This she duly did at 04:30 this morning.
Fantastic. Fire lit, coffee down the gullet, chickens let out, quick browse of internet searching and slobbering over stuff I can't afford like, airgun tuning, guns and parts and of course, checking the forum etc, all done as the sun was just beginning to rise. Superb.
MkIII loaded, and I slipped into the mist towards a spot I saw pigeons congregating yesterday morning. Farmers are sowing so there are loads of pheasants, pigeons, crows, magpies and jays. Lots of targets (bar pheasants (for the legal eagles)).
I found a great spot that just so happened to be riddled with rabbit warrens, loads of them. Some old, some inhabited. So many I had to watch where I stepped to prevent a broken ankle. I love that aspect of hunting. Often a bonus is thrown in.
Well this time I had another experience that re-enforces my belief that when hunting for the pot not the tally, animals will present themselves willingly. I was quiet and still, scanning the many calls and attempting to locate the source, when a pigeon flew over and landed in the tree directly in front of me not 15 yards away. Down he went with a shot through the neck. Into a F**K off bramble patch. As he died pretty much instantly there was no flapping to guide me in. Eventually I recovered the prize and as I rested and allowed the adrenaline to drain away, two rooks were playing silly buggers within range. Pop, down he plopped. Sadly stuck in Ivy.
Why did I shoot him? I did so almost instinctively. They are also tough to get close to. I think it was that reason that was behind my assassination of a magpie. Shot him right underneath the eye and was puzzled why I did... Do I dare admit to myself that on those occasions I may in fact have killed for 'sport'!? Oh God.
Lunch. Stir fried. Yumm
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