macka
29-01-06, 10:35 PM
YEARS FINAL, By Casey McCallum
With 2005 coming to an end and all the celebrations well underway it was time to get in as much hunting in before the New Year took over. It didn’t look like my mate Simon and I were going to get out after goats again until, “what about Christmas Eve?” “Yes I’m free” So it was decided that Christmas eve it was.
With the excitement of another adventure in the bush, sleep was hard to come by that night but morning finally came and I was up bright and early. I poked my head in my brother’s room and woke him. It didn’t take long and we were in the triton cruising north towards Quorn in the flinders rangers. Although home to thousands of goats mustering and trapping pressure means finding a good Billy is hard work but always makes it all the more rewarding when you finally crack one.
Driving along the dirt I was half daydreaming, wondering what the days hunting would bring when I was snapped out of it by a big roo trying his hardest to make himself my bulbar warmer. Luckily I was able to miss him but it kept my eyes open for the rest of the trip.
It seemed like dezavu as we pulled into Simons driveway as we had only done so a couple weeks earlier. He wasn’t far off being ready and with his Pierson packed in my Ute it was only another 15 minutes down the road until we pulled up and started walking.
As the familiar smells and noises of being back in the bush flowed through my senses it rekindled that feeling I get every time I am in the bush and one I hope I never loose. The red gums alive with bees and honeyeaters as well as the cheeky kookaburras. They shaded our walk out into the rugged hills of the flinders rangers and made the walk quite pleasant and with the excitement of maybe stumbling into a mob of goats the hunt had well and truly started.
We made it into a gully where we have never missed out on there being goats. We could see a few little coloured dots right up on the tops of some massive ridges but we were shocked with the amount of game about, well lack of. Three weeks earlier you could have counted 300 goats from our position and we were lucky to count ten. We then figured that the neighbour must have done another muster.
With our spirits dwindling we made our way up the ridge trying to get the wind right on the mob of nannies we were putting a stalk on. We were getting a fair way up the hill when I happened to glance across and there not 60m away I saw a big multi coloured Billy and better yet he has some nice horns spiralling out from him. A closer look and there was about ten Billies and some not bad heads in amongst them.
We pushed out way back through the scrub the way we had came and made our way up on top of the hill to come in above them. Dylan stayed back up on top as Simon and myself stalked in. We were stumbling over the loose rocks desperately looking for movement in the bushes in front of us. A snapping branch gave them away to our left and I searched for the big Billy as some smaller goats fed within ten metres of us. I thought he must be here somewhere as I felt the wind swirl onto the back of my neck and they bolted.
All we could do was watch them run down, across the open gully and then up the biggest steepest scrubbiest hill on the place. We sat and had a bit of a rest then started the decent from our comfortable vantage point into the gully, which left us looking up at this monster of a hill. We slowly crawled up the hill and wondered how the goats made it up so fast. Once on the top we were instantly punched in the face with the smell of rutting Billies. A quick look over the ridge and we could see the goats we were after about 90m down on the other side of the ridge.
With arrows at the ready my little Bowtech Tomcat shook in my hand as we made our way down the hill towards them. It wasn’t hard to get within 15m but finding my Billy was proving a challenge. Then for some unknown reason the goats just started trotting off to our left with the big Billy in the lead. I took up the tension on my release aide and saw the razor sharp outback hunter stop just before my prong rest. I had a sight on the Billies back as he was angling away to me and I sent the razor tipped carbon on its way. The shot smashed the goat’s spine before entering his boiler room and he only managed to roll down the hill.
Every rock he bounced off I flinched hoping he didn’t damage his horns. Finally as the beast came to a halt in between some rocks I stumbled down the hill to inspect the trophy. My first impression was his impressive body size. He would have to be the biggest bodied goat I have ever shot and his horns weren’t bad ether. Running the tape over them they made 30 inches and 100dp neat. What a way to spent Christmas eve!
