The one that got away

[firepower 68]

The night was cold and clear. The wind that had plagued the day had given up the ghost and all was still. We had set out to clear the corner of a field from a large family of rabbits that have been in residence for longer than they should have been. The decision was made to peruse the outer fields of the permission before setting to work on the rabbit population.

As we entered the field we did a scan of the lower field with the lamp and were greeted by the bright orange headlamps of Charlie. He was sat at the three hundred yard mark and as still as a post, resolutely staring at our beam. The lamp clicked off and the darkness wrapped around us as a well loved blanket. Lacking a call I remembered my mobile phone had the well known rabbit distress on it in mp3 format and with haste pulled up the sound. A few minutes later we sent the orange beam across the crops. Charlie had moved closer. Now just two hundred yards and to the left of the original sighting. He was sat in line with the local motorway and I swear he was smiling. A click of a switch and darkness befell once again as well as it could under the ferocity of the full moon and cloudless sky. The call was repeated although on a softer tone so as not to alarm our interloper. Once again the lamp, now dimmed was sent flashing into the inky night, one hundred and fifty yards and behind him, framed against the sky was the mansion house on the private road. Still too far and no safe shot. As we were after rabbits I only had my trusty .17hmr and my friend his .22 with subsonic rounds. The call was repeated into the night, again at a low volume, the only other sounds were the cars taking people upon their business on the distant tarmac and our own breathing. The searchlight of orange stabbed once more into the dark green of the crop to reveal an empty field devoid of eyes. Charlie had left the building and we were alone with our thoughts. Mister Fox, one, hunters nil.

 

To be continued...................