimes having the simplest things at hand can save the day.
A few aspirins and a few antacids weigh next to nothing and can become invaluable.

quote:

Originally posted by DIYASUB:
Ghubert,
Sometimes having the simplest things at hand can save the day.
A few aspirins and a few antacids weigh next to nothing and can become invaluable.

And loo roll.... To mark the spot where the carcass is so that you can come straight back for recovery.

just realised the midges are extra, extra hot at the mo and probally the worst they hav been for a good few years
be well prepared for them and also make sure you hav some anti-hystamine tablets or cream too

Any news about our fresh stalkers adventures in the field,

are you there yet Amir?

Btw I started the season this saturday with a fox cub and then four crows over a owl decoy on sunday morning,

I fell good about this season.

/Chris

End of Day 1 no bag yet poor Amir and I managed a 900 feet 45 degrees climb to "K2" and stalkdown hill.

Spotted a roe buck 706 yards away.
Too poorly prepared for this place. Have to come back full armed to conquer it.

Will up date again when I return after saturday.

Midgets are killing us....

quote:

Midgets are killing us....

You have to watch your ankles especially!!

FB

As with stalking, so with life, there's always some little pr++ks who's only purpose seems to be to irritate you and spoil your day

BLOODY MIDGES !!!! had me for dinner last night.

guys i hoped you had fun all the same,
don't envy you ,as i know about the midges
but look forward to the write up no matter
please say you took a camera

Amir / Ben? A progress report on the Scottish expedition would be good...

Apologies for the tardiness of the write up chaps!

I should begin by thanking everyone for their generosity with their hard-earned advice leading up to this trip. I can honestly say that without the benefit of a few of the tips here at times I would have been truly in the soup!


The syndicate covers about 1500 acres of forestry and open hill in the Scottish Borders. The terrain is in fact the very picture of the best of the Scottish lowlands, situated not too far from what was sign posted as the "scenic" route to Edinburgh from Carlisle.

I have the pleasure of sharing this lease with Londonhunter of this board and our mutual friend B although for one reason or another had been unable to actually go up there and stalk some deer.

We made plans to go up together and walk the boundary with the syndicate manager Peter on the 9th of this month finally, with Londonhunter and B to fly up via Glasgow and myself to drive from London.

The day finally arrived and I set off in good time to arrive at the B&B at the arranged time of 4 pm. The motorways in Britain are almost uniquely stressful; a sort of grinding monotony punctuated by moments of random madness at the hands of one's compatriots, so getting past Carlisle and onto the winding B roads of Scotland was a relief. There were very few people on the road allowing a slower pace and time to look around.

And what sights to see Gentlemen! I must shamefully confess to having never quite gotten around to visiting Scotland in all of my 27 years "da'n sarf", and with visions of endless featureless heather moors , rocky outcrops, bemused sheep and chip shops as the terrain, was pleasantly surprised and delighted by how the green and varied flora that now spread for miles and miles around me contrasted with the rather generic towns and conurbations I had been passing through on the journey up.

Even the topography seemed to please some innate hunter’s instinct that I noticed had been growing stronger and stronger the further away from "civilisation" I travelled. I drove through valley after valley for 80 miles or so after coming off the motorway, sometimes along a burn on the valley floor, sometimes high up along the ridge line, all the time looking around and wondering why I would ever go back home.....

Patches of forest abounded, cover was plentiful and the sun was shining. I was as content as stalker could be and had not even got of the car yet!

To the B&B then and finding the entire village utterly deserted had my first, but by no means last, "what the hell do I do now" episode of the trip. When I say deserted, I mean deserted. After ringing the B&B bell and that of a few nearby houses for a good hour I was beginning to believe the village had gotten wind of my impending visit and decided to bugger off in simultaneous response, when a voice from behind me caused my heart to leap for joy.

I turned round to be confronted by what appeared to be Old Father Time's maiden aunt regarding me severely with a slightly puzzled look on a face that told every detail of the battle with the north wind it had fought for god knows how long. I put my best foot forward, mustered my most charming smile and launched into a spiel I had prepared on the way up about how I was honoured to be staying in this wonderful part of the world for a few days and gently asked what time the B&B opened. This seemed to please her somewhat and she started saying something in language that was possibly English but phrased in a such a way as to leave the casual southern listener none the wiser. After a ten minute monologue that definitely ended with "but ye nae kin what a roundel is" she wandered off waving cheerily.

