Guide Jason Ritter and I were enjoying the long walk back to the larder, just before dusk, when we turned a slight corner on the edge of the open field. Laying in a small depression, maybe 150 yards away, was an ancient roebuck that had the misfortune of letting his guard down at the absolute wrong time. “Let’s walk straight at him,” said Jason. “It might sound silly, but it’s a technique I’ve used well for roe deer.” When in Rome …
At 70 yards Jason spread the sticks, waited for me to settle the Savage then whistled softly. A single Hornady CX from the 6.5 PRC dropped the buck immediately, as if pole-axed. The crew judged him to be 7 years old, or thereabouts, with little left in the tooth department. This is the kind of buck that they want taken in the Cotswolds, where the fallow deer, roe deer and muntjac are managed very well.
Our time spent hunting in southwest England was designed to test the new Savage Model 110 PPR, as well as experience the culling and management efforts Mike Robinson and his Deer Box company put forth. Robinson is a world-class chef, restaurateur and first-rate deer stalker who takes the procuring of venison very seriously, as he provides many of the finer restaurants in and around London and its suburbs with fallow and roe deer venison. Mike Robinson also hosts the “Farming the Wild” TV show and happens to be part-owner of the Harwood Arms in London, one of the few pubs to hold a Michelin Star rating. He is very serious about managing fallow deer.
The Cotswolds area of the U.K. is nothing shy of idyllic, being a combination of sheep-filled meadows, narrow country lanes where two vehicles have issues passing one another and forests that could’ve easily inspired J.R.R. Tolkien in his descriptions of The Shire. The old-growth oaks, beeches, birches and firs combine with patches of bracken and brambles, as well as open meadows, to create the perfect habitat for the impressive numbers of fallow deer and roe deer. And the numbers are quite impressive; the area holds huge herds of fallow deer, to the point where deer/car conflicts are a serious problem, and the sheer numbers can have an impact on the habitat. We were lucky enough to experience the Cotswolds during the beginning of the fallow deer rut, with the croaking of rutting bucks echoing through the stream valleys, and the shocking sound of antlers colliding inspiring excitement to hunter, guide and dogs alike. Yes, that’s right, I said dogs.
The hunting methods employed on this hunt were unfamiliar to me, at least in that I’ve never been deer stalking with dogs before. Most of the stalkers had at least one dog. Mike had a 13-year-old black Lab named Millie (who was stone deaf!) and her daughter Sorrel, his colleague Warren Broad worked with a yellow Lab named Aspen, and Christian de Wolff ran with Buck and Roe. The hook here is that the dogs stalk with you, remaining at heel as the search for game ensues. And the search for game was something altogether unfamiliar to me, as the stalkers all used handheld thermal units to locate the game. In the interest of honesty, this was a culling operation, and not the type of fair-chase trophy hunt we might be used to in the United States. But I will attest to the productivity of a thermal unit in detecting game in thick brush and/or forest. I can’t imagine how many animals we’d have walked right past without that advantage, nor how many animals I’ve walked by in the past. But in the thick, wet, heavy vegetation common to southwestern England and eastern Wales, this method worked wonderfully.
