The Sako L-579 Forester - An Introduction

Founded in 1927 as Suojeluskuntain Ase- ja Konepaja Osakeyhtiö, later abbreviated to Sako, the company has been at the centre of Finnish arms manufacture ever since. .By 1958 advances in precision casting let Eino Mäkinen design the L579 action, with tapered dove tailed bases and a forged one piece bolt.

Opinion is sharply divided between a vocal minority "modern rifles are much better" and team  'made to a standard the bean-counters have all but eradicated'. 

 I first met this rifle about ten years ago, its belonged to two friends of mine.  It accompanied us on our trip to Scotland, returned un-fired, and since then it's sat in the gunroom.  Made in 1974 [probably in April/May when the serial numbers beginning 300 start] it's become mine, and for sentimental reasons I'm going to do a Resto-Mod and take it up on the hill. By Resto-Mod I mean I'm keeping the action. 

The lovely McMillan stock is way too heavy for a stalking rifle, but fortunately worth about half of the price of its replacement. It's going to be carried in the highlands, and if I ever recover from the ignominy of the last outing, on skis too.  My original plan to give it a nice Walnut stock is either going to have to be an example of radical lightening cuts or I need to learn the art a science of the carbon rifle stock. Maybe more Mod than Resto. 

The fluted .308 barrel will have to go too. I'm abandoning .223 and 22-250 as hunting rounds, going one down for Hare .17 Hornet, and one up for Roebucks and Beaver. I want to be somewhere between the Scottish minimum of 80gr and the wind-cheating 115gr specified by Mr Tubb. The 6mm contenders de jour are 6XC and 6mm Creedmoor. With the Creed being a nominal 200fps faster, and the XC having a nominal extra 500 rounds of barrel life. The thing that's tipping the scales in favour of the XC is airlines are becoming more and more sniffy about hand-loads. Fortunately Norma are supporting the cartridge, so its got greater availability of factory ammunition.  It doesn't hurt that I won't have to sacrifice any of my treasured Creedmoor cases. 

More in part 2

your pal

SBW

 

Review: Steve Rinella' s American Buffalo

There is a Venn diagram with Hunting at the centre,  and many overlapping subjects; 

Weapons [not limited to rifles, shotguns, bows, spears, knives, how to make 'em, how to use 'em,]

History [ of animals, hunting, cooking, in prehistory, the last century, and the one before that] 

Biology [of prey, of their prey, of their parasites, and symbiotic fellow travellers ]

And many, many more

You started off wanting to shoot a deer so you could live up to your moral concerns about the industrialised food chain. Before you know it you've got a room full of firearms and camping equipment, there's no room in your kitchen cupboards because you own every means of food preservation 2000 BC to last week.  You're dressed in Tweed, taking the day off to accompany your friend who dresses like a viking blacksmith and only shoots rifles that were made in the century before he was born, to a symposium on restoring Pliocene habitat to Elizabethan mining sites, as chance would have it you're both reading the same book about parasitic infestations in non-native species. All you actually wanted was a venison burger. 

Steve Rinella is one of us.

When the hunting and fishing lifestyle meets the writing and filmmaking lifestyle, it's what Charlie Watts of the Rolling Stones described as 'Five years of drumming, twenty five years of hanging about'. Steve Rinella has spent most of his hanging about reading about Buffalo. This is the voracious appetite of the polymath. Find a decayed buffalo skull, take it home with you, contact every expert on your continent to find out more, when you exhausted the first one, fly to another continent, commission DNA testing. read every known account of hunting, processing, and selling every part of the animal by every culture that lived along side them.

Every year he enters a lottery to hunt a truly wild buffalo in Alaska. When his number comes up, he has a lifetime of preparation under his belt, and thousands of hours of reading to set the adventure in contexts; historical, biological and anthropological. He's the ultimate Buffalo buff. 

