Thursday, 19 April 2012

Book Review: Karamojo Safari by WDM Bell



I first learned about Bell through shooting the .275 Rigby, the tweaked Mauser Rifle he's synonymous with. Rigby bought the workings from Mauser in Germany, smoothed away the tool marks, added his own stylish woodwork, the best barrels available and money no object gunsmithing to set them up. By using a different system of measurement the military (and continental) 7x57[mm] Mauser became the (British) .275 Rigby sporting rifle. A name forever linked to WDM Bell.

Written some years after the fact Karamojo Safari is Bell's second book, widely held to be the best of the Elephant hunting genre, and a glimpse into the Africa of a hundred or so years ago.  This adventuring is a risky business: day in day out, for years on the trot. In a world before antibiotics; where every few seasons whole african nations would be swept by disease, where lurgy carrying bugs patrol the air, land and water, inter-tribal wars flare up, slavers prey on the smaller settlements, brigands kill whole trading caravans, and any number of mishaps can befall a gentleman on a shooting trip. Life has the potential to be full of vigour, and equally the potential to be short. Very short.

Having started young Bell is only in his early twenties when he sets out to make his fortune as an ivory hunter. He'd had already tried his hand at being a professional meat hunter in the Klondike and Lion culler during the expansion of the railways across Uganda where the Government had offered a reward for every lion killed within a mile on either side of the railway. Boyhood dreams of adventure not yet sated, and a young mans dreams of hard cash drew him to try his hand providing ivory for the london trade. Risking all during sixteen and a half years of long safari's off the edge of the map, in the very last days of Africa before the Europeans.

Ivory:
In Africa, in the old days, in what's now known as Kenya and Uganda on the map and Karamoja on the ground, there was ivory, basically just lying around all over the place. It was gathered and traded. Elephants were always killed by the locals for food, hides, ivory and to protect crops. Usually with snares, pit-falls, and falling spear traps, just not in very large numbers. Elephants live a long time before they die of natural causes so with the growing trade route to europe supply of found ivory was outstripped by demand and the price started to rise.

Intermediate technology:
Muzzle loading rifles struggled to generate the stopping power or accuracy required to ensure a clean kill. Unless of course the shooter was almost at spitting distance, and made an 'engine room' shot to the heart and lungs. The trouble with an engine room shot at very close range is it leaves the nervous system intact with the animal still animated for a few very long seconds. Pretty much the only thing more dangerous than an Elephant at close quarters, is a mortally wounded Elephant at close quarters. With such a prospect for loss of life Elephant hunting was more organised than opportunistic. A potentate or king could dispatch troops to hunt Elephant for him, but a village was unlikely to often risk its workforce on such a venture however much food, crop damage, and trade were at stake.

The Nitro Revolution:
Bell is famous for using the .275 Rigby, but the way Bell tells it his adventure was made possible by the evolution of ammunition, both the .303 British and the .275 Rigby he used for Elephants were the latest kit, gone were the days of having to hunt with blackpowder rifles that fired 0.1lb to 0.5lb [!] bullets pushed (slowly) by gunpowder. Bell was shooting at the dawn of the modern Nitrocellulose ammunition with its much higher velocities, and much tougher bullets that can penetrate thick skulls and mud-encrusted hide. With these quieter, lighter, more powerful and more reliable rifles Bell could hunt with less equipment, and not being disorientated by the blast could take quicker follow on shots at second and third animals who were merely puzzled by the crack of its report rather than panicked at the boom of the big bore rifles.

Placement, Placement, Projectile:
For Elephant hunting Bell favoured a solid bullet that wouldn't break up, so he could shoot elephants through the brain leading to instant death. Shooting an elephant through the brain is not as easy as it sounds, the skull is basically a large armoured box for a brain the size of a loaf of bread, so there are a limited number of angles from which the shot can be taken. Most of the time you'd have to be well within 50 yards and sometimes within 50 feet. Both distances an Elephant can cross, faster than you can run, while its still at a jog. Most important that the animals fell where they stood. The story is usually told that Bell used Rigby's proprietary 140gr rounds, or the lower velocity Steel jacketed military ammunition, in 'Wanderings' [his first book] he mentions using Copper Solids of 200grains. About half the weight of bullet that would be fired from an 'express rifle' or dangerous game gun

Local Knowledge:
Hunting in territory well outside the influence of the colonial powers Bell had to be diplomat, trader, and ace negotiator.  Where he could he acted as pest controller - adding to his reputation as a benevolent passer-by, culling elephants that were eating and trampling a settlements crops. In wilder places he set out to gain the consent of the local head man favouring the tactic of walking, preferably unarmed, into the village and asking permission of the headman to hunt his lands. By not acting as though he owed the place he set himself apart from the colonial powers and became an accepted part of the landscape. Word that "Red Man" was in the area with his little rifle that dropped big animals would go before him, his well known offer of cattle for whomever found him Elephants meant the local lads were always keen to help him out. In tribal societies the ownership of cattle was everything. For the local lads this would have been a literally life changing deal, one that would mean they could afford to marry, and have a wife/slave of their own. With a wife to grow stuff, weave baskets and mats, brew beer, and preserve foods the low born male would have a source of income, and the potential to be able to afford a second wife/slave. Helping Bell was literally a way to get on the ladder. Bell took the Ivory and the locals got the meat. Tons of it, Bell was a popular fellow.

