A real page turner

In life, there are certain events or occasions we look forward to with great anticipation. These significant life events are usually preluded by stress and anxiety, combined with huge commitments of time and energy. Studying for my final university exams comes to mind.

After five years of studious effort, sitting these last exams would finally free me of study. I tried desperately to stay focused on the course material, I covered every topic just enough to give myself a fighting chance in the exam. Every ounce of focus would prove useful when pen goes to paper. Yet there was a tension in my mind, a niggling thought that defeated my focus. I could not help but hope for the exams to be over once and for all. This would signify the end of my degree, I would no longer be burdened by lectures, tutorials, assignments and examinations. The world was my oyster, and I would finally have the tools to shuck it.  

With the wisdom of time by my side I now realise those university days were some of the best of my life. I had no good reason to wish that time away. Even though I was held to the loose guidance of a curriculum for five years, I was relatively free. I would stay up late binge watching crappy movies with my mates. I would go to house parties, pubs, concerts, festivals and comedy shows. I broke records for the quality and quantity of dirty dishes that could be stacked on the small benchtop next to the sink.

The recycling bin would often resemble a game of Jenga, a delicate piece of modern art that stood taller than the refrigerator. Each milk bottle and cereal box was positioned perfectly to distribute the load of the towering mess. It would take multiple loads with a stolen shopping trolley to transport the rubbish to the downstairs bin room. Even Oscar the Grouch would be disgusted by this lack of communal hygiene. 

Life is full of these moments of contradiction. Aggressively fighting the morning commuter traffic, only to arrive at work. Counting down the days to your wedding, then cursing at how quickly the actual day goes. Cherishing the time spent with your newborn child, yet dreaming of a future when they don’t defecate themselves many times a day.

When the clock finally signaled the end of that last exam, I was overjoyed. It wasn’t until later that I realised the significance of that one event in the trajectory of my life. I was no longer a university student, bound by specific expectations. It was not appropriate to wake up at 10 am, eat three-day-old bolognese for breakfast and then stroll along the city streets wearing a flannelette shirt, trackie dacks and thongs. Completing those final exams signified the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I was now a fully-fledged adult, burdened by grown up expectations. 

For a few years I placed the book of life back on the bookshelf, satisfied with completing the young adult chapter and not worrying about the remaining pages. I became distracted by adulthood and my new life as a working professional. I had my group of friends, a good job, a new car and a girlfriend (or two).

It wasn’t until I met my now wife that I blew the dust off the cover, boiled the kettle, settled into a comfy chair and began to read on. After a few years of dating by distance, between Sydney, Newcastle and all over the country (locum work), we finally decided to settle into a rural town in New South Wales where we could both find work in our professions. We turned a new leaf, began a new chapter or started a new adventure. Don’t worry, I am just about done with the analogies.

Like a great explorer of centuries past, I discovered Australia was full of amazing animals, both native and introduced, and I could legally hunt for some of them for food. What I didn’t know was this wasn’t really as profound a discovery as I thought.

At the time it seemed like I had stumbled onto a secret society, like the Masonic Club or Scientology. Instead, in my imagination we were called ‘The Pack and Riflers’ or ‘The Modern Hunters’. We carefully identified other members by wearing camo and using a secret greeting ritual of holding both hands in the shape of two Os to our eyes, mimicking the act of looking through binoculars for game. This would be followed closely by a club salute, licking one's index finger and holding it outwards as a symbolic wind check. Only then were we confident to speak to each other in our secret code, using words like glass, scout, bump, rut and croak to confuse any non-hunting pretenders.

Joining this (not so) secret club of hunters made perfect sense to me almost immediately. It appeared to me as such a sensible idea I couldn’t wait to start making my way up the ranks, collecting the coveted hunting-related experiences (I imagine little badges we fix to our sleeves). I literally couldn’t wait to get started, and aggressively began accumulating the tools and knowledge required to attain hunting-ready status. I became so determined to hunt for my first deer I started slipping down the same old road. I was so focused on achieving the desired outcome I began to lose focus on the present. I had a unique opportunity to connect with the massive hunting community I never knew existed. Instead, I surged forward to that first deer hunt before I was ready. 

Luckily, I live in a region with a ‘healthy’ deer population. All I needed was the gun and a property to access them from. Here my luck continued; I had a Greek mate. If you are not aware of the special powers held by a Greek, I will let you in on a little secret. They seem to know a bloke for everything. If you ask my mate, he’ll tell you the Greeks invented hunting. In my case they might as well have. Within the duration of a single phone call he had me lined up with the perfect rifle for a first-timer, a Lithgow LA102 Crossover centrefire rifle in 243WIN. The secondhand rifle was already fitted with a scope and bipod, leaving me with little more to do than to centre the rifle at the nearest gun range.  

Needless to say, that cool autumn night before my first hunting trip was sleepless. I was giddy with anticipation, champing at the bit to give up my hunting virginity to the first deer that strolled within range.

Driving into the property it appeared as if the deer were suffering with insomnia too. I saw a few feeding just off the dirt road before I even reached the front gate. My head was shifting from side to side like a spectator at a tennis match. I had seen many deer in the months preceding this hunt, but that morning seemed different. This time I was armed with the tools to harvest one for myself. A seemingly selfish act made valid by the value this animal would bring me, the property owner and the landscape. I was ready to become a fully-fledged hunter, or so I thought. 

I wish I could say I achieved my success that day through sheer determination and work ethic. In reality there were many things that could have gone wrong with my hasty approach. I hadn’t even been on a deer hunt with anyone else before. I only had YouTube, magazines and books as my mentor. I was like an apprentice, but without the work experience.

I knew about the trade but hadn't practised outside of the tutelage of my supervisor. I guess you can’t gain experience at something without giving it a go, but in retrospect I wish I had given myself more time to learn from others.

The group of deer winded me from about 200 m, but somehow didn’t bump and instead continued to feed with one eye on my movements. I managed to get to within a little over 100 m and settled behind a large fallen tree trunk. I set up my bipods on the tree and loaded a bullet into the chamber as quietly and carefully as I could. By this point the wiser deer began to quickly feed uphill towards cover, leaving behind a youngster who was oblivious to their movements. I knew there was no time to hesitate and focused all my attention to steadying the crosshairs on the sweet spot behind the shoulder. As I worked up the courage to pull the trigger the young deer slowly stepped forwards. In reaction I pulled the trigger, shattering any previous illusions of peace and quiet in that little valley. He stumbled forwards a few metres before succumbing to his fate. I cannot even begin to explain the overwhelming and profound feelings that I felt at that moment. So I won’t.                           

Since that eventful day that I achieved the self-labeled status of ‘deer hunter’, I have been fighting my own urge to rush through the pages of this next chapter of my life. I have become so passion-sick with hunting that I want to explore as many aspects as possible, as quickly as possible. And yes, I did just term the phrase ‘passion-sick’. I will even give you my definition: a person who strives to learn about and experience many different hobbies or passions without taking the time to perfect them before moving onto the next one. One day your children’s children will refer to me as the Shakespeare of hunting. That is, if I actually see this whole ‘writing’ passion through.

Hunting has become the next major chapter in my life, one in which I have begun to invest much time and energy. Only, this time I am discovering there doesn’t need to be an end date. There is no countdown or milestone to look forward to, or dread. There is no final exam, or great event that is over when the bar closes. Hunting has become my way of life, and by engaging in it I have learnt that nothing is set in stone. I have the freedom to enjoy each sentence and revel in each word without needing to finish the book. 

With that said, I have officially squeezed the stone dry on this ‘life is a book’ analogy.