Tom knew the dog was out there but still didn’t see it until it was within 10 metres of him

Hunter’s Diary: Luck or skill?


Hunting wild dogs can be a test of patience, skill and what often seems like pure luck. For us, it’s more than hunting; it’s essential for our livelihood. Wild dogs have been particularly vicious recently, causing thousands of dollars in losses.

Every published entry in the Hunter’s Diary short story competition receives a Vanguard Scout B62 bipod, and goes in the draw to win Vanguard optics. All you have to do it submit a story and photo just like this one. It’s all thanks to Hunting Depot! Click here to find out how.

My dad has spent countless hours walking, sitting and calling in the cold, wet mud of the Atherton Tablelands in an attempt to save our property and neighbouring ones from further calf deaths. But more often than not, he returns empty-handed.

Coming home for university holidays, I was eager for a hunt, picking my dad’s brain for all the tips and tricks he had learnt since I was last back. I was excited to put these lessons into practice, but I also knew that success was very unlikely on my first hunt.

Two hours before sunset, I set off towards the carcass of a calf killed by dogs the night before. An hour in, my excitement had already dissipated, with reality setting in that I would need to spend days wandering around the paddocks, removing hundreds of leeches, before I would have success.

Just as I reached down to pull off my fifth leech for the afternoon, the cattle that had been curiously surrounding me took off up the hill and rapidly formed a circle around the calves. I knew that a dog must be nearby.

I scanned with the scope, desperately trying to catch a glimpse, but saw nothing. The cattle began to settle, and my hopes of first-hunt luck faded. I stood up, feeling sorry for myself, when I heard a heart-stopping bark right at my feet. 

Sure enough, there, no more than 10 metres in front of me, was a large male dog!

I brought the rifle to my shoulder and the dog took off up the hill. I let out a sharp whistle. He paused for one final look and the .243 met its mark.

The hunt was over almost as soon as it began. It certainly was not textbook, but the result was all the same. As I walked back, I reflected on the moment. Was it luck that I had succeeded on my first hunt, or something more?

In truth, hunting wild dogs is a blend of both luck and skill. While my success that day had an undeniable element of luck, it was also the result of spending countless hours learning and studying the intricacies of their movements.

— Tom McCahon

 

 

 


Like it? Share with your friends!

What's Your Reaction?

super super
15
super
fail fail
8
fail
fun fun
6
fun
bad bad
4
bad
hate hate
2
hate
lol lol
20
lol
love love
21
love
omg omg
14
omg

0 Comments