The Hunter's Chronicles - Saturday 12th May 2012

Saturday 12th May 2012

Nature, my mistress, provider and dictator has limited my activities and resources somewhat of late.
Though today, just when required, she changed her mind. Bathing myself and the solar panels in glorious celestial warmth. The heat that nurtures all life...including the netbook...

Between this, and my last reported adventure I have been a hunting guide, dodging rain and shooting rabbits with success and failure on both counts.

Presented with the opportunity that was this day, I fed the new S200 a whole tin of RWS Superfields. She spat them out rather erratically and it was clear that they were not to her liking. When I changed her diet to AA Fields she started to behave, if she wasn't pumped too full (170 BAR seemed to side step the two magazines of 'two mildot high' pellets that had troubled me the whole day).
With a pretty thorough work out on the pump burning in my back muscle's, I decided it was time to turn her loose in the fields.

Rather than wander the entire land, I went prone outside of a warren whose population were as equally grateful for the return of the Sun. Shortly after, the cross hairs were rising and falling scribing an imaginary line of death down the side of the nearest rabbits face. They rested a mildot high at nine times magnification with a range of 53 yards. The S200 let wind.
The pellet struck the earth behind him...I'd over filled her! She was at 190 BAR... The Kit paused at the hedgerow, his play fellow evidently oblivious to his chums dance with death. I aimed straight at him. The Reaper visited and claimed a soul.

"Death wuz 'ere"

As I awaited the return of the remaining quarry, my mobile rang. It was my dear sweet lady love.
"Don't ask me how, but the chickens have escaped and are all in the garden, I would round them up, but the cockerels out too".
"On my way..."
Our Old English Game Cock appears to believe my partner and our oldest daughter to be hens that require rounding up. He's not averse to resorting to flying kicks and pecks to the buttocks to exert his will. He only avoided execution after an escape and assault earlier in the day as I couldn't be bothered to pluck him.

I returned to the fields around 19:00 with food in my belly, anxious to test my new found understanding of the .22 calibre pellet.

Progress was slow and silent as I patrolled a bramble patch. Improbably close to my right, barely 4 yards ahead, a grey/brown shape moved through the fence!
I was astounded. A fully grown rabbit boldly going about her business.
My senses searched to identify the factor that was facilitating this experience.
It was plain. Her fur was patchy, eyes narrowed slits, blinded by the grip of her decay at the hands of Myxomatosis. I suddenly found myself the victim of a moral dilemma. I, rooted to the ground, observed her for what seemed a long while as I deliberated on a course of action. Reason said Myxomatosis victims are edible, instinct told me not to eat a diseased animal. Added to this, her fur was of little use and appeal to me.
Eventually, I decided she was searching for death. She had been seeking me for a while now and the gods had chosen me to end her suffering. They guided my hand to lift the sights to 4 mildots holdover and send a pellet precisely where it was required. She rolled over and left this existence with barely a shudder.
She reminded me of the admiration I have for all those beings who, through whatever ailment/circumstances, are without one of the senses I take for granted and rely upon almost every waking moment. Whilst my phone and camera had run out of battery denying me the ability to record that event, it will remain forever branded in my mind. A personal experience granted exclusively to me, to be shared only in words.

My appetite for death escaped me, my hunger for meat forgotten.

For now...