The Hunters Chronicles - Saturday 18th August 2012

The repulsion of the nut raiders continues. The SMK TH208 is at the forefront of this battle, the close to medium ranges of the woodland perfectly suiting the .22 calibre. I have switched the rifle to a trial diet of Crosman Premier Hollow points and the accuracy appears to be excellent.

I spied my tenacious adversary as I was entertaining our one year old. I prophetically mimed aiming and shooting the creature amongst the bouncing leaves saying the words "Daddy go Bang Bang", to which little one replied, with a most earnest look on her face, "NUM NUM!"

With my dearly beloved already making preparations for dinner, I snatched up the TH208 as soon as I was able and stalked after the marked animal.

The squirrel was relocated and one near vertical shot brought it down with such a thump, I winced in sympathy.

The SMK TH208 is proving to be a very capable tool.

A neat heart and lung shot, with mud staining the side he hit the ground.

The entry of the .22 pellet in the muscle.

Passing through the body and trapped by the tough skin.

The extensive clotting on the lungs with a dark hole betrays the cause of death.

Though minimal, the 'Hollow' point does show some expansion. It appears to be open to debate as to whether these pellets truly increase impact trauma.

Deformation from possibly the rib or a vertebrae.

Later in the evening I sniped a squawking squirrel approximately 30 yards away through a clear patch of wild ground. This ground was thick with thorns and despite shedding my own blood in the attempt to retrieve him, he was obviously intended to grace the plate of the woodland gods. As Trophy Hunters say, "No Carcass, No Kill".

Once again, the SMK TH208 has disproved its critics. If a rifle that kills cleanly and accurately is not good, I fear I may need re-educating.

I am very happy indeed with it.

The Hunters Chronicles - Saturday 4th August 2012

The trees are a-squeak with the news.
Whiskers twitch. Eyes and ears scan for the slightest trace of danger, though it is said the senses are of little use against this dark beast.
Three have fallen in quick succession. Struck down without warning.
All that is heard is a CRACK. Followed shortly by a drop, then a dull thud.

Thankfully this monster that roams the woods is a creature I have control over. It was I who introduced it. I call him,

'The Black Death'.

The first to fall to 'The Black Death' HW97kt .177 synthetic.

I need not seek them. They come to me, and The Black Death wakes from his slumber to perform his vocation with a talent shared by few.

They want my nuts.

They want my berries;

The early, if premature fruits of nature.

This clash of wants (mixed with my flawed notion of possession, as though such a thing were even possible) is the bringer of their destruction. The human digestive system, so evolved that it will process nut, berry or flesh, singularly, or for a very tasty dish, collectively.

There is no need for emotion. No justification required. No serious excuses concocted. Food and Death are woven together to fuel the tapestry of Life. It matters not what fodder you deem fit to dine on. Cut a leaf, and life will expire.

An RWS Supermag 9.4gr .177, 5x magnification, barely 4 yards up, 2.5 mildots holdover.

I have my own personal rituals that assuage any guilt the mind may wreak when my servant takes life at my biding. Ironically, it was as I thanked the lifeless form of this creature in my hands, stroking her fur and softly urging her to find her gods and leave this world, that another presented itself.

Both were oblivious to my presence. The second stayed hidden and elusive until, after much patient observation, a clear shot finally presented itself. The head was obscured, so up through the armpit and into the heart the Supermag was delivered, as directed, by the HW97kt.

The flat headed pellet makes for rather bloody kills, but none have survived such a traumatic blow and that is comforting.

Whilst I may be the master of 'The Black Death', with power to determine the time of the demise of these beings, I do not rule the skies. After the meat is consumed, the Gods of the heavens have made honouring these animals through the preservation of their skins, very challenging. Rain is a blessing, however, when the ambient temperature is too warm to warrant a fire inside, and outside it is wet with precious little covered space, pelts quickly rot. When the signs this has happened occur, it is with a tinge of sadness they are offered to the Earth.

For now I keep a weather eye, the other, in the Trees.

The Hunters Chronicles - Wednesday 1st August 2012

Since the 21st May 2012, I have been employed on the renovation of a cottage in the local village. This has not only removed me from my woodland habitat and tending to a very mini 'smallholding' but has also greatly reduced the time available for me to procure meat by hunting. 

I have missed this time greatly.

I have not, however, failed to notice some disconcerting warnings in nature. As I pruned an overgrown Hazel tree in the grounds of the cottage in the middle of July, I was surprised to find rather developed though not yet ripe hazelnuts. Nuts, in general are an autumn harvest. The hazelnut, according to Richard Mabey's "Food For Free" should not start to be seen until early August and not be ripe until the husks have dried in mid-September-October.
Elderberries, out since the beginning of July and already many being stolen by the song birds. I say 'stolen' because I and my partner specifically went easy on the flowers so we could make some elderberry cordial to stave off the coughs and colds of Winter. A month early in fruition.
Hawthorn berries, from which I like to make very nutritious fruit leathers, again, a month at least ahead of schedule.
Black berries, some ripening in the middle of July when according to Mabey they are supposed to just begin to develop now in August.

Squirrel activity has risen noticeably in the past month and I know that they are after my long awaited crop of hazelnuts. I purposely skipped coppicing them last winter as they take 3-5 years to recover.

In the mornings and evenings there are at least two nut raiders leaping from branch to branch. The one that fell to the BSA Scorpion T10 clearly forgotten and the warning unheeded.
Now I'm sure it is not unheard of for squirrels to be making preparations for winter in July/August but combined with my other observations I must admit I am ever so slightly fearful of what Boreas and Pan may have planned for this year.

I pondered my misgivings, unable to yet divine what the warnings message may be. A dry yet very cold winter?
An extreme, prolonged winter possibly even early, in contrast to the last?
Or perhaps just another dry warm one that never seems to properly arrive before it leaves?

As I sought for answers to the clues the Gods were giving, the two nut nickers returned. This time the SMK TH208 was quickly unwrapped and awake. They played a double act that kept me guessing and made full use of the thick foliage and cover.
I half ran, half crept from trunk to trunk. They paused once each and allowed a shot however, with range and and often acute angles hard to judge then compute into hold under/over, I missed both. I did not miss the third. Just as this male thought he had evaded me, he dithered too long in a Hazel and Zeus struck him down. A dull thud with not even a flicker. He simply fell to Earth like a leaf should in Autumn.
As you can see in the picture, some of those have fallen earlier than expected too!

The SMK TH208 has been very impressive and I can see it earning a permanent place in my stable for this very purpose. Watch this space for an in-depth review.