Social distancing for hunters

The whole world is talking social distancing like it’s a new thing. But social distancing for hunters is something we have been actively practicing for years. Forget 1.5m distance; when I head out bush, I prefer to keep at least 1.5kms between me and the nearest person. There’s no better feeling than being alone out there with nature, far away from the maddening crowds. 

When Covid-19 hit and governments around the world started forcing people to stay cooped up in their homes, I’m sure there were plenty of hunters, just like me, who thought their worst nightmares had come true. Thankfully here in Tasmania, unlike other states and countries, hunting has not completely been taken off the list of allowed activities. We can still hunt and fish, as long as we abide by all the new rules and regulations – the main one being that we have to return home the same day we go out. 

While the rest of the world was stockpiling loo paper and dried pasta, I’d been busy getting as much meat in the freezer as I could. But with two days left in the stag season, I still had my stag tag to fill, and I was determined not to miss out. 

To abide by the new ‘home the same day’ rules for hunting, I had to start my day at 4.50am. I woke up, packed the car in the pouring rain while the rest of my family remained asleep, and then took off for the hunting property. 

I’m not going to lie. I was praying for an easy kill so I could return home early.

By 7am, I was out in the bush, starting to hunt. It was cold (around 10 degrees), wet and, with the sun completely blocked, still dark. Within half an hour, I was drenched through to my skin and freezing cold. And there wasn’t a deer in sight! 

Instead of easy, I walked for hours, trudging 6kms in the rain, on sodden ground, up and down gullies with no paths. But at least I was socially distancing. For all intents and purposes, I was alone. 

I finally made it back to the car at 11.30am, pulling my waterlogged boots off and turning the heater to full. As I sat there shivering and trying to warm up, I wondered where all the deer had gone, praying I’d get an opportunity to put some more meat in the freezer for my family and friends during these tough times. 

Hunting in such bleak conditions takes perseverance to push through. It would have been far simpler to just accept that the rest of the day was going to be more of the same, and to give it up as a bad joke – just return home. I may have even had a bit of a whinge in the car, but there was no one to hear me whining about the cold or my sore legs or no deer, except the big fella up stairs! 

But rather than give up and head home empty handed, I decided to start my afternoon hunt early, setting off at 2pm. I put on my soaking wet boots and shouldered my sodden backpack, grabbing my rifle and binos, deciding I’d just keep walking until I couldn’t walk anymore. I made a plan to climb the highest, rockiest hill in the area, knowing it would be the best vantage point, praying this wouldn’t be a waste of time and energy.

Every step up that hill I cursed myself for not working harder in the gym, knowing every extra kilo counted and added to my pain.

By the time I reached the top, it was 5pm. I was already 4kms and 3 hours into my afternoon walk. And I hadn’t seen a single deer. Sunset was supposed to be at 6.29pm. It was 9 degrees and the temperature was dropping fast. To say I was cold was an understatement. 

I walked around the top of the hill, contemplating my next move. Just below me on the steepest portion of the hill, I saw a young spiky. My tag only allowed a full grown male deer, and even if he was a shooter, it would have been impossible to get him out on my own. But that doesn’t mean my trigger finger wasn’t itching as I watched him slowly move away!