More soon

Your pal

SBW

Unboxing Review The Shultz & Larsen Victory 7mm08

I've always wanted a Shultz & Larsen but they don't turn up secondhand at the prices I'm prepared to pay that often. The only time I was going to buy a new one the importer didn’t get back to me so I bought the money pit and took a moody Spanish chick on holiday with the change. To be fair there have been opportunities, but I'm an obscurest; I’m not after the comfortable logic of a .308 and I wouldn't be likely to  buy another secondhand .243, so it’s taken a while. The ACL bought a mint 6.5 x 55  at the lesser end of grade two for a considerable saving, I was more convinced than ever there was an S&L shaped hole in my gun cabinet, the itch was upon me.  At the range, one of the wealthier Who?'s from my club rocked up with a 308 in grade three. Southside D took one look at it and opined "that's a bit of you init" the itch got a little worse.  

I tracked down a 7x64 in the highlands, [cracking round], but it had one of the  crazy long barrels they like up there, its septuagenarian owner had used to shoot 'jackass prone' off the bonnet of a Landrover.  

I found  a 7mm08 in Yorkshire which hadn't really floated the boat of the young lad I spoke to over the phone, he was all about a black rifle that was the uk legal version of one he'd used to prop up the military industrial complex in a game he plays online. Ever the optimist I paid a deposit on the 7mm08, sent off my paperwork, and promptly forgot all about it. 

Empire's rose and fell, teenagers became grandparents, glass dripped from its frame, and the bureaucracy coughed up a variation to my licence. 

When I called the gun shop it had been so long the work experience lad I'd first spoken to was about to retire, but made a charming pretence of remembering me. 

He put me in touch with the rifle's owner, who told a much more compelling story of;  

'proper nice bit of timber that', 'wife wants takin' to Spain', 'cops want me to have less stalking rifles, had a pin though my wrist so I'm keeping the light one'.  

He mentioned he'd sent it off for the two-stage trigger upgrade. 

On one of our trips to Scotland I would be passing through Yorkshire so I popped in to take a look and either retrieve my deposit or ....

S&L do a range of mini rifles called Legacy in the 223 and 7.62x39 case families (there's a 6x45 and a Grendel, I know!) a working rifle called the Classic , The Victory - for the stalking gentleman who has to have a job, and the Ambassador for Oligarchs.  All come with really nice features: 

Three lug bolt; I've got a Tikka that'll shoot the lights out of almost anything, its only got two lugs, but if a three lug bolt doesn't stir something in your soul you don't like rifles, and probably haven't  got a soul. 

Takedown; that most beguiling of features, I've got two, never take either of them apart, but it's nice to know I could.  

Cut rifling: Another thing its possible to wax lyrical about, I refer you to my Tikka now wearing a button rifled tube. 

Magazine fed: The dual latches on this thing are really really nice. You don't care? Buy a Tikka and lots of ammo, you'll be happier. You have no soul. 

Sexy timber: Sometimes I just sit and stare at it, within its blotches, and swirls you can see the birth of the universe. I never take it out in the rain, or anywhere likely to be muddy. It makes me feel slightly unworthy. 

Pillars and bedding as standard: there nothing more to spend, just a lovely accurate rifle straight out of the box  

Shultz and Larsen have both long since gone to the happy hunting ground, but their spirit of Danish high end design, woodworking, and engineering live on. The company lacks the marketing punch of their German, Finnish, and Swiss rivals, but by making a really great product at the price of a mass produced rifle. They have a fan base who aren't about to dessert them any time soon. It's a different kind of offering.

These days what's commonly described as a 'custom rifle' is actually a rifle assembled from bought in bits, its pretty amazing that you can, for the same or less, have one from a company where the barrels arrived as bars, and the stocks arrived as planks. A lot like John Rigby Rifle Makers, but with almost ten large knocked off Rigby's price tag.  

More soon

Your Pal

SBW

Shotgun Shenanigans Pt.1

This: I was bouncing down a farm track in a pickup with some deer managers, you know what these guys are like, they are always trying to sell you something, or some form of sporting endeavour where they can leave you in a field with the meter running and go for a nap in the truck .

DM: Do you do much pigeon shooting SBW?

SBW: There'd be little point

DM [ears up sniffing the wind, not the expected answer]: Why's that ?

SBW: I'm a total Chump with a shot gun. 

I have form you see, the day I met my culinary hero in a pigeon blind in Fife I launched a whole box of carts/shells at birds swooping in to the decoys, and hit exactly none. 

From this inauspicious start it's been up hill all the way.

