I had known both Mike and Central West NSW property owner Steve since secondary school in the ’70s, when we shot against each other in fullbore target competition. Steve went on to be an Olympic contender in smallbore rifle in the days when the Russians and the Americans dominated.
“We were up at the crack of 9.30 to egg-and-bacon breakfast and percolated coffee”
We never stopped shootin’ and huntin’. There is, after all, an arcane saying: “There are only three sports; hunting, shooting and fishing. The rest are merely games.”
This story’s title carries a double meaning. The first pertains to Michael and I getting up to shenanigans as teenagers and immature men — nuff said. The second pertains to hunting