Karamojo Safari is quite the tale, but I'm very glad I read The Wanderings of an Elephant Hunter first. Karamojo Safari would have benefited from the guiding hand of an editor, that said its a fascinating tale in 279 pages, just I couldn't help but feel that it would have been a really riveting tale in 179 pages.

Instead of the tribal intrigues and anthropological musings of Wanderings he takes us to the moment of the shot so many times that, this reader at least, became inured to it. As the book entered the home straight I found myself thinking 'If he climbs up on to the body of the first Elephant to shoot the second one more time I'll jump into the path of the bullet to spare myself the tedium.' . The days he describes are long gone, and his style of adventure will never be seen again, so Karamojo Safari is what it is. A fascinating if flawed tale from the last days of pre-colonial Africa.

If you like hunting and adventure stories you'll not be disappointed, personally I wouldn't bother with the massively over priced facsimile edition when for a few bucks more you can get an old edition that'll keep (and possibly gain) value, and has that awesome old book smell.

Stay Tuned for my reviews of Bell Of Africa and some of Bell's journalism

For the Locavore Hunter's excellent review of Karamojo Safari click HERE

More Soon
Your pal
SBW

Photo credit Ann Kovek



Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Spam Comments On Blogger




A while back I showed you a window into the strange, perhaps surreal, world of the FLSC or ‘foreign language spam comment’. Well thank goodness not everything has been outsourced to China. High weirdness is still available, hand crafted in English. I found this in the moderation queue the other morning


7:05p Had a group of white kids come up to me and ask me to buy a bottle. Suggest I will be attacked in the near future. I will be ready with the sizzors and I will go for the eyes. Please make them white males. The gods are fucking monsters. Let me share with you some of the monsterous things they have done in the recent past:::: 1. Treat Blvd. killings. Saw a beautiful therapist I recently brought up again. The gods had some delinquent white male plow his SUV into an Afghan man and his 9 year old daughter on a Saturday morning ride right in front of the building after I "foreshadowed" the event, killing them both. 2. Discussed Haitian child slavery problem. Had a slavery issue in my family, perpetuated from parents into the next generation. Considered a parent's possible reincarnation as a Haitian child slave. Shortly thereafter 25,000 dead in 2009 earthquake. 3. Badmouth crappy Chilean fruit. 2009 Earthquake. 4. 2002 Cozumel vacation. Wilma parks on the prime diving area on

But wait there’s more, the next day there was a second helping

7:05p Had staged incident where a group of white kids come up to me and ask me to buy a bottle. Suggest I will be attacked in the near future. The gods are fucking monsters. Let me share with you some of the monsterous things they have done in the recent past:::: 1. Treat Blvd. killings. Saw a beautiful therapist I recently brought up again. The gods had some delinquent white male plow his SUV into an Afghan man and his 9 year old daughter on a Saturday morning ride right in front of the building after I "foreshadowed" the event, killing them both. 2. Discussed Haitian child slavery problem. Had a slavery issue in my family, perpetuated from parents into the next generation. Considered a parent's possible reincarnation as a Haitian child slave. Shortly thereafter 25,000 dead in 2009 earthquake. 3. Badmouth crappy Chilean fruit. 2009 Earthquake. 4. 2002 Cozumel vacation. Wilma parks on the prime diving area (SW) of the island and hammers the reefs for 40 full hours. 5. on


I am actually offering a prize for the best explanation of what this may or may not mean. Not sure what the prize is, or when the closing date for entries is, but I think we can all rest easy knowing that fact is stranger than fiction

Your pal
SBW [the B is for baffled]


Picture credit Eat4fun

Sunday, 15 April 2012

Deer Hunting In The UK Pt7


Pricket skulls found in the woods

A chap, we'll call him HunterX, wrote to me a few weeks ago, said he was a reader and invited me to go stalking with him.
We to'd and fro'd over the email and finally his commitments match up with my commitments and we ended up at this weekend, the tail-end of the Fallow buck season. So once again; I set off to meet a man, an armed man, I met on the internet, in the woods.

Escape Velocity

Over the phone - [shouting, not at each other but just to be heard over the din of older brother tormenting younger sister in background]

SBW: Can I take the kids out on Sunday instead? I'm going away on Saturday
Ex Mrs SBW: Excellent! Where are you taking them?
SBW: I can't take them! I'm going deer stalking!
[Sound of The Littlest Bushwacker wailing in the background]
Ex Mrs SBW: She's crying because you won't take her deer stalking
SBW: [laughing] That's why she can't come deer stalking, and her legs are too short

We agree to meet at 4am for the two hour drive to his stalking ground, and what a stalking ground. An estate that borders a national park, four species of deer, lots of small game, and a 200 yard rifle range.


My Host HunterX


On the way there the temperature drops and it stars to rain, perfect weather in other words. Our arrival turns out to be auspicious, I've always been taught that an unloaded rifle is just a stick, so load-up as soon as you get out of the truck because your first [or only] chance might be in the first few yards. Hmm yes. This time the first chance was a very chubby Grey Squirrel waiting for us on the estate side of the gate. Air rifle still in truck, 17HMR missing magazine, .308 not really what you'd call a Squirrel calibre, .22LR finally hauled out from under the other cases only for HunterX to miss at, well he called it ten yards but more about his range estimation later.

Woodland Stalking in southern England


Much sniggering ensues as we stalk up into the woods, long 'rides' separate blocks of woodland. Mist clings to the ground, it couldn't look more 'woodland stalking' if it tried. A shootable Roe Buck scoots across the ride we're walking on, head down, and intent on something other than evading us. 

