Hunting in Germany
Differing customs and conditions, yet hunters remain the same…
jacket, as synthetic fabrics rustle with movement in the hide; this proved a good call, but probably the most important items were my waterproof hunting boots – if your feet get wet at 4°C you very soon become miserably cold.
Our workshop ended earlier than planned and Robert and I needed little persuasion to immediately go hunting. During the hour’s drive, I questioned Robert about the animals and birds and local hunting methods. The Germans categorise their game: Niederwild are hares, rabbits and pheasants which would normally be hunted by a group of hunters; Damwild, or fallow deer, which we were to hunt, and Wildschwein (wild boar). We would hunt fallow deer during the day and the pigs by night or day, both from a hochsitz. There are other species, categories, rules and traditions which don’t fall within the scope of this article.
ON OUR ARRIVAL at Stefan’s family farmstead, it was raining and cold with the temperature at 4.5°C. Stefan’s father drove us around the farm to familiarise us with the 300ha hunting area, which by German standards is huge. Some 10 minutes from the farmstead we entered the most beautiful forest. The forest floor was laden with pine needles and in the gentle rain these gave off an amazingly refreshing scent. The forest had an eerie atmosphere as the mist hung between the trees. There were small patches of grassland as well as cultivated fields on which maize is planted for bio fuel. The maize was also a favourite food of the pigs. Each field had its own hochsitz, strategically placed to view the entire area, trails and corners. It was already dark when we returned to the farmhouse and I could not help noticing that, paired with the rain and fog, visibility was severely limited.
Stefan now checked the internet for a tally of game available for culling in the area. Only ewes, old rams preferably with deformed horns, and juvenile animals were to be shot. The quota for young rams had been filled. By now the rain had abated and Stefan brought out the firearms we would use. He gave me a Sauer 80 in 8x68s equipped with a rather huge scope – something I would be thankful for later. He and Robert had drillings. Robert’s was a side-by-side 12ga with a .30-06 barrel beneath, and Stefan’s a 12ga with what appeared to be a .270 Win barrel alongside and a .22 Hornet below. These drillings were beautifully made, scoped and quite heavy.
The fog limited visibility to about 40m and I now understood the need for the scope’s large objective lens which lets in maximum available light, enabling you to see objects more clearly in the gloom
STEFAN LENT ME his spare jacket, for which I was grateful as it was fur-lined and much heavier than mine. He dropped us off at our various positions. With hindsight, the only extra item I would take if I did this again would be a red-lensed torch for getting set up in the hochsitz, as it gets pretty dark in there. I opened the windows and positioned myself comfortably for the best view over the surroundings. With my senses on high alert I heard an owl hoot in the forest. The fog limited visibility to about 40m and I now understood the need for the scope’s large objective lens which lets in maximum available light, enabling you to see objects more clearly in the gloom. We saw some fallow deer, but no pigs came near our
stands. However, the experience of sitting in a dark, wet forest full of foreign sounds was unforgettable.
Stephan collected us at 11:30pm and before turning in, we enjoyed a few drinks (schnapps called Korn – made from grain).
We set out at 6 o’clock next morning to be dropped off at our respective hides. It was dark, and I had to walk through deep puddles of water to get to my spot; I was thankful for my waterproof boots. My designated stand was newly built and afforded a 360° view. The longest shot would be 250m.
At around 07:30, a movement at the edge of the forest caught my eye. Three deer were moving along the fringe of the forest, and one was pure white in colour. I was struggling to see if they had antlers, as these can be only 1 to 5 inches long on immature rams. Fortunately, after 20 minutes they turned and began grazing into the open field. They were females. I slowly positioned the rifle so as not to alert them and took aim. Thoughts were racing through my mind: target identification, distance, squeeze the trigger, don’t pull – adrenaline flowed freely. A farmer’s dog barked and he whistled in response; this now alerted the ewes. They appeared nervous and I had to act immediately.
I CHOSE A young ewe quartering slightly toward me and placed the crosshair on her shoulder, just above the heart. After the shot, I quickly brought the scope back on target. The ewes were bolting towards the treeline some 50m from where they’d been standing. The ewe I’d fired at showed no signs of being hit. I was distraught! The trigger let-off had been good, range and visibility no problem – I had expected a deer of that size to drop instantly to a shot from the 8x68s. How would I explain a miss in perfect conditions?
As is my habit after firing a shot, I took some time to reflect and let both man and beast calm down. To facilitate the follow-up, I’d made a clear mental note of where the animals had disappeared. After 10 minutes I descended from the hide and walked to the spot. I paced roughly 130m to the grazing spot and there, on the ground, was a large pool of pink frothy blood. I was elated! I followed the blood spoor to the fringe of the forest and found the ewe lying dead only metres further on. She was in beautiful condition and I estimated her to be slightly larger in body than an impala ewe. I took a minute to reflect, appreciating the moment with only the silent forest as witness.
Later, Stefan and Robert approached, greeting me with smiles and a hearty ‘Waidmannsheil!’ (good hunting), to which I replied with the customary ‘Waidmannsdank!’. In keeping with local tradition, I was given an oak leaf wiped with deer’s blood, and oak leaves were placed in the animal’s mouth. Traditionally, the hunter would tuck his blooded leaf in his hatband, but being hatless, I held it in my hand.
As I reflect on the experience, I believe that true hunters are the same the world over. All love the outdoors and its natural wonders, and make friends easily with other hunters, since we share the same needs, values and sense of wonder.