Thread: hunting incompetence

Originally Posted by ZQLewis

hehehe, the old hot wire into the upper thigh. Been there done that too.
The old ribbed plastic butt plate on the JW15 does not do a good job of holding the hot wire down when you unknowingly twist the rifle as you swing your leg over.
Dam beef farm too so it was a good belt, Don't remember getting off the wire but I sure did get of it. Not doing that again since.
Now I take the less dignified option of going under it if I can't step over it.
Z

On a deer farm what are you 18feet tall? BFG shooting rabbits

oh hell yes elctric friggin fences .shot a friendly cockies place at ellesmere for feral geese a while ago.greatday out four fat alberts bowled trudging home come to fence .toss birds over,get down on fat guts go to slither under
KABOOOM-POINT OF RIGHT ELBOW GETS A BOOT LIKE AS MAD SCRUB BULL AND i END UP WITH A COMPLETELY TRANQUIILISED ARSE .
as i roll around in agony my pommy mate ,cynical prick was KC looks at me cocks and eyewbrow and dryly comments"itake it that was a bit of a jolt!
skinnyprick then blithely leaps over top strand.!
speakin to cocky later -he was apologetic -seems hed had some steers in the paddock who loved testing the fences and hed got sick of them so wound the juice up a tad to give em a reminder who was boss!
alas i dont shoot that rfarm anymore as its sold but thatmemory is foever etched into my mind and arse which took 3days to recover sensation.

Set up camp in the Tukituki riverbed not far from Daphne hut one night. Set my stoney creek bivvy on a flat site in the riverbed, all looked hunky dory, stars were shining bright, night was clear and calm and the pointy end of the bivvy was pointed upriver.

I had the guy ropes tied to decent sized stones and one tree, and the tension belt between each end of the pole under the groundsheet as you do, with pegs in the loops where I could get them in to the ground.


Woke up at 3 am to a sudden jerk from under my back and my dog howling his head off. I scrambled round for my torch, couldn't find it and I felt suffocated, my dog was still howling like mad, his howling got further and further away.
Found my torch eventually after getting out from whatever it was suffocating me.
The wind had gotten up to near gale force from downstream, ripped all my pegs out of the ground, the tension belt moving out from under the groundsheet was the sudden jerk, and the dog howling was him getting tangled up in the groundsheet along with me. The fly was saved by the one guy rope tied to a tree and was flapping round probably 8 or 9 feet above my standing height .

Once I'd gotten the fly and groundsheet stashed under a huge pile of rocks I had to find the dog, who'd buggered off 2 or 300 m downriver in his terror.

I pick my camps a bit more carefully now

Another electric fence story . . . I had taken our VW van to get a couple of young pigs. Not wanting them loose in the van, I contained them in a barrel in the middle of the van. Upon arriving home I slid open the sliding door from the inside, heaved a protesting pig out of the barrel, and disembarked through the open door. That was when I realized that I had pulled up right next to the electric fence, and I and the VERY uncooperative pig were getting repeatedly zapped.

Letting go of the pig would have meant his immediate and permanent departure; climbing back into the van while holding onto the pig didn't seem possible. So, I and the complaining and fighting pig squeezed between the van and the fence (getting repeatedly zapped all the while) until we made it past the van. I pulled away before extracting the second pig.

P. S. they both made good eating later.

Zeko

Originally Posted by zeko

Another electric fence story . . . I had taken our VW van to get a couple of young pigs. Not wanting them loose in the van, I contained them in a barrel in the middle of the van. Upon arriving home I slid open the sliding door from the inside, heaved a protesting pig out of the barrel, and disembarked through the open door. That was when I realized that I had pulled up right next to the electric fence, and I and the VERY uncooperative pig were getting repeatedly zapped.

Letting go of the pig would have meant his immediate and permanent departure; climbing back into the van while holding onto the pig didn't seem possible. So, I and the complaining and fighting pig squeezed between the van and the fence (getting repeatedly zapped all the while) until we made it past the van. I pulled away before extracting the second pig.

P. S. they both made good eating later.

Zeko

The squealing would have been off the decibel meter. From the pig, I mean.

