At this point I should say that I'd been praying for goats, quite literally, for at least 2 days.
So when Thursday morning arrived and we were out of camp at 6:15am I directed a prayer of thanks as goats appeared on the same hill, this time heading eastward toward the rising sun and now 7 in number.
We stood at the bottom of the spur leading up to the ridge and decided what to do.
I pushed that we should climb the slope and cut them off if possible but PJ was very hesitant.
We had no camera, no extra ammo, no food, no GPS, no maps, no first aid kit, no sunburn creme and more importantly.....no water; just a hand held UHF radio each.
But I knew that even if I ran back to camp that the chance would be gone and against all wisdom I thought that while the temperature was low we should go for it.
PJ was hesitant but after some debate and a long monologue which included plenty of swearing about the insanity of young men he led the way up the slope.
To clarify things PJ is 64, looks like he could be in his late 40s, and is as fit as me.
However by the time we had scaled only about a quarter of it we were puffing like locomotives.
We managed to climb with reasonable stealth but just as it seemed that we would get a clear shot at them under 100yds they turned and disappeared.
We struggled across the hill face, which had a 30 to 35 degree gradient and was effectively a fine scree cleverly disguised as grass, until we spotted a large white billy goat and 2 smaller nannies.
This time we got so close, under 80m, we almost fired.
But then they miraculously vanished; I'll never know how.
And just when we were convinced they'd given us the slip a huge herd of about 20 goats slipped out from under a small crop of trees about 160m above us not far from the top of the ridge.
Then PJ caught a bad blossom in the breeze, turned away from the herd and had the biggest loudest sneezing fit I've ever heard!
But the goats didn't even seem to notice so we settled again ready for the opportunity.
PJ waited until a tawny nanny goat was clearly in the sunlight and rested on a tree he lined up his Kahles Helia 3-9x40 equipped Tikka T3 Hunter in 30-06 and squeezed away 2 Federal Powershok 150gr factory rounds.
His first shot broke the front leg of the nanny, punched through the lower sternum and sent it rolling and wailing down the hill.
A second punched through the heart and lung and it rolled a little further coming to rest on a log.
At this the heard milled about and tried a shot but did not allow for the steep upward slope and missed just as the herd fled over the ridge.
We gave chase pausing for a moment to check PJ's nanny and he took it slower as I climbed for the ridge.
When I got the there the herd were gone and I was disappointed so I wandered about at the top waiting for PJ and looking around.
It was then that the first mob of 7,
plus the big white billy who had vanished earlier, appeared trotting along a track not far below.
I quickly seated myself, waited for the billy to appear in the gap in the trees and squeezed away.
This time I failed to allow for the downward slope and the bullet sailed just over him.
He scooted quickly after the others and although a minute or so later I saw his 2 white nannies clatter among the trees to join him they were too well shielded by the timber.
Now I was really annoyed with myself.
I stomped off in the direction of PJ when I spied some movement down a wooded spur to my right.
A white kid with black markings was well hidden in the dappled shade but it had spotted me and flicked it ears glancing down the slope.
This directed me to it's mother which was about 10 metres further down also white with black markings.
Clearly spooked by the stranger the kid scampered down to the nanny and stood right beside it; that was its last mistake.
I dropped and crept forward slowly then got into a comfortable seated position.
Then I lifted The Judge, my T3 Lite Stainless in 9.3x62, and wound the Lynx 1.75-5x20 scope right up aiming roughly for the nanny's forequarters as it proved a bigger target and knew the kid would hang around if the nanny collapsed.
I squeezed the trigger, the drop of the slope put the 270gr Speer Semi Spitzer into the kid's neck and it kicked over and lay still.
A pic taken later of the kid.
The nanny ran about 3 metres and looked back.
It copped another round from the Judge which passed behind the front leg.
It ran around the spur behind some bushes and I climbed down as quickly as possible in pursuit.
By now I was out of ammo, both of my heels had shocking blisters and the sun was beginning to gain strength.
I followed the goat down a little further but it quickly collapsed under a bush and I ended its suffered with my knife.
The nanny......the dark patch behind the front leg was the entry wound.
The Speer had made a 9.3 cal entry wound but on the far side it had exited making a hole the size of a soft ball and much of the intenstines were hanging out.
Perhaps a little overkill.
So, without a camera I was forced to descend painfully back to camp but with some foresight I made large markings on the bark of the trees so I could return late in the day and take some pics.
So in the end I was back in camp around 9:15am, the whole episode over in around 3 hours.
I spent the rest of the day trying to rest my heels and then, with constant comments of "You're a mad b@st@rd!" from PJ I bandaged and taped both heels, put on 2 pairs of socks and scaled the spur once more at 5:30pm while the light was still strong, this time with the Judge AND a small pack carrying the camera, spare ammo, sunburn cream, a hand held UHF radio to keep contact and water.
It took me an hour and after finding and taking pics of the goats I continued up in the hope of spotting and nailing another one or 2 coming back across the hills in the evening.
But there were no more that day so after taking some pics I descended back down the spur and then to camp, being reminded by the pain in my knees that I need to loose at least 25lbs and that goats are truly nature's little Haflingers.
Yours truly and the hills to the west.
Looking across the hills above Meglo Creek where we'd stalked the goats.
PJ was stunned that I'd done the climb twice in a day and he said a cool $1000 wouldn't get him up that slope again.
From there we didn't bother planning further hunting.
We enjoyed the last of the beer which had been steadily consumed over the preceding hot days, had dinner and then decided to pack up camp as soon as we were up the next day.
Last of the beer!
We were up again at 6am today packing as quickly as possible as there were signs of rain and it would've made the tracks impassable, even by 4x4.
We found ourselves at the homestead at 9am and back at my house 100kms south by 11am having a cup of tea and relaxing.
All in all a fairly easy day, but then I'd learnt a few lessons over the past 4 days and for those who haven't already cottoned on here they are:
- - Be persistent, keep your eyes open and do what it takes.
- - Don't expect the game to come to you......be willing go to it.
- - NEVER leave camp without all of the basics, especially water - God was looking after us but I wouldn't count on him to let us get away with another stupid mistake like that.
- - Lastly, take the rifle that suits the task.....if I'd taken something that weighed much more than the 6.5lbs the T3 does I would've had a very difficult time.
So a good trip and another test for me.
Here are a couple of pics from today:
Looking back toward the Meglo Creek valley and the next ridge where we had chased the goats.
Peter with the Disco and the homestead in background on top of the next ridge.
For those interested these are the horns from the trip in August:
They measure 34½" across and I'll have to measure them for their Douglas score.
Funny thing is those horns probably don't mean as much as the 2 goats I took yesterday.
Sure, the big horns were a good shot but we just happened upon those goats by the river.
I had to EARN this week's goats.