My first morning was spent with Robinson as my guide, in a location they called “the valleys.” In the midst of this block was a swift-flowing stream—able to be crossed on foot only where there was a bridge or road—and the moderate rain made things slick on those side hills. The wet conditions did enhance the sounds of the rutting fallow bucks. The guttural croaks resonated throughout the valley as thosemajestic, dominant bucks guarded their herds of does and ran off any lesser bucks infringing on their harem. Mike and I, along with Mille and Sorrel, spent the morning pursing those bucks we could determine were on our side of the stream, and that included working the less-than-desirable wind direction that forced us to take a most circuitous route to the area Mike knew reliably held deer. Slogging through the deep clay, up slick slopes covered with bracken where we had to climb hands-and-knees at times, we came to the high point where Mike had determined we could work downhill into the small basin he was aiming for. It was at that point that I heard the familiar sound of a bulldozer, as the forestry crew approached along the mud-clogged logging road. The machine stopped (it was almost as if Sorrel looked at me to share my disbelief) and the crew began some sort of repair work, replete with hammering, the tossing of metallic objects and other sounds not normally associated with the silent stalking of deer. In the midst of this cacophony, I could hear the crew beating something with a piece of wood, or so I thought …
In the very spot Mike was aiming for, and for which we made such a circuitous route, two fallow bucks were battling for dominance, and the resulting sound conjured images of two men dueling with cricket bats. It took a second or two for me to realize these bucks were oblivious to the foresters, and were fully consumed with the battle. Mike and I crept to the edge of the dell, trying to get a view of the combatants. Then Mike immediately shifted gears. “There’s a pricket off to the left looking back at us; shoot him between the eyes, please.” Dismayed, I realized that Mike was more excited about culling the pricket—a yearling buck whose antlers were less-than-promising— than about any possibility of gaining a shot at the trophy bucks. Mike set up the quad-sticks, I settled the Savage into the rig and at just over 80 yards put down the young buck immediately. Mike ordered his dogs to “find,” and the mother/daughter team worked the dead deer quickly, never making a vocal sound, just simply sitting on the pricket’s body. It was truly a sight to see. After a “proper gralloching” (the U.K. term for eviscerating a deer) I got to see another sight: dear, deaf Millie took the genitalia of the buck, wandered off 5 or 6 yards and buried them under a neatly constructed pyramid of leaves, needles and twigs. “She’s been doing that since she was a puppy,” said Mike. “Can’t imagine how many thousand pair she’s buried over the years.”
We spent the next three days staking the croaking bucks, trying to get a look at a buck whose antlers were misshapen, making some amazing stalks on rather impressive bucks—and I got to take two more prickets, one with Warren Broad and his dog Aspen, and another with Jason Ritter. The venison was immediately returned to the larder, where the heads and lower legs were removed, the carcasses washed out and the bodies sent to the cooler, with hide still attached, to cure according to Robinson’s specifications. Weights were carefully recorded, and the carcasses were allowed to properly age in the hide before being shipped off to the Deer Box butchering facility.
That evening we were treated to dinner at Robinson’s home, where Chef Jon Coates showed just how delicious the fresh venison could be, as his four-course meal—which began with some of the greatest Scotch eggs I’ve ever had—culminated with a venison Wellington that nearly melted in your mouth.
The last hunting day was a special treat, as we had the opportunity to cross the River Severn and hunt the Lydney area near the Welsh border, where the Lydney Deer Park housed Roman ruins dating back to 300 AD. The area surrounding the walled deer park is a beautiful forested block, with fallow, roe and muntjac populating the area, and the sunrise over the River Severn was a beautiful image. Christian de Wolff and I spent a morning traversing the forestry roads, and while we saw plenty of game, including numerous fallow does, and a beautiful muntjac doe that gave us quite the audience, we couldn’t find an opportunity to take an animal worthy of the culling criteria. We did, however, have a chance to watch one of the best fallow bucks I’ve ever seen, confidently munching acorns, apparently knowing we wouldn’t harm him. He was an amazing and unforgettable animal. Those Romanruins we visited at lunchtime were spectacular, being an Iron Age hillfort, and included the foundations of a temple dedicated to the Celtic god Nodens, often associated with dogs. It was ironic that the local fallow bucks had made a huge scrape inside those ruins.
A visit to Robinson’s Deer Box facility showed the extreme level of dedication to providing clean, properly butchered venison to London’s restaurants, including his own Harwood Arms (which I had the privilege of enjoying after the hunt). The building design was well thought-out, with overhead rails to move the carcasses from station to station, and a team of highly experienced skinners and butchers turns those deer into premium-grade cuts of meat. Whether designated for the delicious venison Wellington, or some beautiful hand-trimmed chops, the butchers at Deer Box didn’t disappoint. Ever had venison bacon? It’s a wonderful thing.
