beyond
1st May 2006, 08:53
When we first started hunting, we were on this 1200 acre block
in Alfriston, South Auckland. We had shot a measly 30 or so
oppossums that night and around three bunnies and were heading back
over the hard climb to the ridge and then down the other side,
I had a pair of just below the knee, airforce training boots at
this stage, which were most uncomfortable for long distance tramps
and were replaced at a later stage. Thankfully, I was wearing them
this night as we faced up against monster number two. :gob:
I broached the ridgeline first, my mate following. As was our
custom, we would stop at the fenceline and scope out the valley before
us, with our spots, in order to pick up any likely suspects.
The likely suspects were easy to pick in the spot beam when they
looked at you. Bright red peepers staring back like a bunch of
hooch sucking vagrants with pink eye. :doobey:
We sorted out a mob of oppossums in some close by ponga trees and were
about to move down the slope to the valley floor, when about 130 metres
away, in a grove of kahikatea trees, a pink eyed vagrant stared back.
Beauty. A long shot. I leaned against the fence post and dropped the rifle
over my knee, keeping the spot fixed right on the suspect. 130 metres
is considered to be well out of range for the humble .22, but not in
my books. I aimed about six oppossum heights above the red eyes and let
a round rip. I saw the foliage through my nine power scope flick back
around one and a half oppossum heights below the creature. Adjusting aim,
I let rip another round to be rewarded with that, oh so familiar sound
of a hunk of four by two being whacked into a pillow. :)
The oppossum dropped and was hanging from a lower branch by it's tail.
I had the range sorted and smacked another round into it and this time
it hit the ground.
On the way down, we shot a few more vagrants and made our way to the
Kahikatea as I wanted to see where the rounds had copped the possy.
It was on it's back, legs spread out wide, a nice big buck. I prodded
it with my boot, as I was taught to do from hunting books, in case it was
alive and made for your shiny brights or other sensitve parts of the anatomy.
Well, welcome super oppossum from hell. The fiendish thingy immediately came to life, hssing and farting like you wouldn't believe and wrapped it's
humungous talons around my shin and thankfully the leather boots. I bogged
myself and my mate says, hold still while I shoot it. On your bike charlie.
No prats going to blow my foot off. :gob:
I'm dancing around like some spastic out of a dracula movie, with this blood soaked vampire eating possy hanging onto my foot. I'm kicking and and trying to shake it off but the bleeder wasn't going to let go. My mates flashing his spot wildly in all directions trying to take aim with his rifle and I think I was more scared of him trying to blow me foot off, than I was of the possy having lunch on my shin. :(
It must have looked like some weird abo dance. Here's me leaping up and down trying to shake this furry crampon off my foot and trying to turn my back to me mate, so he won't blow me foot off. In the end, I used the possy for just that. A tree climbing furry crampon. I whacked my foot into the tree as hard as I could and things started to go a bit squishy but it wasn't going to let go. The side of a cattle trough came next and still this orrible thing is hanging off my foot.
I didn't want to stop trying to squash it or stop trying to shake it off in case
it decided to climb my leg with the thought of it attaching itself permanently to my vitals, so I just kept jumping up and down on it.
Eventually, the mongrel released it's grip and we both shot the snot out of it.
My boots looked like they had been mauled by a sabre tooth tiger.
We had many experiences like this. So our friendly native bush is not as friendly as some would have you believe. That reminds me of the time ..... ...:zzzz:
in Alfriston, South Auckland. We had shot a measly 30 or so
oppossums that night and around three bunnies and were heading back
over the hard climb to the ridge and then down the other side,
I had a pair of just below the knee, airforce training boots at
this stage, which were most uncomfortable for long distance tramps
and were replaced at a later stage. Thankfully, I was wearing them
this night as we faced up against monster number two. :gob:
I broached the ridgeline first, my mate following. As was our
custom, we would stop at the fenceline and scope out the valley before
us, with our spots, in order to pick up any likely suspects.
The likely suspects were easy to pick in the spot beam when they
looked at you. Bright red peepers staring back like a bunch of
hooch sucking vagrants with pink eye. :doobey:
We sorted out a mob of oppossums in some close by ponga trees and were
about to move down the slope to the valley floor, when about 130 metres
away, in a grove of kahikatea trees, a pink eyed vagrant stared back.
Beauty. A long shot. I leaned against the fence post and dropped the rifle
over my knee, keeping the spot fixed right on the suspect. 130 metres
is considered to be well out of range for the humble .22, but not in
my books. I aimed about six oppossum heights above the red eyes and let
a round rip. I saw the foliage through my nine power scope flick back
around one and a half oppossum heights below the creature. Adjusting aim,
I let rip another round to be rewarded with that, oh so familiar sound
of a hunk of four by two being whacked into a pillow. :)
The oppossum dropped and was hanging from a lower branch by it's tail.
I had the range sorted and smacked another round into it and this time
it hit the ground.
On the way down, we shot a few more vagrants and made our way to the
Kahikatea as I wanted to see where the rounds had copped the possy.
It was on it's back, legs spread out wide, a nice big buck. I prodded
it with my boot, as I was taught to do from hunting books, in case it was
alive and made for your shiny brights or other sensitve parts of the anatomy.
Well, welcome super oppossum from hell. The fiendish thingy immediately came to life, hssing and farting like you wouldn't believe and wrapped it's
humungous talons around my shin and thankfully the leather boots. I bogged
myself and my mate says, hold still while I shoot it. On your bike charlie.
No prats going to blow my foot off. :gob:
I'm dancing around like some spastic out of a dracula movie, with this blood soaked vampire eating possy hanging onto my foot. I'm kicking and and trying to shake it off but the bleeder wasn't going to let go. My mates flashing his spot wildly in all directions trying to take aim with his rifle and I think I was more scared of him trying to blow me foot off, than I was of the possy having lunch on my shin. :(
It must have looked like some weird abo dance. Here's me leaping up and down trying to shake this furry crampon off my foot and trying to turn my back to me mate, so he won't blow me foot off. In the end, I used the possy for just that. A tree climbing furry crampon. I whacked my foot into the tree as hard as I could and things started to go a bit squishy but it wasn't going to let go. The side of a cattle trough came next and still this orrible thing is hanging off my foot.
I didn't want to stop trying to squash it or stop trying to shake it off in case
it decided to climb my leg with the thought of it attaching itself permanently to my vitals, so I just kept jumping up and down on it.
Eventually, the mongrel released it's grip and we both shot the snot out of it.
My boots looked like they had been mauled by a sabre tooth tiger.
We had many experiences like this. So our friendly native bush is not as friendly as some would have you believe. That reminds me of the time ..... ...:zzzz: