Rangy Goats
I’D taken a week away from the office to catch up with Nick and Nancy Harvey up on the eyrie-like plateau of Hill End and to spend some good time hunting and regaining what I call “my bush balance”. A few hours passed where we discussed this magazine, Nick’s new trophy rifle in .26 Nosler – it is awesome, by the way – and sat down to a delicious and filling lunch. We don’t see enough of each other despite weekly phone conversations.
Driving down off the plateau for an hour or so, I pulled into my mate’s hilly block, where goats were constantly filtering in from the deep bush adjoining the open forested country that was the family farm, running dorper sheep, chooks and a fair smattering of ferals and roos. The block’s extremities in altitude meant regular climbs and descents of over 300 metres were standard fare if you wanted to score worthwhile numbers.
Goats being what they are, you could be lucky driving up steep bush tracks and stalking in the final 300-500 metres to
