Thread: Hunter rescued by helicopter after accidentally stabbing himself

CH the youngish oldish hunter,six foot high and bullet proof.Checked woollen shirt,woolen swani,Buller boots with insteps drilled.
An open sight fan,he will never get lost. He drinks from knife cuts in Fuscia trees,brews up and drinks from old tin cans swinging over an open fire under the shelter of a fern biv.
Life feels great,a leg of venison hangs above smothered in black pepper,flys not that concerned. Dark clouds with thunder rolling in grabs his attention, heavy droplets running along newborn wrinkles and rough burnt features as he reaches for the battered parka.
An hour later he arrives at the surging waters cold and miserable,knee deep the day before, now a raging death trap.
Sudden movment catches his trained eye,rifle slams into his shoulder as he swings to his left, adrenalin pumping through his veins.
That distinctive boom echoed down through the valley,the old stag twitched his last as CH reached for his knife.
CH had carried the old green river knife for close on twenty years,always kept an edge and was given to him by an old deer culler.
Just as the razer sharp steel bit into the thick skin the old stag gave a final kick. Shocked and bemused with one leg in the torrent, unimaginable pain shot through his well muscled thigh, TH knew he was in very deep trouble after landing heavily on his knife.
Tears instantly filled his eys,blurred visions of his family as a fountain of blood quickly covered the forest floor.
That old green river had gone almost to the handle severing everything on its way. CH began to imagine he had packed his PLB.
TH 's body was recovered 2 weeks later he was only four ks from help.