The next opportunity is also a squirrel. We're neatly concealed by some coppiceed Beech trees and the Grey Menace is cavorting on a fallen tree, I crawl into what looks to be child's-play range and send a .22 sleeping pill straight over his head, he doesn't stick around for me to take another shot. Honor looking decidedly sketchy on both sides we retreat to the range.


Not too shabby - for 50 yards!

HunterX was curious about PCP air rifles and had asked me to bring the Parker Hale Phoenix .177 which acquitted itself admirably even out at 50 yards! - i.e + 60% of its effective range. In case you're wondering, yes at that distance the time between 'phut' and 'dink' is a long one!

We worked our way up through the calibres, the .22 first shooting a one inch group which then expanded to a four inch group. Phew! We we're now both able to blame the equipment.


That was a LOUD one! The 17HMR split a case


50 yards is a long way with an air rifle, and 
200 yards is a long way in anybody's book!


Parker Hale .308 - within 4.5in. at 200 yards and within 2in at 100 yards. 
My suburban air rifle practice is starting to make a difference!

Note: Plywood is not an effective backstop

Remarkably, despite the range being 'well used', deer and fox trails cross the range, and both have been taken there.


Perhaps this would be a good place to set a snare?



 Who's House? Mr Fox's House!

Mid Morning
We took a break for an amazing 'full english' breakfast and enough coffee to wake the dead, before dedicating the afternoon to bunnies. 

At the bottom one of the woods we had a great view of some dairy fields which the bunnies were busy mowing. I've never been very good at estimating range, in fact I'm so bad at it that you'd never get me to venture an opinion, having learned my lesson on one one of our trips to Jinx Wood, where The Bambi Basher had shown me the strange optical effect of 'dead ground' when a hidden dip in the terrain can double the perceived distance. HunterX is a very encouraging sort of chap, "I really think it would help if you were ten yards closer" he said. 
Gralloch

At the bottom of the wood we found this Gralloch, as any of the estate stalkers would either have buried it or used it for fox bait HunterX took this as evidence of poachers being there probably less than a week before us

Holding our noses we crawled into a gully which gave us a discrete position to snipe at the Rabbits from, a position which sadly was well outside the .177 Phoenix's range, when after several misses we paced it out, turned out to be some 45 yards beyond the air rifles effective range. HunterX "thanks you've cured me of the temptation to buy an expensive air rifle" 

Some more up-hill-and-down-dale stalking led us back across the estate, we did make sight of a fat Muntjac doe doing a very credible Usain Bolt impression, but no shot was taken. All the walking had
renewed our appetites and we enjoyed forced down the worst Kebab and Cheese burger yet seen before heading to the high seats to try to catch the fallow having their evening meal. On the way we went to see a field outside the permission where this group of 70-80 Fallow were herding, Does, this years fawns and last years yearlings all being bossed about by a one antlered buck. HunterX reckoned he's soon be chased off by a master buck come the rut.

A bossy buck shoo's does into one group and fawns and yearlings into the other


A field of Fallow bait - but no Fallow 

Highseat hunting is always colder than I remember it, as the light started to turn a cool breeze chilled me to the bone. The crop field looked promising but no deer came, at one point a Hare so big that on first sight I thought it was a Muntjac hopped past, but I didn't think the .308 would leave much worth eating so I turned down the shot, and as the light soon faded I walked back to the truck. HunterX smiled ruefully

HunterX: "I guess I put you in the wrong highseat, I saw two prickets you could have shot, sparing with each other"

SBW: That's why its called 'hunting' and not 'shopping'

All in all a fantastic day afield, massive thanks to my host HunterX, one of the good guys.

More soon

Your pal
SBW













Monday, 2 April 2012

Old School SBW In France Hunting Pr0n


Reserved for Hunting - How's that for POSTED!

While Shooter and I were traveling to the clay ground the other day the inevitable subject of Hook and Bullet magazines came up, and I remembered this post from a couple of years back. One of my favorites. Still as true now as it was then.

Keep well
Your pal
SBW


The chef, writer , and wag Anthony Bourdain once said that you could tell a lot about a country by the food it eats and the pr0n it makes. I'd like to add to that list. Hunting magazines are also a window into the national physic. If anyone ever asks me if i'd like anything brought home I tell them 'Hunting mags and dried pork products'.

I love hunting magazines for several reasons: the adventure stories, the kit reviews (because as regular readers will know I'm a sad kit-tart), and then there's the shameless dichotomy between the editorial standpoints of 'guardians of a noble tradition, champions of the simple life' and sell 'em a gadget to get the advertisers in'. Love it!

While manly hunters mock girly fashion magazines they miss the point that the two genre's have grown out of a common desire - to sell advertising space.

First hemlines will rise, then they will fall, _____ will be the new black, the first lady will first be elegant, then too thin, then too fat, before being found to have the dress sense of a cockney builder and the hair of a fishwife. Products and advice in next months issue will rectify these and other concerns.

Meanwhile: Camo will be photo realistic and change seasonally, last years 'fleece technology' wont cut it this year, chokes will tighten, then be unnecessary, shotguns will get lighter, then they'll get heavier to soak up 'felt recoil', fleece will be out - wool back in, you like your .270? Have you considered a .280 yet? Here's a _____ made better by the addition of some photos of leaves. Products and advice in next months issue will rectify these and other concerns.

In short if there's a chance of selling a double page spread to an advertiser, X will be the new Y and no one will ever know how we managed without it [for all these thousands of years].