Still no sign of Peter, Londonhunter or B.

Why did I not call anyone you may ask, well the answer to that question is that one of the charms of the Scottish Borders is that there can absolutely no mobile phone reception for miles and miles. One has to basically find the highest local peak, climb the bastard, sit in a howling gale shouting at loved ones, trigger a feeding frenzy in the local midge population and then climb down and drive twenty miles back to the B&B. 1894's words about broken ankles and lack of communications were brought home to me in a very big way that first afternoon.

Finally I spotted a stirring in the upstairs window of the B&B and with all the lack of good grace and manners of a woman at shoe shop sale started banging on the door and haloo-ing in my best approximation of Scottish. Finally the patron opened up and led me to the cottage we had booked for the remainder of the week.

I had just gotten unpacked and comfortable when Londonhunter and B arrived in their hire car, closely followed by Peter. It was time to change into stalking clothes and walk the boundary.

We talked about this and that on the half-hour drive to the lease, stories and salutary tales on the minor trials and tribulations of being a member of stalking syndicate on this small and idiosyncratic Island of ours. At first one is not sure how seriously to take tales of sinister local "characters", paranoid shepherds, fascist dogwalkers and pathologically nosy neighbours. Not having been a member of a syndicate before, and therefore not having encountered the politics inextricably tied into them, I sort of let it wash over me and admired the view out the window.

I really must mention the landscape again, for it left the single biggest impression of any facet of the trip; it is difficult to describe the feel of the Lowlands to one who has not seen it for himself. I am probably exposing my own lack of travel when I say I had not seen anything quite like it, rather than doing the raw natural beauty of the area justice. I found that it pleased on both the aesthetic and that nascent hunter's instinctive level to extent where more or less mesmerised, Peter's landrover stopped and a Yorkshire burr interrupted my day-dreaming with a request to mark this spot as the turn off to the, no rather my, forest.

We drove around the perimeter rides to the east and west of the boundary and parked the truck for the hike up along the burn that bordered the eastern boundary, up the hill onto the open part of the ground.

This wee hill was marked "K2" on the map, we very soon found out why...... An elevation change of something like 200 metres in 250 metres damn near killed me there and then. Londonhunter, who although much fitter than I am so soon after my back operation, was in similarly desperate straits. B and Peter being fitter pushed on and said that they would wait for us at the top of the hill, B kindly offering to take my roe-sac for me. LH and I had ascended no more than a third of the way up, some sections needing us to crawl up slippery mound of rock after slippery moss covered log, on hands and knees and with raw and burning lungs sat to rest a moment on the hillside and look out over the valley. Our breathing was beginning to return to normal and some tentatively positive talk was just about beginning to become appropriate when the midges found us.

Wow.

Gerry, you once told me that man was at the top of the food chain; well not around those parts sir, 'round there be the domain of the midge.

Having been given excellent advice by the fine gentlemen on this forum I had already taken a whore's bath in deet ( pardon the expression but one of our members had me chuckling for days with that one, you know who you are ) I reached for midge net and gloves. Reached into thin air as it turned out, my midge net was in my Roesack!

With suddenly renewed vigour LH and I set off up the hill, pain was suddenly relative and we cheered each other on with various remarks not worth repeating here and all the while the midges bit and bit and bit. Cresting the hill purple faced, dermatologically violated and generally not a happy camper, I immediately saw that the climb had indeed been worth it.

Scottish forestry is a strange thing to one raised in the concrete jungle. My understanding of a forest approximates to the sort of thing shown in Robin Hood type television programs, Richmond park and the various bits of forestry in the south of England that it has been my pleasure to stalk hitherto. This was something else entirely. Rows and rows of Pine trees planted so closely that to look at them from a distance gave an optical illusion of sorts where the eye couldn't quite focus due to the sea of branches so closely intertwined over such a large area as to give the impression of some sort of serrated green felt magic eye puzzle wrapped around the hillsides. The trees are so dense that it is actually impossible to walk through the planted blocks. I say this as being the enthusiastic sort I did at one point attempt to take a short cut from one ride down to a lower one, a distance according to the map of 50 metres, only to emerge 20 minutes later 10 metres from where I had gone in, terrified, out of breath, with a mildly sprained ankle and sans my hat. I swore a mighty oath never to do that again, the experience leaving the same impression on me that I imagine is left upon a goldfish surviving being flushed down the loo. It was dark, featureless and full of hidden ruts, veritable grass covered chasms to trap and break legs. As I sat there thinking "bloody hell" it occurred to me that one would not want to retrieve a deer at last light from too far into forestry like this if at all possible....

