NormGunston
09-04-07, 06:41 PM
An urgent tap on the shoulder from our guide changed daydream to reality as I followed his pointed finger to a large red doe that had "materialised" only 20 metres away from the blind. Time stopped. The world, except for that doe and I, did not exist. I willed her to show me the sweet spot and she obliged. "20 metres- red pin" echoed through my mind like a mantra. I have no recollection of the shot other than watching the arrow fly, as if in slow motion, toward the doe. A dull thud. She jack-knifed and my eyes locked on her white rump heading fast for parts unknown. A little adrenalin-powered hoot escaped from somewhere deep down in me- a place of uncountable hunting visualisations. I had shot my first deer.
So began a five-day hunt with XTFreak on a property in southeast S.A. We had planned the excursion some months in advance and chose the outfit after a recommendation from PeterM. Considering the scarcity of opportunities I had to hunt in Australia, our limited time frame and the distances we had to travel, the likelihood of success with the guided option was very appealing. Tucker and shelter at the property were adequate- yarning with mates, native wildlife, beautiful bush, and stars was superb food for the soul. Back to the hunt.
"Hey ANT! Over HERE!!" yelled Bill. Bill always yells. We'd been going around in circles looking for any signs of a blood trail and meanwhile the doe had gone to Disneyland amongst a fallen tree. Blood everywhere. And there- right in front of me, with two large holes from a pass through lung shot, was my deer. From dreams to reality!
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Firstdeer.jpg
Doe. A deer. A female deer.
The guide was waving a menacing knife at me indicating my hands-on involvement in How To Gut Your First Deer. Back at the cabin, like my daughter unwrapping a Christmas present, he had the skin off in no time. Butchering inspired devious plans for a curry feast, as tenderloins and backstraps were hung up to cool.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/BillonHill.jpg
XTFreak showing New York determination.
Day 2. Wild Bill had since shot his big red droptine stag and was now shouting a lot about a one-horned fallow stag which had proven to be much smarter than both he and the guide. The Freak showed he truly suffers for his art by literally stalking the skin from his knees in pursuit of the elusive critter.
I was blessed with a new appreciation of the term pins-and-needles while kneeling, squatting, sitting and writhing in agony waiting alone in blind no. 2. Tree-racked red stags strode confidently by on their way to water. I practise-drew on a few. Tempting as they were, horned critters had a considerable price attached and as Wild Bill's pappy used to say, "You can't eat the horns." I kept telling myself, You Slay- You Pay. This trip was for meat deer only.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Landscape.jpg
"Don't fence me in" Free range.
Day three. Numerous deer meant I could enrol in an accelerated-learning course in stalking. During one lesson, I quite literally became "one with nature" by learning to cut some brush for use as mobile cover. Holding the brush in front, this trick enabled me to move undetected over the open ground between mallee clumps. I used this method to skewer the second red doe from 35 meters, which ran a short way and expired very quickly.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Seconddeer.jpg
Doe down.
Meat to share, memories to sustain me. I was truly satisfied... almost. And I'm sure it wasn't the large, boastable, soon-to-be-mounted droptine rack of Freaky's drying on the fence that made me want to take a memento back to Japan. I wanted a fallow skin, very much. Day 4 however, passed uneventfully. Uneventful except for popping two self-inflating bunnies which headed directly for the subterranean morgue. One took my arrow as a souvenier of his experience.
Day 5. Ever woken ungroggy, totally awake, ready to go? No? Well either had I until the last morning. Shorts on, kitted up. Everything was layed out in preparation. Damn! Too dark to see. Poised, watching the horizon for the first shafts of light. I was standing at the fence only metres from the cabin. What's... that? No, can't be. Two ghostly blobs were moving in the gloom and making their way towards the open ground in front of me. Suprisingly, my Nikon rangefinder worked in the dim light and read 30 metres. Whump- a shot of adrenaline worked it's way through me as I recognised them as two young fallow does I had stalked the previous day. Whump! Whump! Legs officially shaking with a magnitude of 7.0 on the Richter scale. Gradually, the rising sun illuminated a yearling fallow weaving back and forth before me searching for any blades of grass spared by the drought. I tried some deep breaths without effect between drawing on her three times while waiting for a shot, incredulous of how I was able to get away with so much movement. ASAT works. Finally, at 25 meters, I let the same shaft fly that I had shot the other two deer with. The doe did the crazy three-step dance of death and was at peace a couple of metres later. Another pass through. Who said hunting had to be hard work?!
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Thriddeer.jpg
Bill. BILL! Wake UP! Something to show you.
Pretty happy with the trip. I must thank all of the members on this site that have given me so much priceless advice over the short time I have been a member and especially XTFreak for his loud, brutally honest wisdom and mateship.
Stay tuned while I turn the above photos into gastranomic wonders that will surely have you covering your keyboard in drool.
