Thread: Long wait for a second shot

A week ago I went for a day hunt to a little area I know where I have always seen a number of deer and over the few years I've hunted it I have shot a few lovely tasty fallows. Leaving the truck at 6am I set off under head torch up the steep 600 vertical metre climb to reach the tops. From here I was able to walk along the ridge glassing down into the various guts that appeared in front of me. I reached a known lookout point that has proved fruitful in the past as well as having a story or 2 to tell. I settled down behind the binos as the sun started to creep up over the mountains and just had a feeling that it wasn't going to be long till I saw something.

I wasn't wrong. No more than 5 minutes after I sat down I started to get a faint whiff of deer in my nostrils. I glassed a clearing down below me and caught the glimpse of antler. I had seen a few bucks in this area over the years but all were pretty small and in my opinion deserved a chance to live a bit linger to see if they would turn into something decent. This buck was different, he was bigger than anything I had seen in there before, but his antlers were far from even. I spent a long time looking at him through the binos and flip flopping in my head as to whether or not I should have a crack at him. Eventually I decided that although he wasn't the biggest or oldest buck in the world, his very uneven head was never going to turn into anything fantastic and that he would be a good animal to remove from the gene pool.

With my mind made up I slowly moved backwards out of sight and siddled round and down a bit to a rock where I could look down on him and have a clear shot. 2 years ago I was at this exact same spot with a mate of mine and watched as he took 5 shots at a buck and missed them all. It was one of the mos comical scenes in hunting I had seen, my mate who is normally a bloody good shot emptying his whole mag at this deer which just stood there and trotted off. Ben came out with every excuse under the sun but the reality was he just had a bad day. All I could think off while stalking in was how much I was coming to take the piss when I told him how I shot off the same rock and nailed the deer with one shot.

I got myself set up with my rifle over my pack, and got the rangefinder out. 203y as the bullet flies, easy. I had the drop and this deer and all the time in the world to get my self settled and comfortable to take the shot. I was not expecting what happened next. I pulled the trigger and dumbfounded. I didn't here the lovely thwack of bullet on animal. I looked up to see the buck just standing there looking at me wondering what the fuck the noise was. I was in disbelief that I had missed I forgot what to do. Eventually my brain fired up and told me to reload. I pulled the bolt back and slammed it forward. It only went half the distance it should. What the fuck? I looked down, I had managed to not eject the old case fully and jammed the whole thing up. By the time I had rectified my balls up and looked found the buck through the scope again I was just in time to see him trot off into the scrub and safety.

I couldn't believe it, I stood up on the rock hands in to air speechless. It had been a long time since I had missed an animal and that was the first with that rifle. It was only 203 yards, yes downhill but there were no excuses that could be made. Ultimately I just ballsed up big time. That's what happens when you get complacent. I went down to the clearing he had been in and spent a good 45 minutes making sure there was no blood trail, mainly to make sure I hadn't wounded him but I knew it was a clean miss. Dejected I spent the afternoon glassing more guts where I saw a few goats and a younger buck that only had 6 points so wasn't on my hit list. Finally I pulled the pin and made my way home, I rang Ben and told him the story and got exactly what I was expecting, fuck all sympathy. My only saving grace was I missed once, he did 5 times.

That night I made my mind up, I was going back as soon as I could. I had to wait a whole week before I got the chance to head in and on Friday at 6 am I left the truck under torchlight and headed back up the hill. I made good time, breaking out on the tops in just under 80 minutes, I was happy with that. Normally when I hunt this area I make my way along slowly checking out all the guts and gullies along the way. Not this time. I bee lined it for the lookout over the clearing, I was prepared to wait there all day waiting for a chance of redemption.

Once I was in position I settled down and lifted the binos. I straight away spotted a spiker in the clearing, a good sign but not the one I wanted. Then another spiker walked out as well as the 6 pointer from last week. It was great seeing them and gave me confidence I was in the right area. A couple of minutes later I saw him. He trotted out of the bush just as the sun was hitting the clearing. I watched for 5 minutes or so making sure they weren't just passing through, they weren't. They were loving the sun, after 2 days of heavy rain they were going to make the most of it. I shimmied back and made my way down the rock, this time making sure I got myself set up properly and comfortable. Again I had the drop and plenty of time and I made sure I used it wisely.

Settling down, rifle on pack, I took a final range, 187 yards, aim a bit low I told myself. I wound the zoom up and loaded the .270. I calmed my breathing and found him in the scope and waited for him to give me a good shot. I had to wait a while as he had a tasty bush that he didn't want to stop eating, I thought about shooting through it but decided against it. Eventualy he walked forward, I squeezed the trigger and the bullet flew. I heard the thwack this time but didn't look up I had already reloaded, determined not to make that same mistake. I found him through the scope and knew I had got him. He had moved about 20 yards into the scrub and had got caught up. He was down and quickly expired. I let out a sigh of relief followed by the happy dance. I had redeemed myself. I made my way down to him and admired him. A rather uneven head but still a beautiful animal. I set about butchering him up, taking every bit of meat that hadn't already been minced, loaded my pack up and strapped on the rack. The steep walk down was tough going unsurprisingly and it was 5pm by the time I made it back to the truck, absolutely knackered but the smile never left my face.

When i got home the first thing I did was ring Ben and this time there was no piss taking, just a bloody good well done. I'm cleaning the head up as I write this, it'll look good on the wall and the story with it ain't half bad.