The light was fading as our wee introductory walk took us back to the car. We headed back to the B&B for a bite to eat and a some rest before heading back again the next day. After 6 hours of driving and 4 of walking I was grateful for the curry the landlady had left in our cottage for us and after the meal and a shower retired to bed knowing full well that there was not a hope in hell of setting out again an hour and a half later for that morning’s stalk.

B was disappointed, he is a new stalker all of 3 outings experience and was even more keen, if such a thing be possible, than I was to get out on the hill and take his first roebuck. His earnest face appeared at my door at 2.30 in the morning with cheery cries of “It stirs! It must be alive!”. A brief discussion followed along the lines of

“(chuffing) what?!”

“It’s 2.30 already lets go”

“You want to know where to (chuffing) go do you?”

“I thought we were going stalking this morning”

“(Chuffing) we?!? I’ve been driving for 6 (chuffing) hours, sweated like a Moroccan mine donkey for another 4 and you think I’m going to get up after a (chuffing) hour and half’s sleep and sit up a (chuffing) tree with a loaded rifle?”

“Erm, yes?”

“(Emphatically no)”

In the end we agreed to set out for the afternoon stalk and together with Peter and a map of the lease worked out a plan whereby we would all stalk without endangering or disturbing each other, whilst staying within earshot of each other.

The plan was that we would split up at the first junction at the ride, LH and I to sit in high seats on the forestry beats and B would climb K2 to stalk the forest edge and the hill itself.

We were to remain in contact with each other through walkie-talkies if the situation demanded it, otherwise to maintain radio silence throughout.

We reached the fork in the ride and bid LH waidmansheil as he loaded up and stalked up the ride to his high seat a few hundred meters away. I loaded my rifle and together with B regarded the ride I was now to stalk down. The safety angle was good as LH and I would be stalking at 90 degrees to each other, he into the wind and B and I across it. This meant, worryingly, that if I did see a deer on the way to the high seat I could conceivably be in a position to safely shoot it. A terrible dilemma, I hear some of you remark but bear in mind my recent experience of actually going into the trees that bordered the ride. It was not, in fact, just the density of the surrounding cover that gave me pause for thought, the forest is truly the most beautiful I have thusfar experienced in the most un-assuming and subtle ways imaginable, here and there the bed rock was exposed by mudslide and the cutting action of many small streams trickling their way down to the valley bottom. A deer that ran and fell into one of these usually sheer, 15 feet deep, miniature ravines would indeed take some retrieval!
Being therefore in the somewhat novel position of hoping I didn’t get a shot too early on in the game B and I stalked slowly the few hundred meters to the high-seat. On the way I attempted to pass on as much of the various bits of knowledge, wisdom and technique that I have somehow managed to pick up in my stalking career to B as I could, who was understandably a little nervous at his first solo stalk. It was then I realised how steep the curve can be in this game, and also how grateful I remain to the various folk who have taken me out stalking, showed me what to do and generally made things run smoothly for me over the past 3 years. I am incredibly lucky to have access to the collective wisdom of you most gracious gentlemen, the term I use in emotional moments is “internet shooting uncles” , and realised quite how much I have learned over a comparatively short period.

We reached the high seat overlooking an impossibly picturesque glade in the middle of pine forestry ranging in maturity from clear fell to fully grown trees. Some last minute instruction to B about what to do if he got in trouble or shot a deer ( just occasionally one and the same thing….), lending him my roesack in case he had any joy, being careful to remove all vital equipment first, gave him the map and bid him waidmansheil.

I climbed into the high seat and watched him wander slowly down the ride. He was to stalk to the end of it, make a right and stalk up a wide grassy bank to the top of the hill.

I settled into the high seat and started to glass around. To my left I commanded a view of the ride B had disappeared down to a distance of about 150 yards, ahead the glade with a steeply rising bank just below me extending 20-30 metres and then levelling off and to my right forestry above a bank extending 150 yards in each direction at a distance of perhaps 40 yards.

I’m not sure why but things just felt right, I had arrived in the seat at about 7.30 pm and with last shooting light at about 11 pm I felt that I had more than enough time to get a feel for the area and possibly even see a deer. Shows what I know…..

