How To Get The Best From The ACME Crow Call

A bad workman may blame his tools, but I feel he may be forgiven if he was the recipient of poor instruction. The ACME Crow Call appears to be a very capable tool, like all too many otherwise excellent products, I believe it is let down by the inability/unwillingness of the manufacturer to properly express to the customer its operation to achieve optimum results.
My short experience has gleaned that a low pitched, almost growl of a 'blow' achieves the very best 'throaty' and 'gravelly' call that is associated with the European Crow.
Available from Stock And Tackle .

The Hunters Chronicles - Tuesday 30th October 2012

Keen and eager to utilise the bodies of the fallen magpies (my research tells me they are edible, though "fishy chicken" is not an appetizing proposition for me) I was up this morning before dawn.

Daybreak is surely the most magical time of day.
The peace, the clarity, the promise.
Saddled up and fuelled by the mandatory caffeine I tramped down the old bridle path to the grounds upon which I would test the wits and cunning of my sky dwelling brothers.

Whilst there is some remaining semblance of natural cover and concealment from the bushes and trees still sporting leaves, I do my utmost to harness it to my advantage. This essentially means finding a gap big enough to squeeze my backside in and doesn't leave my feet poking out.

An old tractor harrow, gripped in a thorny embrace seemed ideal. The support it offered would have been useful too. Things looked most promising when, within minutes, a crow swooped in to investigate and landed on a branch to the right of my position. I took my time, lined up the crosshairs and thud. I succeeded in burying the pellet in the slimmest of branches and promptly away the guardian of Valhalla flew.

Still, it was early, the day had yet to unfold.
But I don't think it ever did.
I tried all magpies.

I tried just the one magpie.

I moved positions.

I went home.

Whilst slurping on a cup of joe I read up on crow decoying and found an entry on how a chap had had good results by plucking some of the feathers from a dead magpies breast to suggest the crow was tucking in. This, upon my hasty return, I did.

This got the attention I craved, and yet so long I sat there with the same routine occurring out of sight above my head, I fancied I learnt the language of the crow.

You'd get the lone one lazily flapping along his way, then he'd exclaim "Oh dear god! What are you doing man!" This would turn to an indignant "Errrr who are you? ANSWER ME!"
Now a bunch would join in the circular flight pattern.
"Yeah" "Yeah" "Answer" "Maniac".
Some would swoop almost threatening to land then pull away. More than once this caused me to toss my phone into the hedge mid text thinking 'this is it!' Only to find they were jerking my chain and at the arrival of a magpie chatter, would melt into the horizon with "He's not with us!""We tried to tell him"...
This set piece twice drew in offended and horrified magpies. First shot I missed and pulled right due to holding the rifle too tight.  The second ducked just at the last minute as he clacked his disapproval at my stoic and silent bird.

A while later, a third mag pie materialised. God only knows what happened with that shot. I fired and watched through the scope. He almost seemed to lean back. I heard the pellet impact, but I guess it was the ground behind.

Its hard to be certain, but I think that magpie may well have 'Matrix'd my pellet!

He flew off seemingly unharmed, I checked the trees and tracked in the direction he flew with no sign of feathers nor dead maggie. Most perplexing.
I'm out of ideas and my backside ran out of blood.
I've ordered an owl. That should do it!

I sloped off to the 'feed room' to collect my bounty,

and now await....The Raptor!

The Hunter's Chronicles - Thursday 25th October 2012

By noting the date of the first frosts, and comparing to my observations, I can say with some degree of certainty that we are approximately two to four weeks ahead of schedule this year.

Every so often, the trees seem to randomly and spontaneously shiver, dropping a shower of leaves that as they fall, make a sound similar to that of rain.

Clouds, heavy and laden with moisture, find themselves snared in the near skeletal forest, trapped until the Sun eventually burns them away or the wind manages to dissipate them.

The same clouds, though they make for a grey day, keep temperatures fairly even. So it was in preparation for their dispersal and the resultant plunge of the thermometer that the procurement of fuel took precedence over meat and food. 

 These activities still provide windows for surveillance, an important part of hunting. An empty garden trolley rattling and bouncing along the woodland path can make for a lonely afternoon however...

The savvy hunter, certainly in this day and age, has a few modern technological aids at his disposal. A recent sell off of surplus rifles has released equity with which I have purchased a 'Trail Camera'. This sentinel may be secured via an adjustable strap to a tree or suitable anchor at likely 'hotspots'. This tool has provided useful intelligence on the intrusions and visitors to my little patch of woods. 

As one hunter sleeps, another prowls...

By analysing the time stamps, and recording the positions the photographs were taken, I am quickly building a picture of the various species and their habits. I am not the only one.
As shown above, a fellow hunter (albeit utilising a far more primitive and specialised 'aid') has been doing the same. I cannot say how his rabbit hunt is faring, but we have lost two chickens in as many days during the night following the pictures captured and a recent dip in temperatures. The raids have been expert. I have not proof a fox is to blame, though I do have my suspicions.
As I followed the trail of feathers of the ill fated cockerel, I experienced how easy it is to take the 'theft' personally. It was as though my ego delighted in there being an adversary. I had purpose, focus, an aim, an objective, a goal. It rapidly constructed plans of how to trap, capture and ultimately exterminate this new foe.
But he is not my enemy. Quite the opposite. We have much in common.
I will continue to offer the remains of my kills that are beyond my use to the 'gods'. Though my gifts may in fact attract carnivores I would wish repelled, I keep the site of the sacrifices on the extremes of our boundaries and trust they will appease and distract those who would take more than I wish to give. For let us not forget, I too take from my environment. I too maraud the countryside, raid and slaughter (of course, only where permitted!)

