Another roar boomed from ahead and I caught a glimpse of movement; an antler brushing against a young beech tree. As quickly as I spotted him, I'd lost him again – which tree had I seen move? I signalled to Chris to stop moving as the stag was within 30 metres of us. After a painstaking couple of minutes Chris picked him out from the dense forest in front, trying to put me on without making a noise or moving too much. Why couldn't I see him? I'd just spotted him, how could he possibly disappear again? I risked another step and there he was, staring straight at me. The moment during the roar that all hunters dream of was upon me, a rutted-up stag in close with a loaded rifle In hand.
Let me provide a bit of context – this story starts a hell of a long time before that moment.
Roll the clock back 15 years and my old man Ivan was teaching me how to hold a gun. I started off like most kids that are lucky enough to have a hunter raise them. Air rifle in hand I would spend hours shooting targets. I was taught how to safely handle a gun and why it's so important to identify your target and your firing zone. You can't take a bullet back once you've pulled that trigger.
As my confidence grew I shifted to a 22 and a 410 shotgun. A few ringed eyes and sore shoulders later and I was on my way to my first hunting trip.
