Memo
12-02-07, 07:47 PM
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v667/memo48/CopyofBillys.jpg
The obsession with taking one of these billies started many years ago. Being a young fella and wanting a good sized billy took priority over one of the hornless or polled goats. As the years went by, I had managed a few good goats from other areas. It was just a fact that the goats on this certain property didn’t have good enough genetics for really big horns. At first there was only one or two poleys around, it became apparent that those boys had done all right with the girls, and there was more and more polled billies running around. Some of them were huge muscular brutes, larger than any other billies on the property. Others were normal size, but they all had a head on them like a dropped pie.
It was during my HSC year, and I was glad for a break and went hunting with my dad and Jeff Rankmore. Once we got up the hill we spotted a group of billies. After sussing them out with the bino’s, there was one good one around 105pts and another mongrel head with only one horn that was shaped like a snorkel. It grew around his ear and along his jaw. Either one of these would do me.
Dad split up from us and went looking for other goats, and left Jeff and myself to have a crack at these boys. They were grazing along so we cut around in front of them and tried a bit of an ambush. They were feeding past us at around 20m and we had set up behind some granite boulders. Unfortunately neither of us could get a clear shot the two we were after, so we let them go past.
Once they had moved out of range, we scooted around to get in front again and set up another ambush. Unfortunately the wind swung around and a sneezing and staring started from the mob. They decided that they didn’t want to hang around and took off. We tried again to intercept them, but they took a turn somewhere and we couldn’t relocate them.
We headed down the mountain, thinking they might have gone into the thick stands of bracken and briars that grew there. On the way down Jeff and I walked past where I had shot one of the polled billies six months earlier. It was in a huge bracken patch twice the size of a footy field, and we had come across a mob of billies bedded down in the chewing cud in the bracken. I shot a polled billy in the shoulder and he took off away from the rest of the goats. After 10 minutes of searching I saw a flash of white only five meters in front of me, as he got up and took off again. As I reached where he had been bedded, I found my arrow. It had only penetrated as far as the broadhead, and come out. It must have hit him fair on the shoulder. There was only a tiny bit of blood on the broadhead, so it looked as though he would live to fight another day.
After searching the gullies for an hour or so, a bleat snapped me back to reality, and we made a beeline towards the sound. It turned out to be a nanny and kid, and we were about to keep moving, when we spotted a polled billy following them.
We quickly made our way downhill to them and got in front of them on the game trail. Just as I got there, the nanny and kid came out of some wattles and stopped dead, the nanny looked at me and the doubled back into the wattle. Just as that happened, the billy came out of the wattles and looked at me. He took off straight away, but ran past me along the trail at ten meters.
No time to think, I just drew the old Proline compound back, followed him and released. The ribtek hit him behind the near shoulder and out in front of the far shoulder, with only the fletching still in him. He slowed down straight away, and I quickly put another one in behind his shoulder again. He fell down, gave a kick and that was it.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v667/memo48/PollBilly.jpg
I couldn’t believe I had just got one of the poleys, after four years of hunting the property, I had finally got one. During the photo session, we noticed some scabs on his head from where he had butted heads with other goats. Banging heads mustn’t tickle for goats at the best of times, but to take on another when you don’t have any horns….that’s got to hurt! After the photo session, I took the head with to boil out the skull for an unusual trophy, and we headed off on the long walk back to the car.
On the way we were getting pretty tired, and Jeff slipped over on a steep part of the hillside. This was in the middle of a soak, so if you could imagine him sliding down the hill like he was on a slip’n’slide at a great rate of knots, and me just looking at him knackered, not caring if he slid the 5kms back to the car. Luckily for Jeff he stopped after 30metres, with only a sore hip, a soaking swandri, and a part in the next “Cool Runnings” movie.
We eventually made it back to the car where dad was waiting; he had scored a nanny goat. So it had been a good day between dads, goat, Jeff’s bobsledding and at last one of the more unusual trophies I would ever take.
