He roared twice, the .243 once, and yet again
Three stags seen so far but only one shot. Here I am pushing through soaking wet bush on hunt day 6 early on in the morning. My hands are numb with the cold, but I am keen as, to reach my destination for the day, Wilson is too but he has a funny way of showing it.
A couple of hours in and I am still in the creek system, the sun has made its presence felt I can see on the slopes of the East facing bush faces. Meanwhile we are checked by the increasing steepness and gorge like conditions of the creek. The decision is made to leave the damp shade and the true right terraces and cross over for some current bun.
The exit out of the creek and up into the sunlight faces is steep and treacherous, with loose gravel and rock impeding swift ascent. near the shoulder that will make things a hell of a lot easier, said mutt lengthens his stride and creates a too big a gap between us, also he is indicating something higher up. I tut tut him to a halt and bring him to heal. No sooner than that was done, a roar resonates from a thicker mound of bush around 5o meters up hill. We go to ground, and I grab the scruff of his neck to make sure he gets the message. Another roar a minute or so later and then the scrub starts to part and the first antlers and then the shoulder of a stag emerge. The animal walks swiftly toward us, but there is no clear view for a shot. I have to stand up to take the shot. The cross hairs of the Leupold scope find the top of his head, and I pull the trigger, he is so very close now.
The stag reared up in front of me, then dropped down on all fours side on and clearly in distress. The second round took him behind the shoulder. There was unseen barking from another deer well above us which carried on long into the butchering of the animal, but went unheeded by both Wilson and me.
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