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The time we murdered Skippy
Having recently passed my firearms test (although still waiting for the visit from the arms officer) the man and I were keen to get out and slay some beasts. We’ve been doing the rounds on the farm most evenings and have popped off a couple of bunnies with which we made a green curry (I still find it upsetting that I’m eating Peter Rabbit), but who wants to get bunnies and possums when there are bigger and way cooler things to shoot.
So after humming and haring over the weather we decided to go for it. The previous evening we had given it a miss as we needed to use the jetboat for a short cut to get to a spot and it was fairly windy. However, after hearing that it had actually been very still not far from our house we thought there was a good enough chance to risk it. After doing the compulsory gearing up (changing my custom made pink sling from the .22 to the .243 – gotta look the part) we set off at about half past six. After fucking around getting the jetboat into the water we zoomed off, the poor dog shaking from the cold as she doesn't have a puffer jacket like me. It was quite a bumpy ride.
As we approached the area Tim spotted a deer but I couldn't see it to save myself. We dragged the boat out of the water and tied it up; I didn't really have high hopes of getting anything, but I knew there was chockie in the backpack, so I was happy enough (…who said that women were hard to please?!).
So we set off, me rocking the pink gun sling and my new Cactus Climbing pants; note to self: don’t wear these when trying to sneak quietly! I mastered the art of awkwardly walking with my legs two feet apart to stop the swish-swishing of the heavy canvas rubbing against itself on the inner thighs, but I couldn't do much about the outside of the legs rubbing against tussock and long grass. After a dirty look or two, we carried on, with even the hyped up puppy being more stealthy than me. Oops.
We headed for a ridge - I think we were downwind from where the deer was spotted - passing through mainly tussock and matagauri and some rose hip plants. When we got to the ridge we peeked down over it; by this stage the puppy was going mental from smell-overload and I was certain that me shushing her would have scared off everything but Tim spotted a wallaby hiding in some bushes. Cool! I’ve never seen a wallaby, I didn’t even know NZ had them until recently. It was quite a cute one, and I tried to push cute images of “Kanga” and “Baby-Roo” from Winnie the Pooh out of my head. Mrow :(
By this stage it was 8.40pm and we knew we didn’t have much time left so after a brief discussion we decided to go for the wallaby instead of looking any further for the deer. At least we’d be guaranteed some meat. Turned out that people poo-pooed us for bringing it home, saying that you’re supposed to hang them on a fence by the side of the road??? (We ended up making it into patties for the BBQ the following evening). There wasn’t really a good position to shoot from, far too much matagauri in front of us which the bullet wouldn’t have gone through. After about a million hours trying to find it in the scope (am finding it really hard to put the scope on the thing I am seeing in real life with my eyes…) I guess the man’s patience ran out and he told me to forget it as I couldn’t get a clean shot. I spotted another one though and decided to go for it so put the rifle on my knee in a weird position and almost pulled the trigger but then I remembered I should recheck my firing zone! All good, so fired the shot – holy heck, the trigger was very light, am too used to using the .22 and the shot was fired before I even fully realised! No matter, it hit but then the man said “finish it off!” so I fumbled with the action but the empty round got a bit stuck so after jimmying it out I managed to reload and shoot it again. By this stage two more wallabies had shot out from their hiding spots! Seemed rude to not have a go, so I went for the next one and there was this horrible thud as it went down like a grateful fat chick. Shot the third one, which bolted off about five metres before going tits up in some bushes.
We scrambled down the face of the ridge but the matagauri was thick and impenetrable so we went back up and over and around and down. The Man stopped suddenly and chambered a round and I looked up and there were two pretty fallows galloping away from us towards where the boat was parked, and all I could hear in my head was the voice of David Attenborough exclaiming about “majestic beasts galloping across the tundra!” (Not that it was a tundra, meh). They didn’t stop but disappeared into some bushes. Later on the Man said that he could have gotten a shot off but it would have parted the dogs hair and we wouldn’t have had enough daylight to get them and the wallabies.
Somehow managed to retrieve two of the wallabies, gracious knows how; that entire bit looked the same to me but the dog helped out. The Man grabbed one by the tail and slung it over his shoulder and after a few deep breaths I psyched myself into grabbing the tail of the other one which had disgusting blood all over it (luckily I was only wearing a crappy old top by this stage) and dragged it back to the boat out of sheer stubbornness, covering my hands a cuffs of my sleeves in red goo. Gosh, it was much heavier than it looked; I guess I now know what people mean when they say “dead weight”. We arrived back at the boat with about ten minutes to spare so hooned back to where the truck was parked, the poor dog trying to fight the urge to not lick the wallabies to death! Oh wait, they were already dead.
When we got home I offered to help with the gutting but one of them had been shot in the “gut bag” according to the Man, which gave rise to a God-awful stench, (gosh it stunk to high heaven!!!) so I deemed it “Man’s work” and high tailed it back to the house to do “women’s work” - cook him some fucking eggs, which really translates as having a hot shower to rid myself of gross goo and wallaby hair).
A happy evening all around, especially for Scar the dog, who got a tail!
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Re: The time we murdered Skippy
Great stuff well done!
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The time we murdered Skippy
"It went down like a grateful fat chick"
Even funnier when from a chick.
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