Going solo isn’t always a walk in the park

I arrived at my permission just before sunrise on a crisp December morning last year and looked out over a light frost covering the Buckinghamshire countryside in front of me. The morning was still, but as the sun began to come up the mist filling the shallow valley began to drift away. I parked up inside a gateway and set off on foot from the truck, slowly making my way along the edge of a mature woodland, scanning across the open pastures with my binoculars. My goal was to find a suitable Chinese water deer buck, but more importantly to me, my first solo deer. 

Over the previous 18 months I had completed my DSC1 course, been successful on 3 guided stalks, and semi-successfully learnt how to gralloch, skin and butcher – (although I think my best result would have brought a tear to the eye of butchers the world over.) and I now felt it was time to take the plunge and go after a beast on my own.

Going it alone

Although being involved in different aspects of shooting since I was a teenager, I have always had a very limited number of friends who are into deer stalking, so the majority of my knowledge and techniques are self-taught, so the thought of being out solo had been playing heavily on my mind when getting all of my gear ready the evening before.

As I continued along the wood, and as I rounded the large oak at the bottom of the run of trees, I stopped for a second to study the new view that had opened up in front of me. I know the surrounding land well as it is part for our small DIY pheasant shoot, and I also know that over the last 10 years the number of Chinese water deer here has risen dramatically so the odds of seeing one today was good. 

Sure enough, as I slowly worked the binoculars along the neighbouring hedgerows and tree line, I glanced the hunched shape of a CWD feeding on the edge of a small woodland approximately 300 yards away. Unsure if at this distance if I was looking at a Buck or Doe I decided to try and get a little closer to have a better look. I slowly crept around the bottom of the wood and through a small gap in the hedgerow, and followed it downhill, keeping out of sight by staying in the field adjoining where I had seen the deer.  

After a couple of minutes of slow, small anxious steps, attempting not to make any undue noise to alert the deer of my presence I decided it was time to have a peak through the hedgerow and see if I had been rumbled. As I slowly squeezed through the brambles in the shrubby hedge I was greeted with the sight of the deer feeding now around 90 yards away. Checking with the binoculars I could now see his tusks clearly pointing downwards from the edge of his mouth. He had moved away from the hedge a few yards and was now head down, feeding steadily. 

I worked through the last few branches of the bush and attempted to steadily and smoothly open up my shooting sticks as I had been practicing nightly at home. With a high level of finesse that any professional would have been proud of, I clumsily half dropped my rifle as I tried to pull it from my shoulder sling and it clattered onto the sticks. I felt certain that as I looked through the scope he would have heard my fumbling around and taken his leave, however to my surprise, there he stood, perfectly broadside. 

I laid the crosshairs just behind his shoulder, steadied myself and slowly exhaled. As the last of the breath left me I gently squeezed the trigger and a fraction of a second later I heard the unmistakable thud as the bullet hit his side. I couldn’t believe it was going this well! However….as I continued to watch through the scope I felt panic wash over me as instead of dropping on the spot, he jolted sidewards, turned and ran straight into the woods 10 yards behind. I was confident the shot was good, but his running left me with a horrible sense of dread. 

The agonizing wait

When taking the DSC1 course you are told in this situation to wait between 10-15 minutes before going to look for the deer. As all experienced stalkers will know, this is because although the shot may have been good, the deer may be running on adrenaline, and by waiting this allows the deer to stop and expire without being further disturbed and running further on.

This is not what this deer decided to do…

On this occasion, the young buck ran back to the wood and managed to run a clear and straight line 65 yards through the trees and shrubs, and with its last breath leaped across an 7ft wide brook and finally came to rest at the top of the steep bank on the other side. 

After waiting the longest nervous 10 minutes of my life I set off towards the woods. I started working slowly through the undergrowth looking for any signs of blood or broken branches. At this point I began to feel truly out of my depth for the first time. I knew what I should be looking for from books I had read, and the advice I have gained from guided stalks, however spotting anything in the dim light of the wood seemed like an impossible task. I began to appreciate the skill and experience that I was yet to acquire. I pushed on and slowly and remarkably managed to spot a few small spots of blood, and then a few yards on some more. I followed in a straight line, until I came to the brook separating the woodland from the neighbours paddock.

Relief....

I spotted the deer laying dead on the bank on the opposite side of the brook. My joy at finding him was quickly overtaken with the realisation that it was now my responsibility to get him back to the truck. On my guided stalks I was always sub consciously aware that I had a professional to help me, but now it was down to me alone. 

As I surveyed the steep 6 foot banks of the brook, and checked how slippy they were with a delicately poked toe into the mud, I inadvertently laughed aloud at how far removed people who shop in a supermarket are from the meat they consume, in-comparison to people who stalk deer. I imagine the queue for the butchers counter in Morrisons would be a little shorter if everyone had to slide down a wet, muddy, vertical slope, into a cold knee high stream before placing their order. 

One down the slope my attempt at crawling / scrambling up the other side was no more elegant and made me feel fortunate for the first time that there was no one there to witness my athletic abilities. I pulled the buck a couple of feet towards me by a leg, and lifted him onto my shoulders to avoid dragging him through the water. The slope I had come down was too wet and steep to climb so I stumbled slowly along the stream, only falling to my knees in the water twice, until I found a spot where I could push the deer up and pull myself out. I pushed through the dense brambles and into a clearing and after a brief 10 mins laying in the grass trying to catch my breath (and debating whether I should have taken up an indoor activity such as darts or snooker), I got the gralloch done and started on the short, now very damp carry up the hill back to the truck

When home and dry I was pleased to find that the shot had clipped the back of the heart, and straight out of the other side as I had hoped. My first solo trip had finished a success and I knew that I would think of it every time I went to the freezer for the next few months.