Curving It - Danny Bajt - 2010
Weather zone was showing me what I didn’t what to see, rain on Saturday. The property had received a fair amount of rain over the past few months and our previous attempt to get in were rejected due to the track being too boggy.
Recently we discovered the rest on my compound had been slowly packing it in, which explained some unusually shooting this year. Time to dust off the recurve, it had been a while since we spent a hunt together. I thought two goats would be a fair outcome if I could get close enough, time would tell.
I made a phone call on Friday afternoon just to confirm we were still on, I was pleased with the answer.
Arriving at the property I stepped out of the truck and felt the cool westerly on my face, and I’d already worked out my plan for the day before I gripped the hot cup of tea handed to me by the cocky.
Gaining height was easy as the truck cruised up the track towards the ridge. The rancid smell of decaying flesh filled my nostrils. Cresting the small rise I noticed a pile of dead goats, others had been here before me and had obviously gather the carcases to bait in foxes or pigs, unfortunately neither were present.
My eyes smiled at the view from the top of the ridge, lush green rolling hills, birds and insects were abundant, the way it should be. Obviously, the recent rains had put a dent in the 10 year drought it felt good to be amongst the tapestry of green.
Glassing a few mobs of goats on the drive in, I knew I didn’t have far to walk from my current position before I get onto the first mob of goats.
I wasn’t long before I was croutched down behind some cover trying to lower my profile from the century’s ever watchful eyes. Discomfort in my legs indicated that I needed to do something soon. The slight kick in my left hand indicated the shaft was on its way, covering the 30 meters quickly and passing through my target. I now had some meat, which would be enjoyed with friends over the coming summer. Storm clouds were building and the humidity was increasing, cooling the meat was my priority.
With a heavy pack I angled my way up the hill returning to the truck to put the meat into the esky.
Whilst having a bite to eat I glassed a mob of goats further down the range with a few respectable heads amongst them, I needed a closer look. Refreshed, I planned on keeping my elevated position until I was above the goats them, then drop down onto them to hopefully harvest another.
As I began to execute my plan, I was momentarily distracted by the determined efforts of an echidna going about his business, just one of the additional entertaining sights that bowhunting offers.
A goat bleat snapped my attention back to the here and now, focussed; I once again began my stalk.
With the storm building and some erratic changes in the wind directions my position was revealed on a number of occasions. The goats alarmed by my human odour were constantly moving never stopping long to feed. The 60 strong mob had multiple centuries that made moving in on them challenge. Often when the one watching would relax another would be on guard, years of experience had told me that timing was everything in this situation and to be patient.
Positioned amongst the goats but slightly above them, I had to wait for the perfect opportunity for a shot or I would run the risk of scaring off everything. Thunder and lightning began to put on a real show over head, perhaps this also contributed to the goats unease. Large rain drops began to strike my body and at first I thought it was hail such was the force of the rain. Wild wind gusts sent goats off in all directions, glancing at my watch it was getting late so I decided to return to the truck so I climb to the top of the range and walk along the ridge as this would be the easiest route back to the truck.
The smell of the wet bush was intoxicating, I was happy to be in the bush again.
As I rounded a bend I noticed a large mob just to my right standing in the rain not sure what to do. The soft click of the nock on the string indicated my bow was ready. I could hear another gust of wind working its way through the tree tops so it was now or never. Moving to the edge of the track I noticed a billy standing on a rock ‘on guard duty’ at 15 meters, quartering away and looking down hill, for me this was perfect.
Feeling the draw weight on my fingers, in an instant the weight was gone. The shot was spot on and the billy only made it 20 meters after jumping off the rock. The billy expired within sight so I didn’t need to follow up quickly for fear of the rain swashing away the trail.
I sat in the rain beside the billy absorbing the last few moments, pleased with the short and the day in general. Removing three of the four legs, as that was all I could fit in my pack I began the slow trudge back to the truck.
The rain had eased and the hills looked great with the raising clouds of moisture and I wondered when I’d be back again. For now I was content but it wouldn’t be long before I need to be back in the bush doing what I love….bowhunting!
