- Joined
- Jul 20, 2002
- Messages
- 4,187
Older BF members may recall that I used to live on the Isle of Skye.
While there I met a mate whom we'll call Ian. He now works as a ghillie in Sutherland in the "deep north" of the Scottish Highlands.
Knowing that I share his love of rifle shooting, Ian invited me up to Sutherland to take a Red Deer stag.
A few days ago I checked zero on Ian's Sako 75 Synthetic Stainless using Prvi Partizan factory 6.5 x 55mm Mauser using a 139-grain JSP. Ian pronounced himself satisfied. It's fitted with a Schmidt & Bender 6 x 42 'scope and a Reflex T8 suppressor.
At 0830hrs the following morning, we made a motorised recce of the hill where Ian has his permission.
The ben, as seen from the sea
The weather was fine and dry, fairly still, but overcast. We spotted a couple of stags way up high. Ian planned the stalk considering terrain and the southeast wind, and off we went. I thought the hike up the ben along a wet, rocky 8” wide “path” was hard going, but worse was to come...
After hooking around the southern end of the hill the wind was blowing from the stags toward us. Ideal.
We walked, then crouched, then crept, then crawled, and Ian got us into a position from which, using my Leica 8 x 20 binoculars, I could see one stag clearly 180 yards away. We were hiding behind a shallow bank; he was lying down with his right side towards us, absolutely oblivious to our approach.
I remained down and out of the stag’s sight while I silently popped the bipod down. I then slid several feet forward, pushed the barrel slowly over the lip of the bank, acquired the stag and lined up on him, feeling strangely elated yet calm. It was odd setting up for a shot on a prone animal, because all the pictures I'd studied were of stags standing, side-on to me, but you have to play the cards you're dealt. Even through a 6X 'scope, he looked small.
Another cause for concern was that it was difficult to pick out the right spot on his flank to put the kill shot in. It was a case of best guess.
Pow!
At the shot, I was alarmed to see the stag stand up and start to walk off. I thought, "[Expletive deleted] I've only wounded the poor beast!" I bolted the rifle and fired again, and saw him collapse roughly 25 yards from where I’d first shot him.
While all this was happening, I was aware that not one but three other stags were running away from where mine had been lying. Their camouflage is superb.
Live weight approximately 250 lbs.
The gralloch revealed that the bullet had broken the front right leg, punched through a rib, blown off the top of the heart and severed the great vessels, then lodged under the skin, perfectly expanded, on the beast's left side.
Heart at top of picture
The second shot was, apparently, a clean miss...
The bullet as recovered
I retrieved a miniature of Lagavulin from my Proteus and poured a dram into the stag’s mouth. Ian and I then drank to his memory.
I then had to drag the stag off the ben to the nearest road.
I have never in my life performed such brutal, sustained, relentless physical labour.
I weigh 184 lbs. Imagine me, carrying a 50lb rucksack. Now add that I have sharp-tipped grappling hooks stuck to my head, which will either stick into your legs or snag on everything you pass. Now drag me over sodden, uneven, heather-covered slopes criss-crossed with deep rivulets and dotted with huge boulders...
It took us about an hour to drag him off the hill, usually in 50' increments, after which I had to rest for a couple of minutes and try and suck enough oxygen into me to sustain life.
No kidding, I am that tired...
Later, in Ian's larder:
Gralloching and skinning duties performed with my Dozier K-7 Slim Outdoorsman.
A wonderful, memorable day in God's country.
maximus otter
While there I met a mate whom we'll call Ian. He now works as a ghillie in Sutherland in the "deep north" of the Scottish Highlands.
Knowing that I share his love of rifle shooting, Ian invited me up to Sutherland to take a Red Deer stag.
A few days ago I checked zero on Ian's Sako 75 Synthetic Stainless using Prvi Partizan factory 6.5 x 55mm Mauser using a 139-grain JSP. Ian pronounced himself satisfied. It's fitted with a Schmidt & Bender 6 x 42 'scope and a Reflex T8 suppressor.
At 0830hrs the following morning, we made a motorised recce of the hill where Ian has his permission.
The ben, as seen from the sea
The weather was fine and dry, fairly still, but overcast. We spotted a couple of stags way up high. Ian planned the stalk considering terrain and the southeast wind, and off we went. I thought the hike up the ben along a wet, rocky 8” wide “path” was hard going, but worse was to come...
After hooking around the southern end of the hill the wind was blowing from the stags toward us. Ideal.
We walked, then crouched, then crept, then crawled, and Ian got us into a position from which, using my Leica 8 x 20 binoculars, I could see one stag clearly 180 yards away. We were hiding behind a shallow bank; he was lying down with his right side towards us, absolutely oblivious to our approach.
I remained down and out of the stag’s sight while I silently popped the bipod down. I then slid several feet forward, pushed the barrel slowly over the lip of the bank, acquired the stag and lined up on him, feeling strangely elated yet calm. It was odd setting up for a shot on a prone animal, because all the pictures I'd studied were of stags standing, side-on to me, but you have to play the cards you're dealt. Even through a 6X 'scope, he looked small.
Another cause for concern was that it was difficult to pick out the right spot on his flank to put the kill shot in. It was a case of best guess.
Pow!
At the shot, I was alarmed to see the stag stand up and start to walk off. I thought, "[Expletive deleted] I've only wounded the poor beast!" I bolted the rifle and fired again, and saw him collapse roughly 25 yards from where I’d first shot him.
While all this was happening, I was aware that not one but three other stags were running away from where mine had been lying. Their camouflage is superb.
Live weight approximately 250 lbs.
The gralloch revealed that the bullet had broken the front right leg, punched through a rib, blown off the top of the heart and severed the great vessels, then lodged under the skin, perfectly expanded, on the beast's left side.
Heart at top of picture
The second shot was, apparently, a clean miss...
The bullet as recovered
I retrieved a miniature of Lagavulin from my Proteus and poured a dram into the stag’s mouth. Ian and I then drank to his memory.
I then had to drag the stag off the ben to the nearest road.
I have never in my life performed such brutal, sustained, relentless physical labour.
I weigh 184 lbs. Imagine me, carrying a 50lb rucksack. Now add that I have sharp-tipped grappling hooks stuck to my head, which will either stick into your legs or snag on everything you pass. Now drag me over sodden, uneven, heather-covered slopes criss-crossed with deep rivulets and dotted with huge boulders...
It took us about an hour to drag him off the hill, usually in 50' increments, after which I had to rest for a couple of minutes and try and suck enough oxygen into me to sustain life.
No kidding, I am that tired...
Later, in Ian's larder:
Gralloching and skinning duties performed with my Dozier K-7 Slim Outdoorsman.
A wonderful, memorable day in God's country.
maximus otter
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