Thread: What old farts do for an afternoon...

Some play bingo. Some go to the movies. And some energetic ones belong to walking groups.

But these ones hunt.

So, Brian and I cranked up the vintage Nissan yesterday and headed for the hills yesterday to enjoy a night out the way we like it. Floundering around in the scrub in the middle of the night...

We arrived at the hut at about 1pm and by 3pm we were where wanted to hunt and settled into the glassing of the opposite face. The sun was out but there was a stiff breeze and the slips and grassy areas were showing the signs of a tough winter. Our hopes of seeing a deer plummeted. But there are always pigs. And it was 6 pigs that Brian spotted going up a clear area across from us. 4 little black ones, a bigger ginger sow and bigger still white one (likely a boar). We ranged them at 425yds. Muggins me decided to have a shot at the white one. All I can say is that they are likely still running, and in hindsight I was silly having a shot in the that wind. So we upped stakes and moved on.

We looked into a lot of bare and baron country but old buggers are the eternal optimists so we hunted on. Earlier on we had spotted an area a long way off that looked to have a bit more feed on it so as we came over a knob I roughly glassed over there and immediately saw a deer. And then 3. All around 1100 yards away and very difficult to get at. So we had a little council of war and devised a plan - which wasn't a plan at all, it was "lets see if we can get closer".

I ranged the closest one again and it was 800 yards, and ranged a bare knob in the bush that we could get to that was on the same straight line and 300 yards away so I figured if we could get there it would be a 500 yard shot. And that's how it worked out.

There was quite a bit of fluffing around because firstly we had to get settled for a long range shot and secondly the hind that was there disappeared. Then reappeared with a yearling, and then they both disappeared. It was 4.30pm.

So we lay there playing a waiting game. This face was a completely different story for deer because it had some growth on it and we actually saw 7 deer on it, but the clearing we were watching was the only spot within range.

We kept looking back where we had seem the 2 deer and where we were set up for, and out of the blue I spotted a stag. When you are 70-ish nothing happens smoothly or quickly. On 15 power I couldn't see the thing. But could on 12. Brian couldn't get his eye relief right, but did eventually. We couldn't do a count down and both fire because Brian had lost a hearing aid and couldn't hear. The deer kept moving and so did the range so we were shouting back and forth to each other with new range readings. What a hoot!

Eventually the stag settled at 475 yards, we were settled, and we had a plan. Brian would fire when he was ready and I would fire as soon after as I could...

The 2 booms from our 270wsm's were almost as one and a double "whop" echoed back to us. I saw the stag bolt straight down off the steep slip and disappear into the bush. We were confident.

So began the epic old farts night out. We were in a shit of a place, and the deer was in a shit of a place. Between us was a very steep sided gully, a gorged creek and a steep face of scrub with very poor land marks. And it was getting dark. Fortunately we had our guide dogs with us though.

It took us about an hour to get into the main creek and around about where we needed to cut up. Another hour and we hadn't found the little clearing, and it was well dark. We decided to sidle through the scrub, and after 30 mins we came out high and on a clear ridge. We sat down and had a strategy meeting. "Its another 1.5 hrs back to the hut from here. F..k this, lets come back in the morning". So I hauled my maxtoch out of my pack for the walk home, stood up, and scanned where we had come up from...and the beam fell on the clearing we had been looking for. 100 yards below us and several hundred yards back around the way we had come. Bugger. But old farts don't give in.

30mins later we stepped onto a steep little slip where maybe the deer had been. We weren't sure. The dogs weren't sure either. And no blood. We dropped down 25 yards and still no interest from the dogs. I looked down, and there was the slightest drop of blood. You beauty!

From here we knew we had to look down hill. The scrub was shit, and it was steep. It was 8.30pm and dark. Brian dropped down angling to the left with his dog, and I dropped down more to the right. Nothing. I dropped down some more, and Tilly (my guide dog for the aged and infirm) suddenly stopped with her nose in the air. She wanted to siddle to the right, so I followed. 25 yards later she stopped and winded up hill. I got in behind her and looked, and there on a steep ledge in the scrub was our stag. "I've found it" I shouted out to Brian "What's that", he replied. Next volume up "I said I've found it". "Oh good, I will come up".



Brian duly arrived and we tied a rope around the stags antlers in case it took off down hill when we rolled onto a spot to butcher it. On inspection it had a perfect shot through the middle of the shoulder, and another a little lower under it. Good on you old timers - take a bow.

It was a bit tricky butchering it on the side of the hill but we got to work in our usual fashion. I took the back steaks out and handed them to Brian. He put one each into the pillow cases. Then Brian helped man handle the stag so that I could get a hind leg off, which he took and hung in a tree. Then he came back and we repeated the HQ thing. Then Brian boned the HQ's and made up the 2 loads equally while I fluffed around cutting the stags skull off and feeding the dogs venison. The front shoulder were properly munted. We then made up our loads, packed up, and struggled into our packs.

Brian




Tilly


For old farts who should not really be carrying anything heavier than a picnic lunch, a HQ each and backsteak plus all of our gear and a head in the middle of the night up a shitty steep face is a bit of a challenge. But because Brian and I have done it together at least 100 times before and often with bigger loads in worse paces, we were up for it. Sure, on the way up Brian arsed up when a bank gave in and he rolled off down the hill with a thump. But we are made of tough stuff. Sort of dried wrinkly skin like elephants and the stubbornness of a mule.

When we broke back into the clear after about an hour we decided to hang the meat and head up and come back in the morning. We got back to the hut at after 10pm, had a snack and a cuppa, and slept like tops until the alarm went off at 5.30am this morning.

The meat is now in our respective fridges. My gear is unpacked and put away, and my body has that dull aching feeling that only an old fart who has put himself to the test knows and can appreciate.

Love your yarns Bruce , hope im still out there doing it at least half as much as you are down the track.
Cheers

Excellent stuff

Good work.

What a couple of bloody legends your both an inspiration

Your an animal mate! Love the yarn. What an epic day out there doing it

As many have already mentioned your an inspiration and i always love to read your stories. Wish you many more years of happy hunting ahead.

very good read

Epic read again, well done "old farts"

Gold, absolute gold!

God i pitty the other poor old buggers in the rest home if you both end up in there together. Just Imagine the yarns that get told - 99% of the others wouldnt believe them, but we know they are true!

Top effort, im always extremerly envious of you old buggers (and young buggers) that are free from family commitments that im right in the middle of ;-)

Great yarn @Tahr. Nicely done. Cheers

What a bloody ripper I love the way you tell your story.
It's almost like being there.

Sent from my CPH1903 using Tapatalk

Originally Posted by GWH

Gold, absolute gold!

God i pitty the other poor old buggers in the rest home if you both end up in there together. Just Imagine the yarns that get told - 99% of the others wouldnt believe them, but we know they are true!

Top effort, im always extremerly envious of you old buggers (and young buggers) that are free from family commitments that im right in the middle of ;-)

This is the reward that you will reap too.

@Tahr is Tilly a Brittany or a Springer? She looks lovely.

Your story put a smile on my face... thanks ��