Saturday night at the foxies

JohnGalway · December 13, 2009

Niall and I had arranged to pay another visit to a valley we have permission it. Last night we'd seen quite a few foxes there, most likely the beginning of mating season as they didn't seem as sharp as usual. We brought my .223 and also my semi auto shotgun in case of close encounters of a canine kind.

After tea in Nialls house and a chat with his Dad about foxing and shooting in general we headed off. I had long ago asked a farmer there about walking his land at some stage to look for fox. He was delighted at the suggestion, though he's not been complaining about foxes another farmer lower down the valley has.

After parking the car and gearing up, Niall took the rifle, I the shotgun, we walked off uphill behind the farmers shed. The land beyond is quite a spectacle to lamp, a huge valley with steep rock walls on either side and a river in the bottom. It's all peat bog and perfect fox country. We couldn't help but notice on the walk up how many rabbits were around, little buggers were running rampage.

Because of the wind the plan was keep walking uphill to the last fence, then give a call. We reached a nice spot to shoot from in case anything happened along. I was lamp man and caller, I decided to use the electronic vixen call. As soon as it sounded BING! a bright pair of eyes lit up high oh the hill just to our right. The wind wasn't too good for this but we couldn't do much about it with the ground.

I quickly ranged a rock out from us, as a gauge, it came back at 100 yards. I dimmed the lamp right down, bare bones light just enough to track the eyes bouncing down the hillside. Our new best friend zigged and zagged it's way down the loose stone and muck. There's definitely hormones at work tonight. Watching the fox come in we knew we'd have a problem with the wind. I expected Niall to stop the fox but he let him come in to maybe 150 yards.

All of a sudden there's an extreme course change, our fox zooms off to the left. It must've winded us, but, again, just like last night, while the fact seemed to put the fox on alert it didn't send it to afterburner. I started squeaking with the Primos call, Niall took the shot and bowled the fox over at the first sign of interest. That last look has killed God knows how many foxes.

As we spiralled into self congratulatory mode I took a quick shine around us. "Reload that yoke quick", as I spot a fox downhill, behind a wall, maybe 80 yards from us. The wind is just perfect. Nialls down again with the Remington, he can't get a clear shot with the wall. After a bit of fannying around I let the caller fall onto the moss and go-a-stalking with the shotgun. Squelch, squelch, squelch.

The fox vanishes after I make up about 40 yards on it. I lamp around and find it's gone off to my right about 100 yards, sitting pretty on a small area of green behind a fence. Niall, a bit away from me, see's what I'm lamping and is down with the rifle. What I don't know is that a fence post is directly in line with him spoiling the shot. After about a minute with the spot on the fox he decides that's enough and moves on.

I take off after him, not realising Niall has dropped the torch and is in the dark cursing me silently, lol. Give me a minute like, am a bit busy here! I get down to the corner of the field, near where the fox was sat. I can see he's gone maybe 120 yards, downhill into the wind and following a deep gully. I've two fences to cross to get onto relatively open ground, over the sheep net and under the barbed for the first. The second has a wall under it so is easier but a little noisy.

Lamp in my left hand, shotgun in my right, fore end resting on my left forearm. that which promotes growth and vigour. Need to call somehow, Niall has the Callmaster. I stick the Primos squeakers bulb into my gob, It's not all glamour this craic. I must've sounded like a passable rodent chewing on the squeaker. My fox had sat down, but a tree was obscuring my line of sight. I'd to negotiate the drop into the gully, then climb up the other side. Made up the difference as quietly as possible.

How it didn't hear my heart thumping in my chest I don't know. Still sat down looking right at me I level the shotgun and feed him some Eley AAA. The fox jumped and went about 10 yards, then dropped dead as a dodo. Niall made his way down, fcuking me out of it, lol, totally unconvinced by my shotgunning until he spotted the dead fox. Can't let the rifle man get them all. A nice dog fox this one.

We headed farther out the valley, deciding we'd pick up the first fox later on our way back to the car. We got out to a nice hill and had another call, picking up three foxes! Two down on the flat our side of the river, and another on the far bank. They were a long way off so we made off downhill towards the river and another hill.

I don't know what happened to them but the two foxes on the flat had vanished and not a trace of them was seen after that. We did notice another lamp operating in the area so maybe someone had been calling farther down that we couldn't hear. The good news, our far bank fox was there and coming into rifle range.

The fox made it's way to what I can only describe as a weathered crumbling peaty pyramid. It was up and down, around left and right, retracing it's steps, coming in front of, going behind the pyramid. Fox on coke, Jesus I don't know but it was completely hyper. Niall was following it with the scope and I was doing my best to keep the lamp on it.

I stopped it with a shrill bark, Niall sent a Hornady on it's way at 160 yards. It connected but not correctly, and our fox tried plan B, exiting stage left post haste. I kept tracking the fox, ranging it as it went. All of a sudden it stopped. 245 yards, I said "If you can make it, take him". Lights out as a pop followed the bang, nice shot!

We traipsed down the slippery hill, across the river, across the bog and found the fox. Best I can remember he was a dog fox, first shot had gutted him, and he'd stopped to lick himself. Second shot went through the noggin, jammy git.

Now we had a nice climb back up to the farm from the valley floor, some hill it is too. We also spent five minutes searching for the first fox Niall had shot. Most of the ground looks the same, either it's brown grass, stones, or muck and stones, one patch looks much like another. Eventually we found her, a nice vixen 178 yards from where we'd been watching her.

That's it now for a week or so, I'm pretty foxed out, early mornings and late nights don't mix so well.