Here's a round up of what I learned reading french hunting magazines by the pool

This year
  • Could be THE year!!!!!!
  • Ammo's a helluva price these days
  • Barrels will be a little shorter
  • Cartridges a little larger
  • Blaze orange is the must have colour of the season.
  • Scent suppressing clothing is to be mocked.
  • Knives are getting longer again and some come with a take down spear handle.
  • Custom rifles aren't selling, as off-the -shelf now offers what was until recently not-at-any-price accuracy for a lot less cash.
  • Take down rifles are the next big thing - convenient for the hunter to transport - convenient for the manufacturer to sell you another barrel for next year's cartridge.
  • American rifles offer fantastic value for money, but if you had the cash you'd go german wouldn't you?
  • Czech is somewhere in between.
  • Tikka are so good for the money what's the point of SAKO?
If your hunting magazine is offering you any more please let us know.
Your Pal
SBW



Sunday, 1 April 2012

Unboxing Torch Review: NiteCore D10SP

There are lots of really cool torches available, and most of them run on CR-123A wonder batteries. Making them very bright but less than ideal for Bug-Out or just travel.

They're called 'wonder batteries' because while in the back of beyond you'll be wondering how long it'll take to have some shipped to you in a one horse town where no one sells wonder batteries before you can use your 'super torch' to see in the dark. An activity I'd class as mission critical. Reliability and Availability the watchwords of outdoor equipment. Whatever it is, it must work when you need it to, and the stuff it eats must be available everywhere.

The  NiteCore D10SP runs on 'AA' which while not having the output of wonder batteries win out by being the most commonly available battery on earth, and a lot cheaper too.

Let the Unboxing commence:
One of the clever things in the design is the contact-less switching (Smart PD System) where instead of the contact switches found in most electronic products Nitecore are using magnets to make the connection; meaning there can never be a spark between the switches parts (reassuring while looking for gas leaks) and with no moving part to fail reliability should be excellent.

Once the light is switched on, pressing and holding the tail button cycles through three brightness settings: 130 lumens [1 hour], 35 lumens [6 hours] and 2 lumens [100 hours]. If you double click the tail cap it also has a very neat strobe function which would be very clearly visible, and run for a very long time in a survival situation.

Features:
Takes One AA battery - yep the ones you can buy everywhere that power the rest of your kit!
Military grade aluminium with a Mil-Spec Type III Hard Anodized finish
Resistance to impact by dropping according to US MIL-STD-810F
Waterproof to IPX-8 standard
Broad-voltage fully-regulated circuit - Li-ion compatible
Textured orange peel reflector [smoothes out the beam]
Impact-resistant optical lens with a dual-coating
Length = 89mm
Diameter = 19mm
Weight = 40 grams
As you might hope it comes with a lanyard

I got the black one but it's available in camo if you're the kind of person who likes to lose things.

More soon
SBW

Saturday, 31 March 2012

Shooting Clays - A Lesson Or Two


The very first day the clay grounds take delivery of those barn door sized clays, 
I'm going to be lethal! Honest.

This week Shooter and myself set off in search of the elusive obvious - aka went to do some clay shooting. After last summers debacle in the pigeon fields of Fife my confidence with a shot gun was at an all time low. Shooter had once told me 'I don't play favourites if it goes bang I love it' and I'd confessed to him that I'm a total lummox with a shot gun.
Being the optimist that he is he graciously retorted " I cant believe that; either you are lying, very modest, or you've never been taught how to do it".  Any sunny afternoon in the country is better than one in the city, and buoyed by the thought that if I couldn't break any clays I'd at least be able to chip Shooter's optimism  I  joined him for an afternoon at the A1 Shooting Ground.

What Shooter thinks he's going to need a score card for I'm not sure?

Shotguns are easy, in the same way that that fly casting and archery are easy, its just that everything about being human gets in the way of the true simplicity of what you're doing. You know those people who over complicate things? Put four of them in a row and they still wouldn't over complicate things as much as me. It's not that I couldn't think my way out of a paper bag, its more that I could think of 300 ways to get out, but be unable to decide which one seemed most appropriate.



His  modesty makes a very poor disguise-Shooter smashes them up

Shooter works tirelessly with me on the basics,  and all of a sudden the clays start to break. But then I lapse back into thinking about it. Doh! Every clay that breaks is another example of the beautiful Zen of shooting, if Shooter distracts me while the clay's in the air I shoot it, left to my own devices I try aiming like a rifle and miss, sometimes by miles!

Claudio and Teresa Capaldo have a really nice set up: 40 acres just inside the M25 (london's beltway). There's none of the moodiness I've seen at other shooting grounds, a really friendly place. Claudio is an Olympic coach and while I watched him give Shooter a few pointers I could see why. I've known a few experts over the years and watched them struggle to reveal what is painfully obvious to them, to students who clearly aren't getting it. An expert coach is a very different thing to mere coaching-from-an-expert. When you see the real deal in action its striking just how little they have to do or say to get the penny to drop. The Northern Monkey and myself once went to shooting ground just outside York and received some of the worst tuition I've ever seen, when we arrived we could both break clays, when we left neither of us could, if we'd paid to learn how to dispirit newbies it would have been a bargain.

Watching Claudio handle the gun was something of a revelation to me too. For a start he puts gun-to-face-then-to-shoulder rather than shouldering the gun then planting his face on the stock. The whole movement seemed more lively and fluid. His 'ready stance' was also more lively, the bead (a shotgun's front sight) always kept at nose level - this made the gun jump to his shoulder as though it was on elastic.

