There’s ben a bit of bragging by me going on lately. 19 deer for 21 shots.
We... I’m back to earth.
Last night in thick bush I spied a Fallow stag. He had a great body, but his head didn’t look much. I couldn’t tell if it was peeling, but I guess its a bit early for them yet.
He was standing on a ridge, in a very small clear spot, surrounded by canopy. Ranged him at 414 yards, lay down over my pack with the 300 Winmag (I take it to this spot for the “nailing” ability), placed the 427 yard ballistic cross mid shoulder and sent off a 180 grn BT. I lost him in the slight recoil from the suppressor but a resounding “whop” came back. “Gotcha”, is what the “whop" actually said.
I carefully worked out how to get over to the spot and used a few reference points. It was nearly dark when I got there and duly sent Tilly off to find it. She ran down hill out of sight and from about 100 yards let out a bark. Good...so I bashed down to her, and met her coming back. She wasn’t interested in going back down, and there was absolutely no sight of blood or scuff marks. We went back to where I thought it had been standing when I sent her and ranged across to the ridge I had fired from. 414 yds exactly.
I searched with my torch for an hour or more, and Tilly led me on a few dead ends. Nothing.
All I can assume is that I missed, and that it ran down hill and stood and that Tilly bumped it. That would have been the bark.
It was 11.30pm when I got back to the truck, and with a 2.5hr drive in front of me. I’m quite tired tonight , but mostly I’m pissed off with myself for being so cocky
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