Birthday Post

My trip to the West London Shooting School was fantastic, a really great day out. But that story'll have to wait for another day.

In the meantime, through meeting a couple of his friends, I've been able to pierce the veil of James's characteristically english understatement; as the guys would have it James has a long reputation as a bunny slayer of some repute. So I was delighted when he gave me a copy of his latest DVD on hunting rabbits with air rifles for my birthday.

To many of you not living in old blighty, rabbits are hunted with .22 and shotguns. Here every country lad (and a few city ones too) starts out with an over-the-counter air rifle (legally limited to 12lb and good for a range of about 120 feet) and has to learn to get into range.

Here's a taster


If you'd like to learn how he gets so close, are wondering what the english equivalent of David E Petzal is like, or are just looking for a crimbo prezzie for the foodie who has everything, you can buy a copy here.

Must dash, birthdays don't celebrate themselves you know!
SBW

James' New Bloggers

James has been up to his old tricks ferreting out fascinating new voices for the bloggersphere and they are up to his usual high standard.

Well I would say that wouldn't I, he discovered me!!

The latest addition to his sporting shooter blog network is a chap called Andy Richardson with two blogs; one about the hunting outfit he runs north of the border, and for the other, when not afield he's writing up his adventures as a smallholder raising, growing, cooking and pickling his own foods.

As the wild fowling season has come to and end on both sides of the pond Andy has an interesting post on shooting pigeons with an over the counter air rifle and turning them into a goulash, and on the west coast Hank (HAGC) has been cooking up some barn pigeons he shot at the start of the year.

Like most city dwellers i loathe 'flying rats' unless they're on my plate, so while i was looking for a picture from 'Stop The Pigeon' I found kill the pigeons, as you'll see it's a remarkable website!

Well worth a look
Thanks for reading
Your pal the bushwacker.

Those New Chestnuts

Like the our pal the American Bushman I’m noticing the shift in the seasons; London was decidedly nippy today, and the prelude to last nights fitness training was a drum roll of chattering teeth as we gathered at the park gate.
I’m not sure where it went (I’ve even been having salad for breakfast!) but I’d certainly let things slide in the last week. The regime of running, sit ups, burpees, star jumps and press ups seemed almost as tortuous as the first time I attended. I sweated like a carthorse and my legs felt like I had tree trunks tied to them. Having struggled and slithered across the wet grass praying for the strength to continue or at least a merciful end to the torment.

Having survived I started to think of myself as a rather heroic figure. Back at home; as I lay panting and moaning on the front room floor, I was quickly disabused of even this crumb of comfort. Mrs SBW delivered a ‘motivational’ lecture about the ads she seen on TV where tubby fellas of a certain age are putting their health at risk by eating and drinking to their harts content. She succinctly pointed out that it was my harts (fat) content that means it’s not a choice. I will be going back, rain or shine, like it or not.
As Carl the PTI keeps pointing out “there’s plenty of time to think about it later, just do it”.

The park is the site of an ancient hunting ground and although we’re denied the chance to shoot (or even trap) the squirrels or stalk the deer there are still some foraging opportunities to be had. I’ve only ever had chestnuts and puffball mushrooms, but my foraging days have only just begun there must be more edible species for a re-wilded bushwacker to find. The chestnuts are getting a little riper but the first sightings of the granny migration that signals their ripeness are still a little way off.
It would seem I’m not the only person visiting the park hoping to invoke the aid of the gods, I saw this offing left at the foot of one of the bigger chestnuts trees.

The history of the site as a place of worship is at least as old as the roman invasion/settlement of Brittan. Discovered in 1902 the park has the remains of the mosaic floor of a roman shrine, supposedly dedicated to Diana the Huntress an imported deity the Romans took to their harts.

The area is steeped in history; first as a hunting ground and later as a pleasure park for the royals. Just as the invasion/settlement of Virginia was getting under way Le Notre (the gardener to Louis XIV) was commissioned by king Charles II to design the layout of the park we see today. The avenues of Sweet Chestnuts were planted from Spanish seed and some of them are now 400 years old.

