HUNTING DURING THE LOCKDOWN
Fate tends to intervene on the side of the deer, even during a pandemic.
Fate tends to intervene on the side of the deer, even during a pandemic.
MIKE FERRAR
It's 2020 and South Africa was in the midst of a strict lockdown because of the Covid-19 pandemic. We, on Melsetter in the Karoo. were more fortunate than many urban dwellers as the terms of the lockdown confined us to our home - all 3 200 hectares of it! Much more preferable to being confined to a small apartment! We were able to ride bicycles, walk, and exercise our dogs who ranged freely through the grass that were at knee height after the good rains that fell between the beginning of De-cember and the end of April -302 mm in total. As always, however, there was a "but. ." The spectre of climate change loomed. The rain seemed to have cut off, and there was little prospect of any falling until next spring - which hadn't material-ised over the past four years. A I RIP ALONG THE BOUNDARY On this day. I drove down the Macassorfontein Road, a gravel road which runs along our east-ern boundary fence. The fence is ancient and its original sneeze wood poles desperately needed repairing. I had two aims in mind, firstly, to assess what materials were required to re pair the fence. and secondly to see whether I could hunt a fallow deer to provide much-need-ed rations to our small labour force: two men, their wives, and families, to whom Melsetter is also home. As I drove along. I scanned the veld on my left for any sign of deer. There they were! A group of eight or ten, including what looked like a pretty good stag with reasonable antlers. the remainder being his harem -young and fertile does, ideal for the larder. Instinct took over and fence repair leapt onto the back seat I gently sped up in an effort to look, for all the world and especially the deer, just like a passing vehicle going about its normal travels. At that stage, I didn't have a plan, I just wanted to crest the small rise ahead of me so that my vehicle would disappear from the deer§ view. Over the rise I went, foot off the accelera-tor, and the vehicle rolled qui-etly to a halt. Just over the crest there is an old borrow pit. Our northern boundary fence be-tween Melsetter and our neigh-bour runs along the edge of the borrow pit and then up the flank of Mount Melsetter. A PLAN My plan began to evolve. I fired up the motor, turned into the edge of the borrow pit and parked just off the Macasserfon-tein Road. I was out of view of any deer, provided that they had not been disturbed by my pass-ing. About 30 metres in front of me was a corner, formed by our eastern boundary fence meeting
the fence along the edge of the borrow pit. As quietly as I could, taking my rifle, leather ammunition slide with eight 150-grain cartridges, binocs and rangefinder with me, I set about stalking the deer.
SUITABLY ARMED
My rifle is a beauty. A 7x57, custom built on a Deutsche Waffenund Munitions Fabriken action. It is stocked in handsomely grained Turkish walnut with an elegantly shaped cheekpiece, buffalo horn fore-end tip and pistol grip cap. But I digress! Back to the evolving plan.
There was no wind to speak of. I crept along the boundary fence on the Melsetter side and gradually dropped down to dead ground while keeping a wary eye to my left, but the deer were nowhere in sight. As I reached the bottom, about 15 metres ahead of me was a fence, which I knew divided the camp in which I had last seen the deer, from the neighbouring camp deeper into Mount Melsetter.
If I could only get to that fenceline and work my way along it to where it met the dense Acacia karroo bushline. I could use that cover to work my way around to emerge on the edge, more or less where I calculated the deer to be.
I strode purposely forward to the fenceline but then entered fickle fate! As I carefully worked my way along the fence, I suddenly caught sight of some movement. I froze in mid-stride, and slowly raising my binoculars, scanned the long grass on the fenceline. There it was again. As my eyes focused, an antler swam into view. Standing dead still, I continued to watch. A young stag with smallish antlers stepped fully into view, no more than 80 metres away. He was oblivious to my presence, grazing unconcerned alone.
Now my dilemma: Do I abandon my initial plan and take the young stag, risking the shot and startling the other group of deer? Fate was against the young stag as I decided to take the chance and shoot the young stag. Then I would continue with my initial plan. Who knows, with luck I might be able to take one of that careless stag’s harem!
I carefully mounted my rifle over my trigger bipod and picked the young stag up in my scope. He came straight towards me, now at 70 metres, chest-on.
I flicked the safety off, squeezed the trigger, and heard the thump of the hit. He leapt into the air and dashed away, only to collapse and disappear in the long grass. Marking the dust, I walked up to him and touched his eye with the rifle barrel, but he was gone. The deer never knew what hit him.
I left him there and continued down the fenceline into the dense Acacia karroo bush. Slowly, I worked my way towards where I thought the deer might be. It was the flick of an ear that gave them away! Quietly, I set up my bipod, standing in the shadow of a large Acacia karroo thorn tree. The flies around me were terrible – in my eyes, around my nose. I watched the deer over the bipod, trying to select one of the does. But they were skittish and would not settle. Clearly, my first shot had unsettled them. Angrily, I waved the flies away. It was my white hand that caught a patch of sun through the branches that alerted the deer, and they dashed away. Fate had intervened yet again – on the side of the deer!