My name is Norm and I'm a curry addict. Curry the bu##ery out of anything. Now, I know that many will argue that venison tastes great without any additives, which is true, but spicing things up adds a little magic.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Cury.jpg
While the curry was simmering, I started drying jerky in Mum's oven. Had to rush it a bit before the Jumbo whizzed us back to Sushiland.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Jerky.jpg
And the piece de la resistance- a BBQ at my cousins- kebabs with bacon and without, both a la naturel and CURRIED... too good to be true. Steaks done to perfection. The stuff of great memories.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/BBQ.jpg
So began a five-day hunt with XTFreak on a property in southeast S.A. We had planned the excursion some months in advance and chose the outfit after a recommendation from PeterM. Considering the scarcity of opportunities I had to hunt in Australia, our limited time frame and the distances we had to travel, the likelihood of success with the guided option was very appealing. Tucker and shelter at the property were adequate- yarning with mates, native wildlife, beautiful bush, and stars was superb food for the soul. Back to the hunt.
"Hey ANT! Over HERE!!" yelled Bill. Bill always yells. We'd been going around in circles looking for any signs of a blood trail and meanwhile the doe had gone to Disneyland amongst a fallen tree. Blood everywhere. And there- right in front of me, with two large holes from a pass through lung shot, was my deer. From dreams to reality!
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Firstdeer.jpg
Doe. A deer. A female deer.
The guide was waving a menacing knife at me indicating my hands-on involvement in How To Gut Your First Deer. Back at the cabin, like my daughter unwrapping a Christmas present, he had the skin off in no time. Butchering inspired devious plans for a curry feast, as tenderloins and backstraps were hung up to cool.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/BillonHill.jpg
XTFreak showing New York determination.
Day 2. Wild Bill had since shot his big red droptine stag and was now shouting a lot about a one-horned fallow stag which had proven to be much smarter than both he and the guide. The Freak showed he truly suffers for his art by literally stalking the skin from his knees in pursuit of the elusive critter.
I was blessed with a new appreciation of the term pins-and-needles while kneeling, squatting, sitting and writhing in agony waiting alone in blind no. 2. Tree-racked red stags strode confidently by on their way to water. I practise-drew on a few. Tempting as they were, horned critters had a considerable price attached and as Wild Bill's pappy used to say, "You can't eat the horns." I kept telling myself, You Slay- You Pay. This trip was for meat deer only.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Landscape.jpg
"Don't fence me in" Free range.
Day three. Numerous deer meant I could enrol in an accelerated-learning course in stalking. During one lesson, I quite literally became "one with nature" by learning to cut some brush for use as mobile cover. Holding the brush in front, this trick enabled me to move undetected over the open ground between mallee clumps. I used this method to skewer the second red doe from 35 meters, which ran a short way and expired very quickly.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Seconddeer.jpg
Doe down.
Meat to share, memories to sustain me. I was truly satisfied... almost. And I'm sure it wasn't the large, boastable, soon-to-be-mounted droptine rack of Freaky's drying on the fence that made me want to take a memento back to Japan. I wanted a fallow skin, very much. Day 4 however, passed uneventfully. Uneventful except for popping two self-inflating bunnies which headed directly for the subterranean morgue. One took my arrow as a souvenier of his experience.
Day 5. Ever woken ungroggy, totally awake, ready to go? No? Well either had I until the last morning. Shorts on, kitted up. Everything was layed out in preparation. Damn! Too dark to see. Poised, watching the horizon for the first shafts of light. I was standing at the fence only metres from the cabin. What's... that? No, can't be. Two ghostly blobs were moving in the gloom and making their way towards the open ground in front of me. Suprisingly, my Nikon rangefinder worked in the dim light and read 30 metres. Whump- a shot of adrenaline worked it's way through me as I recognised them as two young fallow does I had stalked the previous day. Whump! Whump! Legs officially shaking with a magnitude of 7.0 on the Richter scale. Gradually, the rising sun illuminated a yearling fallow weaving back and forth before me searching for any blades of grass spared by the drought. I tried some deep breaths without effect between drawing on her three times while waiting for a shot, incredulous of how I was able to get away with so much movement. ASAT works. Finally, at 25 meters, I let the same shaft fly that I had shot the other two deer with. The doe did the crazy three-step dance of death and was at peace a couple of metres later. Another pass through. Who said hunting had to be hard work?!
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Thriddeer.jpg
Bill. BILL! Wake UP! Something to show you.
Pretty happy with the trip. I must thank all of the members on this site that have given me so much priceless advice over the short time I have been a member and especially XTFreak for his loud, brutally honest wisdom and mateship.
Stay tuned while I turn the above photos into gastranomic wonders that will surely have you covering your keyboard in drool.
My name is Norm and I'm a curry addict. Curry the bu##ery out of anything. Now, I know that many will argue that venison tastes great without any additives, which is true, but spicing things up adds a little magic.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Cury.jpg
While the curry was simmering, I started drying jerky in Mum's oven. Had to rush it a bit before the Jumbo whizzed us back to Sushiland.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/Jerky.jpg
And the piece de la resistance- a BBQ at my cousins- kebabs with bacon and without, both a la naturel and CURRIED... too good to be true. Steaks done to perfection. The stuff of great memories.
http://i38.photobucket.com/albums/e105/NormGunston/BBQ.jpg