The morning started out just like any other. I made my way to a gully I’d hunted many times before and was familiar with some of the behavioural patterns of the resident deer. With the stars still visible, I moved into a location where I’d previously dropped a pin on the GPS for a sit-and-wait hunt. I got set up, and right on first light, I began glassing the opposite face.
I had good reason to believe a stag I’d seen in the area would pass through and use his scrape. The air was still, and the gully was dead silent, with the sun just beginning to creep over the ridge behind me. A few hours passed without much activity apart from the natives. Just as my concentration began to wane, I noticed a swamp wallaby ( Wallabia bicolour ) hopping along a game trail. It kept glancing back over its shoulder—something had pushed it along.
I heard a stick crack and a rock roll partway down the east-facing slope. I scanned the brush and gums with my binoculars, hoping a sambar ( Rusa unicolour ) was about to materialise.
Then I heard a dull thud from the plateau on the ridgeline. Another hunter had arrived. He was dressed in camouflage, wearing a blaze orange cap, and carrying a rifle with a wooden stock. From my position, I could see him standing in a small clearing, scanning the face I was sitting on using only his eyes—no glass.
I’d seen other hunters in this system before, and I always make a point of giving an obvious wave and letting my blaze orange catch their eye. This time was no different. With our difference in elevation, I felt half-concealed by the foliage of the trees in front of me, so I shifted a couple of metres to the opening on my left. As he looked in my direction, I gave a long wave while watching him through my binoculars.
I could see him looking directly at me. Then, without hesitation, he calmly shouldered his rifle and looked at me through his scope. He followed up with a casual wave.
As soon as I saw that rifle come up, my wave turned into a fist shake and some sort of evasive manoeuvre, all while yelling “Oi!” followed by a few profanities. Without saying a word, the hunter simply moseyed off, as if it were just another casual encounter in the bush.
I took a breath and tried to brush it off, but I couldn’t shake it. My hunting mindset was ruined for the day. I headed home, disappointed. Glancing down the business end of that rifle was quite confronting, to say the least.
We all make mistakes and some backwards-arse decisions now and then—particularly after a long hike up a steep hill—but using your rifle scope in place of your binoculars is never OK. We pay a decent sum of money for the glass that hangs around our necks for a good reason. Use them.
Don’t be that guy. Don’t become complacent in the bush—or anywhere else—when handling firearms. We’re all out there trying to achieve similar goals, and we all want to get home safely. With the prolific rise of social media and an abundance of hunting opportunities, there are more of us out there than ever before. Wear your blaze and never use your scope to identify potential targets, especially if what you’re seeing is wearing something orange.
Using your rifle scope in place of your binoculars is never OK.
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