In the UK shotguns are licensed in a similar way to rifles; the criteria are less stringent, but the process is the same. You can save a few quid by getting your certificates to run contemporaneously. I got my first shotgun because not that I expected to be able to do much with it, but because, like a historic rifle, you have to have one. 

A friend with a massive collection of firearms was out of work, so on a whim I asked if he had one he'd want to sell. No surprise he did, I collected the most unpleasant semi-auto anyone has ever seen from him and gave him £100 for it and some 1022 magazines. I came to think of them as expensive second hand magazines and a free shotgun. I was traveling home by train with the gun in the worst gunship I've ever seen. Another 'freeby'. It was a nice-ish afternoon, I sat on the station platform, two Polish chicks came to sit on the next bench, the train pulled into the station, I hopped up and was making the ten step journey to the doors of the train when the slip disintegrated, the zip gave up the coast and the little leather strap parted company. The shotgun clattered to the floor. The Polish chicks looked over and totally unconcerned got on to the train and continued with their day.

I scooped up the gun and got on too. In the toilet I had to quickly work out how to dismantle a semi, so I could wrap it in what was left of the gunslip.  It was a long nerve-wracking journey back to London as I awaited the intervention of the armed response unit. 

Shooter [who you'll know from other adventures] invited me to shoot geese with him for my birthday, I tried to make excuses, 'my gun is a disgrace, I'm slightly worse' but he would have none of it. "Everyone should own a semi-auto, you can clean it with Fanta and WD40 they are a perfect thing, you just need to practice".  We drove up north in perfect goose weather; blowing a hoodie, iced water flying horizontally into our faces. It was a spectacular piece of goose-ground. We walked out onto a strip of land with a fish farm on one side and a nature reserve on the other. a skien flew over at not far off head height, I missed the first one, manly through shock, downed the next two, added a shell and popped a third. The gun was now a proven slayer. 

Based on its record so far I can neither call it solely an unlucky gun, or lucky gun, but it certainly attracted attention. Not just from the goddess of the hunt. 

I took it clay shooting a few times with Foxy, the ACL, and SouthsideD. It's ability to hit things had largely deserted it by this point, but in fairness we did always say we were going 'for a laugh' and it provided those in abundance. 

The slide release is on the opposite side to the port, so reloading is counter-intuitive on its best days. I have never cleaned it, so it has some mud left over from the goose shooting, some blood from the same trip and a few comedy feathers travel in the same slip, now held together with more than one brand of packing tape. Strangers laugh at it. The ACL was unrelenting in his mockery. 

After a while I bought my Browning; in an equally undiscerning purchase, that by dumb luck turned out to be both a bargain, with nice timber, and a bargain that breaks clays.  

I was short of space in the cabinet and I'd been trying to encourage Super Plumber to take up a hobby so he'd not be driven mad. I gave him a cabinet I found in a client's garden, and filled out the forms with him. He'd gotten his ticket back from the cops, but was still making excuses about buying a shotgun. The same sort of excuses made by tool-fetishists everywhere "I only want the XYZ and I don't have the 2-3-4-or 5 grand they cost'. total bullshit of course. You should always buy the worst rifle or shot gun you can find [pretty sure I achieved that] as it will quickly teach you more about about what you actually want than any amount of reading other people's opinions on the internet. Then you'll enjoy the ecstasy of 'new gun X never see than piece junk again'. 

To give him his due, while it took Super Plumber a while to engage with the sport of clay-busting he's certainly been 'all guns' since he has. 

He'd been roundly mocked by the first person he'd shown his gifted Semi Auto to, undeterred he thought he'd buy himself something cheap and cheerful at the auction. Cheerful maybe.

If you're used to buying stuff on Ebay you have a wildly over-favourable view of the auction experience.  He'd bid on some piece of junk he could buy for the price of a couple of rounds of G&T's. Not receiving a 'you won it' notification, he shrugged his shoulders and tired again, didn't get a notification, bid on an inexpensive pair of Spanish guns,  still nothing. Assuming that he'd been too Yorkshire [tightfisted]  he waded in the next time. Nothing.  

The following afternoon he received a gloating email from the auctioneer 

Dear Super Plumber, we're delighted to tell you your bids were successful you're now the proud owner of six [shit] shotguns and you owe us £475 and 30% + delivery.

Needless to say, he's now on first name terms with his local gunsmith, and on the waiting list for a new gun that costs more than my car. 

