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Goat Hunting and Explosions

I had a day of firsts yesterday - the first time I've been hunting (didn't get anything) and the first time I've seen someone blow up the side of a hill with explosives.

We went out to this real back-blocks station over past Martinborough somewhere. It's a gravel, single-lane road out to the farm and then you have to ford a river (conveniently dry at this time of year). The shooters were staying in the old shearer's quarters, which were like a student flat that had been shifted to the middle of a paddock. Goat parts and bones littered the outside area.

The guys (mainly guys) were complaining about how 1080 had really brought down the possum and rabbit population, which was a considered a great pity because it meant there were fewer animals to spotlight in their customised possum-hunting-cars.

Because the farm is private land, the cars don't have to be strictly road-worthy to be used. So they'd gotten these old cars and cut them down and modified them to be used for hunting - the backs doors and seats cut away, rollbars added, padding, hand-grips, and of course, camo paint and red-neck slogans: "caution: I speed up for small animals"; "do not try to overtake overturning vehicle"; "if you can read this, turn me over" (printed upside down). They'd tied goat skulls to the front of the cars and one of them had handles attached to the bonnet. When we asked what the handles were for, one of the guys (Scott) explained that the car wasn't heavy enough in front to get good traction going up hill with a heavy load, so they had people sit on the bonnet, hanging on to the handles. He conceded that it did make it a little difficult for the driver to see where they were going, but that was easily addressed by having the passengers shout directions to their blinded chauffeur.

We headed off to hunt goats around 8.00am I guess, by which time it was already really hot and felt more like 10.30. Dave and I were riding in this old landrover, which didn't have a windscreen or roof or more than two comfy seats (Dave, the gentleman that he is, volunteered to sit in the tray). It did have a gun rack, though, which is very important!

We drove on this gnarly 4WD track for a while, and then we stopped - someone had spotted some goats. Everyone got out and started looking important with guns, except me, who was trying to keep behind everyone else. One guy started calling the goats and this little baby goat (don't read the rest of the paragraph if you don't like the way it's heading) started answering and coming towards him. BANG! One less little baby goat. Much excitement from men with guns. Then much discussion over whether the meat might be tainted with 1080. Finally, resignation - the little baby goat cannot be used as dog tucker, as it might kill the dogs. We get back in the Landie and drive on.

Because it was such a hot day, most of the goats were well under cover by the time we got out, so we didn't shoot anything else. The guys decided that there was a piece of the 4WD track that needed some attention, so we headed up yet another gnarly piece of hillside, only to find out way blocked by some medium-sized trees. Not to worry! Out came the chainsaw and various shirtless youths and within and few minutes the track was clear.

We got to the bit of dodgy track and to be quite honest, it didn't look any more dangerous than anything else I'd driven over that day, but everyone else seemed to agree that what this particular piece of the road needed was blowing up. Apparently the plan was to blow up the bank to widen the track.

After prudently removing myself from the immediate area (I'd heard tales of previous explosive experiments by these guys and I wasn't taking any chances) I settled down to await the big moment. "Fire in the hole!" and much sprinting. There was a small "BOOM!" and a modest scatter of earth, not particularly impressive. Then came the explanation - the second charge hadn't gone off. Much muttering among the explosives team.

A few moments later they were back, smiling. "I'd move down the track a little bit further, we used 7 litres." Phil advised and I didn't have to be told twice. BOOM!!!. Clods of earth rain from the sky. (Dave instinctively moved to shelter me with his body, which I found most touching.) The guys yelp and grin and run back up to the hole in the bank.

After that came all the digging and dragging of trees and so forth, and then we piled back in the cars and went back to the shearer's hut (a flat tire along the way, but no worries). By the time we got back it was almost 3.00 so Dave had one shot with the high-powered potato gun (it shoots whole potatoes - for hundreds of metres) and then we climbed into his nice sedate car and drove back to nice sedate Wellington.

Man, I slept last night. Even with the sunburn.

Posted by phreq at January 11, 2004 06:31 AM | TrackBack