wagga space program

Bingley’s Roo

Thursday November 02nd 2006, 8:19 pm
Filed under: the wagga blagga

Thursday November 02nd

Couple days back Bingley (his real name is nothing like this) thought it would be a triffic idea for him and me to bag a roo. He had only one more week (5 days now) in Crowsville before going back to what he deprecatingly and accurately called his European executive lifestyle.

He wanted the whole hog: ute, spotlight and appropriate centrefire rifle as specified by the Federal Department of the Environment and Heritage. Given his European sticklerism, he was not impressed when I stated my view that we should comply with condition (i) “Kangaroos must not be shot from a moving vehicle or other moving platform.” 

In fact his response was, “I had no idea my friend would still be driving when I started shooting, Constable Hockington.”

Of course, this evening with a few spots of rain about were not ideal for sliding about the back of the muddy ute we’d picked up earlier today, so I volunteered to drive.

We went off onto an obscure little track near Bullenbung, and a small mob were out amongst the trees. Bingley rapped on the roof which I took to mean “approach slowly” but he later said meant, “Stop, I’ve got an ideal head shot.”

I approached slowly, but hit the pothole at the same time as I heard the shot.

The roos scattered, as did seven of eight grazing cows about 30 metres further back.

“Oh shit!” exclaimed Bingley. “No trophy for me!”

This time I knew the triple-rap on the roof for what it was: “Bolt, mate.”

I file this from The King’s Own, where Bingley’s thirst got the better of him.


Comment by boz 11.06.06 @ 9:05 am