Sika98k
AH fanatic
- Joined
- Mar 28, 2014
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- Location
- Dublin,Ireland
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- Wild Deer Association of Ireland
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I had a great day todpay which I will endeavour to share with you.
Sika deer were introduced into Ireland in the late 19th century by Lord Powerscourt. The deer bred, he shared some of the offspring with friends. The deer parks fell into disrepair, the deer escaped and the rest is history, of a sort.
Anyway 8 am had me at a friends house as his guest for the day. We were shortly joined by another guest whose SatNav lied ! Or he did .
A wholesome breakfast of porridge and tea started the day. The Argocat was already on the trailer and hitched up and we left for the hill. The road got narrower and narrower and eventually we were on forest trails.
The young cubs left on foot leaving myself and host to get the ArgoCat unloaded and away. The weather was dry and clear. A fortnight ago we sat in the fog eating our biscuits and drinking tea in the mist. After half an hour of that we packed it in for the day. This time we had good fortune on our side.
Half an hour in the ArgoCat had us a good way up the hill and we started spotting deer. The Red/Sika hybrids were roaring and whistling as we puttered up The hillside.
As an aside if you have never been in an ArgoCat don’t go looking for a drive in rough country in one. It’s an experience best not repeated too often but it sure beats walking !
We reached the top of a hill and engine off, we dismounted. Rifle loaded, binoculars, rangefinder, knife still all attached to me we set off.
Its difficult to believe that this is within 20 miles of Dublin. A walk, crawl, slither amongst the peat hags brought us to the side of a valley. There was a lot of noise coming out from various directions. A bit of glassing showed 3 hybrid stags holding their harems on the far side of the valley. Somewhere down below there was the distinctive whistling of Sika.
Mein host raised his eyebrows and instructed me. “ Right you’re on your own from here. Go get’em !” He then turned his back on me and disappeared from sight.
Now where the buggers ? I glassed for a while and eventually spotted several stags at the bottom on the valley floor. There were some hinds about but apart from the occasional whistling no great displays or fighting. I had a few spots of dead ground before me that could be hiding something from view. The stags were not getting any closer no matter how fervently I wished they would.
Anyway if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed. Mohammed must go to the mountain. Or the valley floor in this instance.
21/2 hours and some 700 yds later I was a damn sight closer. I had spooked a hind on the way down which took offf across my bows but I was sufficiently far away for my target group not to notice.
I had managed to encounter a couple of areas of dead ground which allowed me to creep a short distance. Slithering down hill clutching a rifle across your forearms and retaining the rest of your belongings is not as easy as 30 years ago.
The last piece of dead ground allowed me to roll on my back and watch the raven who was probably viewing me as an alternative diet after my heart attack ! Still, I had taken my meds the night before and was good to go.
I had been watching one superior stag but he had moved away across the valley floor. Anyway the moment of truth, if any, was rapidly approaching and I chambered a round , 7x57, 162gr SST’s, if anyones interested. Oh God no, back on my belly again in the mud, deer droppings, pools of water. Reminder to self, this is for fun. .
I reached the lip of the dead ground and slowly looked over. There was a stag within range. Sliding the rifle forward I shouldered it and safety off. Boiler room shot and squeeezed the trigger. Success ! Off he went, throwing the front legs forward. 50-60 yards later he piled up. Job done ! As an aside, the heather exploded with deer that I had never seen, they were just lying down.
a quick phone call and the Argo arrived just as I had finished the gralloch. Not a big stag but a hell of a stalk.
We went of to collect the other two who had shot a hybrid stag. Then I saw the other rifle ! A 1918 SMLE ! Beautifully restored, the owner, an engineer, had made his own mounts for it and very tastefully done also. The electric fuel pump then decided to quit on us so it was a bit of a hike back to the cars. Still, days like this are few and far between.
Sika deer were introduced into Ireland in the late 19th century by Lord Powerscourt. The deer bred, he shared some of the offspring with friends. The deer parks fell into disrepair, the deer escaped and the rest is history, of a sort.
Anyway 8 am had me at a friends house as his guest for the day. We were shortly joined by another guest whose SatNav lied ! Or he did .
A wholesome breakfast of porridge and tea started the day. The Argocat was already on the trailer and hitched up and we left for the hill. The road got narrower and narrower and eventually we were on forest trails.
The young cubs left on foot leaving myself and host to get the ArgoCat unloaded and away. The weather was dry and clear. A fortnight ago we sat in the fog eating our biscuits and drinking tea in the mist. After half an hour of that we packed it in for the day. This time we had good fortune on our side.
Half an hour in the ArgoCat had us a good way up the hill and we started spotting deer. The Red/Sika hybrids were roaring and whistling as we puttered up The hillside.
As an aside if you have never been in an ArgoCat don’t go looking for a drive in rough country in one. It’s an experience best not repeated too often but it sure beats walking !
We reached the top of a hill and engine off, we dismounted. Rifle loaded, binoculars, rangefinder, knife still all attached to me we set off.
Its difficult to believe that this is within 20 miles of Dublin. A walk, crawl, slither amongst the peat hags brought us to the side of a valley. There was a lot of noise coming out from various directions. A bit of glassing showed 3 hybrid stags holding their harems on the far side of the valley. Somewhere down below there was the distinctive whistling of Sika.
Mein host raised his eyebrows and instructed me. “ Right you’re on your own from here. Go get’em !” He then turned his back on me and disappeared from sight.
Now where the buggers ? I glassed for a while and eventually spotted several stags at the bottom on the valley floor. There were some hinds about but apart from the occasional whistling no great displays or fighting. I had a few spots of dead ground before me that could be hiding something from view. The stags were not getting any closer no matter how fervently I wished they would.
Anyway if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed. Mohammed must go to the mountain. Or the valley floor in this instance.
21/2 hours and some 700 yds later I was a damn sight closer. I had spooked a hind on the way down which took offf across my bows but I was sufficiently far away for my target group not to notice.
I had managed to encounter a couple of areas of dead ground which allowed me to creep a short distance. Slithering down hill clutching a rifle across your forearms and retaining the rest of your belongings is not as easy as 30 years ago.
The last piece of dead ground allowed me to roll on my back and watch the raven who was probably viewing me as an alternative diet after my heart attack ! Still, I had taken my meds the night before and was good to go.
I had been watching one superior stag but he had moved away across the valley floor. Anyway the moment of truth, if any, was rapidly approaching and I chambered a round , 7x57, 162gr SST’s, if anyones interested. Oh God no, back on my belly again in the mud, deer droppings, pools of water. Reminder to self, this is for fun. .
I reached the lip of the dead ground and slowly looked over. There was a stag within range. Sliding the rifle forward I shouldered it and safety off. Boiler room shot and squeeezed the trigger. Success ! Off he went, throwing the front legs forward. 50-60 yards later he piled up. Job done ! As an aside, the heather exploded with deer that I had never seen, they were just lying down.
a quick phone call and the Argo arrived just as I had finished the gralloch. Not a big stag but a hell of a stalk.
We went of to collect the other two who had shot a hybrid stag. Then I saw the other rifle ! A 1918 SMLE ! Beautifully restored, the owner, an engineer, had made his own mounts for it and very tastefully done also. The electric fuel pump then decided to quit on us so it was a bit of a hike back to the cars. Still, days like this are few and far between.
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