Back Into It

Time was passing by far too quickly without enough selfish me time, so a plan was called for. The one boy had finished his Yr 12 exams, the calves were weaned and gone, homekill done, haylage cut & bailed & stored, new fences erected. Righto wife, I’m off the hook, so I’m going hunting for a month, feel free to join me at some point, bring the boys, dogs, etc.

And with that, I was gone.

The challenges were going to be varied.

(a) It’s peak hayfever season & I get it really bad
(b) A highly unsettled weather forecast
(c) Hordes of blowflies
(d) Off grid solar only, so keeping lots of venison refrigerated is difficult
(e) The hinds are dropping their fawns, got to find spikers & yearlings
(f) Once on the block, after rain getting out again is impossible for ~3 days, so be prepared

So, I took all the tools. Several rifles, a quad, a motorcycle, clothing for all weather eventualities, a ton of food, several boxes of Brown Bombers, three 12v Engel fridges, an inverter, two solar panels, a gas BBQ, and a whole bunch of other stuff I probably don’t need.

After sweating my balls off for four days, now I’m rugged up inside having lit the log burner thanks to a freezing cold southerly change bringing rain that comes in horizontal sheets every few minutes. Nothing better to do on an evening like this than a forum Magazine article. An evening hunt is not on the cards tonight, far too wet & cold, it’s a Friday night softies indoors night.

Where was I….

When I got to the block, it was pissing down and way too wet & dangerous to get in with the Hilux, eve with diff locks and chains. So I setup shop in the tack room on a neighbouring property for a couple of nights. All mod cons - mains power, roof water; right next to the kennels, so caged dogs, rats, mice, several flavours of ankle deep shit. Nothing untoward though. A roof over my head, groundsheet, inflatable mattress, cold beer, ear plugs and posh coffee... solves all woes.

Miraculously, an hour before deer o’clock, the sun came out. Wasting no time, I rode up into the back paddock, parked up and walked a ways up into the bush up an old goat track, to my favourite sniper pozzie above some high bluffs. I cleared this spot in June with the technological miracle that is the 18v Stihl, it looks down over three grassy spurs separated by treacherous scrubby gullies that run down to a deep gorge. It’s deer central. Ultra deery. There wasn’t a breath of wind. And it was hot now, hot & humid as fuck.

After glassing for half an hour or so, swatting blowflies, I spotted movement down on the edge of the gorge. Two red spikers and a stag were browsing slowly left to right, but they were right on the edge of the scrub. If a shot animal ran into the gorge, I’d probably lose it. I ranged the animal at the rear, a fat spiker, 280m, -31°. Pollen up my nose and bleery itchy as fuck eyes, but hey ho. I tracked it patiently in the riflescope, taking my time, getting comfortable. The animal stepped up slightly and presented a perfect quartering towards shot. BANG. A loud thwop! confirmed a solid hit on the front shoulder, the animal reared up on its back legs and toppled over and down the bank out of sight.

A recovery mission ensued. I found the animal easy enough thanks to knowing the block inside out, but also following waypoints I’d memorised - a possum control bait station, a pig wallow, a relic fence post. Whatever helps. Memory Map on the phone helps a lot! Its amazing how different country looks from a different perspective. Bit of a scramble to say the least. I was blowing like a bastard, but I got there just as the sun dipped below the ridge on the other side of the valley.


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Meat procured, pack full, now just a doubly treacherous scramble back to the bike in the dusk. Head torch on, crossing the muddy gullies is a horror show - you can see the glistening rock beneath, you’ve just gotta hope you’re not the awkward lump that finally causes the overlying soil to slip. If it does, its a one way ticket downwards. Not sure how much use my EPIRB would be in such thick scrub…. Huff, climb, puff. Stop. Repeat. Got to the bike in the pitch black, thankful for the 2L of water I always keep in the box.

Back at the cabin, I had a couple of beers, a light feed and a thorough hot flannel wash before crashing, hard. Day two came around soon enough, a dawn of bellbirds, followed by magpies. No uninvited tack room residents or the dogs had bothered me in the slightest. But day two did yield sore knees and some interesting cuts, abrasions and splinters that needed sorting out. Gotta love the bush. Did some jobs around the place, cut some firewood, had a big feed and a snooze, then prepped for the evening hunt.

