Thread: When men were men

I first started hunting pigs with a guy who was 58. I was 17 at the time and he was 58 (my age now!) and he seemed ancient! We'd be up at 3.30am and have a big bacon and egg breaky at his place and then drive for an hour to the property we hunted. Well that old bugger would just go and go and go.... A steady pace that never let up all day. No lunch, no water, and hunting below the ridgetops, sidling the thick heads of gullies all day. We'd usually get to the Landrover at about 4pm.

I was absolutely buggered yet he was able to keep steadily walking. Even if I was totally wrecked I could never ask him for a rest because he was 40-years older than me.... Often by mid morning I was so thirsty I'd be licking the dew off rangiora leaves. No one brought water with them in 1979-ish...

I stopped hunting with him in the end when I discovered he was a poaching old bastard.... When you asked him where we were, because I had no clue, he'd say the neighbouring station.... Even as a 17-year old I hated poachers. He taught me a lot, but couldn't help but poach neighbouring farms....