Couple spring to mind.
After tormenting my sister for years by shooting sparrows on the back lawn (she hated it so much she called the police once) she asked to come hunting.
Managed to catch a couple of velvet stags way out in the open at first light. I took my time getting lined up, was my longest shot by far at the time, at about 250 m with 4x scope. Shot the first one. The other started running away from us at an angle, my sister immediately hissed, “shoot the fucker”
I couldn’t believe it, firstly because she wasn’t known for swearing, but mostly because I was fully expecting her to yell out and scare them.
Second one. I took a mate with a lifestyle block hunting. He had a 22 and shotgun, loves his meat and bbq, and in his circle is considered an outdoorsman. Man of the land.
You can probably see where this is going already.
We did an overnight fly camping mission. I had a spot I hunted a bit, there is a main ridge running parallel to the road, on the other side I’d found a razor back ridge which looked onto a nice feed face. Was very unusual not to get an animal there. I call it my meat safe.
So we hunted our way over, set up camp at a little open patch nearby, and staked out the face. Didn’t see anything which surprised me. On our back to our fly camp I found a super fresh gut bag. I couldn’t believe it. I clearly wasn’t the only one who hunted it…
Anyway, next morning we did a fairly big circuit back up and along the ridge top a bit, then down into the stream. I noticed he was fairly quiet, the whole, trip. Where we popped out eventually, it was literally within 100 m of the car. Not one meter of our hunt was on a track.
He practically dropped to his knees and started praying, he was so relieved to be back. He told me it was the most hardcore extreme thing he’d ever done!
It was a 5 or 6 k loop over a main ridge and back. A night under a fly in the warm spring weather.
His wife later told me, he talks it up like an expedition conquering Everest, while slaying elephants with spears.
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