Rural Rizm

We packed early. Made sure I had my essentials in the rig before making the 2 hour drive to the home of one of the broskis living on a functioning cattle farm. The zyns were strong, the land was green after a lot of rain, the tunes were country, and the vibes were high for an arvo and morning of hunting fallow and red deer and sucking tins, as is the way.

We arrived late in the arvo as the sun was lowering itself dangerously close to the horizon, stoked the fire and put a beer campfire stew under the coals, and set off to reclaim the buggies and the bang sticks to go for a look at a small portion of the three and a half thousand acres of cleared Australian farmland that we had the ability to explore. We saw 4-5 Fallow deer that night through the lights of the Polaris, but couldn't get close enough to them to get an accurate shot off.

Returning to the house, we had to settle for one of the best campfire stews ever made, heavily buttered bread, followed by zyns and more beers around a campfire. Pretty epic second place.

The next morning we were up with the birds, smashing a feed and a brew and ready to find some venison. As we were making a quick brew, The head comrade shouted "There's deer in the back paddock"! As I looked out the kitchen window, squinted because my eyes are fucked, and concentrated on the small white blurry blob I saw against the darker green backdrop I realised that I needed to get my iPhone out and put it on 5x zoom rapidly. What my iPhone told me, that my fucked eyes did not, is that there were 5-6 Fallow deer in the paddock no more than 200m from where I was squeezing the fuck out of a nespresso pod, desperately trying to produce a brew that didnt taste like it was filtered through a gym sock!

What resulted was a rapid loading of a slightly underpowered but familiar calibered rifle, a very short stalk around a hay shed close to the house to set up for a safe shot away from the civilized part of the farm, a brace against the corner of the shed as the young buck moved left to right across the cattle paddock, and a shot that ripped through the young Fallow buck's chest before finding its home in his chest cavity. As the calibre was slightly smaller than ideal, the animal cantered awkwardly across the paddock, so a quickly reloaded follow up shot was needed to the base of the neck which well and truly stopped the young fella in his tracks.

After a quick cuddle celebration between bros (as is customary), the real work began. A backpack method was adopted to begin with but the group only managed about 100m before switching to a double-bro method of carrying two legs each to share the load.

A relocation and about an hour of hard work later and we had what we had come for. Gains.....