More shotgun shenanigans to follow 

Your pal

SBW

 

 

 

Pimp My CZ 527. The Parts List Part 1

You could spend all kinds of money on a lightweight mountain rifle, or you could buy a 2.66kg [5.87lbs ] mini Mauser and spend the change actually shooting it. It comes with a highly adjustable single set trigger at 3 lbs and 1.5 lbs but adjustable to a lot lower, an idiosyncratic 'backwards' two position safety. It's also offered configured for the left handed. The legend that is the CZ527.

Petite and pointable, [no not her, that's petite and surly] available in some wonderfully cheap-to-keep calibers it's the mini Mauser with a cult following. Introduced in '89, it's an update of the Brno Fox, which in turn is a modest evolution of the ZKW465 from the 40’s. Available in the.17 Remington, .17 and 22 Hornet, .204 Ruger, .221 Fireball, .222 and 223 Remington, 6.5mm Grendel, .300 AAC Blackout and 7.62×39mm. The 527 is a really nice starting point for a custom rifle, loads have been made and there are secondhand options at all price points. There's at least one gunsmith selling a custom 6mmPPC. I've always wondered, as the later .223's are 1/9 twist , perhaps a .223AI would be a good idea?

There have been quite a few factory stock offerings over the years: Full stock, Laminate, Lux, American, Carbine, Night Sky, the stunning Ebony, a particularly nasty Synthetic, a swoopy Target stock by Bell and Carlson, a Kevlar by HS Precision, and a 'Marmite' MTR Target/Varmint stock that looks to virtually double the weight of the rife, but would make a wonderful war-club/canoe paddle.

CZ themselves seemed to know they needed to do something with the 527 range , but seemed at a loss as to what to do. So they stopped making them. The aftermarket has taken the rifle in lots of different directions, for both hunting and competition.

The 527's traditional lines are part of its charm, but at the same time they're its greatest limitation. Famously, the bolt throw, clearly intended for shooting with open sights, limits the rifle to medium and high rings, so an aftermarket cheek riser is a good idea. There are a couple of aftermarket bolt handles and an improved design can be sourced from the factory. The factory new bolt handle's part number appears to be 5270-0631-08ND if you can find one. 

Glade Armoury do at least three different bolt handles, personally I like the Anschutz style swept ball 

James Calhoon is a gunsmith who has made a specialty of the 527, he does his own bolt handle with better scope clearance, his own very low rings and bases, a single shot sled, and his own wildcat the mental .19 Calhoon. Don't worry if you can't get his site to load, it does exist he's just hosting on the world's slowest server.

Richly deserving of a mention are RVB Precision who will, for a modest fee, machine your bottom metal to give you the svelt flush look that the factory only got around to with the Ebony.

The now discontinued factory three round conversion 

JNP Gunsprings claim to significantly reduce your locktime with their custom wound spring and make a set of Weaver adapters for those of you who want a more traditional looking mount 

For those of you adverse to a set trigger there are two options by Rifle Basix and Timney [listed for the 550] 

Form make a version of their Cromwell for the CZ527, not sure who made the trigger guard 

also by Form 

GRS very chunky, but probably the best ergonomics 

Boyds 

Klinsky also from the Czech Republic do target stocks, 

and something more sporting 

Bell & Carlson

And then there are the customs...

This very well executed AI clone is a one off, seen on some UK forums 

An even more ambitious build is this 6.5 Grendel from NZ, a full description of the build is HERE

Paul Green of Thames Valley Guns has written up the journey of developing his CZ527 into a 6.5 Grendel tack driver. you can read about it HERE

Last but not least. My absolute favourite 527 project is this stunning full-stock by Mike Connor

CZ Model 527-FS Full Stocked Rifle .223 Rem.
20" tapered round barrel with ramp front sight, barrel-band tie-down, and standing blade rear sight on integral island base. Custom stocked to the muzzle by Mike Connor with fully figured walnut, steel forend cap, borderless wrap-around fleur-de-lys checking, steel pistol grip cap, beaded left-hand pancake cheekpiece, European sling swivels, and Biesen checkered steel buttplate. Marked .22 Hornet but chambered for .223 Rem. Right-handed, controlled-feed action with detachable box magazine for .223.
Swarovski Z3 3-9x36 scope with 4A duplex reticle on CZ rings fitting directly to receiver dovetailed double square bridges without separate bases. Pull: 13 3/4". Weight: 7lbs, 8oz.
Details from Hallowell Co 

