Presidents Report

At the time of writing this column the Safari has just finished and I’m feeling a little drained. This is a top event but it does take a lot of organisation and effort and I would like to thank all those that helped out in some capacity; Ray, Steve, Jared, Russell, Tom, Dave and Wayne for the courses; Antoinette, Marij and Josie for the lunches; Aaron and Vicky for the administration and all the others that helped out with organising events and so on. The event may be tiring but it was satisfying with over 90 archers taking part including contingents from the deep south and deep west.

This year looks as if it will be a very busy one for field archers with the big event on the horizon being the Ifaa World Championships to be held in Auckland in April 1998. To enter these you will need to be a member of the NZFAA and if you want a grade you will need to register three scores with the NZFAA registrar. These scores can be made by shooting an Ifaa event such as an Ifaa League round or alternatively can be set on our course once it has been ratified. A grade can be important as Ifaa divisions are split into three grades (A, B and C) with competitions being held in each grade. To be a world champion you must be in the A grade but if you just want to take part and compete with your peers obtaining a grade is important. So with the League rounds, Club events and Bow Hunter tournaments this year promises to be a busy one with a fair bit of travel involved.

While on the subject of travel congratulations are due to Steve Haines who has qualified for the Fita World Championships to be held in Canada in August. Steve has been New Zealand’s top target archer for the past two years but to compete at the world champs he must shoot to qualifying standards else he cannot take part (they are not as sociable as Field Archers). The Club may look at carrying out some fundraising to help Steve with his travel costs at some stage over the next few months so when you hear the call for help, please do so.

We also have two archers departing for the World Bow Hunter Championships to be held in South Africa later this month. Both Ian Hunter and Wayne Braxton qualified for the NZFAA New Zealand Team and we wish them the best of luck. I am sure they will have a good time and will represent Massey well.

Grotts Grumble

Fumbling for the light switch on the bedside lamp, my blinded thrusts cause a half-empty can of beer to crash to the floor. I was conscious of the light trying to filter it way through the drawn curtains, in spite of the terrible pain in my eyes and through my head, from temple to temple. Pain that caused flashes of darkness to envelope within my inner eye. Looking at my watch I could see a blurry 8:15am.

Oh, Christ! My head hurt so much, that tears welled in the far corners of my eye as sharp, immobilizing, shafts of pain shot down my neck and seemed to constrict my shoulders and arms. My stomach was in a state of tense, muscular suspension, if I thought about it, I knew I would be sick and start vomiting out of control.

Gliding a glassy eye across the face of my watch once again, my guess was proved correct by checking the date "Monday 3^rd March". I was most definitely in a post safari condition, with a mild case of alcohol poisoning to see me through to smoko. Looking back though, it was well worth this minor inconvenience.

Saturday morning (early): wake up with a hangover on a snotty, rainy day, and decide bugger it I’m not shooting in this. Then it’s off to finish the shopping to stock the bar. I had arranged to use Steve’s van and was told that he would be at the club early in the morning but would hide the key for me. No prob. Grott gets to the club (still raining), Steve’s van is there but no key, Damn! Donning my swani, I’m off in to the bush in search of the missing link, crying out "Steve you bad man" (or something to that effect). Finally after quarter of an hour, three ass slides and one trip, come face plant in the mud (still raining) I find him. Grott quickly lectures Steve on his pedigree, grabs his keys and negotiate my back to the club (still raining). The shopping gets done with out a hitch, by the time I get back to the club, registration had finished, and I have decided I will shoot after all, so as not to throw a spanner in the works, I decided to wait till the Dargaville guys got here, and go out in a late group (still raining). Then comes roll call, Trev tells us the whys and wherefores, and then to completely confuse things old man Scott takes the podium for six days, with veins a bublin and a pumpin, not that I listened to anything he had to say, I was pondering one of the great mysteries in life: Why is one testicle always three times larger than the other – What do ya mean, that’s not normal! Eleven o’clock rolls around and "Drip-Drip Boycie" turns up all keen for a shoot. "No worries we’re just waiting for Dargaville. You can come with us". Eleven thirty (still raining), we can’t wait for Dargaville, so Grott, Pieman and Drip-Drip hit the course. By the third target we were cackling away and already shot through two groups and scoring quite well. Another six targets, we had abused a few more groups and by mow were a giggling mess, Boycie has got the funniest laugh I have ever heard, it starts off with a "Hih Hih Hih" then moves on to a "Knhhhhhhhh’, and finally finishes off with a "Keeyyysssshhhhh", cracks me up every time, it sounds like he has taken a lung shot, and all the air is hissing out of a bloody wound. Ya gotta here it (still raining).

Saturday afternoon: Every one is checking their scores against one another, and the Grott is right up there with the Scotts, the Jaffas, and the Wattsons, it was real "Are we talking about Saturday" stuff. Surly they all didn’t have a bad day. "Keeyyysssshhhhh" (still raining).

Saturday night: Working on the bar at happy hour caused the Grott a bit of grief, but I quickly made up for it as soon as my shift was over, with a couple of score card specials under I soon hit the dance floor, not by choice, I might say, I was dragged up screaming and wailing by my nipple by Kelly (now one nipple is three times larger than the other). Saturday night must have been a good one, I don’t remember a lot about it, but I do remember rating it. I have my own special rating system, which is generally carried out in the car park, this night I gave it a Grott three vomit ratting, which is very good, it has only been surpassed by the Safari three years ago which was an exceptional four vomit and diarrhea rating.

