Thread: When men were men

I remember a very funny shoot around 1970-71. Still makes me laugh.. I'd have been about 18 then, a very active hunter and range comp shooter. Lots of practice to keep sharp..

Was invited by some mates to go on a goat shoot on a back country farm near Bennydale in the Waikato. They wanted to sell the meat so asked could we please shoot in the neck or head. On this shoot also they invited a big Canadian fella. He worked in Tokoroa and was apparently a former Canadian heavyweight boxing champion. His name was Rocky J****. I kid you not.. So all the way to Bennydale Rocky tells us how good he is, how experienced a hunter he is, and how good his rifle is. Some bloody great north american moose/bear cannon he's carrying. All the way its Blah Blah Blah Blah... no-one else got a word in edgewise. When we arrive my mates pair off and one of them looks at me with a laugh and says 'you go with Rocky Mike..' Oh shit!! But Rocky quickly tells me don't worry, just follow him and do what he does and it'll be great. Right..

We head across the farm - hilly country with bush patches - Rocky still telling me and the world how good he is. We walk up to a brow and there on the opposite hill face is a mob of 6 goats. Ok he yells and gets ready to bomb them freehand at 180 yards with this giant cannon. Meanwhile I notice there's a fence 15m away, sneak down to it, and rest my accurate little 243 Remmy 600 on top of a post. Old man was a divisional shooting champion in the war (occasionally called up for sniper duties in the desert) and he always taught me to find every advantage when shooting at something - sitting, lying down, a tree, rest on a log, whatever, so you get the animal. Apparently Rocky had a different school..

As I look through my scope he opens up a barrage on the opposite hill face. Tremendous racket. Boomityboomboombamboom. Into it. And through the scope I can see dirt flying everywhere - divots flying up from the loose dirt. Looks like a bomb site. I take time, empty the mag, and shoot 5 of the milling goats - one in the head and 4 in the neck. No misses - its a good fence post. And finally in the chaos old Rocky hit one - blew it half apart with his big caliber. We finish shooting and walk down valley and up to the shooting zone. Looks bit like a ploughed field - no idea how many rounds he put into it. He looks at my 5 - all neck and head shots as requested, and looks at his. Carnage. Not a word. Then he notices one I've shot is half grown and he says - 'you didn't have to shoot the young one.' Didn't bother to answer. Bit later the tractor and trailer arrives and the boys pick up the carcases - his one pretty useless. Mate asks how did old Rocky go - so I told him!! Very quietly.

Trip home was funny - no-one said much - Rocky's a big bugger. But everyone's chuckling and sniggering. And old Rocky never said a word. Didn't have to. Never saw him again... The world's worst shot!!