This is the moment when the penny drops: you can see the look of revelation on Shooters face - with very few words Claudio shows Shooter the elusive obvious
I have heard this explained a few times but there was something about the way Claudio says 'it shoots where you look' then with a few words brings the connection between gun and body into conscious awareness, setting up an anchor for  Shooters's grip on the forend so his hold would become consistant. 'Fingers lower on the pistol grip, when you get home get a screwdriver and move that trigger much further back' With these simple pointers Claudio changes the whole way the gun sits in relation to Shooters body.
The whole exchange can't have lasted more than 90 seconds. If I'd known how marked the change would look I'd have taken before and after photos.

Thanks to Shooter, a great day out, and an interesting lesson in how to give a lesson too, I'll defiantly be going back for some coaching from Claudio.

If you've got any pointers or advice please leave a comment.
More soon
Your pal
SBW

Friday, 30 March 2012

At Shooter's Place

Now that's something you don't see every day!


Popped over to Shooter's place yesterday on the way to the shooting ground to dust bust smash break clip miss some clays.


Once you step though the door of his unassuming suburban home you meet some evidence of his grandfathers hunting adventures. I don't know about you but I've never seen one of these before. Maybe I've led a sheltered life?


As ever lots of great tales were told, he introduced me to 'Lemon, Lime, and Bitters' [a most refreshing drink] and took me to the  A1 Shooting Ground all in all a great afternoon. Thanks mate.


More soon
your pal
SBW 

Tuesday, 27 March 2012

Wave goodbye To The Norcal Cazadora

Just a quick one to let you know that Holly AKA The Norcal Cazadora has hung up her hat and posted what she says is her last post. Crying shame. The blogosphere was richer for her writing and now poorer for her departure. Drop by and thank her for her efforts if you get the chance.

In the meantime here's an old one from me, that Holly mentioned being a favorite, where CMJ and your pal the bushwacker set off to do some scouting in Italy with unexpected results!

Esplorazione For Beginners Pt1

Well I've made it back in one piece, although sadly I must report that's more by luck than judgement.

A week ago I met up with CHJ in the south London suburbs and we drove to the coast, just in time to miss the boarding of the ferry, so after a delightful two hour nap on the quayside we go on board. Fortunately CMJ is a frequent traveler on this crossing and marched us strait to the only bit of the ship with couches big enough to sleep on and I didn't wake up until we were already docked in France.

France soon passed and we were treated to an insight into the Belgian plan for European supremacy. Not for them the subjugation of their neighbors by force or even economic might. No their plan is far more fiendish. They welcome you to their little country and all roads take you through their capital, a place where war and a town planning department staffed by Ferrari owners have left them with the strangest mix of architecture.
Once you're there, there you'll stay. There is no escape.
Signage to Brussels is everywhere, clues as to how to leave are non existent. Those fiendish Ferrari owners are so contemptuous of escape attempts that at a T junction they frequently present you with two opposite choices of direction to the same destination. Being six in the morning there were no locals in sight, just angry foreigners driving every more erratically in their desperation to leave. Brussels has become the capital of Europe, not through superior fire power, force of arms or political machination, but by holding visitors hostage on their labyrinth system of ring roads. After two hours in the vortex we did achieve escape velocity and had crossed belgium in less time than we'd spent trying to leave Brussels.

The first good omen of the trip was in Luxembourg, a small country that i could easily have passed through with out noticing.

Feeling a little weary and compelled by natures call. We pulled into a lay by and watched a succession of well dressed women announce their embarrassment by using a strangely exaggerated gait to cross the picnic area in search of the relative privacy of the forest. There is a great French tradition, (I'm using 'great' in it's sense of 'often' rather than 'fantastic') of littering the countryside with unburied toilet paper, fast food packaging, broken drinks bottles and the scat of truckers.

CHJ had elected to have a nap in the car so I took a wander away from the murderous looking truckers, and desperate holiday makers and found my self at the top of a scree looking out over a small marsh that abutted some planted pine forest. As I sat on the scree and scanning the forest's edge, I just 'knew' that I was in the vicinity of deer. I cant tell you how I knew but I was suddenly sure if I sat still a deer would show up. Amazingly it only took a few moments, sitting clam and still with my eyes holding a relaxed focus on the middle distance, before my peripheral vision flashed up a movement in the bushes. A Roe Deer with 6-8 inches of antler was making his way from bush to bush in search of some tasty tips. The whoosh of traffic didn't seem to spook him, the wind varied blowing towards me of across the space between us. He kept feeding. After about five minutes I lifted one butt cheek and farted. He Looked right at me, I held still. An expression of 'I'm sure I heard something' flashed across his face and he went back to nibbling. I thought of you dear reader, and in the light of his unspookability, I thought I'd get get the camera from the car and take a picture to show you. As soon as I stood and silhouetted he was off.
There was quite a bit more to the tale, here are the other parts
The Bushwacker

Saturday, 24 March 2012

Restoring Bison



A fella wrote to me asking if I'd share this with you, its a lord-able aim, with stunning photography. I thought you'd like it too. I've seen a couple of theses badboys mooching about on the plains of South Dakota and they are awesome.

Your pal
SBW

Friday, 23 March 2012

Hunting Shows: David Petzal AKA Spokesfart Speaks


You might not know this, but I'm a big big fan of David E Petzal's writing, sure I pissed myself laughing when he endorsed Sarah Palin on the somewhat spurious grounds that he believed her to be a hunter and gun owner, but there are very few writers who have such an assured touch or speak so directly to their audience. I cant imagine him thinking I'm anything other than an annoying European smart arse, but he wouldn't be the first rightwing gun nut that I'd found to be great company. I'd dearly like to spend some time with him turning over stones looking for common ground and learning about riflery from the last of the old school of American gun writers.

