Our winter has been characterised by rain of almost biblical proportions. The wet meadows of the Hampshire Avon valley have been flooded for what seems like months and even the usually dryer chalk uplands have been transformed into sodden sponges. Every step is betrayed by comical squelching and it is often dangerously slippery underfoot to boot.
Considering all these impediments, my roe doe cull has gone remarkably well, with the mantra of my wise old mentor — “Push really hard in November and the first few weeks of December, because January and February are rarely kind to the stalker” — proving its worth again.
Given a fair wind, I’ll soon be slowly stalking some of my first bucks through coppice woodlands surrounded by carpets of bluebells, with the warmth of the spring sunshine on my back. Events this year may well take a turn for the worse, but I tend not to worry about things that are genuinely out of my control.
The rhythm of our wild seasons will continue without reference to our puny human interventions and I’ll plan for normality, while keeping a weather eye open for serious trouble on the horizon.
Buck cull
Much of March is spent in reconnaissance for the first crucial weeks of the buck cull, when the woodland and arable vistas are still relatively bare, missing the rapidly thickening vegetation of April and well before the choking verdancy of May.
There is no specific trophy hunting on any of my ground, so decisions on buck quality can be made directly through the binoculars and handed immediately to the rifle without any conflicting pressures to “leave him for later and a paying visiting Gun”.
This story is from the April 08, 2020 edition of Shooting Times & Country.
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This story is from the April 08, 2020 edition of Shooting Times & Country.
Start your 7-day Magzter GOLD free trial to access thousands of curated premium stories, and 8,500+ magazines and newspapers.
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