I can not complain. Nor do I wish to seem to.
It was something like a lust for blood that set my weary legs to purpose at 20:00 this evening. After drawing a blank Friday, you can add some shaken self belief into the pot of motivation.
If I am critical and honest, I was rusty. Too hurried, too rushed. I wasn't 'present', rather, I was already at the next likely spot of opportunity.
I did have one eye on the clock and the fading sun, but I was completely missing out on the experience of the hunt. Until I took steps to remedy that fault, I paid dearly. Rabbits hopped into cover unhurriedly, my presence comfortably noted. Crows flapped away almost begrudgingly. Pigeons sung their soothing song from the deep safety of their ivy covered nests. I was an alien. A disconnected being to be avoided and observed without ever presenting a threat.
It could almost be seen as though the Gods were both laughing at me and trying to send me a meaningful message when I almost literally stumbled upon this chap nonchalantly munching his greens.
Ravaged by myxomatosis he was blissfully unaware that anything untoward could be harbouring any ill intent in his vicinity. My 'LRF' read 7 yards. I'm sure he was closer. I aimed as though it were and missed, then realised 7 yards is the minimum read out. In spite of his diseased condition this one was not to die this day. I reloaded, and upon the click of the safety catch, he bounded off into the woods on my left. Ahh well.
My lesson had been learned with gratitude.
In the next field I was as focused as a Cat. My attention paid dividends as I utilised the double edged sword of the long grass to my advantage. As my hunting buddies know, there is a right hand curve in the hedge line and beyond it are normally one to two very nervous bunnies. The curve means that a right handed shooter such as myself inevitably presents his body before the business end of his rifle. But not today. The two ears were spotted, the eyes obscured by the abundant growth of his fodder.
A sharp crack of pellet on bone and the head disappeared. I reloaded and approached softly. He flipped once as I drew near with enough co-ordination to warrant another dose of lead in the back of the head between the ears.
I had designs for this little fellows insides.
I journeyed on quickly to my little natural hide and slit him 31 yards from it in the hopes of baiting the crows. Crows, that at this time of the day, were no where to be seen. My plan was further thwarted by the arrival of these fine beasts.
Thankfully they didn't hang around long, nor did they pay heed to my rabbit.
I waited. And waited. I used my phone to go on youtube and play crow calls from videos at the highest volume my phone would allow. But no corvid appeared to have heard.
Then my backside and right leg lost all feeling and sensation.
I exited my hidey hole, analysing the tree branches for any sign at all of an avian presence. When my gaze lowered, I found it was being returned. Correctly I guessed, from 25 yards away. The second standing shot of the evening, this one far more straight forward with satisfyingly conclusive results. A very loud smack, a quick hop and mid air curl and it was very evident that this little blighter was half way across the River Styx long before I got to his body.
To date, I have been most pleased with the performance of the RWS Superdomes .177 pellets gifted to me by a forum member. Thank you kindly Rob, they are devastating!
Other MK3 TX200 owners may like to note that RWS Superdomes do not appear to sit as tightly in the barrel as RWS Superfields and this seems to aid the excellent delivery of energy and velocity. I would honestly put them on a par with JSB exacts.
My 35 yard grouping compared very favourably against a BSA Superten .22. Granted the Superten owner was unaware of how seriously I was zeroing....
Haha!
Until next time friends...
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