If you see any more parts, or custom builds please let me know 

your pal 

SBW 

https://riflebasix.com/product/ceska-zbrojovka-527-550-trigger-cz-527/

There's a Piccatinny rail by Britannia 
LSS-XL Gen2 Chassis System

https://www.burrisoptics.com/mounting-systems/rings/cz-style-rings
bisley
sport match
warne

CZ BRNO ZH202 - Cold War Combination Gun

12 bore CZ BRNO ZH202 over and under, 26 ins ported barrels, solid rib, 2¾ ins chambers, 14½ ins stock 

The ZH Series was introduced in 1958. It’s probably fair to call the design unconventional.

The ZH's were hand made. With that 'hewn from a sold lump' feel Mercedes used to have. Like many BRNO/CZ guns of the period, when compared with the Italians, the finish was a bit ‘wrong side of the iron curtain’, but they have a certain rugged charm. The only plastic is the butt plate, everything else is steel and walnut.  

The skeet barrels are 26" with the muzzle ends "flared" into a muzzle brake that looks a bit like the ventilated "cage" on the Cutts Compensator Skeet chokes of the 40’s and 50’s.  

The barrels are joined at the cage and the breech, with space between them for the rest of their length. and have fixed skeet chokes, made to cover a 30" circle at 20 yards with a nice, even pattern using most target loads.

There are other shotgun versions; fixed chokes, usually tight and barrels in either 28" or 30" and combination offerings. Durability is an understatement with these guns. The action is made to handle everything from 22 Hornet, and 5.6x52 [I know me neither] to 7mmx57R, and 7x65R. Typically over a 12g, although 16g were also available. The stock came drilled for recoil weights. 

A sliding breech block is pushed forward by springs when it is closed, and cams back when opened.

The barrels pivot on trunnions that project out of the sides of the barrel set and engage with slots in the receiver. The fore end is screwed to the barrel set and doesn't get removed during take down.

The two triggers are an interesting set up. Front trigger fires the top barrel only, the back trigger has two functions; 1st pull fires the bottom barrel, 2nd pull fires the top. This is for when you’re using a rifle/shotgun set up, the top barrel being the rifle. The auto safety is in the front of the trigger guard, like a U.S. M1, and set by two independent systems.

The lockup is very strong, the breech system was intended to allow other barrel sets to be matched to the gun with minimum fitting effort by your gunsmith. They are not truly interchangeable but required less fitting when installing a barrel set, than from many contemporary brands. 

This one slams shut with a bank-vault clunk and feels ready to do the next 50 years of service. 

More peculiarities as time and cash permit

your pal 

SBW

TV Chefs & Foodies: Adam Richman

L

et’s take a moment to big up Adam Richman Eats Britain on the Food Network .

The researchers have found him some charismatic cooks and foods that are eaten all over the world and take their names from the towns and villages where they were first made. He’s taken full advantage of the costume budget, tools around in a Mini and manages to see fagotts being cooked with a straight face. 

If the rhymes aren’t to your taste: 

Clotted Cream, your cardiologist’s dream. 

The recipes will be:

At a boozer on the edge of Windsor Great Park they knock up some Venison Bon-Bon’s which are basically a béchamel free croquetta. 

Method: poach trim, ribs etc in veal and chicken stock - 4 hours should do it  

Cool. 

Fork over so it’s shredded 

Roll into balls

Dip: egg, flour, egg, panko, egg

Deep fry. 

Serve with homemade mustard mayo. 

Adam has an excellent grasp of English culture.  On helping his host cut up some onion’s

“I’m crying like it’s the end of Blackadder”

He is big, and he is clever.  It doesn’t matter if he is seeing mylene klass, the fact that the gossip pages say he is, is enough to give hope to fat boys everywhere 

More soon 

Your pal

SBW 

If You Stand Very Still....

 

Drive to Ahab's without getting lost. Harder than it sounds.



Ahab has no mixers, so we slam neat Gin for a while, uncharicteristicaly I'm allowed to sleep until 8am.

