by Wapiti » 25 Aug 2024, 7:49 pm
I was just thinking about some of the weird - and sometimes hilarious, things that have happened to me when going on hunting trips. Even the trip out itself can make for some interesting memories that can pop up from time to time.
A mate Craig came out and helped me do some two-person jobs out in the paddock this week (damn hay shed construction!) and for some strange reason we were talking about hunting and some of the crazy things that we have experienced when we have been hunting together. One in particular just makes us burst out laughing when we talk about it.
First though, a bit of background as to how we got in that position in the first place.
We'd drive from our place to some friends joints, where for some reason the topography favoured some huge pigs, which we were most interested in at the time because we'd been busting these boars smashing ewes to knock them around enough so they couldn't protect their lambs. Consequently they'd take the lambs and munch on them. We'd track where they were coming from through fence holes, spot the wool-filled droppings and pretty much figure out their patterns. We spent long nights sitting over oat paddocks waiting for these clever old buggers to come out from the scrub.
During the day, instead of sitting in the quarters we'd sit on a few hills we had distances recorded for some heavy rifles we had set up for this purpose. These rifles were a 300RUM and a 300WM, not with target bullets but 165 to 180gn hunting bullets that we knew shot very accurately and hit really hard at distance, because these boars had shoulder shields up to 50mm thick. I'm not talking about some of the crazy stuff on the internet, this was max 400m, a distance we set ourselves as maximum.
This wasn't hunting, we'd do that with lighter rifles before dawn and until dark, with that in-between.
These hills overlooked dams where the pigs would emerge from holes in the fence between say, 11am to 2pm, to cover the about 500m from the scrub to the dam to have their mid-day drink, as pigs have to do especially when it's hot. The sows with suckers and younger boars were always wary, testing the wind along the way for danger, but the big boars we were after were something else. They would stand in the edge of the scrub for ages, sniffing and just "feeling": if everything was normal first. If anything was up, they'd never come out.
We used to put baits out to attract them, to pull them up so we could take a shot if it was what we were targeting. We'd use cull roos, goats or whatever, always fresh animals from the day before, as you do. The sows and younger males would stop no worries, especially the sows who were always desperate for a feed from the little piglets sucking the life out of them. But the old boars, no way. If they smelled a fresh kill on the way across open ground to get to the water, they'd just bolt as if someone belted them with a stick.
We thought, maybe it's our scent on the kill, the bait isn't stinky enough to mask our scent, or the smell of diesel fumes, we tried everything to keep that off the bait but it would drive them off and they would remember too. Because we didn't have a lot of time, we didn't have old smelly baits to use.
So we thought, what about roadkill? We were keen that's for sure, nothing was too much trouble.
So, on the Bruxner Hwy between Tenterfield and Bonshaw, in the middle of the night, from 10pm because we couldn't get out any earlier, we'd hit the picks if we saw a "midrange" (age wise) roadkill roo that was big enough. Sometimes we'd stop for nothing, they'd be too rotten to hang on the ute's rear rack, they'd tear through the hooks. Anyway, as silly and crazy as it sounds, we got some good pigs with these baits. We didn't go anywhere without blue rubber gloves.
So that's the explanation as to why we were doing this. Anyway, to the funny part.
This one night, it was winter, clear and bloody cold, and probably 11pm. We'd stopped, and were lifting this big roo up to the hooks when a vehicle came over the rise with spotties on just as we were doing it. That occasionally happened and the vehicles kept on past, god knows what the occupants thought. Two guys with blue gloves on, loading roadkill, wearing head torches and the roo-rack floodlight on.
Anyway, this time, this vehicle stopped, not behind us, but stayed in the left lane, with the passengers door window lined up with the back of the ute. It was then we saw the super reflective sign all along the doors, POLICE.
We look at the two coppers inside, lit up with our headlamps. They squinted, but didn't say anything straight away. This is how it went.
"G'day guys" The cops said, "G'day" back.
"How are you going?" "Yeah, pretty good"
One copper says, "You blokes alright?"
"Yeah, we're good thanks. Just about to get going again".
"OK then, just watch where you pull up, make sure people coming up behind you can see you for plenty of distance, use your hazard lights".
"Ah yeah, good tip. Thanks for that"
OK then, have fun fellas" And they drove off.
We pissed ourselves laughing, and still do. I wonder what discussion they had after they drove off. Because they never asked. True story.
Now, that was almost exactly the same spot where at least 20 years earlier, I had to pull up in my old WB Holden ute, going to visit my mates at the same joint, in the middle of the night because of this loud TAP, TAP, TAP which turned out to be an engine issue where a solid lifter blocked the oil flow to the adjustable tappets on this Stage 5 Yella Terra head I'd fitted, and the rocker stud was cut through by the hardened rocker arm which came off. On the side of the road I had to take off the rocker cover, take out the two pushrods (one bent), take off the rockers and drive it as a 5 cylinder. I still went hunting that weekend, and that ute still cruised at 100kmh without a drama on 5. Tip: Leave the spark plug in, and just take off the plug lead from the dizzy.
Forgive the long story, I hope it was entertaining. Anybody else have any good stories?