Contentedly I daydreamed, glassed, daydreamed and glassed some more, time of course being immaterial in such circumstances; it is either “stalking” or “too dark to shoot so pack up and go home” time out there on the hill. It was with some surprise therefore that instead of a deer timidly venturing out onto the ride to my left I spotted B cheerily waving and walking towards me.

It’s at moments like this I am glad I don’t do things as silly as glass using a riflescope…….

Not knowing quite what to do or say I waited until he reached the foot of the high seat.

We regarded each other for a moment.

“What’s up?” I asked, feeling rather foolish.

“I couldn’t find the path up the hill so I carried on up the ride until it finished and came back, I saw a nice buck but it was in the middle of the ride and ran off before I could shoot it”

“………..the hill is the large thing in the opposite direction to the ride you stalked down mate……”

“erm, yes…..”

( a few minutes of uncomfortable silence )

“Do you want to sit up in the high seat with me B?”

“No, erm, I’ll, erm, try and find the path up the hill”

“Ok, it’s the wide green path over there” pointing to the ride 300 yards in front of the seat through a gap in the trees “ just go to the end of this ride here and instead of carrying on go through the trees on the verge there and follow it up. Stalk along the forest edge and come back down along that forester’s path near the caravan on the opposite side of the hill”

“Ok see you later”

I watched him wander back down the path again with some sense of trepidation. The incident had left me a little shaken; nobody likes to have people potentially wandering around in their arc of fire, especially so far from help and in any event to say nothing of the disturbance to the game in the area.

I looked at my watch, it was 8.30 pm, had my location been compromised or not? I didn’t know and because of the mobile phone signal reception issues I could not ‘phone anyone for advice.

I decided that to stay put would be the best course of action, so as to minimise disturbance and not to wander into anybody else’s arc of fire myself, and sat it out.

The evening wore on but I confess that the magic had now somewhat lessened. I was worried about B, had he finally found his beat? Would he begin to come down off the hill in good time? If he tried that forester’s track for the first time in the pitch dark I would not like to think about the possible consequences and finally would he somehow make his way into LH arc of fire?

Knowing that LH had almost certainly seen events from his vantage point I knew he would be on his guard but the ground here was rocky, with exposed boulders often covered in moss and by the grass with the attendant worry of ricochets.

Anyway I waited.

By 10.30 the sun had set and the atmosphere in the forest changed. The magic half-hour was upon me, that time when anyone with the hunter’s instinct in their blood finds their senses more acute, their movements instinctively more deliberate and their heart perpetually on the cusp of beating like a war drum with suppressed excitement. It is this half-hour that I stalk for, this somehow special time where man and beast become grim and serious, knowing that this is when the stakes are at their highest.

It was precisely 10 minutes into this most holy half-hour that an owl tried to fly in the highseat and land on my head. Scarcely a moment had passed after dealing with that distraction when B came wandering down the ride I had sent him up earlier, flashing his torch at me and whistling to get my attention.

Whilst I was still glad that I don’t do anything as silly as glass with my rifle, I am ashamed to admit that I was conscious that I was not quite as glad as earlier

Resigning myself to the fact that the game was up, I unloaded and packed my kit up to climb down from the high seat.

Tired and slightly bemused I asked no difficult questions and together we walked back to the car.

LH had had no luck; he had spotted a deer over a patch of clear fell some 700 yards away however, and this together with the news that B had bumped the other buck gave us something to be upbeat about on the way home.

We were however shattered. The constant elevation changes and general lie of the land meant that even the stalk to high seats had been a bit like hard work at times and B had climbed K2 for the second time in as many evenings.

We arrived at the B&B and had post mortem discussions. Poor old B was feeling rather rotten and I felt rather bad myself at not having been perhaps more sympathetic over the course of our various chance meetings that evening. Remembering what I must have been like on my first few outings, and the corresponding trials and tribulations I must have put such fine, kind and patient folk as Boggy, IanF and Kiri to name just a few, through I resolved together with LH to have a discrete word in B’s ear and try and persuade him that his best chance for a deer would be to sit up in a high seat and wait it out.

He agreed and telling him all the information I had picked up during the evenings wait, including the about the owl and we retired for the night.


(I’ll post the rest of the story and the photo’s tomorrow chaps)