This week he posted his thoughts on Hunting Shows


Third, and most important: Invariably, when someone kills something, there follow high-fives, hog calls, whoops of joy, and general all-around merriment.
To the hunter, I say: All you did, numbnuts, was pull the trigger. Without your guide, you’d be sitting in the blind scratching yourself. Why are you acting like a hero? Also, you’ve just taken the life of something that wanted to live as much as you do. Congratulations are in order, maybe, but show a little respect. Other cultures manage it; I’ve seen them.

You can read the rest of 'What Cheeses Me Off about TV Hunting Shows' HERE

Good call Dave

More Soon
SBW

Thursday, 22 March 2012

Weekend Reading: Welcome Shooter


Delighted to add a new voice to the blog roll, and following on from our meeting yesterday also award 'one of the good guys' status to 'Shooter' a most interesting new voice from the blogosphere.

Shooter hails from a long line of Indian shikar [hunters], with his grandfather being his main tutor and inspiration. He's only got a few posts up so far, but as you'll see he's getting into the swing of it and has an excellent turn of phrase down the pub, he's been collecting up his grandfathers hunting stories from the bygone days of Indian hunting so I'm expecting great things. We've made tentative plans to do some Rook shooting and tree rabbit hunting together in the next few weeks - more news as it comes in.

From the wit and wisdom of Shooter
"I dont play favorites: if it goes bang I love it"

"The .22 is a kitchen utensil, part of the process of getting food to your plate"

Posts I'm sure you'll like:
 Confessions of a Serial Killer is a distillation of several conversations where  he joins me in the ignominy of 'dinner party pariah' status. The Longest Noon where he hunts Chital deer in Australia and his epic adventure to hunt mountain lions in Utah - The Lion of Zion

Please leave comments on his blog, this guy has some great stories to tell, encourage him.

More soon
Your pal
SBW

Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Kifaru Regulator Sleeping Bag Review



"Lightweight, Durable, Inexpensive. Your choice of two." - Truism

Many years ago my cousin and I were camping out in Galloway on the savagely beautiful west coast of Scotland.  We would have been about ten years old, the tent we had was one my own father had used to hike around Europe one summer in the late 50's so it would have been about 25ish years old. The weather was, what I believe in the local argot is called, 'blowing up a whoolie', or as we'd say down south 'proper lashing it down'. The tent didn't have a sewn in ground sheet and was (50's style ultra light) treated cotton.

Cousin T woke me by shouting "I'm cold" then he woke himself up by shouting it again a bit louder. The reason for his discomfort was water had made it's way into the tent and pooled on the ground sheet, then been soaked up by his down sleeping bag. I know you're wondering why the grown ups hadn't made sure we'd put the tent up properly - we'd been camping out together since we were six, and it was the late 70's kids were supposed to learn by their mistakes. Also we were both wilful, self-possessed, little turds who thought they knew it all already, mouthy too, so we'd been left to our own devices.

The leash may have been long but the safety rope was short, one of the camp grown-ups came and rescued him. In the morning someone gave us a lesson that I've never forgotten. My sleeping bag had soaked up a bit of water too but I hadn't noticed. Synthetics init.

One of the grown ups explained; down is a fantastic insulator until it gets damp (even a little bit - through condensation) when it loses 80% of it's thermal efficiency. I've slept in a lot of down filled bags, they are very comfortable, I've envied the small spaces they pack into, and their light weight, but I've never bought one.
Down but only in town.
I love my down filled Northface puffa jacket (19 years old and still good) but I only wear it in the city. It's not reliable enough to wear afield, the potential to suddenly lose 80% of its insulation, and the attendant hassles of trying to dry it out, mean I'd rather not have it with me.


As observant readers will have noticed I'm a big fan of boutique gear makers, any fool can have stuff run up in China, I'd rather my money went to the people who designed the stuff and paid a living wage to the people who made it. I'm fat enough as it is missing the odd meal isn't going to hurt. 

Let's call it what it is: Kifaru kit is Distant Monarch [distant in 3 / male monarch in 4 :-) ] expensive, and not a lot cheaper second hand. I took a deep breath and repeating the mantra
'Boots and Bed - if you're not in one you're in the other'
bit the bullet and dropped the cash on a Kifaru Regulator Sleeping Bag in the Three Season class. Basically this bag is at least 25% more than many equivalents (making it about four times the price of something more basic). Worth it? Let's find out.

Reliability and comfort are EVERYTHING. Nothing takes off condition like a night being cold and wet, any day can be tolerated if at its end is a warm night's sleep. Kifaru's Patrick Smith is certainly a very clever chap, with the knack of starting his designs with a clean sheet paper and this bag is no exception, it's the sleeping bag re-imagined.

Design
Patrick Smith did away with the full length zip, which has left me wondering about the orthodoxy that a sleeping bag 'must' have one, if its a rectangular bag then sure, but when the bag's 'mummy' shaped what good does it do? He's set the hood up to close with a pull cord just like most other bags but he's also put in a neck baffle to keep the heat in. Works very well and is so floppy you dont notice its there.