I was more than a little off in my tree-size-estimate this fella is 24.5 feet around the trunk!
More trunk reduction for the bushwacker to follow – thanks for reading everbody
Bushwacker

Deer Hunter Ed

The Buck Hunter Blog have just posted a link to Fresh Tracts an outdoors school with a deer hunting course. There are a few people doing a deer stalking certificate in the UK. The way UK law works there are only certain weapons considered suitable for deer hunting and the bow isn’t one of them. I’m not sure if I’ll take the course here or fly out to take their course. Either way one of them’s going to get my money sooner or later!
Bushwacker.

Yes Deer.

It’s that time of year again, the bloggersphere is full of men and women (sadly it’s still mostly men) either preparing for, or starting the deer season. I’ve not been able to get a stalking ground lined up for this season (YET!), so disappointingly I’m still buying meat.

While the other bloggers are telling you about fletching new shafts and honing new broadheads I’m heading for the kitchen ...

Reeves Muntjac are one of the smaller species of deer and by all accounts one of the tastier species too. At about twenty to forty pounds (10-18Kg) with antlers 2-4 inches (5-10cm) long they might not have same trophy status as the Whitetail, but for ‘pot hunters’ they are highly prized.

I have a haunch of Muntjac in the freezer, I want to casserole it in a red wine and plum sauce. Served with root vegetables, glazed carrots, shallots and mushrooms it’ll be just the kind of hearty autumnal (fall) fare I love.

[Pause to take kids out and do some food shopping]

Mrs Bushwacker says I’m not allowed to cook big dinners or have people round until I’ve finished re-glazing the dining room windows. Bah!

Better go I can hear her calling me

“Yes Dear”
Bushwacker.

I Want One - A Not So Occasional Series

Nosler Custom™ Model 48 Sporter
A 6.5-pound custom rifle. Chambered for the Winchester Short Magnum cartridges.
Fully protected against the worst conditions a hunt can offer, and served up with a twist.
The twist is, it's off the shelf for $2595 + Scope.

Hmmm Noslerrrrrrrr.

http://nosler.com/index.php?p=1&bullet=18

Sofa King Whacked

It’s that time again: your pal SBW was forced off the sofa and the TV remote prised from his chubby little hand – “Off to the running club fat boy” said Mrs SBW.

And oh what torture it was, Greenwich Park is steep, way steep, and the guys from British Military Fitness had us hopping, (yes Hopping, you know travelling on ONE foot!) up the hill before we were allowed to run up the hill, it was murder. But as mentioned in a previous post at least it keeps the existential angst at bay.
I’ve taken to asking other victims, I mean participants, about their motivation. “ I just don’t want to be last” is quite a common one – myself I’m too busy not wanting this to be my last breath to care about anyone else.

After the hill-climb came the long jog, I’d have thought it was a long walk, but no we ran – well for most of it anyway. As we jogged we passed a rosy-cheeked young couple, enjoying the warm evening air, sitting on a park bench, happily drinking what looked like a bottle of whiskey. As people ran past they shouted encouragement. “You can do it” and “faster you’re winning”. I like to think of myself as the master of the witty retort, but all I could muster, through gritted teeth, was a “that’s easy for you to say” as my hart tried to leave my body.

The thought of tromping the hills of bonny Scotland with a pack and rifle in search of Red Stags and then later more of the same with a compound bow in my sub arctic search for the Elk of my dreams was all that kept me going. I’d rather die now than face coming home with no meat due to general laziness.

When I got home Bushwacker Jnr was eagerly awaiting my arrival: “Hey dad there’s a new film coming out, mum says you’d like it, its called Run Fat Boy Run!!

You’ve gotta love ‘em haven’t you? It’s not legal to use them as bear bait!
Bushwacker.
run fat boy run trailer
www.britmilfit.com/