A silent hunt

When I arrive at the station, I think long and hard about where I should sit - but finally decide to stalk in a part of the territory which I don’t visit very frequently and where no buck had been brought down yet. I’m slowly stalking along the forest path and finally turn into a logging trail between two thickets. I’m moving quietly thanks to the wet foliage. The wet forest floor unveils its unique smell after the rain on this summer evening and I stay for a moment and take in my surroundings.

What a special evening

The tension in the air is almost tangible, despite the idyll which surrounds me. I set myself up and wait a long time before I produce the first whimpering noises from my roe caller. After the first few whimpers, I suddenly hear cracking noises to my left and a deer slowly appears from the thicket, heading in my direction. I slowly take up an attack position with my gun and recognise two short antlers between its ears. A weak one-year-old buck. I hardly dare to move, I hadn’t expected the sounds coming from the caller to be received so quickly. The buck is now slowly moving towards me and I’m pushing the safety catch forward. As it finally stands wide, the shot cracks through the quiet evening air and the buck goes down as if it has been struck by lightning.

The dream buck

I slowly load a new cartridge into the chamber and try to relax. The hunting fever still has a full grip on me. I see movement on the edge of the other thicket. ‘That was a deer,’ I say almost aloud to myself. I’m still waiting a moment to calm down and start again with some quiet and cautious whimpering. As soon as I make the third sound, I hear something akin to fast, powerful jumps in the foliage, small branches break, something heads straight towards me. I can’t see what’s storming towards me because the low branches in this area are blocking my view. A gap only about 10 metres ahead and not even a metre wide is my only chance. I still don’t know if it’s a buck or a doe, because it doesn’t even jump in response to whimpering. It must have turned in the thicket and is now heading right in the direction which is least convenient for me. Only a few seconds have passed since I heard the sneaking beast for the first time and a big head suddenly appears in the gap. Like in a painting a buck is standing in front of me and looking right at me. A buck like I’ve never seen here before. Powerful body, strong and high from the antlers - a buck like I’ve always dreamed of. My finger is on the trigger, the crosshair rests on his shoulder and the gunshot rings out. As if in slow motion, the buck appears to rear one last time and falls into the wet beech leaves after a few metres. As I step closer I am happy and shaken at the same time. It feels like a dream. A real dream buck lies in front of me on a perfect evening. I put the little deer next to the big buck and sit on a tree stump next to it. I sit there for a long time. An evening I’ll never forget. An evening in August..

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