Inner Skin
I dont know what this material is called but its very very thin and soft to the touch


Outer Skin
It's so thin you can see through it, its translucent to the point where I thought there was mark on the outer skin but I realised it was on the filler. I'm not about to test it to destruction, but if [when] I do knacker it you'll be the first to know


Insulation
Climashield
This stuff is amazing, its almost as light and floppy ( or if you wanted to be nerdy about it, it has 'high drape value') as a goose down bag and yet there's hardly any of it, it's amazing as the bag is rated to 20F which is about -6C yet feels decidedly flimsy in the hands.

Test
I had great plans for all kinds of tests during the recent cold snap, but sadly camera, thermometer, sleeping bag and your pal the bushwacker were never in the same place at the same time.  I did manage to do a bit of testing one night, it was minus four centigrade so i opened the bedroom window in the late afternoon to cool the room thoroughly, and it was fiar chilly by the time I bedded down. Slept like a log but was woken by dreams of  being in the desert with Tintin and Captain Haddock [The Crab With The Golden Claws], I'd left the radiator turned on so when the heating fired at six am the sudden raise in temperature woke me. Not the most empirical of tests I will concede, but all in all a very good sleeping bag and plenty warm enough for most adventures.

Stay tuned for more reviews: all unerringly accurate, and the only truly objective writing on the web.
Your pal
SBW


Saturday, 17 March 2012

Fish Fight - Please Help


Remember a while back when we looked at the massive problem of all ex-quota fish being caught only to be discarded? The news from Hugh Fearlessly-eats-it-all's campaign to stop this madness is that the eurocrats are gathering to vote on wether we have fish in the future or wether we carry on killing them only to throw them over the side. The meeting is on MONDAY.

Hugh has set up a page where you can use your twitter account to let them know it time to stop throwing food and future away. I just tweeted all of them and it took less time than typing this post.

IT'S HERE

Thanks for your help
SBW


Friday, 16 March 2012

Bushcraft Weather Prediction Pt.1

Frogs Pr0n init!

In a suburban garden the rite of spring has sprung once again, and I'm reminded of Andy Richardson's observation that the frogs know just how much rain to expect and lay accordingly. When I was with Andy during the summer he did have an uncanny ability to tell what the weather was about to do, so I'm a big believer in his old wives tales. Science usually catches up with old wives tales, after denying them for a few years, so I suspect the Meteorological Office actually just has a frog pond out the back, and all the 'computers' are just cereal boxes and fairy lights.
These frogs seem to agree with Thames Water and the Met Office; we're looking at a drought. In wet summers gone by I've seen about ten times the amount they've laid this year.

Bodes for a dismal Trout season. I wonder where my sea fishing rigs are?

More soon
SBW

Thursday, 15 March 2012

Book Review - Glock: The Rise of America's Gun

Not really a handgun kind of guy myself [air pistols aside I've only ever fired an S&W 1911] but I do enjoy a bit of riflery and know a few enthusiasts, as Glock is such a touchstone of the culture I was interested in the story behind the icon. I wasn't disappointed, I would defiantly put this one in the upper tier of business books/corporate histories. It's a really interesting tale.

An outsider who'd never even owned firearms, and whose shooting experience made even mine seem comprehensive, starts with a clean sheet of paper and re-invents the pistol. An ingenious salesman sees the wind change for American law enforcement - wheel guns are out: it's not 'is it going to be an automatic pistol?' its 'which automatic pistol is it going to be?' - and seizes the day.
Ably assisted by lap dancers, with press and promotion by anti-gun pressure groups, and added profits generated by the assault weapons ban, team Glock turn an obscure Austrian radiator manufacturer into a major industrialist, his invention into a design icon and cultural phenomenon.

If you're hoping for pages of technical detail about the differences between Gaston Glock's design and that of his competitors you'll be better off reading Glocktalk.com or perhaps The Gun Digest Book of the Glock.  If you find stories of corporate opportunism and intrigue are to your taste you'll not be disappointed. I've always loved stories of the little team no one has ever heard of, rocking up and changing the game, Glock certainly did that. Well worth a read.

One from the 'ya couldn't make it up files'

Shaven-headed bearded muslim chap, my age, sitting next to me on the train.
"You're reading that and no one's even looking, if I was reading it they'd be pulling the emergency cord". Yep we laughed out loud.


On the blogging front
Not been out and about much lately, but I have been reading some great books, so more book reviews to come, some local history with suburban hunters and, funds permitting, a very special trip to meet another blogger or two. Before the chalk streams dry up completely I'm hoping this season is 'the season' I'll fulfil that longstanding ambition of catching a wild trout within the city limits

More Soon
Your pal
SBW

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

Suburban Hunters Of The Old East End

East Enders Afield

Just a quick one to let you know I've not fallen off the edge of the world.

A while back I met up with Cleve author of Tales of a London Poacher a memoir which includes some excellent tales of his childhood shooting over the marshes and water treatment beds in London's east end. I'm hoping to meet up with some of the chaps in the photo in the next few weeks to learn a bit more about their adventures back in the day.

In the meantime you can see some video of Cleve, read my review of his book HERE

Your pal
SBW

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Leuku: The Knives Of Finland

In the pristine frozen north of europe where oily softwoods like birch and pine grow the Sammi people developed a form of knife known as the Leuku: long enough for chopping and light enough for carving this is the belt knife of the Boreal forests.  

Perkele is a Finish blogger and outdoorsman who keeps us posted with his 'slowly updating notes about me, my life, outdoor activities, bushcraft, knives, survival skills etc..'

He's just posted an excellent review of the work of some Finnish blade smiths and a history of the Leuku form. Well worth a read.


