A Right F*ckin " Charlie George " Moment!!!

[Guest Ditch_Shitter]

I've not been the happiest bunny lately. So, last weekend, Dean O' said he'd take me out on one of his nocturnal Magpie Counts. Tonight he called and said it was on. Great. Been nothing what so ever on my ground for months now. I feel like a bit of R&R.

 

Off we went, to the birch wood down by the Bog and Deano's lamping here and there to either side as I bring up the rear. I remember he reckoned he'd found one and he bid me take a look. I stepped up to see where he meant and Dean dismounted his own rifle and, in one fast, fluid movement, brought his HMR's barrel down across my moderator! Crack!

 

What can one say? Not a lot. So we just carried on. Plodded here and plodded there. Not a maggie to be found. So, with me quite happily acclaiming myself his jinx, we made our way back to the motor, just as Dean anounced what had long since entered the back of my own head. That we'd now go check out some fields he knows that might be good for a fox! Now we were talking!

 

As I sat in the motor, I instinctively gripped my Mod and gave it a firm twist. It snapped to a turn. Beautiful. I commented to Dean how the thread had got a touch of rust and how I'd since taken to oiling it better. Now it was perfect. I relaxed and settled back in the seat.

 

Five minutes later and we were squelching up a field towards a far hedge. Through the cattle crossing and on towards the next hedge. We'd reached that and turned paralell to it when it all went off. Here's how it registered with me:

 

Dean 'O must have shone the field across the hedge and " Shouted " (in that undertone one uses, naturally. But he'd may as well have been screaming, it all got so 'Active') that there was one, There! Then he was saying it's a badger, just as I saw it myself. First the eyes. Then the russet followed by gray spangle. " That's a fox! " I barked back. Then gave it a couple of squeaks.

 

F*ck Me! Talk about coming in like a train! Flat out towards me he came! I panicked for a split second as I thought a bayonet would do me more good any minute now. " He's Mine! " I yelled and dropped to a handy fence post. Lamp on and there's Charlie. Coming in at a gallop, side ways on and veering my way. I put the cross hairs on his shoulder. Then on his nose. Then everything went opaque! " Turn Your F*cking Lamp Off! ". I screamed. Looked again and there's my prize; Stood stock still, 35 - 40 yards up the hedge. Face onto me! I was about to drop me a fox!

 

All I could see was two eyes. Two ears and this HUGE white triangle! I centred the cross hairs high on the triangle, allowing for high or low. I was assured of the engine or the software. Squeezed. F*ck it! Moved my finger. Squeezed. Realised I was outside the damn Easi Pull, which I'll be ripping off completely tonight. Finally got my finger on the real trigger and BANG! I just managed to see foxy leap to the left, away from the hedge and then Dean was in the field, lamp on and rushing to see what I'd done.

 

As I crawled under the fence and out of the ditch, shaking with excitement, I could just make out my glittering prize, laying sideways on in the field beyond. I scrammbled out to join Dean O' and we spent a good ten minutes scouring that f*cking field!

 

Pound to a pinch of f*cking shit, that round went six inches to the right! Just like it started doing the last time my Moderator went west on me!!! I was, and pretty much still am, f*cking devestated!

 

That was a couple of hours ago now and that old Arsenal football chant has just about stopped replaying in my head, as it started from the moment I realised the " Dead Fox " was a spot of rough: He Shoots! He's Missed! He Must Be Bloody Pissed!!! Charlie George! Charlie George! "

 

Catch the light tomorrow and I'll be checking my zero. Again

 

Devestated!

 

 

Oh. One thing; As we forlornly wandered about that field, lighting every inch, I demanded my consolation prize from the tight lipped Dean O'. " But, can I Call a fox? Or can I Call A Fox??? ". He had to begrudgingly conceed. That f*cker came in alright.

 

Hardly the point though, is it? FFS!

 

 

There ye go, John. That's the story, mate. That's why I'm so Pissed Off tonight.