Head north. Cross the border into Scotland - receive abusive phone call from an angry ginger motorist who has tried to stop us merging, photographed the phone number on the liveried wagon, and is now triumphantly announcing he'll CC us into his email to Police Scotland. An email which never comes.

There's a lay-by we always stop at to let the dogs have a run around, we're joined by a cheerful German chap in a motor home who is exercising his offspring. Ahab's dogs are amazingly well behaved (especially for a cloud of spaniel) and mill about playing with the kraut kids. For a reason that's never adequately explained we also have Ahab's sister's dogs with us, one is fine, the other is completely useless, it has none of the attributes you might want in a dog. The crap dog somehow slips its lead and skedaddles into the forrest, hotly pursued by a raging Ahab. The German chap, in a fantastic display of droll, deadpans "Basil Fawlty in cameo". Which was the funniest thing to happen that day, until from a thicket Ahab screams "It's not fucking funny!! I've lost this dog before" which kills me and the German.



On arrival its such a nice evening we decide to go for a walk. The drumlin remains the perfect vantage point so we crawl up onto the top where we're joined by some natural cover. You've not lived until you've had your rifle licked by a cow.

The morning dawns at about 4am and the first client arrives, is escorted up on to the hill, where he makes sight of a Roebuck, and has has to lie very very still for a couple of hours whilst being savaged by wee flying beasties. To his massive delight he shoots what comes to be known as the Bottle Opener Buck

Couple of days later the next team of guests rock up. I've seen the aphorism attributed to Richard Prior "You can stalk deer in a white shirt if you make use of natural cover" this week it was tested to the max.

It seems this is how stalking clients dress these days, her Hubs wasn't dressed much more appropriately.


We've got some more ground, it's not as good looking, but it teems with deer. This is incredible ground.
A thick forestry block is surrounded with wildly over optimistic and ineffectual deer fencing, which separates it from a lush meadow. We split up, I get Hubs. It's great to have someone to carry my rifle.
Hubs gets an incredible introduction to stalking; we see deer, we see deer vanish into dead ground less than 50m away and reappear as if by teleport 200m away. Only to hop the fence and disappear again. He gets the perfect lesson in natural cover.


There's a fortuitous hedge where the farmers get a grant to plant, but as neither neighbour trusts the other with the maintenance, and the grant money depends on the hedge being maintained the hedge is planted between two fences, leaving us a perfect approach. we find a smashing spot. So I give Hubs the binoculars to keep him occupied, roll up my jacket, and lie down to wait for sun down.


Hubs: you having a nap?
SBW: do you like Lou Reed?
Hubs: Yeah! I do
SBW: 'He's never early, he's always late. First thing you learn is you always gotta wait'.
SBW: Bet you didn't know copping horse and stalking deer had anything in common?




I'm wrested from the arms of morpheus by wee flying beasties sucking my blood, the wind has dropped, provoking a feeding frenzy, and then has the temerity to change ends, putting an end to the bites, but blowing our scent into the deer's obvious exit point.

Hubs gets that bit where the deer stand looking directly at you, unsure of whats discombobulating them. Tentatively going back to feeding. Wind changes and boom! They're off.

With the wind blowing over us into the plantation the deer have extra reason to head to the meadow, as we round the corner, as predicted, there they are. Gloriously milling about, in season and unaware we're there. This is the hard bit. Standing completely still watching three become eleven. Waiting for twenty two eyes to face away simultaneously. All the time my skin throbbing with Midge bites. All feeding. Viper sticks set up. Wait. All feeding. Resist urge to claw at my own face. Rifle on top of Viper sticks. Wait. All feeding. Hubs and I swap places. All feeding. The long long wait for Hubs to shoot his first deer. All feeding and still we wait. My skin crawls. Hubs whispers "nothing is happening". Push the safety off for him. Wait. All feeding. Wait. Bang-thwack-thump-meat on the ground. The sheer orgasmic joy of being able to scratch my face.

More soon
your pal
SBW

Review Stuart Mitchell Muntjac. Form And Function

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness.” Oscar Wilde

 I've had drawers full of knives over the years, The Itch has been upon me more than once. Nearly every time I've given them away or sold to fund my posh glass habit.  A million times I've championed 'spend 10 on a knife and a 100 on the sharpening kit'. But who am I kidding? Gorgeous pays for itself in the first five minuets.  

