Chamois hunt in Austria Part 3

“We have to get as close as possible without spooking her, and that won’t be easy” Uwe says. The terrain between us and the chamois is entirely open and she is standing at about 400 meters above us, probably with a great view of where we want to cross. “Walk like a chamois” Uwe says and starts off across the rocky terrain. Hunched over double we stalk from one clump of rocks to another and slowly make our way across the open expanse of bare mountain side.

“Let’s move over to that large rock and try shooting from there” Uwe says and points at a very large rock. After a final dash across what looks like a dried out riverbed we are finally able to huddle up in cover behind the rock. Uwe peeks up and looks through his binoculars to confirm that the chamois is still there. She is. “Shall I use the shooting stick?” I ask, having carried the thing all this way. “No, much better to put the backpack up on the rock” Uwe responds. Taking off his small backpack Uwe places it on top of the rock and I hand him the rifle. Once he has confirmed that the positioning is good he gestures for me to take over.

Finally being able to see our quarry trough the riflescope, I get a clear sense of this being it. This is the moment I’ve spent months planning, waiting and practicing for. Nothing else remains but to align the sights and squeeze the trigger. The angle is a pretty straight 45 degrees upwards and the distance is measured at 217 meters. Quickly making some ballistics calculations in my head, I guesstimate that the angle of the shot will make just about make up for the bullet drop at this distance so I decide to hold right where I want the bullet. My scope only goes out to 8x and the sun is shining directly into it, giving a decidedly Instagram feel to my sight picture.

A good trigger needs to break just before the shooter anticipates it and mine is perfectly tuned. Aligning the sight, I break out one last time and start squeezing the trigger.

The shot breaks like a thunderclap and I immediately lose my sight picture with the recoil. Uwe is spotting through his binoculars. “You’ve hit her, she is very sick!” he says as I am desperately trying to find our chamois through the scope. I ask if I should shoot again and Uwe tells me to wait. Finally I manage to align the scope and I can see that the chamois is still standing up but isn’t moving. “Shoot again” Uwe says and this time I activate the fine trigger with a click. Putting the crosshairs right where I want to hit I exhale again. As soon as I touch the fine trigger the shoot breaks.

“Good job! You did it! She has fallen, it’s over. I am so happy that you could shoot!” Uwe exclaims happily. “Nice shooting, you’ve hit her twice.” Uwe gets up and gestures to Tony to start making his way over. While we wait Uwe explains that the worst situation for him is when the clients aren’t able to shoot since wounded animals aren’t easy to track and follow at these altitudes. We will later find out that my first shot went a bit low while the second was perfect. At these distances any little mistake on the part of the shooter will become exponentially more serious. 

Together we climb up the slope to where the chamois is lying down. We give her the last bite, the tradition which dictates that each animal shall be sent off with a nice piece of branch or bush in its mouth. “Waidmannsheil!” Tony exclaims and at the same time hands me a glass of red liquid. It’s schnapps and together we drink the toast of the hunter. Waidmannsheil is the equivalent of “Cheers!” but only spoken between hunters after a successful hunt. “You need two legs to stand on.” Tony explains as he hands me a second glass and this one goes down smoothly and happily. Schnapps is by no means my first choice of beverage but at this moment, on this mountain it feels like the only possible choice.

When we examine the chamois we determine that it is indeed a very old female, maybe up to 15 years old. Chamois get yearly rings on their horns and by these you can estimate how old they are. But ours is so old that the latest rings blend together and become impossible to count easily. It is also evident that she lost her one horn long ago as the stump is well worn. Chamois use their horns for both foraging and fighting to they tend to get a bit beat up as the animal ages. We take our quarry and walk first down and then up again to a small hunting cabin located at about 2,400 meters above sea level. Looking at the location I carefully ask how it was built. “With helicopter – it’s the only way”. Tony explains.

It's now 12 o’clock and we have been at it for just about 6 hours since leaving the car. We are tired, hungry but content and happy with the days events. At the cabin Tony asks if he can have a shell casing for his collection and when we place it on the shelf I notice that it is not the first 300 Weatherby case in the collection. We sit in the sun and drink a beer, talking about the days events. Tony then packs the chamois in a very classical Austrian backpack and we start off down the mountain again.

Once we arrive at the farmhouse we are greeted by Tony’s father who has prepared a real hunter’s lunch for us. Dried meet, sausages, cheese and bread along with beer and more schnapps is served up. My schoolbook German is stretched to the absolute limit and in the end we manage to make ourselves understood with Uwe doing the occasional English translating when needed.  

The chamois I have shot is what is called a “schadegams”, as “schade” is the German word for “too bad.” Uwe explains that the expression hints at the speaker saying “schade, ich wünschte, ich hätte es geschossen” or “too bad, I wish I had shot that one.” Inside the farmhouse there is a small trophy room containing a number of chamois trophies and in the central position among them all hangs two one-horned trophy’s next to each other.