[An aside. Right now as I type this into my iPad, I’m listening to U2’s Joshua Tree. Very loud. Some albums just fit a scene. When this album was released, I was 20. (I’m now 56.) It was 1987, my super hot girlfriend had dumped me, I was gutted, and With Or Without You was my solace. A couple of months later, heartsore but cocksure, I set sail for the Southern Hemisphere and I’ve been several °S ever since. The Joshua Tree album was hugely inspirational, particularly In God’s Country and Red Hill Mining Town. I’m In God’s Country right now. As an immigrant, I’m fucking lucky to be here.]

Whilst prepping for the evening's hunt, I had a revelation. What happens to my muthafukkinbarsterd itchy hay-fever eye lids if I wipe them with Flixonase nasal spray? Can’t be too bad, eh, I mean good for the nose good for the eyes right? Worked a treat! Haven’t gone blind, haven’t had itchy eyelids since. Fucking hell, who knew?

Anyway, back to deer, I knew exactly where to go next.

There’s a spot that always holds deer at this time of year. A long, narrow strip of native on a +800m elevation watershed with sporadic grassy clearings - no stock, no competition, one or two hunters a year. The stags & spikers mob up and move along the native ridgeline feeding into the farms to the east and west. Finding deer isn’t hard, just gotta watch your noise and wind, look for the sign.

As I pushed through the native towards the clearings, looking south, I could smell the stink of deer and goats. Constantly glassing ahead, I followed one deer track towards the clear country that had most of the foot marks going in the same direction. Suddenly, there was that kinda weird “ok then” moment when the image that fills your binos is several red deer. Quick range, 200-250m. I sorted my shit out and slithered into a decent spot where I could see enough deer in the scope to give me a good chance of dropping two or three.

Three quick shots, three deer down. For me, another win for .308 / 165gr simplicity - 200m zero, minor holdover changes on the torso, three dead deer. Then a fourth shot for bonus billy goat who stuck his head up wondering WTACTUALF? Only problem is that all three deer tumbled downhill, to be expected but not desirable. Not to worry, lots of scrambling and route checking and avoidance of aforementioned slick rock faces later, and all three deer were found and dealt to.

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The blowies were horrific!

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A well placed piece of offal tends to give them enough of a distraction to keep them from laying on the meat. You’ve gotta be quick, and it helps to know that you’ll be back in (relatively) civilised circumstances to clean & refrigerate the meat soon enough.

This is the exit from a .308 / 165gr Speer BTSP hitting at about 2,150 ft./sec. Stone dead after a couple of (downward) steps.

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After boning out each hindquarters and backstraps, I loaded up and hefted the load back up to the flat. By the end of the third animal I was well stuffed, sweaty as, knees creaking audibly as I scrambled up the spur. But happy. Satisfied. Tired in the best way. Looking forward to making gazillions of vennie burgers, and juicy steaks for our friends. Fresh heart & onions for supper to look forward to helps. And some Brown Bombers. It was VERY beer o’clock.

Deer o’clock followed by beer o’clock, In God’s Country. Can’t go wrong.

Night three was a culling night as three fridges are full, so goats galore. More on that later.

Happy hunting fellas.

A great read thanks

Slaughterville followed by Happyville. Podium.

3 days of a months hunting. You will need more fridges :)
Well done. Excellent read.

Well earned beers there,thanks for the nice story.Hay fever a killer alright.

Great write up!
Have you tried Livostin eye drops? They have anti histamine. I've had good success with them this time of the year.


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great read...enjoy your time away....giveem arseholes.
the joshua tree used to be blasting away on the tapedeck while I was fishing nearby.... great album.

Boom.

Living the dream. Pretty sure flixonase has steriods in it, I used to use it but doc told me to use it sparingly as it stuffs the lining in your nose eventually. Hay fever sucks tho..

You'll have to send for a meat pick-up so you can carry on

Love the story thus far, well written, look forward to next instalment.

Sounds like you have the dream spot to spend a few days 'relaxing'. Good read.

Great yarn, hunting for a month sounds amazing. All that time in the outdoors has to be good for you.
Sounds like you’re well set up and now have plenty of venison to share around.
Great stuff, isn’t that what life is all about?