Classic goat shooting trip
I remember a classic goat shooting trip from years ago.
It was near Bennydale in the central nth island and I had taken my wee Remmy 600. It was a rifle I kept needle sharp for range work. On this occasion I went out with some experienced kiwi boys and we took along a guest - the Canadian heavyweight boxing champion at that time. He was a huge bugg*r, but unfortunately was absolutely full of himself, and could not stop bragging about himself and his gear. He had a great big cannon of a rifle - perhaps a 7x61 Schulz and Larsen or bigger - and a scope about 2 feet long that was worth more than our gear put together. His name - I kid you not - was Rocky!
On arrival at the Bennydale property, we were instructed to only do head/neck shots as all carcases were to be sold. Then to my great consternation I got paired up with Rocky, who proceeded to continue his long firearms lectures as we walked into our area. Finally we came over a grassy rise and there on the hillside opposite was a mob of 8 goats - about 150 yards away. Rocky yelled some final instructions which could be heard in Wellington, then pointed his giant cannon roughly in the direction of the hillside and off-hand proceeded to open up a barrage - clip after clip. I dropped down to find a good shooting position and through the scope watched the scene unfold on the hillside opposite. There were confused goats milling about, great sprays of black dirt and divots flying everywhere - and no-one had a clue what he was shooting at - least of all Rocky. He was doing appalling damage to the hillside and surrounding environments - but little to the goats.
I went through 6 rounds and dropped 6 goats, and after a bit longer the barrage finally ceased. We walked over to the scene and it looked like a WW1 trench warfare site. My 6 were all dead with 5 neck and 1 head shot. Rocky however had ploughed up the general location and somehow managed to gutshot and blow up 2 goats from 15-20 rounds. I was in very great danger for awhile, standing there looking at his carnage then at him with a huge inane grin on my dial - trying desperately not to say anything in case he beat the shit out of me. As a hunter he was a world class disaster. Eventually he looked real hard at me, then without a word turned and stormed off.
When the boys came to inspect the site and pick up the goats our mate Rocky stood away a bit, and there were gales of laughter from the squad. He never said another word on the trip. We didn't say much either - just huge grins all round all the way home. Never forgot it!
.243 on goats - good.
7x61 or 375 mag or whatever the hell it was - not so good.
