Wilson said “Boss, that’s Enough spearfishing, I thought you bought me to hunt?”

It was tough luck on the mutt that I was getting increasingly into my spearfishing. I mean why on earth would I be sweating and panting up some mountain, ethically speaking just chasing  spikers or stags in the velvet when I could be diving the cool ocean depths filling the freezer with fish for a change.  Yeah right no contest.

However now March has rolled around, and a southerly blowing this particular day, I ventured out with the recalcitrant one in search of some game.  An enjoyable day was spent in the bush, still wet from the previous day.  Higher up we encountered swirling mist, with the wind increasing and a somber feel to our environment was felt by us both.

Stopping for a bite to eat, I glanced over to the four legged one, and could see he was engrossed in something further afield, I paid little mind and munched away

The last Chamois pausing to look back

till I finished said roll, only to observe again ,that he was still riveted on something beyond my vision.  I reluctantly rose from my comfortable seat only to be looking dead in the eye with a Chamois Doe, which quickly became two, four , six and a buck to boot.  Now the buck was no monster and my freezer already full.  I decided to kill something though, to keep the dog interested and took the smallest doe I could find.  The cross hairs on the 4x were unwavering as they found her shoulder.  The .222 barked just the once , the sound of impact audible, and she crumpled and slid down the slope. The silent one just trembled with excitement.

’bout time too, he muttered later through a mouthful of prime Chamois meat, let’s not leave it so long next time eh?

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