The goal for summer was simple - go old school. Shoot a deer on public land, in the bush, wearing a black singlet and stubbies. No need to cover up every bright white-boy pre-Christmas tee shirt tan limb. The black singlet selection was straight forward - back of the draw, 6 year old warehouse $9.95 special. The go to for crappy weekend jobs. The stubbies, as it turned out, were a technical fail. Turns out chaffing is a very real thing. So - Huntech shorts for the win. Well, close enough.
Grunting up the steep main ridge a few hours in, things weren’t going to plan. The wind had streamed down into the valley on the walk in, swirling 360 degrees and stuffing up stalking. A couple of heavy weeks at work and an early start - the slog was bearing down on me. Quietly, the urge to hurl was building. “Only twenty minutes to camp” I thought. I can make it. Off with the long sleeved fleece top, releasing trapped heat, and revealing the mighty black singlet. Kai, my faithful indicating dog, seemed suitably impressed and enthusiastically bounded up the steep track.
The crisp wind was heaving down the slope into our faces as we crested the ridge into the grass covered punga belt. We’d spooked deer here before, like the one feeding ten paces in front of us. A quick weave with the red dot around a sapling in front of us, shoulder locked, the Browning barked. Down she went. They are such graceful creatures.
And there it was. Goal achieved. And more importantly, the scientific fact proven. beyond all reasonable doubt.
Black is the new camo.
Christmas bbq sorted.
Hung for a day skin on in the cold wind, set beautifully.
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