Plenty of years ago when the much missed forum British Blades was still a thing, one knife maker [and perhaps more importantly knife designer] appeared and swept all before him. 

The sion of a Shefield Knife making dynasty, Stuart Mitchell had spent his teenage years working in the family business, left cutlery and returned, bursting onto the 2000's bushcraft and stalking scene fully formed. Ive nearly bought one several times. When I was offered this one my resolve crumbled.  

I've wanted a Muntjac for a long, long time. I've seen a few me-too knife makers come and go with their embarrassing knock-offs. I say embarrassing, as the best known of the menagerie of imitators can't tell that he lacks the sense of proportion that every Stuart Mitchell knife so effortlessly has. 

Any muppet can stick a Mauser action in a stock. Only Rigby is Rigby.

More soon

your pal 

SBW

Occasionally, Just Occasionally, Deer Stalking Is Very Exciting.

Deerstalking and Cricket are like marital sex. Occasionally it's very exciting.

 

Usually it's a game of patient observation, sitting in the high-seat listening to birdsong, waiting and watching for a brown and grey thing to move amongst the green, grey, and brown things. Its a pastime for people happy in their own company, who don't mind sitting very still in all weathers. 

Just occasionally it's unbelievably, heart-poundingly, exciting. 

When the glacier retreated north it left behind the range we know as the highlands, to their north, the relatively flat bits, the lowlands of Sutherland. With their fertile flood plains and estuaries. It's a geology teacher's field-trip dream, like standing in geo-history's giant footprint. 

This farm is also a giant fieldcraft textbook, called Red Deer and Where to Find 'Em. As the steep side of the valley drops away there's a deep drainage gully full of gorse and birch where the deer bed down, it leads to another area of gorse that overlooks the fields where our friends are growing hay. I've spooked Reds into and out of them both. The deer can see for miles, and hide for days.

Meanwhile back on the geology field-trip: Drumlins, from the Gallic Droimnín [little ridge], are  teardrop hills, composed of glacial debris, they formed beneath a glacier and like aerodynamics in super-super slow-mo they are aligned with the direction of the ice flow. Ours is about 20m high and has a bloody big rock on top. Technical term for the rocks is 'Erratics'. 

I've learned my lesson, or at least one of them, so I don't approach by the road. I manage to cross the burn without falling in or renting a hamstring. I start the ascent and about half way up there's a slight terrace on the east side of the Drumlin, which I crawl along working my way left to overlook the gully. Of course my rifle is still across my back when I pop my fat head up and the guard matriarch and I are eye to eye. I proper freeze. 

Oddly she remains interested, but gives the situation the benefit of the doubt. My heart's in my mouth. She keeps me fixed in a steely glare but lets the family keep feeding. Kneeling I wait, like a frozen Meerkat, I defocus my eyes and wait and wait and eventually I out-wait her curiosity. Unconcerned she leads her little troop out of view around the Drumlin. 

Quickly. Back onto all fours and speed crawl back the way I came , there's only one place I can be, and I can only be there if I'm there first. I'm sweating like a Racehorse, and wheezing like a divorced Walrus. Up at the top of the mound there's the bloody big rock, on the right hand side facing north, there's the surface that 'catches the weather' just like that one window frame on your house that needs painting before the others. As they blow down the estuary from the Isle of Skye, the wind and the rain have abraded the earth and left an uncomfortable-sized divot under the Erratic

In my divot-fox-hole I'm now doing mortal combat with a long-legged and deeply unpleasant bipod, I've said a lot of bad things about the Harris bipod design, this is some kind of awful unbranded Harris Clone,  I've spent a lot of cash on bipods, none of them are with me, clearly I've angered the bipod gods. The bipod lacks the much needed forty five degree position. It only has 90 degrees, legs up and legs down, they are supposedly adjustable for length, but it all seems like a cruel parody of what could be. Finally, flattened behind a tuffet,  I have half a semblance of a shooting position. Wiping the sweat from my eyes either the deer have gone back around the way they came or about to appear. Another stress inducing mystery. If I bet on one, I will surely blow the other. If only I could stop wheezing.  

