To stalk, kill and then eat another animal, is the most human thing I could ever do.

I regret that I waited until I was in my thirties to do it, although I know the younger version of myself would not have treated it with the respect it deserved.

I wasn’t ready until I was ready.

To many folks it is sport to hunt deer. To others it’s just business – they do need managing.

For me, it really is about food. I want to eat the very best meat, the meat we as humans evolved to eat. Wild venison is the main option here in the UK for that.

As I started to look into deer stalking though, I began to feel a pull towards it, that was more than just food. It was something deep in my bones that felt real and natural to me. A pull towards it that I couldn’t resist.

I wasn’t really that conscious of this feeling, but looking back now, it was there and it was (and is) strong.

Men have always hunted animals for food. Always. That is there in me, in my DNA. Even though my father and his father never hunted. And maybe generations before hadn’t. It is still there.

My hunting journey started with Johnathan. A local stalker, a proper woodsman, a proper deer man.

He taught me the basics and helped me shoot my first roe buck in May 2021.

That’s what this piece of writing is about.

I remember it all very clearly. We set out on a cool, drizzly May evening. We met at Johnathan’s house, nestled deep in a small cumbrian valley. His house is full of deer stalking stuff.

We left and slowly made our way further north, towards the area we would be looking for Roe bucks. We started off looking over a recently felled forestry block. A nightmare tangle of wood and mud.

They call it clear fell and it is anything but. Anyone who has experienced moving through them knows it is a nightmare. Spotting deer in clear fell is even harder.

We scanned for twenty minutes, slowly glassing the unending metres of broken branches, stumps and mud. We were overlooking rolling fields and patches of woodland and so far, nothing.

Eventually, the decision was made to drive round to the other side, through old farm deep in the bottom of a dip in the land. Hidden away.

From the farm track we left the truck and slowly made our way to a gate through a drystone wall. Into the margins of the clear fell, where a few native tress had been left standing. Now we were stalking.

Slow, very very slow. Tip toeing along a rutted old track. To our left are thick bushes backing onto a wall and fencing overlooking pasture that rolls down to the farm. To our right, through the trees is the messy clear fell. The wind, barely a whisper is in our face, the drizzle steady.

Johnathan transforms into a very serious man. I follow behind him.

Every few steps we pause, glass, move on.

Suddenly from nowhere we both jump when a blur of browny/red bursts from the bushes barely a metre in front of us. I feel like my heart will explode as I watch a beautiful buck bounce away from us, barking as he goes. Gone in an instant.

“bloody hell Tom, came from nowhere that one”

Literally. I don’t think I would have been able to see him if I had been on top of him. He could have happily stayed hidden.

We recover and move on. I look back, we are only about one hundred metres from the gate. Feels like we have been moving for hours.

Naturally we fall into a rhythm. A few steps, glass. Johnathan is in front so he glasses ahead and left, while I glass right and behind.

I have the now familiar feeling of desperation to see a deer. Fused with a weird mix of fear and adrenaline at the thought of taking an animals life. Animals that I think are beautiful. Then there is the fear of messing the shot up. Worse than missing would be to wound and lose a deer.

These thoughts come and go.

I am almost giving up hope when I see it.

Just twenty or so metres away to my right is a roe buck. Six small points on his antlers, rubbing them against a small tree.

Everything stops.

I tap Johnathan and point. He freezes. The deer is looking directly at us.

Ooof. The blood is pumping. I feel like I am inside my own heart its that loud in my ears.

We are completely still as he stairs at us. We have bushes and trees behind us so it will be unclear to him what we are until we move or make noise.

Eventually he gets back to rubbing his antlers on the sapling.

Slowly, slowly slowly. Johnathan brings up the sticks for me as I unsling the rifle.

Again the deer stops. Looks. Directly at us. Surely he will see us. We are both completely still, the rifle in one hand, halfway up into position. Jonathan frozen like a statue with the sticks partially in place. Another lifetime passes.

The deer again looks away. We quickly get into position. This buck is not going to come easy though. He moves parallel to us, now partially blocked by a tree.

I desperately shift the sticks left so I can get a line of sight on him. More awkward than you’d imagine when the adrenaline is flowing. I think they call this buck fever. Now I know what they meant!!

The buck moves again. Slowly, if he keeps going we will lose him in the trees. Johnathan barks. The buck stops and looks. He fills my scope, the crosshairs resting on his shoulder. I don’t even think, I just take the shot.

I don’t remember the next five or so seconds but have an image of him just dropping out of sight.

He is down. I reload and keep watching. Deer are hardy and resilient. He could easily take off if the shot didn’t kill.

Nothing.

We move forward slowly and he comes into view. He is dead, spread over a large tree stump. He is stunning.

I feel the swell of strong feelings.

Adrenaline, excitement, sadness, awe dominate.

I have such a deep feeling of respect and wonder for this magnificent animal. He has a beautiful coat and a face and eyes that are surreally dog like that tug at my heart.

I am also proud of myself. I am excited to eat this wonderful, nutritious and completely wild and natural meat. I will honour him by eating all the offal I can. If I had known how to tan skin then, I would have kept the skin too.

We gralloch him, removing the guts and then slowly make our way back home.

I hang him in the garage and the next day I spend about eight hours skinning and butchering my first deer. I am glad to say this process has gotten a lot quicker now!

The next evening my wife and I eat a steak. It is the most delicious and tender meat. I like mine rare.

I feel more connected and alive to this world than I ever have. I also feel exhausted.

Since then I have learned more and done more. I hope to be hunting deer for the rest of my life, to provide the very best food for me and my family. Also to honour myself, to honour the cycle of life, to take my place in the food chain.

One day I will join my first buck in the next life. Who knows, maybe he will be hunting me next time.