Thread: Something a little different

As we snuck through the bush high above the Waimakariri River, I turned to Glen and our eyes conformed that we both had heard the same thing, some sticks and branches snapping as an unseen animal moved towards us under the Beech canopy. I lowered the bolt on my Brno 7mm08 and snuck towards the unsuspecting stag that surely was only seconds away from being shot by a young keen Lincoln University hunter; as we pared over the crest of the ridge I was disappointed to see a large Merino Ram with curly horns moving through the bush. We pulled back and both agreed that at this time of the year a roaring stag was on the menu and nothing else would do. We continued to hunt for the rest of the day without seeing another animal; as we returned to the hut we agreed that I'd pop back down the track bit and shoot the young wether lamb that we had seen first thing in the morning - so that we had something to show for the day! The lamb had disappeared and as I shuffled back to the hut I wondered why we didn't shoot the ram, after all he had quite good horns and neither of us had shot one before.
That was over twenty years ago and I had regretted that decision for quite some time! I'm lucky to go to the Chatham Islands for work, from time to time and it was on one of those that trips that I planned to go to Pitt Island to chase one of the wild merino rams that habitat the Island.
I jammed myself in a small Cessna plane with four other North Islanders and we fluttered our way to the grass strip that provides the quickest access to the Pitt Island paradise.
There's a number of Wild Sheep flocks on the Island, some are contained on farmed land, some are located on rugged costal cliffs and there's a number, along with some wild pigs, in a DOC reserve in the middle of the Island; these sheep are hunted by the Islanders for food and are managed under an agreement with the Department of Conservation. On the Saturday, after a night of darts and drinks (what else do you do on a Friday evening on a small Island) we set off to shoot a lamb for the nights meal. I managed to shoot a nice lamb and we dined in style that night on boil up!
The following day I started walking from the far end of the DOC reserve, with a plan to walk through the centre of the reserve and hopefully shoot a wild pig or a nice curly ram. I began my walk and stopped to glass from every vantage point, I eventually spied a mob of sheep around a couple of thousand yards away and the stalk began!

The wind was good and I edged my way towards the mob, constantly glassing to check that they were still there and planning my stalk and looking fo a good place to shoot from. I made my way to a spot within 200 yards and took some more photos and selected what I thought was the best ram in the group.

I was on a flat ridge and the grass was longer than was good to shoot off, I shuffled back and grabbed my gear and made a rest from my pack and a jacket, I lay my Tikka .308 over the pack/jacket stack and placed the cross hairs on the crease behind the rams shoulder.

I was relaxed as I could be and the ram of twenty years ago passed though my thoughts as I gently squeezed the trigger and the thump of a solid hit from the 130g TTSX reported back to me. The ram stumbled and eventually fell as the mob ran and stopped on a face to try and work out where the danger had come from, thats the beauty of a good suppressor and the Hardy Rifle Engineering one on my rifle had certainly done its job. I took some more photos and confirmed that I probably had not shot the biggest ram from that flock of sheep - that's great I thought, a really good reason to come back with my son one day soon.

I packed up all my gear and wandered over to inspect the trophy that I had waited twenty years for, I wasn't disappointed at the ram that lay before me; a gnarly head that would look good on my wall but more importantly remind me of the wonderful adventure I had on a self guided, solo, DOC hunt on a truly remarkable part of our wonderfull country.

I was with great sadness that I left to fly back to the main Chatham Island, but I couldn't stay for ever...