The way i see leuku, is that its a bigger knife, that was born in hands of saame people, who were back then, living a travelling life, and their knife was a about the most important tool, as it was expensive to get, as well as difficult to make back then. They didnt have, in most cases, anvils, nor a way to transport one always, so the rare people who had skills to make knives, became important part of society as well as good tradesmen. Ive heard that with one grown male reindeer, you could get two leukus, or two leukus and one womens leuku, if uou could get a bargain. Steels, were hard to get ,too, and the price of it was naturally higher than its now. They did not order leukus, i bet, like we do, with a phonecall or through an email, nor did they buy it from webshops. You had to travels for huge distances, with trading goods, to meet blacksmith or someone else who sold or traded knives and blades. You could not replace it in the true wilderness either, because the postoffices werent invented, so you really really had to keep your possibly only knife in a good safe and try not to loose it as it might mean the end of your life.

Leuku has been used in wast range of tasks, even before it "came" familiar to southern Finlands people. Its been used to skin animals, prep hides, gut, slice, chop meat, sliver branches off from the firewood, to butcher reindeerd, to build traps for birds, fish and big game like bears. They used it to carve icy and wet snow from sleds, pulks and harness of reindeer. Its not a lie, to say that if anything, leuku was a multitool of northern people.

READ MORE

More soon
SBW

Monday, 27 February 2012

Blogger WTF!



Dear Blogger

What is going on with you guys? Really WTF is going on? I cant comment on my own blog, other people with blogger accounts email me to tell me they cant comment on my blog, the search bar on the to left of the page is basically a joke, TWENTY posts that begin with the words "I want one" and the search bar can find NONE OF THEM you guys are part of the google empire so 'searching' is a BIG part of what you do, er right? How is it that Blogger works less well than it did FIVE EFFING YEARS AGO?

Just sayin'
SBW




5 Gun Meme

I've been a little busy this year, and mysteriously unable to post comments on my own blog for the last three weeks but rest assured dear reader I'm still here and haven't given up blogging.

In the meantime a blog-meme has been doing the rounds with the usual gun nuts listing the guns they'd most like to acquire. With most of the gun bloggers posting handguns for home defence AKA 'goblin dispatch'.  This has never been a 'Gunny Blog' and I'm not really a hand gun kind of chap so I hadn't felt the need to join in, but when the mighty Steve B chipped in with his list of classic firearms for hunting I finally felt the need to publish my five gun battery of choice.

In the past I've listed a few guns in the "I want one" series of posts, some new and clever, some old and reassuringly handmade, this list is partially 'food getters' that are still available new and partially the antiques of tomorrow, nothing on the list couldn't be duplicated in functionality for a fraction of the price, but where's the fun in that?


Cooper Firearms of Montana: Jackson Squirrel Rifle in any rimfire cal. of your choice.
Arguably the best rimfire rifle made, anywhere, at any price. Sweet!
Picture credit



6.5X54 Mannlicher Schoenauer [preferably in rare Take Down spec.] AKA 'Bell's other rifle'
With its rotary magazine this was the Blaser of its day, an amazing example of the machinists craft. Bell   used his as his primary meat-getter and his stories are punctuated with praise for this wand-like rifle.
Picture credit and an excellent article about the MS 6.5x57 


David Lloyd in .240 (pictured in the barrel burning .244 cal)
Virtually an obsolete calibre, can only be used with vintage glass, but O' so sexy. David Lloyd designed his rifle from the glass down, he wanted a rifle that wouldn't lose its zero even when subjected to the rough and tumble of stalking in the Highlands. He designed his own scope mounts that shroud the scope, and then to really make sure they'd never moved silver soldered the scope to the mounts and the mounts to the rifle! Regular trips to eastern Turkey insured an amazing standard of Turkish Walnut for the stocks, and the barrels were the best money could buy.
Picture credit Emma's custom rifles

.275 Rigby with optional tang safety and the roll stamp on the barrel reading
'SIGHTED FOR RIGBY'S SPECIAL HIGH VELOCITY / JOHN RIGBY & CO. 43 SACKVILLE St. LONDON. W. / .275 BORE CARTRIDGE. POINTED BULLET 140 GRS.'

My last few stalking expeditions have been with a Rigby, and while I'm usually all about utility - plastic stocks and stainless steel, the Rigby was my introduction to classic firearms.  There is something immensely cool about Rigby's rifles, I've seen 'poor man's Rigby's' that would duplicate everything a Rigby could ever be, you could buy a more accurate rifle from pretty much any modern manufacturer, but none of them would ever have the vibe of the Rigby. If I needed to explain it to you, you'd never understand what all the fuss is about. Double want one.
Picture credit and available rifles from Holts



Berretta Super Leggera [Ultra Light] 12 gauge
Like a vist to an italian furniture shop this is both the best and worst of italian design. Not pretty; the engraving is so naff I'd probably have it coated in ceramic paint to hide the true hideousness of what I'll charitably call the 'engraving', but in the Highlands on those long walks after Ptarmigan, snowshoe hunting hares with Perkele or trudging across the prairie after Quail with Chad Love its light weight would be a blessing.
Picture credit

Meanwhile back in the real world I'll keep saving to buy another bag of airgun pellets!
More soon
SBW

Saturday, 11 February 2012

Plan B: Fly Fishing



I keep finding myself idly surfing for a pair of waders, so I'm not the only person thinking about fly fishing. Then Faceless Fly Fishing emailed me suggesting I take a look at their latest film. I like it, make a change from the elitist gadget obsessiveness that plagues the sport. Init Tom.

SBW