by Karl Houseman

It had been a beautiful day on the property outside of Bathurst. Not very sucessful hunting but a beautiful day. The clouds were a deep red and stretched out across the sky as the last of daylight slipped behind the hills. As we turned and headed for home, we were all in good spirits despite the days lack of suitable game. The promise of an early morning hunt and good weather ahead, carrying the mood.

Taking a different track back to the farm, we came across an old ewe in a fair amount of distress, stuck in one of the fences. The property owners son said she was done for and she was quickly put of her misery. We dragged the carcass out of the fence and off the track, then climbed back on the bikes and headed back to camp.

After a great nights meal we had a look around with the light. We spooted a good pig but couldn't take a shot. Back at camp we had a few beers which made it was pretty hard to get out of bed before sunrise the next morning. We did managed a pretty early start and after a lot of complaining about frosty Bathurst we were on the bikes by about 6.30am.

We rode for about fifteen minutes away from the homestead, then left the bikes and started out on foot towards the place we had left the dead ewe. Both of us carried 6.5x55's with 120 and 140 grain ammo and we were keen for a pig with the proportions of the one we had seen the night before. About ½ way between the bikes and the ewe we spotted a fox feeding on a dead
roo. I crawled up behind a log, using it as a rest, took careful aim and squeezed the trigger gently.

The roar of the 6.5 split the morning like the rudest of alarm clocks, with birds, roos and sheep disappearing in all directions.The fox, only fairly small but with a beautiful red and black coat lay about a metre from the roo. The 120gn Sierra projectile, intended for pigs, had passed straight through the fox from shoulder to neck without causing too much damage to the coat.
After inspecting the fox, and borrowing it's tail, we set off toward the ewe. We walked a lot less cautiously than before as we were pretty sure that anything feeding on the sheep would have headed for the hills. Coming over a small crest, just 200 metres from where I had just shot the fox, we spotted the dead ewe, with another fox feeding on it. We couldn't believe that it hadn't startled and run, but Chris didn't spend too long discussing it and 20 seconds later, we had our second fox of the morning. Another beauty, a bit bigger than the first and a little more
orange than red, but a lovely fur.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful but we had a fox each so we were both wrapped and the pigs can wait for next time. From a red sunset to red foxes, it may not have been the most succesful hunt but it was the best trip I'd had in ages.