After shooting tests were completed on the first morning (both nailed the bull at 100 yards......sorry meters), we split into two teams with each seeing plenty of sign, but neither getting a shot.
I had Alan with me and we did see a nice eight pointer that was frustratingly too far away to get a safe shot. By the time we had stalked around him into wind he'd slipped away (accompanied by the odd expletive from yours truly).
Later that day we did find a pricket that Alan took as a management hunt, which set us up nicely for day two.
As day two dawned we were on the ground early, enjoying a beautiful sunrise. The morning dew and a light mist were clearing away as the sun rose, so Alan and I decided to take five behind a gorse hedge and watch the morning unfold. Glassing across a large meadow in front of us, surrounded by woodland, we were ideally placed, or so I thought.
What's that they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?
As we were looking across the meadow to our front a ten pointer walked out from behind us on the right hand side. He was no more than 50 meters away. We were tucked down in a drainage line in good cover, dead still. Surely he would wind us, but he didn't. He jumped through the hedge and trotted out into the meadow.
Steadily walking away from us, there was no shot possible.
Just when it seemed as though he would never turn around, he slowly turned full broadside on to us. I ranged him at 140meters, we had a good back drop and Alan took a perfect heart shot.
By the time we had called in a quad bike and recovered the stag it was time for a celebratory full English breakfast and then a trip to the local taxidermist.
Later that day Robert got a six pointer as well, having put in a lot of miles walking himself, yet finally having success from a high seat.
It would be fair to say that we raised a glass or two back at their hotel that night. A great end to a great hunt.
Written by Sporting Agent
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