Calling and culling
Jul 25, 2019
3 minutes
Credit: Dvid Babos / 500px / Getty Images
I remember the first roebuck I ever took as a solo stalker. An oppressively hot morning at the beginning of August saw me slip into the bottom of Range Hill, an L-shaped wood which had in it clumps of box, privet and bramble.
Walking uphill, heel first to prevent cracking twigs, I made slow progress towards a box clump that gave me visibility for a few yards. As I have often felt since then, my position was a poor one, mainly hemmed in by understorey that prevented me seeing let alone
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