Shooting Times & Country Magazine
Putting all our skills to the test
The search is on as a fawn injured by a hunter proves a challenging find in the Ardennes
It wasn’t long after the opening of the deerstalking season in Belgium (1 October), when I received a call from a member of our group asking me if I could help him locate a deer calf that had been shot during a hunt he was on. He could not conduct the search himself because his young Bavarian mountain hound was still in training.
The phone was then passed to the Gun, who told me what he recalled of the event: “It was last light when I made the shot over a distance of around 150m,” he began. “The deer definitely reacted to the shot and ran straight towards me. I didn’t have a chance to take a second shot before it disappeared to my left and into cover. I searched where it was standing with a torch, but I found no blood.” Of course, I agreed to help.
The following morning, I drove 90 minutes to the site, which was in the Ardennes. I met the hunter, Emiel, and we checked the shot sight together. Darkness plays tricks on the senses, and we soon discovered that the shot distance was not 150m as Emiel
“For the first time, Jazz put his nose up high, gathering fresh scents on the wind”
had indicated, but closer to 90m. There had been four deer: two hinds, each with a single calf.
Apart from the deep hoofprints the deer had made when startled by the shot, there was nothing to see. My dog Jazz eyed us quietly from
RUDI VAN KETS IS A BELGIAN GAME HUNTER WHO SPECIALISES IN DEER DOG TRAINING AND PREPARING HOUNDS FOR TRACKING TRIALS
a few metres away. I knew he would have to help us.
Splash of blood
The dog started his search by going from left to right towards the high seat where the shot had come from. The direction seemed correct. He disappeared into the cover on the seat’s left, which was consistent with the hunter’s account, but he didn’t stop to indicate any sign of the shot. Did Emiel miss? Jazz had been on the long leash, but I released him now to let him work more easily. We followed him until he stopped 200m further on. There was a small splash of blood: the shot had hit its mark. There was nothing more to see, but Jazz continued until we reached a point where red deer had clearly passed.
The dog doubled back, pointing for a second time. We could see several splashes of blood. The deer must have been here. Investigating further, we saw tracks from the right join those we were following. Did the hind stand here and wait for her calf? We couldn’t know, but we could see that the tracks had merged. We followed.
There were no more signs of blood as we advanced. Jazz started crisscrossing the area, clearly following the scent of deer who had trampled around a dense tangle of brambles. Before we knew it, we were heading back down the track we had come up earlier. Jazz halted. There was a splash of blood. Then he moved off again: back through the brambles and left, climbing steeply. His speed was increasing now. Were the deer in front of us, having newly broken cover?
The Garmin showed we had covered 2.5km, although it felt further on the steeply sloped track we were now climbing. More signs awaited: fresh prints and, yes, another smear of blood. It was time to catch our breath, and I wanted to talk to Emiel about the situation. I didn’t believe the animal was fatally hit — the shot hadn’t hit any vital organs. I could tell this from the long distance we had already covered. I also thought that the calf had rejoined the family group.
The search continues
We decided to carry on. Jazz, somewhat rested after the break, picked up the trail and climbed up towards the high ferns. It was a similar story here, circling an area and then continuing in a straight line. We were now 3.7km from our starting point and, for the first time, Jazz put his nose up high, gathering fresh scents on the wind. Maybe the deer were close? Perhaps I could see the injured fawn? But no, still nothing. Jazz was back on his leash as we advanced. Suddenly, he pulled up in front of me, his head up once more.
We were close. With weapons at the ready, we continued, step-by-step, but we’d been fooled again: there was no game to be seen. It was all quite odd. We crept a little further along the track, and then we saw the four deer speeding away up the slope. I tried to let Jazz off the leash so he could bring down our quarry, but the fleeing group leapt over a fence and into a meadow higher up the hillside.
We decided to call it a day. The calf wasn’t going to succumb to his wounds and had amply demonstrated that he could keep up with the others. As for us, we had been rewarded with a thrilling search that was only enhanced by the teamwork shown by the party and the skill of my dog Jazz. And while our prize had escaped us this time, there is always another search to do.