I stared through the window in a state of abject indecision.
The image presented, for once, was one of paradise. Glorious rays of sunshine tumbled through the leaves of the blossoming trees to shimmer and dance on the woodland floor.
The outdoors begged me to venture forth. My legs equally implored me to remain seated.
If we had not suffered a run of abysmal weather, my legs would have firmly won and I may have spent the rest of the evening soaking in the tranquillity.
My stomach, growled for flesh. It reminded me of my as yet uninitiated acquisition. The BSA Scorpion T10 Tactical .177
Aside from a very quick chronograph session snuck between showers two days after her arrival, she has been thus far neglected. It was time to test her and the 11.1ft/lbs she was punching into those RWS Superdomes.
Off into the heart of pigeon land I strode. A long while spent eyeing up the giant swaying perches towering above. By pausing, listening and visually scanning for signs of life every few steps, I caught sight of a squirrel scurrying along a fallen trunk. I awaited its appearance the other end but when it was evident none would arrive I crept forward.
It's impossible to be completely silent in woodland. Nonetheless I managed to take this tree rat completely off guard. Within seconds the crosshairs were trained on her noggin and a 'phut' from the T10 bowled her over the side of the log. As I approached to inspect my prize, I could have ejected faeces from my rectum when she popped back up, a grotesque picture of mortal injury. Blood flowing from a seemingly fatal shot. Serious 'Terminator' squirrels. Thankfully, the next round was chambered and already impacting the skull ensuring a swift demise and passage to the afterlife. Her mate, mortified, barked his disapproval at me from the branch of a neighbouring fir. His horror lasted but an instant as he too joined her on the banks of the Styx.
The BSA Scorpion T10 was evidently in fine fettle. Two close to medium range shots delivered with superb accuracy. Light and extremely 'pointable', target acquisition is fast and easily held steady. Despite having the older style magazines, reputedly troublesome, it cycles faultlessly and smoothly.
But more was to be asked.
Deeper into the temperate forest I went, eventually finding myself in a 'dead' zone of forgotten land as the woodland borders a cattle field. Here I discovered many treasures. The first, a tree favoured by crows. I scared them away upon approach, but so fond of it were they, that within minutes they had returned. By this time I was concealed behind a cotswold stone wall, perfectly positioned to scare the Bejesus out of one of them by hitting a branch that swang just in front of the pellet with impeccable timing. Just as well. Crow burgers will have to wait for another day.
The ground was so riddled with warrens and tunnels, traversing it was akin to navigating across a swiss cheese.
My next discovery was of a small patch of bracken that allowed a quiet concealed approach to the fence and a view of the hedgeline. Rabbits lined the way. Three at least were very happily digesting their 'five-a-day'. As I believed myself lacking in my rabbit RDA, I thought "I'll av one of them"...
So I did.
Someone appears to have neglected to have attached a colourful label for me to consult whether this product is organic/suitable for vegetarians/free from anthrax. Which is doubly frustrating as how will I know who to sue?!!
Still I'll live on the edge and cook it up anyway...
The wild, truly the worlds most fantastic 'supermarket'.
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