A few weeks back forum good bugger @Barefoot told me that he had someone drop out of a planned hunt trip and he asked me if I would like to tag along. I was excited for the opportunity as it has been a long while since I have been in the hills but I indicated that I was definitely far from hunting fit and would need to also check with the missus whether we had anything that conflicted.
The missus gave the nod so the next thing for me was to decide on which hunting rifle to take as none of mine had seen any hunting action in a couple of years. I decided on taking the 30-06 and arranged to check the zero up at Barefoot’s forestry block. As it turned out, I hurt my foot in a fairly major way the day before I was going to do this so in the end I went on the trip without proving that the rifle was on mark (I don’t like doing that).
The day arrived last Friday and instructions were to be at Barefoot’s home at 6:30am so we could leave for the central North Island by 7:00. I had packed the night before and me being an early riser, I pulled into his driveway at 6:00 only to find that the other two fellas in the party had gotten there an hour before me. So we were off early and instead of a planned brekkie stop in Ngaruawahia, we trucked on through to Pirongia before we had a pit stop. In a slight fit of old aged senility I took my hoodie off without checking the pockets and promptly dropped my phone smashing the bloody screen in the process (oh well such is life and onwards and upwards).
After a quick brekkie (that would later on That night turn out to give me a severe dose of the shits) we were on the road again to RV with another couple in Taumarunui and pick up any last minute supplies (like a box of the finest beer known to man and definitely Rushy’s favourite “Waikato”). Job done and we are off again toward Ruatiti to get the last couple of fellas in convoy.
Fast forward to Friday afternoon and Barefoot and I head out for the first hunt at four o’clock. From the get go we could hear deer running away in the bush adjacent to the track and then not much further on we spotted a nice red stag in mid stage velvet (the royals had bulbed but were a ways off developing into the tines they would end up being). Leaving him we did some more down then some up then along a spur ridge line and back, more up p, more along another spur ridge with Barefoot glassing all the way. At the end of the second spur ridge line I spotted a small mob of goats on the side of the hill across the valley and while Barefoot was glassing in another direction I kept an eye on them and low and behold a couple of Fallow spikers started mooching out and along. Pssttt I got my mates attention. A quick range indicated they were 144 metres away. A short conflab indicated I could get closer and I even took a couple of steps but then I thought bugger that, dropped to the ground and shot one that then fell a long way down hill. Shortly there after from a seated position Barefoot got the second spiker and we were on the board, with his bloody staying where it was shot. Now for the recovery.
A bit of steepish down, across and up and we were both gutting out. Thanks Barefoot for the big help in getting mine up to the track. I must go back there one day and pick up my ring piece. I called it a day after we got up to the track and I was sporting a couple of lovely new blisters but being a good keen and much fitter and younger man, Barefoot stayed on the hill and later on knocked a Fallow doe over as well.
Saturday morning was craggy but we headed out early beyond where we had been the day before. The cloud cover on the tops thickened and rain started and we didn’t stay out all that long. We did get a glimpse at a Sow, Boar and entourage of piglets which added a bit of a highlight but they gapped it and that was the last we saw of them. Back to base for brekkie.
The weather cleared and later that afternoon we headed back out in a different direction. My feet were pissing me off big time but not being able to leave them at base, I persevered and am glad I did. After not being able to see a hind that was thirty metres away over Barefoot’s left shoulder, another few K’s of walking and a couple of uncooperative Fallow that we caught glimpses of in the scrubby bush but wouldn’t come out onto the clearing despite dusk rapidly approaching, Barefoot saw a couple of reds and hatched a plan to circle around to get to a point where a shot could be taken. Isn’t it typical? We saw a half a dozen Fallow (including the buggers that wouldn’t come out) on the way to the reds but eventually after a bit of low level knee crawling over and around a knoll I got into a position and shot a red hind on the other side of a gut. I thought I had done well but apparently I shot the wrong animal as Barefoot was watching the spiker through his bino’s. Just as well I had eyes on. Oh shit hang on a second she is now tumbling down the steep side and comes to a stop upside down in amongst some dead bush.
Now folks this is where I have to give accolade and much kudos to Barefoot as he volunteers to go down and do the recovery. What a legend. I will fast forward now as this is getting a bit lengthy. By the time that Barefoot got to the hind she had fallen all the way into the creek so she was gutted and left for a recovery this morning. We went out early and on getting to her she was broken down into back wheels, one front wheel, eye fillets and back straps. The climb out was steep and Barefoot carrying all but the back straps out paced me three steps to one on the way back up The spur to the track.
Fuck what a hoot I had. It had been too long for me really but I am keen to go back as at the very least I need to find my arse.
Thanks for the invite mate.
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