Outdoor education

Jim Old enjoys a rewarding early-morning stalk in Hampshire, but he discovers the hard work really starts after the trigger is pulled

- Jim Old

I’m taking the safety off,” I whispered.

“Are you about to take the shot?” asked my guide, Martin Edwards.

“Not yet,” I replied, “I just think I need to be ready.”

I snicked off the two-stage safety catch on the Sauer 101 rifle and we both continued to stare intently through the dense tree cover ahead of us. Martin switched between his hand-held thermal and his binoculars, while I peered through the Leica scope. The understanding between us was that I could take the shot when I felt it was right. If Martin became aware of a problem, he would let me know.

Christmas card scene

About 70 yards away was a teardrop-shaped frame of branches in an otherwise chaotic tangle of old coppicing and half-fallen tree trunks. A little farther on stood a mature roe doe. From our position, she was in the middle of the frame, looking like a scene from a Victorian Christmas card. That said, we had a less-than-perfect view. We could see her left flank, the straight line of her back, most of her shoulder plus her rump and anal tush, helpfully confirming her sex. We couldn’t see her head, except when she craned around to lick her back. I didn’t have a shot. At the base of the teardrop was a stick, poking upwards. It was blurry in the scope, but it covered the exact spot where I needed to aim.