Just before I'm ready. Bold as brass. The Hinds saunter into view, and start the umpteenth meal of the day. A quick squint through the scope. I've never been one for the calculation of cosine on the fly, but hash one is 200 yards, hash two is 300 yards. I opt for hash two. Ping!! Goes the .243. A hind drops to the 100gr bullet and the rest of the crew high-tail it away. 

Occasionally, just occasionally, Deer Stalking is very exciting!

more next time

your pal

SBW

Scotland : A Thrilling Encounter With Big Boy

 Morning is dawning the sun plays on the self seeded field of xxx pine. `I'm in the highest sheltered from the wind with my back to one block, a ride to my left and the fence line falling away infant of me. 

Ive seen the little Roebuck break cover and cross the ride a while back, but now only the wind in the trees, the creaking of the dead lower branches, and a terrible racket coming from behind me. The way the seat is it's not easy to turn around that far. 

Ahab is a notorious, and compulsive practical joker so my first thought is this is yet another of his practical jokes. The thrashing and cracking continues. Twisting my head there's defiantly something there.

There's only one stop where Ahab could possibly get out of the close-planted block, I'm not going to point even a de-cocked rifle at the spot. I'm just preparing a witty retort for when he steps out when a Red deer with a neck larger than my waist tears his antlers free of the branches and steps into the gully where the ride borders the trees. As I shoulder the rifle he hears something of my movement and spins 180 disappearing into the forest block. Never to been seen again. Easily one of the two biggest Reds Ive ever seen in Scotland 

Every dawn, and every dusk, for two or three hours a time  for the next five days I sit there. Not a sausage. 

Every day I stalk up the ride to glass the fence line, every day I find hooj deer turds, steaming a couple of times, big foot prints, but I never see him again. 

Should I have pointed my de-cocked rifle at the gap? No. Should I have sat still and waited? Of course. 

Hunting, not shopping. 

more soon

your pal 

SBW

The Shrewsbury Reds Pt1

 

The Shrewsbury Red, all 11 points of him. 

My friend Captain Ahab invites me to go stalking with him in Shrewsbury, where a herd of parkland escapee Reds are eating a local farmer out of house and home. He's been sending me pictures of some crazy big deer, one so big it couldn’t be lifted into the chiller. I've seen pictures and the slots left by monster Reds in Norfolk where they live by crop raiding rather than fighting for every calorie in the highlands. These boys get the same (or better) nutrients without the wind chill the fens are rightfully famous for so I'm pretty stoked to be invited  

Shrewsbury is almost exactly in the middle of the country and mainly famous for a tiny herd of long-coat Fallow which are miles from a huntable population, plenty of Muntjac, Roe and Ahab's feral herd of turnip raiding Reds  

The pre-dawn drill is familiar to stalkers everywhere. Stumble across a field just before first light, gap in the hedgerow, turn back on yourself and there’s a highseat. Pop the magazine, try to climb the ladder without mishap, mag back in, work the bolt, make safe and adjust clothing to exclude drafts  

Once comfortable the despondency sets in. kvetch kvetch kvetch

Are 120gr big enough? 

Has Ahab already shot em all? 

When have you ever seen deer on a dry ploughed field? 

Turns out that: yes, no, and in the clear light of day the field abounds with rape, that's Canola not sexual assault .  

Ive been scanning the more promising looking field behind me for a while, when i turn back to find a smallish horse has rocked up, a smallish horse with ANTLERS! Seen Reds with antlers, never seen one, in season and through a scope! This young gobshite has eaten his last turnip, I gave him a round and he drops to the shot within three steps. Antlers are nothing to write home about, but as we've already seen, I’m no trophy hunter and on this trip we’re here to generate meat for Ahab’s game butchery and to keep the farmer who wants his fields deer free happy. No sooner than I've put the phone back in my pocket and huddle of Reds make their way into view, including this mighty brute, all 105kg of him, if his pal looked like a pony he's a shire horse. He gets a round, his pal gets one too, and loading loading through ejection port the forth deer of the day goes down. 120gr S&B Blue Energy are suitably destructive. I never found the bullets but it's safe to say expansion was, er, complete.The biggest deer Ive ever shot, and the most deer Ive ever shot in a day, or hour for that matter.

Lots more to tell

Will try to post more regularly

Your pal

SBW