And the best way i could think of to finish off 2005.
http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b255/Mackadebowhunter/P1030155.jpg
With 2005 coming to an end and all the celebrations well underway it was time to get in as much hunting in before the New Year took over. It didn’t look like my mate Simon and I were going to get out after goats again until, “what about Christmas Eve?” “Yes I’m free” So it was decided that Christmas eve it was.
With the excitement of another adventure in the bush, sleep was hard to come by that night but morning finally came and I was up bright and early. I poked my head in my brother’s room and woke him. It didn’t take long and we were in the triton cruising north towards Quorn in the flinders rangers. Although home to thousands of goats mustering and trapping pressure means finding a good Billy is hard work but always makes it all the more rewarding when you finally crack one.
Driving along the dirt I was half daydreaming, wondering what the days hunting would bring when I was snapped out of it by a big roo trying his hardest to make himself my bulbar warmer. Luckily I was able to miss him but it kept my eyes open for the rest of the trip.
It seemed like dezavu as we pulled into Simons driveway as we had only done so a couple weeks earlier. He wasn’t far off being ready and with his Pierson packed in my Ute it was only another 15 minutes down the road until we pulled up and started walking.
As the familiar smells and noises of being back in the bush flowed through my senses it rekindled that feeling I get every time I am in the bush and one I hope I never loose. The red gums alive with bees and honeyeaters as well as the cheeky kookaburras. They shaded our walk out into the rugged hills of the flinders rangers and made the walk quite pleasant and with the excitement of maybe stumbling into a mob of goats the hunt had well and truly started.
We made it into a gully where we have never missed out on there being goats. We could see a few little coloured dots right up on the tops of some massive ridges but we were shocked with the amount of game about, well lack of. Three weeks earlier you could have counted 300 goats from our position and we were lucky to count ten. We then figured that the neighbour must have done another muster.
With our spirits dwindling we made our way up the ridge trying to get the wind right on the mob of nannies we were putting a stalk on. We were getting a fair way up the hill when I happened to glance across and there not 60m away I saw a big multi coloured Billy and better yet he has some nice horns spiralling out from him. A closer look and there was about ten Billies and some not bad heads in amongst them.
We pushed out way back through the scrub the way we had came and made our way up on top of the hill to come in above them. Dylan stayed back up on top as Simon and myself stalked in. We were stumbling over the loose rocks desperately looking for movement in the bushes in front of us. A snapping branch gave them away to our left and I searched for the big Billy as some smaller goats fed within ten metres of us. I thought he must be here somewhere as I felt the wind swirl onto the back of my neck and they bolted.
All we could do was watch them run down, across the open gully and then up the biggest steepest scrubbiest hill on the place. We sat and had a bit of a rest then started the decent from our comfortable vantage point into the gully, which left us looking up at this monster of a hill. We slowly crawled up the hill and wondered how the goats made it up so fast. Once on the top we were instantly punched in the face with the smell of rutting Billies. A quick look over the ridge and we could see the goats we were after about 90m down on the other side of the ridge.
With arrows at the ready my little Bowtech Tomcat shook in my hand as we made our way down the hill towards them. It wasn’t hard to get within 15m but finding my Billy was proving a challenge. Then for some unknown reason the goats just started trotting off to our left with the big Billy in the lead. I took up the tension on my release aide and saw the razor sharp outback hunter stop just before my prong rest. I had a sight on the Billies back as he was angling away to me and I sent the razor tipped carbon on its way. The shot smashed the goat’s spine before entering his boiler room and he only managed to roll down the hill.
Every rock he bounced off I flinched hoping he didn’t damage his horns. Finally as the beast came to a halt in between some rocks I stumbled down the hill to inspect the trophy. My first impression was his impressive body size. He would have to be the biggest bodied goat I have ever shot and his horns weren’t bad ether. Running the tape over them they made 30 inches and 100dp neat. What a way to spent Christmas eve!
And the best way i could think of to finish off 2005.
http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b255/Mackadebowhunter/P1030155.jpg