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NOPE, I cannot replace my FIRST "really BIG game" trophy OR "just forget it", any more than I can forget my first serious kiss by a certain XYL, especially considering that it SUPPOSEDLY was "unavoidably lost over the side"."
I later asked a friend (An MPI, who worked the port area) if this was a commonplace thing & he said, "I know of ONE other instance of that sort of thing. - The loss of a container that held a COL's gun collection."
("Passing odd" don't you think, especially since the ACO paid me, despite my NOT having made a claim against the government?? = 400.oo was a considerable sum in 1971.)
As I said, I suspect (but do NOT know) that someone HAS my Hirsch trophy. = !@#$%^&!
Let me tell you just a bit about that long-ago morning:
(SORRY, I don't write like Hemingway, Ruark, Capstick or any other hunting author. - I am just going to try to tell you how that morning seems, after 4 decades.)
The Senior Forstmeister & I walked 2-3 KM to a tree with the tree-stand about 10-15M up in the tree, about an hour or so before sun-up, on the morning of the 6th day of my 10-day leave.
We silently climbed up to the stand and settled ourselves comfortably among the branches.
About 10 minutes later, the night-moving animals began making noises again & soon some birds began chattering. Then I heard a squirrel barking close by, though it was still too dark to see him.
As dawn began to break, I heard "some movement in the woods" but even with my 7x50 binoculars, I could see nothing clearly. A few minutes later (which seemed like HOURS), the ground-fog lifted & I could see a young Hirsh & his mother grazing quietly about 20M away.
(The forstmeister, shook his head & silently touched my arm and motioned to the other side of the clearing that we were sitting above. - I could see NOTHING but thick brush & trees in that direction.)
After what seemed like hours, suddenly a huge Hirsch soundlessly appeared as if BY MAGIC (He was JUST THERE!) in the edge of the woods, right where the forstmeister had pointed, about 70-80M away.
(Through my glass, he looked as big as a house.)
He was standing behind some bushes and I clearly remember thinking three separate/distinct things:
1. "PLEASE, PLEASE God, let him walk out from behind that stuff. I do NOT want to shoot into that mess.",
2, "He's BEAUTIFUL"
and
3. "Don't let me screw this up."
(Germans generally think that Americans cannot hunt competently or even shoot well and they don't mostly bother to hide their disdain for NON-European hunters. = I strongly suspect, that if it wasn't for the SOFA, that NO Americans would be licensed in FRG.)
Suddenly, he stepped out into the clearing & after a quick look through his binoculars, the forstmeister mouthed, "SHOOT, SHOOT" (in German).
I have NO memory whatever of seeing the Hirsch in my scope, squeezing the trigger, of the recoil or even the crack of my rifle.
Suddenly, the Hirsh just collapsed, kicked his hind legs a few times & then lay still. I ejected the empty case & worked the action in case I needed to fire again.
(The forstmeister signaled me NOT to fire again. - "TODT" was all he said.)
We sat quietly for a couple of minutes.
Then we climbed down the tree, gave him "the last bite, my face was smeared with his blood, he shook my hand & then we began the field dressing procedure.
FULL DISCLOSURE: Despite the forstmeister's OK, my Hirsh really wasn't a "II-B". - Instead, he was a "I-B" or perhaps verging into being a "II-A".
I now believe that Mr. Brauer "took pity on the kid", as we had seen NO shootable trophies. We had seen MANY does, fawns, "culls" and even a "I-A Kapitol", (which NO American would ever be allowed to collect,) but NO "II-B" game. - When we got back to the Forstampt, the other forest department personnel "looked askance" at my guide, as if he might have "suddenly gone blind".
Note: The taxidermist at WAFFEN BENNEWITZ congratulated me on such a "great-looking trophy", which was supposed to be a "II-B".
(He wasn't fooled either.)
That's a BITTER-SWEET memory of "my mis-spent youth". = NO trophy can replace that one!
yours, satx
I later asked a friend (An MPI, who worked the port area) if this was a commonplace thing & he said, "I know of ONE other instance of that sort of thing. - The loss of a container that held a COL's gun collection."
("Passing odd" don't you think, especially since the ACO paid me, despite my NOT having made a claim against the government?? = 400.oo was a considerable sum in 1971.)
As I said, I suspect (but do NOT know) that someone HAS my Hirsch trophy. = !@#$%^&!
Let me tell you just a bit about that long-ago morning:
(SORRY, I don't write like Hemingway, Ruark, Capstick or any other hunting author. - I am just going to try to tell you how that morning seems, after 4 decades.)
The Senior Forstmeister & I walked 2-3 KM to a tree with the tree-stand about 10-15M up in the tree, about an hour or so before sun-up, on the morning of the 6th day of my 10-day leave.
We silently climbed up to the stand and settled ourselves comfortably among the branches.
About 10 minutes later, the night-moving animals began making noises again & soon some birds began chattering. Then I heard a squirrel barking close by, though it was still too dark to see him.
As dawn began to break, I heard "some movement in the woods" but even with my 7x50 binoculars, I could see nothing clearly. A few minutes later (which seemed like HOURS), the ground-fog lifted & I could see a young Hirsh & his mother grazing quietly about 20M away.
(The forstmeister, shook his head & silently touched my arm and motioned to the other side of the clearing that we were sitting above. - I could see NOTHING but thick brush & trees in that direction.)
After what seemed like hours, suddenly a huge Hirsch soundlessly appeared as if BY MAGIC (He was JUST THERE!) in the edge of the woods, right where the forstmeister had pointed, about 70-80M away.
(Through my glass, he looked as big as a house.)
He was standing behind some bushes and I clearly remember thinking three separate/distinct things:
1. "PLEASE, PLEASE God, let him walk out from behind that stuff. I do NOT want to shoot into that mess.",
2, "He's BEAUTIFUL"
and
3. "Don't let me screw this up."
(Germans generally think that Americans cannot hunt competently or even shoot well and they don't mostly bother to hide their disdain for NON-European hunters. = I strongly suspect, that if it wasn't for the SOFA, that NO Americans would be licensed in FRG.)
Suddenly, he stepped out into the clearing & after a quick look through his binoculars, the forstmeister mouthed, "SHOOT, SHOOT" (in German).
I have NO memory whatever of seeing the Hirsch in my scope, squeezing the trigger, of the recoil or even the crack of my rifle.
Suddenly, the Hirsh just collapsed, kicked his hind legs a few times & then lay still. I ejected the empty case & worked the action in case I needed to fire again.
(The forstmeister signaled me NOT to fire again. - "TODT" was all he said.)
We sat quietly for a couple of minutes.
Then we climbed down the tree, gave him "the last bite, my face was smeared with his blood, he shook my hand & then we began the field dressing procedure.
FULL DISCLOSURE: Despite the forstmeister's OK, my Hirsh really wasn't a "II-B". - Instead, he was a "I-B" or perhaps verging into being a "II-A".
I now believe that Mr. Brauer "took pity on the kid", as we had seen NO shootable trophies. We had seen MANY does, fawns, "culls" and even a "I-A Kapitol", (which NO American would ever be allowed to collect,) but NO "II-B" game. - When we got back to the Forstampt, the other forest department personnel "looked askance" at my guide, as if he might have "suddenly gone blind".
Note: The taxidermist at WAFFEN BENNEWITZ congratulated me on such a "great-looking trophy", which was supposed to be a "II-B".
(He wasn't fooled either.)
That's a BITTER-SWEET memory of "my mis-spent youth". = NO trophy can replace that one!
yours, satx
