Thread: Introducing Larry

Well done Max. The online dissection is done, now on to the next one bud...

yup no judging from me. haven't shot many either and seen not many more. I was either hopeless, lazy or just wasn't going where there were any so didn't see any..
Did 10 years of purgatory in Oz and never went out over there so I have the skill of a basic starter really with older person fitness and worn out bits
well done

Awesome story

Yeah, I know I said that I wouldn't name any deer after Larry, my 1st, but I may have to break this rule..........

Introducing Gary.

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On friday night, I was out at a friend's (Mr R) place on the edge of the Hokonui's. Deer regularly pop out of the bush nearby, usually visible from his large living room window so I usually take the 7mm08 when I visit.

We were sitting in the living room near dusk, talking.

He saw a hind and calf lurking in the trees on the edge of the clearing.
He watched them through some binos for a while, then a spiker jumped a fence nearby, and they followed him out into a paddock about 100m away.

Mr R looked at me and asked: "Do you think you could shoot the spiker from here? ".

Deciding to test the theory that he meant it literally, I said: "Through the window? yeah, sure, I can make that work."

He laughed, and said:"No, from outside".

Outside was a set of three wooden seats and a glass topped warehouse style table. It had a perfect view of the deer and field of fire.

I wandered out, sat down, and made myself comfortable.

At this stage the situation only needed a glass of red wine, a cigar, and a good looking woman to make it perfect.

Lacking those three, I concentrated on shooting the spiker and had gotten lined up close to a viable shot .

Mr spiker then decided to move up slope away from the house and out of my field of fire. I got up and looked for another position, but Mr R was a bit concerned about the background that I would be shooting against, and recommended that I wander up the drive, cut through a grove of pines, and meet bambi and co at the top of the rise.

Then I could take a firing position that put any stray round back into the bush.

I duly trotted up the drive, trying to stand on any patches of grass I found to minimise noise.

As I made my way, I found to my surprise, I was feeling what I assumed was a trace of buck fever. Excited, stressed, and anxious.

I crossed the grove of pine trees, trying to take the shortest the distance through. It was great cover, but there were a lot of dry branches on the ground and the light was fading fast. Twice my feet came down, there was a crack, and I winced.

I crossed the fence, walked a few steps, and knelt. I needed to take a few moments to get my heart rate down and compose myself before I went on.
No point showing up in front of the deer and taking a wobbly shot.

A few more steps, and the deer came into view. The spiker had heard and was facing me. It was now too dark to see much detail, but his body language said:

"OI !! WOT YOU BLOODY DOIN !!"

I took a moment to thread my left arm through the sling so I could pull the rifle really tight to my shoulder, aimed at his neck, hoped for the best, and fired.

I heard the WHAACKK of the bullet strike, and he went down in a heap.

After the nosler 120gn incident with Larry, I have retired them, and used a Hornady 139gn SST on top of 40something grains of 2206H.

Bang. Flop. The fact that it was 50m away probably helped as well.

At this point I should have jumped the fence into the next paddock and cut the spiker's throat, but I had left my knife in the house, so called myself a dickhead and went back to get it.

Mr R had seen the spiker fall, then heard the shot fractionally after, a little anomaly on the speed of sight vs sound. He fired up his quadbike and trailer, and we went and got the deer.

We headed back with me on the trailer standing over the body, holding the antlers and wondering if Mr R stopped suddenly for some reason whether I'd be harpooned by an antler, or just spat forward between trailer and bike.

I had cause to wonder.

About 5 years ago I was heading to Te anau on holiday. 5 km out of Gore, the fuel pump on my Nissan Bluebird decided that life had become all too much and laid down and died, stranding me on the side of the road.

(Gore, in my experience is a bit like the Hotel California; You can check out but you can never leave).

I rang Mr R and asked could he come and tow me back. 15 minutes later he showed up, hitched me up to his Toyota Prado, and took off for home.

