Post by jack on Oct 23, 2006 1:43:08 GMT -6
Gidday
Bloody goats; don’t talk to me about them.
This is a true story that I am always a bit reluctant to share with people because they usually don’t believe me. I could never figure out why either.
Many moons ago I was working on the Tutikuri Station way up in the headwaters of the Tutikuri River. And I assure you this ain’t no tuti either. Well in those days it was a bloody big station and they had broken in some easier country way up near the tops of the range, but it had these here deep gullies running through it. The only way from one of these bits of easy country to another was to come right back down about 1000 feet or so then up the next ridge.
Well there was about 300 acres on one of these ridges that they had put into swedes for a winter crop. Then one day we noticed a mob of about 150 feral goats happily chomping their way through the crop. We headed up to shoot them. As soon as we got up to where they had been we saw them heading off across a ridge on the other side of this bloody steep gully. The gully must have been a couple of hundred feet deep with sheer rock bluffs either side and what we thought was a goat proof fence at the edge.
We just couldn’t figure out how anything except a bird could have gotten across that gully so bloody quickly.
This carry on happened several days in a row and the crop was starting to quickly disappear, as it was still very young. We just had to do something to stop these goats, but every time we got up into the paddock they had disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the gully.
Now I am not one to want to be outsmarted by some bloody stupid goats so I hatched a plan. We would do what nobody should really do when shooting, we split up, when we saw the bloody goats in the crop, me mate going up to the paddock the normal way and I headed up the other ridge to where we always saw them on the other side of the gully. Me mate gave me a good half hour start so I could get up the ridge before the goats saw him and headed off.
I got well up on the ridge and found the goat track that they had been using for their getaway and followed it down to near the edge of the gully and hid in some scrub, just as I saw me mate coming.
Well bugger me dead, I bet you just won’t believe this, and even I had a hard time believing what I was seeing. It just so happens that the Tutikuri Station got their water from a beautiful pure spring high up on this ridge. The pipeline just happened to have to cross this bloody gully to get the shortest route down to the main part of the farm. And the only way to get the pipe across was to suspend it on a wire stretched across it just in front of where I was.
As me cobber came up the other side of the hill in the swede paddock, these here bloody goats ran down to where the pipe crossed, then straight across the wire in a bloody great line like tight rope walkers.
Well, I cocked me old Lee-Enfield rifle and started firing when the first one was just a few yards from my side. The sound of the shots echoed round the gully and sounded like the firing was from behind them. That made them run onto the wire even faster. I was lucky that I had brought several extra clips of ammo in me pack because it was all I could do to shoot as fast as they came across the wire.
Now me old Lee-Enfield had had it’s wood cut down so it was like a normal sporting rifle, and with the firing as fast as it is possible to the barrel really started to heat up. Well, after rapid firing over 150 rounds and only half a dozen goats still alive the barrel sagged because of the heat and for the first time a shot missed it’s target, firing too low. But the bullet hit the wire that was holding the water pipe, cut the wire and the last half dozen goats fell the 300 feet to the rocky floor of the gully.
When we counted up the corpses I had killed 162 goats with 156 rounds fired and we had saved the winter crop of Swedes as well, so I was feeling bloody pleased with myself, but that didn’t last.
When we told the boss, he first of all looked pleased until we got up to the bit about hitting the wire and pipeline, then he hit the roof. He went right off his rocker and made us go straight back up there to fix the bloody pipe. Getting it back across the gully took us all weekend and we were really peed off because we couldn’t even get into the pub for a drink.
Bloody goats; don’t talk to me about them.
This is a true story that I am always a bit reluctant to share with people because they usually don’t believe me. I could never figure out why either.
Many moons ago I was working on the Tutikuri Station way up in the headwaters of the Tutikuri River. And I assure you this ain’t no tuti either. Well in those days it was a bloody big station and they had broken in some easier country way up near the tops of the range, but it had these here deep gullies running through it. The only way from one of these bits of easy country to another was to come right back down about 1000 feet or so then up the next ridge.
Well there was about 300 acres on one of these ridges that they had put into swedes for a winter crop. Then one day we noticed a mob of about 150 feral goats happily chomping their way through the crop. We headed up to shoot them. As soon as we got up to where they had been we saw them heading off across a ridge on the other side of this bloody steep gully. The gully must have been a couple of hundred feet deep with sheer rock bluffs either side and what we thought was a goat proof fence at the edge.
We just couldn’t figure out how anything except a bird could have gotten across that gully so bloody quickly.
This carry on happened several days in a row and the crop was starting to quickly disappear, as it was still very young. We just had to do something to stop these goats, but every time we got up into the paddock they had disappeared and reappeared on the other side of the gully.
Now I am not one to want to be outsmarted by some bloody stupid goats so I hatched a plan. We would do what nobody should really do when shooting, we split up, when we saw the bloody goats in the crop, me mate going up to the paddock the normal way and I headed up the other ridge to where we always saw them on the other side of the gully. Me mate gave me a good half hour start so I could get up the ridge before the goats saw him and headed off.
I got well up on the ridge and found the goat track that they had been using for their getaway and followed it down to near the edge of the gully and hid in some scrub, just as I saw me mate coming.
Well bugger me dead, I bet you just won’t believe this, and even I had a hard time believing what I was seeing. It just so happens that the Tutikuri Station got their water from a beautiful pure spring high up on this ridge. The pipeline just happened to have to cross this bloody gully to get the shortest route down to the main part of the farm. And the only way to get the pipe across was to suspend it on a wire stretched across it just in front of where I was.
As me cobber came up the other side of the hill in the swede paddock, these here bloody goats ran down to where the pipe crossed, then straight across the wire in a bloody great line like tight rope walkers.
Well, I cocked me old Lee-Enfield rifle and started firing when the first one was just a few yards from my side. The sound of the shots echoed round the gully and sounded like the firing was from behind them. That made them run onto the wire even faster. I was lucky that I had brought several extra clips of ammo in me pack because it was all I could do to shoot as fast as they came across the wire.
Now me old Lee-Enfield had had it’s wood cut down so it was like a normal sporting rifle, and with the firing as fast as it is possible to the barrel really started to heat up. Well, after rapid firing over 150 rounds and only half a dozen goats still alive the barrel sagged because of the heat and for the first time a shot missed it’s target, firing too low. But the bullet hit the wire that was holding the water pipe, cut the wire and the last half dozen goats fell the 300 feet to the rocky floor of the gully.
When we counted up the corpses I had killed 162 goats with 156 rounds fired and we had saved the winter crop of Swedes as well, so I was feeling bloody pleased with myself, but that didn’t last.
When we told the boss, he first of all looked pleased until we got up to the bit about hitting the wire and pipeline, then he hit the roof. He went right off his rocker and made us go straight back up there to fix the bloody pipe. Getting it back across the gully took us all weekend and we were really peed off because we couldn’t even get into the pub for a drink.