Listening to Robinson wax poetic about his efforts, one clearly understands just how passionate he is about not only the conservation and management of the nearly 20,000-acre property he hunts but the way Deer Box brings delicious and nutritious venison to the public. One can hear it in his voice: “Deer Box is a culmination of 25 years of deer management, completing the circle of controlling, managing, processing and selling the best wild venison in the U.K. I feel we are a true force for conservation and sustainability, as well as producing the healthiest meat on the planet. I’m incredibly proud of this business.”
At the end of the day, I like a proper trophy animal as much as the next guy, but what I find I’m truly collecting are experiences. My time in the Cotswolds was one of the most unique experiences, being both modern and traditional simultaneously. I hadn’t conceived that hunting deer with dogs couldn’t involve the dogs running the deer, nor did I realize how much game I may have walked past, until a handheld thermal unit showed me the truth. The sheer majesty of the Cotswold forests, the quaint nature of the countryside and the ancient feel of the entire area made for an excellent experience. While I have had the good fortune to experience the full regalia of a Scottish red deer stalk, replete with the traditional Garron ponies, this U.K. experience was completely different, having the same dignity, but with a different objective. Having the opportunity to hunt with kindred spirits, to dine upon such fine fare and to spend a few days immersed in a different way of hunting was fantastic. If ever you have the opportunity to hunt the Cotswolds, I highly recommend it.
Savage 110 PPR
Savage’s Model 110 Precision Pursuit Rifle was designed with the input of Mike Robinson, and carries many of the features he and his fellow stalkers desire in a rifle designed primarily for culling. Featuring the familiar Savage 110 action, with a fluted bolt and a dual plunger ejector with a beefier extractor on the bolt, the 110 PPR is all about accuracy.
The bolt is finished in black Cerakote, while the lightweight steel receiver is finished in Magpul OD Green, so the metalwork is impervious to weather. The rifle features a 20-inch-long Proof Research carbon fiber barrel, threaded for a suppressor or muzzle brake; the brake is supplied by Savage. The three models shot on this hunt all had suppressors (“moderators” in U.K. vernacular).
Savage equipped the 110 PPR with a Grayboe Phoenix 2 polymer stock featuring a near-vertical pistol grip (I like the palm contour), fully adjustable comb height and length of pull, an M-LOK rail on the bottom of the fore-end and flush QD sling attachments on the side of the stock, a feature Robinson quite enjoys for slinging the rifle over his back while dragging out fallow deer. A 20-MOA rail sits atop the receiver, for those who’d like to stretch the rifle’s legs a bit. Both the 6.5 Creedmoor and 6.5 PRC rifles we used had detachable magazines with three-round capacity. While the rifles also accept Magpul polymer magazines, the steel magazines seem to provide a smoother feel for feeding and extraction.
The rifles were all zeroed prior to our arrival, but Robinson had set up a neat field-test range, with steel targets in the shape of a broadside fallow deer, a head-on fallow deer and the head of a fallow deer, at ranges from 100 to 225 yards. Because he wants to eliminate any chance of lead bullet fragments in his venison, he insists on the use of copper monometal bullets—in our case it was the Hornady Outfitter line with the 130-grain CX bullet. Using those Viper Flex quad sticks, we routinely placed shots within an inch of aim from field positions. I didn’t have a trigger scale to measure the pull weight, but I’d say it was just above 3 pounds, typical for the AccuTrigger from Savage.
The 110 PPR was more than functional in the varying hunting conditions I experienced, ranging from a sunny day’s stroll through a Victorian forest to a slogging trek through brambles in a sideways rain. The 110 PPR handled it all. Robinson knew what he wanted, and he didn’t make any attempt to hide the fact that he was very happy with the final outcome. The 110 PPR carries an MSRP of $2,399. savagearms.com
