GALICIA, 1910 
50 inches on Magura and two other nice heads. He had been lucky to find 
the stags roaring well in his district, whilst none of the other rifles except 
Prince Demidoff, who had shot a small ten-pointer, had seen or heard 
anything. 
On September 28 I had an evening stalk on Magurchik, where a stag 
was said to be roaring. We found him without difficulty, and had an easy 
advance along a forest path right up to within 300 yards of the quarry. 
Here Fedor Koranuk did a clever thing and I a foolish one. The stag was 
on a densely wooded ridge above us, and Fedor said he would bring him 
out, and so commenced to rub an old sapling with my stalking -stick in 
imitation of a rival stag thrashing the bushes. The effect was immediate. 
I saw the stag running towards us, and then his horns only showed as he 
advanced through thick spruces until he stood facing in our direction at 
100 yards. I could see nothing but the horns, and the time was ten minutes 
past five. In five minutes it would be impossible to shoot and I was in a 
quandary, therefore, as to whether the beast would give a better chance, 
so I decided to fire, and, aiming at a spot in the bushes where I guessed the 
neck ought to be I pulled trigger. The stag disappeared at once, and I 
thought I had killed it, but I was wrong in every calculation, and returned 
to the lodge a humbled creature. The horns were not those of a big stag, 
so I was not heart-broken. Prince Henry has often remarked that nearly 
all the stags shot in Galicia are killed between the hours of seven and nine 
a.m., and after some experience I found that he was quite correct. You 
may be close to a roaring stag at daybreak, but it generally takes an hour 
or two before the shot can be fired, because with the increasing light the 
beast generally starts moving and gradually ceases to cry. At this time of 
day the hunter need be in no hurry to fire, because with the growing light 
comes a proportionate chance of success, owing to the fact that in dense 
forest it is not very easy to hit a small mark until the sun is well above 
the mountain tops. In the evening the conditions are exactly reversed. 
You often hear a stag bellowing splendidly at, say, 3.30 p.m. or 4 p.m. It 
is probably on the other side of the valley and a good hour’s walk. You know 
in your heart of hearts that you are sure to get close to him, but that it is 
fifty to one if you can see your sights for a shot. If you do go the result is 
usually failure; but if you do not, your hunter looks upon you as a miserable 
creature unworthy of the name of hunter. Consequently (most of us being 
moral cowards) you always essay the fruitless tramp and so retain that 
mutual confidence so essential between the rifle and his hunter. 
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