The wind over the weekend was just plain unsociable. A staunch southerly, with occasional gusts that snapped boughs and clean bowled an Old Man Pine down by the river. In order to maintain hunting momentum, a change of environment was required. Forget open country deer sniping, I needed to get down & dirty in the woods with the Browning BLR .308 Winchester.
I’ve struggled to find the right setup for my BLR. Initially, I used the factory open sights, but the truth is my near-sightedness was on a one-way trip to middle-aged decrepitude, and whilst passable in broad daylight, the factory sights were hopeless in dark bush. So I tried a 3-9x Zeiss. That was great for open country, but the limited field of view in the bush was a problem. The scope also encouraged longer shots, and then the classic BLR creepy 10lb trigger pull became a problem. And for whatever reason I struggled with that scope with two eyes open.
Then @southernman helped me out with Skinner open sights from the US, which again were great when the light was ok, but my near-sightedness had deteriorated even more, and in the gloom of an overcast day in thick bush, the Skinner didn’t cut it unfortunately. So I gave that up too. I then bought an Aimpoint H2 off @308mate and bingo, we’re in business! Just perfect. Two eyes open shooting, crystal clear, great optic that’s perfect for this rifle. Game on. I set the red dot to 9 illumination on a scale of 0-12, zero at 50m. Onwards.
My Tikka .308’s 165gr cartridge is too long for the BLR chamber, so I’m using up a whole bunch of leftovers from previous chapters of life. Got 150gr Sierra GameKing & 150gr Nosler BTs, 155gr A-Max. So far I’m still on the Nosler BTs. Great bullet. I haven’t bothered with extended accuracy testing with these rounds in the BLR - seems a bit pointless considering I’m only ever shooting offhand, either sitting on the quad or on foot (usually blowing like a bastard, with wobbly legs). No fancy shit - aiming for the shoulder with a slight lead if running. Minute of game animal accuracy is all that’s required.
Safety timeout: For the sake of all concerned, carry a PLB.
If anything serious happens to me in here, I’m in BIG trouble if I can’t call for help. I’m alone at the cabin, no comms. I can’t tell anyone where I’m going on a daily basis, my decision on where to go being made as a function of (a) where I was yesterday, (b) the wind / weather today. It’s a big piece of ground. I could write it down of course; a shepherd might come around tomorrow, or maybe sometime next week. Possibly. And I’m not being facetious when I say that a couple of the guys that might rock up here are unlikely to read anything. Reading isn’t a strong point. Just the way it is, the reality of primary education in the back blocks, still to this day.
I rode up to the watershed and parked up. I could hear goats, hardly surprising, the area is riddled with them. I made my way steeply down a wooded spur towards goat bleats, and could see four moving away through the timber, a doe, her kid, a yearling billy, and a middling grown billy. Moving quickly and quietly in this bush aren’t synonymous unfortunately, so I banked on the goats being stupid. The doe was sharp as a tack though, she was already spooked and trotted off, taking the yearling and kid with her. The billy kept stopping to look back - big mistake. I popped in my earplugs and closed in.
At about 40ish metres I was steady enough to lean into the shot despite the gradient. My aim was good & steady, so at the shot I was surprised to see the goat lurch a bit but still take off… uphill. And then promptly stop and fall down back the way he’d just come. Unsurprisingly, the 150gr Nosler BT just blasts straight through a goat, doesn’t really shock them so much. Weird that you immediately find yourself questioning the projectile performance…
Pondering projectile choice - big mistake. Cocky and pleased with myself, thinking of forum photos, I turned towards the dead billy and stepped onto a 45° tree root covered in leaf litter. My leg went straight out beneath me and I fell hard onto the root, across my back, and bounced down onto the next level of game trail some ways below. The fall fully winded me, felt like I’d been run over. However, having landed, my first thought was how mightily impressed I was with the way I held the rifle up and out of harms way. It was entirely unscathed. Sensational effort Dave, you’re half fucked but the rifle’s fine. Still, can you imagine if I’d broken it…
Two years ago I cracked a rib larking about with my lads on a water slide. I checked for that familiar “click click” feeling when breathing in and out. No clicks. Arms, legs, all good. Head still on - functional? Seemed so. Pretty shook up though, to be honest. That hurt, and scared me. But… Stiff upper lip time, carry on.
After climbing back to the bike and riding on a bit, I saw goats heading down off the track into the bush. The gradient either side of this watershed track is nuts. I decided to go past the goats, as cross-country straight towards them was far too iffy. Probably feeling a bit conservative… I picked an entry point and sidled around - I see them about 50m away, looking back up towards the track. The plan was working perfectly until the doe I was targeting just vanished - dematerialised - no idea where she went. So a dumbass billy got it instead.
[I will say this… When shooting this rifle in this manner - offhand - I don’t notice the trigger pull weight whatsoever. I polished the sear and associated components and the creep is negligible. If it was any lighter it would be risky in these kind of conditions. It’s like a battle rifle trigger - heavy for a reason.]
I was getting quite sore so headed up and back around to the bike. No more steep shit for me today (hopefully), so I decided to ride over to an area that I’d not hunted on foot before - a few easy riding km away. A sequence of grassy clearings in a shallow valley between two rounded spurs, running SW down from a ridge that is the boundary between this property and the next. Quite different country the lethal gullies along the watershed, more gentle and open. Over the years I’ve spent hours glassing that area, and picking off goats at 600-700m. Since then, after a change of ownership, a team of guys cleared that area with dogs, mustering ~300 goats down to the yards on the road, and carted them off. The goat musterer from Ohura way.
I’d marked the grassy clearings on Memory Map using recently updated Google Earth images - I knew from recent observation there were plenty of deer in there. Once within about 400m, with the wind fully in my face, I parked up and slowly stalked uphill into the wind, following a well used game trail. I surprised this unfortunate spiker on the first clearing as he was taking a dip in his wallow - he was literally rolling in it so I went “Oi!”. Whereupon he stood up, looked straight at me and departed this life for the next.
I gutted him quickly, removed the hindquarters hide on, then the backstraps. The blowflies were unreal. Flyblown? You bet, in seconds.
The shot had spooked up the area and I was about done. Sore as. On the route back the way I’d come, the view over the Central Plateau was just perfect. The wind was dropping, a good sign for the days ahead I hoped. A daft black billy watched me from about 120m, so I sat down and took aim off my knees. The Aimpoint has very clear glass and I felt comfortable with the shot, he got a Ballistic Tip straight through the shoulders. Pleased with that.
On the last leg home, I took a recently bulldozed track, rough as, same track as the “Make a Plan” thread a few months ago, but from the other side. I spied a yearling well below me, I was getting pretty sore by now, but a job’s a job, so a quick offhand shot very steeply downhill sent it on it’s way… Bonus! It rolled downhill plonk onto the track, just like last time. Thanks gravity. So two small to middling red deer hindquarters and backstraps to add to the collection.
Righto, dinner is served… Yearling backstrap medallions cooked fast in mutton fat and mint sauce, side of mashed spuds & minted peas. Yum yum. Listening to the birds get ready for bed with an old retired Huntaway called Blitz. Family arrives in 3 days. Today was rained off almost entirely (some magpies were executed), so I finished one of the most emotional books I’ve ever read: Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. I can’t ever remember a book making me cry. This one did. Frightening, gripping. Despite the haphazard emotions, happy as a pig in shit. Bit stiff and sore still, so is Blitz. He’s got me right where he wants me the cunning old bastard…
“Woof.” (Next scrap please.)
“OK.”
“Woof.”
I’m going to assume the second woof means “thanks” and try to leave it at that.
“Woof.”
Clearly not…
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