Shooting Times & Country Magazine
Don’t waste the ‘waiting month’
As anticipation builds throughout August, Barry Stoffell prepares his kit for the season
Here in Ireland, August is generally a month of anticipation and growing excitement for deerstalkers. With no roe or muntjac in the Republic (bar the occasional fugitive from a private collection), all recreational deerstalking for our three species takes place between September and February.
As 1 September approaches,
I step up the surveillance of the deer population in the areas I manage, checking trail cams and keeping tabs on the resident sika hinds that will shortly bring the stags in.
Although the rut doesn’t reach its whistling zenith until October, I always try to get a head start on cull targets in September. This relieves pressure at the back end of the season when the weather is worse and the days are shorter. In return, I am rewarded with some incomparable venison for my efforts. A young sika stag in prime, pre-rut form is one of the unsung heroes of the wild food calendar.
By the second half of August, the high seats are checked and mended, the game freezer is defrosted and the gun is putting my chosen loads where I want it to. Far from spending these last days twiddling my thumbs, the final fortnight of the close season provides a welcome chance to turn my attention to the care and maintenance of the remaining tools of the trade.
My kit bag is a source of unending amusement for my wife. I am the chap who happily arrives for a two-week holiday with nothing but a toothbrush in my back pocket, yet I will doggedly pack, check and repack my stalking kit for at least a week prior to the inaugural outing of the season.
The first order of business is sharpening duty. Nowadays, I take three knives with me into the field — my main belt knife, a smaller reserve knife stowed in my pack (another lesson I learned the embarrassing way) and a curved zipper to help with field dressing and skinning.
All of these will be carefully cleaned before I head to the workshop to touch up the
edges precisely with
a set of Lansky stones, then settle down with a cup of coffee, some polishing paste and a leather strop. If you’ve never got round to using one of these, do — the difference will scare you.
The butchery blades in the kitchen and larder also get a makeover and an afternoon in late August will find me happily leaning over a set of whetstones at the kitchen table. Any carbon-steel blades receive their first seasonal coat of camellia oil (popular with Japanese chefs for centuries). I find this the best way to reliably ensure that high-carbon steel ages gracefully, developing a
“If you’ve never got round to using a leather strop, do — the difference will scare you”
pleasingly even patina, rather than the dark splotches of a tool left in the garden overnight.
As a safety note, be sure to inform the rest of the household when you’ve sharpened the knives. Late August has previously coincided with an alarming spike in flesh wounds in our household, as previously ‘safe’ blades get hungry for fingertips. Alongside the metalwork, all wooden handles get a rub down with fine wet-and-dry paper and then re-oiled or rewaxed, depending on their original finish.
As I age, a progressively greater proportion of my kit seems to be made of leather. I suppose this might be a slow-onset fetish developing, or a growing appreciation for traditional craftsmanship; time will tell. Between knife sheaths, belts, ammo pouches and boots, I have quite an array of leatherware and with this comes the responsibility of looking after it.
After years of trying various brands, I stumbled upon my substance of choice while hiking in the Austrian Alps some years ago. On the recommendation of some locals, I invested in a large tin of lederfett, which loosely translates, somewhat wonderfully, as ‘leather fat’.
This particular concoction smells potently of lanolin and has a picture of a seal on the front,
strongly suggesting that the vegans wouldn’t approve. However, they are, one presumes, unlikely to be maintaining very much leather, in any case.
A thorough wipe of this a few times a year renews the water repellency of all leatherware without overly softening it, and it seems to hold up equally well in freezing conditions as warm weather. To this day, I still don’t know exactly what’s in it, but I have been sufficiently impressed to order enough to see me through until doomsday on the assumption that — since it works so well — someone will ban it sooner or later.
Of all the pre-season rituals, the annual proofing of the leather is possibly the one I enjoy the most, watching cherished items come back to life, reassuring me that they’ll be part of my sporting endeavours for many years to come.
Staying safe
Probably one of the most important overhauls of the seasonal gear is the replenishment of the first-aid kit. We stalkers can be shockingly remiss when it comes to keeping ourselves safe, but by its very nature stalking often takes us to places remote from medical assistance.
As a stalking guide, I can further attest that when you introduce clients into the mix, some of whom are not as comfortable or familiar with the great outdoors as one might wish, then the scope for incidents both large and small increases dramatically.
My personal first-aid kit is a modest bumbag type that sits at the bottom of my pack, although I keep a more comprehensive one in the vehicle. While this does contain a suture kit and the Celox haemostatic granules designed to temporarily treat gunshot wounds, thankfully these have never been required. The vast majority of incidents are rather mundane, but all have the potential to ruin an otherwise enjoyable day on the hill.
In the past few years, the injuries that I have had to deal with most frequently include blistered heels, sprained ankles, twisted knees and a surprising number of flesh wounds (mostly inflicted by the aforementioned freshly sharpened knives), including a couple that were quite nasty. Compeed patches, painkillers, Steri-strips, alcohol wipes and good-quality waterproof plasters are vital parts of the kit, all of which need regular replenishment.
Following a particularly arduous triple-carcass recovery several years ago in unseasonably hot September weather and extremely tough
“There is true joy to be found in the yearly rituals that prepare us for the season ahead”
terrain, I also keep a few sachets of oral rehydration salts handy. It’s easy to forget the physical exertion that may be required on the return leg of the stalk and several hours heaving beasts down a hill in the sun can leave the best of us feeling decidedly below par.
Bullseye rash
My final job involves the ongoing battle with ticks. This has become an increasingly vital component of my pre-season preparation and, with recorded incidences of Lyme disease rising year on year throughout much of Europe, stalkers need to be more vigilant than ever.
Anecdotally, many hunters —me included — have seen an increasing number of ticks over the past decade and, as if to underline this, a good friend of mine developed the dreaded bullseye rash in 2019. Fortunately, in this case a rapid course of antibiotics prevented any infection from taking hold.
Our risk is particularly acute in the early part of the season, when cover is high and ticks are plentiful, not to mention the fact that your quarry will almost certainly be crawling with them — quite literally. As well as ensuring that I have enough latex inspection gloves to get me through the season, I also now treat my clothing on a monthly basis with an insecticide spray.
Although the spray is branded as anti-mosquito, the active ingredient of 0.5% permethrin is universal for all biting insects and I find that two 350ml bottles are sufficient to treat my jacket and trousers for the duration of the season.
Of course, many major hunting brands now produce apparel that incorporates repellent, but I’m rather attached to the gear I already have and the DIY option allows me to include my boots and rucksack if I wish.