Originally Posted by Max Headroom

The squealing would have been off the decibel meter. From the pig ( as well) , I mean.

fixed

Originally Posted by dannyb

fixed

I really don't remember whether I was making a sound -- though I could have been (the pig certainly was); all I was thinking was "bacon and sausage -- bacon and sausage -- IT MUST NOT ESCAPE!!!!"

Zeko

Originally Posted by zeko

I really don't remember whether I was making a sound -- though I could have been (the pig certainly was); all I was thinking was "bacon and sausage -- bacon and sausage -- IT MUST NOT ESCAPE!!!!"

Zeko

Sounds like you have your priorities in order

Originally Posted by keneff

Last year, was going to the Coromandel to stay with my niece and have a go at some goats. Swabbed out the rifleand put it in the car. Put the bolt and mag in a container and carefully placed it on the bench right by the garage door so I couldn't forget it. Jacque's going "are you ready yet? Come on, are you ready yet?" Get to the niece's place and have a coffee, then go out to get the bolt and mag from under the seat - not there, so no goats. Of course it was all Jacque's fault for hurrying me , but I still felt like a fuckwit. All weekend, and still.

Much to be said for the humble break-action!

I have a few.

After fallow one morning in England and set up on extendable shooting sticks up looking down a ride in a close wood when a spiker popped out 10m in front of me. I took a quick aim and squeezed off the shot just as one leg of the sticks collapsed. I missed by a mile and we both stood there stunned for ten seconds before he ran off. My old Labrador Sam looked at me with a “WTF” look on his face.

Another time I shot at a roe buck from 60m or so and Sam the Labrador lunged forward at the shot just about pulling me off my feet by his lead. He broke the shooting sticks and I missed again.

Others that spring to mind are driving for an hour only to realise I had left my bolt at home, and arriving at my hunting ground in winter and realising my gum boots were at home. I stalked around in the mud in my shoes for hours, but did shoot a nice fallow buck. My hunting mate David forgot his gum boots that day too. What a crack team of deer managers.

Originally Posted by Spitfire

Others that spring to mind are driving for an hour only to realise I had left my bolt at home

have actually had a nightmare about this ....woke up in a cold sweat ..... not actually done it but always check several times before i hit the road

I missed a rusa deer at 173 M last weekend.

Might as well have been standing in front of me. I had no real rest to use so tried to use my knees. Missed cleanly so there's that to console me.

I bet you ill have gotten the scope out of whack.

This goes back about 30 years, to when I was a young conservation officer in South Africa. A drunken party of meat hunters, on the last night of their trip, one one if their party hadn't shot anything. It was dark, and the group set out with a whole lot of liquor inside them, armed with a torch and their rifles. One if the party spotted a pair of eyes up high, in a tree, and for whatever reason they egged the guy to shoot it. He did. Right between the eyes. All hell seemed to break loose, and there was noise and chaos, completely out of proportion to anything that belonged in a tree. When they got closer, in the torchlight they saw a dead giraffe, with a neat hole in its forehead, cleanly dispatched. The only problem now was that you pay for what you kill, and giraffe are not exactly cheap. In fact, they got a bill (and this was back in the early 90's) for about $10k. A cheap meat hunt turned into a rather expensive weekend, all things considered!

Originally Posted by Bol Tackshin

This goes back about 30 years, to when I was a young conservation officer in South Africa. A drunken party of meat hunters, on the last night of their trip, one one if their party hadn't shot anything. It was dark, and the group set out with a whole lot of liquor inside them, armed with a torch and their rifles. One if the party spotted a pair of eyes up high, in a tree, and for whatever reason they egged the guy to shoot it. He did. Right between the eyes. All hell seemed to break loose, and there was noise and chaos, completely out of proportion to anything that belonged in a tree. When they got closer, in the torchlight they saw a dead giraffe, with a neat hole in its forehead, cleanly dispatched. The only problem now was that you pay for what you kill, and giraffe are not exactly cheap. In fact, they got a bill (and this was back in the early 90's) for about $10k. A cheap meat hunt turned into a rather expensive weekend, all things considered!

I would have thought that it was a leopard hah.

How much meat would you get off the giraffe?

I have heard yarns of people nailing bike reflectors in pairs to trees and then sending out their unsuspecting mates to "shoot the possum over there in the trees"