That was over 14 years ago, and the goats have now been shot due to a change in property ownership and they also had footrot. But I'll always remember the day that I rolled a polled billy.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v667/memo48/Poll2.jpg
The obsession with taking one of these billies started many years ago. Being a young fella and wanting a good sized billy took priority over one of the hornless or polled goats. As the years went by, I had managed a few good goats from other areas. It was just a fact that the goats on this certain property didn’t have good enough genetics for really big horns. At first there was only one or two poleys around, it became apparent that those boys had done all right with the girls, and there was more and more polled billies running around. Some of them were huge muscular brutes, larger than any other billies on the property. Others were normal size, but they all had a head on them like a dropped pie.
It was during my HSC year, and I was glad for a break and went hunting with my dad and Jeff Rankmore. Once we got up the hill we spotted a group of billies. After sussing them out with the bino’s, there was one good one around 105pts and another mongrel head with only one horn that was shaped like a snorkel. It grew around his ear and along his jaw. Either one of these would do me.
Dad split up from us and went looking for other goats, and left Jeff and myself to have a crack at these boys. They were grazing along so we cut around in front of them and tried a bit of an ambush. They were feeding past us at around 20m and we had set up behind some granite boulders. Unfortunately neither of us could get a clear shot the two we were after, so we let them go past.
Once they had moved out of range, we scooted around to get in front again and set up another ambush. Unfortunately the wind swung around and a sneezing and staring started from the mob. They decided that they didn’t want to hang around and took off. We tried again to intercept them, but they took a turn somewhere and we couldn’t relocate them.
We headed down the mountain, thinking they might have gone into the thick stands of bracken and briars that grew there. On the way down Jeff and I walked past where I had shot one of the polled billies six months earlier. It was in a huge bracken patch twice the size of a footy field, and we had come across a mob of billies bedded down in the chewing cud in the bracken. I shot a polled billy in the shoulder and he took off away from the rest of the goats. After 10 minutes of searching I saw a flash of white only five meters in front of me, as he got up and took off again. As I reached where he had been bedded, I found my arrow. It had only penetrated as far as the broadhead, and come out. It must have hit him fair on the shoulder. There was only a tiny bit of blood on the broadhead, so it looked as though he would live to fight another day.
After searching the gullies for an hour or so, a bleat snapped me back to reality, and we made a beeline towards the sound. It turned out to be a nanny and kid, and we were about to keep moving, when we spotted a polled billy following them.
We quickly made our way downhill to them and got in front of them on the game trail. Just as I got there, the nanny and kid came out of some wattles and stopped dead, the nanny looked at me and the doubled back into the wattle. Just as that happened, the billy came out of the wattles and looked at me. He took off straight away, but ran past me along the trail at ten meters.
No time to think, I just drew the old Proline compound back, followed him and released. The ribtek hit him behind the near shoulder and out in front of the far shoulder, with only the fletching still in him. He slowed down straight away, and I quickly put another one in behind his shoulder again. He fell down, gave a kick and that was it.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v667/memo48/PollBilly.jpg
I couldn’t believe I had just got one of the poleys, after four years of hunting the property, I had finally got one. During the photo session, we noticed some scabs on his head from where he had butted heads with other goats. Banging heads mustn’t tickle for goats at the best of times, but to take on another when you don’t have any horns….that’s got to hurt! After the photo session, I took the head with to boil out the skull for an unusual trophy, and we headed off on the long walk back to the car.
On the way we were getting pretty tired, and Jeff slipped over on a steep part of the hillside. This was in the middle of a soak, so if you could imagine him sliding down the hill like he was on a slip’n’slide at a great rate of knots, and me just looking at him knackered, not caring if he slid the 5kms back to the car. Luckily for Jeff he stopped after 30metres, with only a sore hip, a soaking swandri, and a part in the next “Cool Runnings” movie.
We eventually made it back to the car where dad was waiting; he had scored a nanny goat. So it had been a good day between dads, goat, Jeff’s bobsledding and at last one of the more unusual trophies I would ever take.
That was over 14 years ago, and the goats have now been shot due to a change in property ownership and they also had footrot. But I'll always remember the day that I rolled a polled billy.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v667/memo48/Poll2.jpg