He accelerated past slow, to sane, then to worrying, and settled on a rate of knots that I would describe as "Mad bastard".

I followed, convinced that if for some reason he had to stop, my car would have a Toyota SUV for a hood ornament. Such is Mr R.

We got the deer back, parked the trailer under a tree, Mr R gave me some tips on how to gut a deer, cut the paunch to start, and then left me to it.

It had gotten dark and begun to rain. I hung a torch off a low branch, and began.

I have very little sense of smell left. This is the one of the few times in my life I have been glad of it.

I forgot to roll up the sleeves of my swanni, I forgot to take off my watch. I also found that my knife, a pendleton lite hunter, was only just up to the job, and trying to cut through the brisket was beyond it.

Mr R reappeared through the gloom, more seen then heard.

"Make sure you cut the poohole out, stick your finger up its butt, and pull the hole away from the knife when you cut" he said.

This had gone straight from gross to kinky. I was alarmed. I was still too young and impressionable for that kind of thing.

"Do it like this", he said, apparently waving his fingers to show me. I was none the wiser as it was simply too dark.

He climbed into the Prado and disappeared off to Gore to pick up his son, and find a pie.

I assumed that he'd not stayed either because his back was killing him (likely, rolling a quadbike will leave that with you long term) or that he had decided that this was a rite of passage for me that I had to undergo. It proved to be the latter, as he told me today.

"If you shoot it,then you skin it, you gut it, you cut it up, you use all of it that can be reasonably used," is his ethos.

The rest of the session passed. I found that the internals came out easier if I positioned the animal so that gravity naturally pulled them away from where I was cutting. I'd gutted rabbits before, and found that I could pull the internal organs loose. With a deer, that was a much more difficult proposition.

Reluctantly I decided that I was going to have to put a knife inside and cut and pull the internals away. I put the knife inside the beast, took a moment to think about where my holding hand was in relation to my knife, and began cutting, pausing each time I began to check there was no conflict.

I finished, and counted all my fingers. Twice. Imagine how pleased I was to find them all still there.

This will make make things like bass playing, flipping the bird and picking my nose so much easier.

I have finished the spiker, and he is hanging up in my garage for a few days to age before I put him into the freezer.

I have found a new respect for Mr R, who has worn out a bunch of 30/06's, 223's and 22's as a commercial shooter and pest controller.

He has been up to his elbows in deer a lot. It's a dirty, very physical, character building job.

Awesome work bro!

Originally Posted by Been Upto

Awesome work bro!

Thanks, bud.

well done bud...pleased to hear all 11 fingers are still in one piece....purchase a bacho and keep one in each vechile..they work a treat.

Well done and a great read. It’s nice to get onto a bit of private land and bring the hole animal out.

Thanks.

By the way, how do people get through the brisket to open up the rib cage when in the field?. I'm wondering about carrying and using a wire saw along with my knife.

Originally Posted by Micky Duck

pleased to hear all 11 fingers are still in one piece.

Eh ?

Originally Posted by Max Headroom

Thanks.

By the way, how do people get through the brisket to open up the rib cage when in the field?. I'm wondering about carrying and using a wire saw along with my knife.

You don't have to. No need to open the brisket in the field. Just release the wind pipe at the thorax sort of like you did with the bum and pull from the inside.
But if or when you do open the brisket (like when you hang it up in your shed) you follow the line of gristle to one (either) side of it and don't try to go down the middle. You will find it quite easy.

Well done on the deer.

p.s. If you open the brisket in the field and then have to carry it (the whole deer), it means the carcass sort of loses its stiffness and form and makes it more difficult to carry.

Top effort. Also any stiff bladed knife will go through the brisket if you feel the need to open it.

Originally Posted by Max Headroom

Eh ?

Plus 2 thumbs. By the way you have an interesting turn of phrase and stream of conciousness approach to your stories.
Enjoy the venison.

Can't wait for the story of the day you get Barry and Carrie in the one day hunt.