The information gleaned from my sentry has resulted in the fine tuning of my timings. I know better when to keep the rifle to hand and not long after, my tax was exacted and the toll for entering my domain paid.

As I plucked this errant bird, I marvelled at its plumage. I was fascinated at the multitude of subtle colours, more so by how, collectively, the pattern served to create one of the finest woodland camouflage patterns I have ever seen (or not as the case may be!)
I pondered how it may be put to use. I am certain my ancestors would have sought to put such a gift to good use, to provide that edge and advantage on the hunt. It also led me to question how much of the new is really better than the old. An interesting line of enquiry warranting further investigation, though for another day.

Funds were also put towards decoys. Twice into the grey I ventured out with them. One Crow, two Pigeons. The first thing to be attracted took me most unawares. A buzzard plummeted from above and booted my crow three to five feet across the deck. The hollow sound of talon upon plastic shell took him by surprise causing him to retreat a good metre. As he regained his composure I watched in fascination and awe. Half fearful he would make off with my decoy. I soon had camera in hand, though he took his leave just as I pressed the 'on' button. Typical.
The next species to be fooled, was again, not any of the ones being targeted. In many ways it is one of the potentially most ignorant and stupid of all those that walk the earth despite its capacity for awe inspiring intelligence. I'm not talking about the dog, I mean Humans!
A woman, her son and black lab were heard approaching from my left so I made my rifle safe as they passed. The footpath runs to the rear of my position, yet some choose to not to stick to it.
It wasn't long before the dog and boy bounded past. It looked, for an instant, like the labrador would pass my pattern and leave it unmolested. The boy stopped to catch his breath and bent over, leaning on his knees. The dog, no longer being pursued, had a chance to glance about and quickly investigated the birds that did not flee. He went straight for the crow and nosed it.
Bugger. He's going to make off with that, I though to myself.
The womans voice called out. The boy communicated his confusion. The lad stood not three yards to the front of my position. In the hope he would call off the dog, I shouted "They're DECOYS mate!" He cast his eyes about the hedgerow uncertainly. "I just heard a voice" he intoned, half to himself and evidently forgot the message, even that one had been issued.
For the next ten minutes, a back and forth ensued reminiscent of a farcical pantomime. The boy twice took to hurling stones at the plastic birds, the woman seemed unwilling, even fearful of approaching them. Over and over they would ask each other, why weren't the birds flying away, were they dead? Why would someone leave birds out in a field? What should they do? Should they enquire at the house?
As the dog had been put on the lead I kept quiet, watched and listened incredulously. I was dumbfounded. Eventually and thankfully, they returned from whence they came and I was left in peace. Very much amused, I packed up and counted what I had seen as reward enough. I smiled and chuckled to myself all the way home, not before congratulating myself on what must have been excellent concealment.

The Cautious Corvid - Thursday 28/04/11

I woke again at 05:00 and used the opportunity for a hunt. I made a circuit through the woodland with a missed opportunity on a pigeon. The only other targets were crows but they were extremely wise and evacuated once they were alerted to my presence.
But never relax when hunting. As I was returning I heard a close by pigeon call.
I inched my way around a bush until I spied the source, who luckily was within range. Unable to take a head shot due to the drifting twigs and branches I hit him with a fatal heart and lung shot. Within seconds the Raider was reloading a 'just to be sure' close range head shot and completed a very clean despatch. My first wild trophy! (Not counting the trout of course).
It's times like this when my ego balloons and I ask myself who here at Lammas is living more off the land than I, a lowly volunteer? The only person to currently be fishing and hunting.

First Blood For The Webley Raider 10 XS .22

Trying My Hand At Scything.

The Circle Of Life.

Whilst out for an evening hunt, I asked the crow; "Why are you such a distrustful, cautious corvid?" This was his reply:

"Years ago, mankind, the animals and the Earth were bound by the most sacred of vows. This oath was simple. The Earth promised to nourish and sustain all the life that was brought forth on its surface. Mankind and the other animals likewise promised to worship and respect life and be mindful that it was a gift to be held in trust for the next spirit.

Mankind, the animals and Earth existed in harmony, often communing with each other. There was no fear. When it came time for man or animal to eat, the hungry went out and asked for those who were ready to come forward, to give up their life as freely as they were given it, and in so doing complete the cycle and live on.
When man was cold, he would go out and find a tree that had finished and released its life, or ask for those who were ready. Often in these days, animals would share man's fire.

Overseeing all this was the crow and his kind. Their role was a special one. Sometimes it would come to pass that animals would die, their spirits needing to be guided to the next life as their bodies had not, or could not, nourish anything else. The crow would gather up these lost souls and ensure the cycle continued.

And so it was for millennia.

Until mankind changed. Man forgot his promise. Man began to take more than his share from the Earth. Man stole what was never intended for him. Jewels and stones hidden away and hard to reach. Man no longer worshipped life. He began to take it from the animals. Even from his own kind. Never asking permission or giving thanks to those that nourished him.
When once all men, birds and animals existed together in harmony, now each hid, ran from, and feared the other. Quickly, man eradicated the animals who once requested the life he now called and claimed as, his own. He developed ways to stall and put off the day he returned his gift of life until he lived for longer and longer than ever before.
Man's young, seeing and learning, continued and exacerbated the damage his elders were causing.

Things were no longer harmonious.

The Earth's love for man was so great, she forgave his early crimes. But she realised, like all good mothers, if her creations continued to break and ignore holy and sacred codes then repercussions must follow and lesson taught. So with her infinite love, she is no longer following her promise. She is not vindictive. She is not cruel. If we would simply return to the ways of our enlightened ancestors, she will nourish and sustain and forgive. Given time, perhaps the animals might also forgive mankind for his crimes.

Until then, the corvids remain cautious.
Always watching. Waiting. From a distance.

M Jones