Sunday morning (2:30am): Boycie, Dusty and Grott turn up at Jacko’s place (still raining), the lights were on, we could hear talking but everyone was asleep, Jacko was sleeping upright, with his right hand shaped as though it was holding a can. Macintosh was dead to the world in the middle of the lounge, and Micky Alan was asleep in the chair with one leg draped over the arm. But we heard talking? There it was again, it was coming from Micky, but he was asleep, by now we had managed to wake up Jacko, only to find that they had run out of beer, all the wile Micky was muttering away to himself. Then Boycie started asking Micky questions, that started him off, all the deep, dark, way back in the closet secretes came out (still sound asleep), when that was over, he started on the limericks. They were pretty bad, and even Dusty was blushing.

Sunday Morning (8:30am): A rude awakening as a naked Macintosh slithers out of his fart sack, and a killer hangover to boot (still raining), Grott was the only one who was going to shoot the second day out of this seedy looking bunch. Back up to the club and into it once again. Unfortunately this time I couldn’t get away with a group of three, but had plenty of fun anyway, even if Kelly didn’t accept my offer of a whit T-shirt. A but of humor was had as we stood around and watched a normally text book straight Carol Watson trying to draw her bow while taking of the form of a giggling, blubbering idiot, after we had a bit of discussion on certain people who were a total waste of perfectly good skin.

Sunday afternoon: this is where the most amusing sport of watching the knife throwing, bow bird etc (still raining). Bret Baker set the scene in the knife throwing, while not being able to get anything to stick into the target; he almost collected a bullseye on one of the cars driving past. Then was the new event the "William Tell". This was introduced by Bruce Scott and was restricted to shooting a longbow only; the idea was to shoot an apple off a persons head. After a couple of hours, we still havent had a vollenteer come forward to balance the apple on his dome. A dummy was quickly constructed out of an old jumpsuit and straw, a few balloons blown up for the head, a face was drawn on the baloon, Smithy’s toupe placed upon the balloon, then the apple and we were away. Only three people hit the apple – they were all compound shooters! After that came prize giving, this was our hour, team Grott waited eagerly as this the division we would clean up. After a quick meeting amongst ourselves we came to the conclusion that there is a lot of dishonesty in the club, as neither of us received anything in spot prizes, we believed that division to be rigged. But there was a bright side to the story as both Gutshot and Grott got a placing, no doubt there was a muddle up in the addition somewhere along the line. A few more drinks and it was time to hit the road, with a quick hello to Ange’s brother the Grott was off to get some sleep so I could wake up early and fresh Monday morning.

That’s all for now, till next time remember, if you can’t say something nice about any body – sit next to me.

Grottamungus

Adventurer Extroindarie.

Through The Peep Sight
By Lucy Lounge Lizard

Well people, here I am, back again. Isn’t this archery stuff fun, I’m starting to get the hang of it now, so look out, to all those of you at the top, because LLL is on her way up.

I had my first shoot at another club earlier this year. My, how it seems so much harder when your not use to the different courses. But all the same, I had a brilliant time at Dargaville. For those of you who weren’t there, I’ll let you in on what happened.

Oh, but where to start.

It seems that Little Pink P is not only trying to take out the open division, but he is also trying to lift the crown from Blobby for the most cheese burgers consumed in one sitting. This weight gathering was noticed by all, when running back to the club after a quick few practice shots. He fell through one of the bridges that cover the drains up at Dargaville. Now come on Little Pink P, I think you should start going back to the gym, because those bridges carry Mickey Allan no prob.

I noticed that Team Grott were very noisy, rude, abusive and drunk. I have since been informed that, that is normal behavior for them, and they do it anywhere they go. I didn’t see the Grott himself around, but he was probably unconscious in their tent, by either alcohol or Grants farts. Speaking of farts, did you get a load of Nippy? Wasn’t he great! Now I know a lot of people think that he is a disgusting little man, but I think he is tops. I love a man with a clean colon. The best part I reckon, was when he ran from their club to his car, a distance of only twenty meters, farted all the way, and changed note five times. The guy is a legend.

Back at home, the Safari was also a great shoot, unfortunately no one played up, except for Sarge, who standing upon one of the bar stools, proceeded to show everyone her undies, I noticed that it turned a few of the lads a bit green. Then there was the other Aussie bird (who’s name, I cant recall at his moment), all her life she had lived in the middle of Australia, and not once seen rain, she thought that it revaluation from the bible, then she started to cut down the trees so she could build a boat, and was asking everyone how big a cubit was. Crazy people over on the West Island if you ask me?

Has Josie been out for a drive again? I only ask this, because the once standing proud "Redhills Lodge" sign is looking a little bit worse for wear after it ran out into the middle of the road in front of a moving automobile.

That all for now.

Cheers, Liz.

20 Points, And A Fellow Deer
By Jared Rhem

It was a clear mid March morning as I glassed the valley floor in search of the super sensed fallow deer. I was soon rewarded by spotting two hinds and a yearling near the other side of the valley. Being my first time hunting fallow deer, I began my stalk very carefully. The sun was now beginning to generate quite a bit of heat and the temperature underneath my polarfleece was beginning to rise with every step. The deer were situated in a swampy patch near some thick manuka. I sidled around the edge of the manuka using the undulations of the land as well as scrub for cover. I neared the last clump of scrub and peered around the corner and was surprised to see all three deer, as I had been told that fallow are known for there vanishing abilities. I picked one of the hinds which was broadside at about 30 yards, and raised my new Macpherson ,( which I had picked up from Kevin two days earlier). I concentrated on a spot ,and released. As I did so I saw the deer crouch and watched my arrow sail clean over its bac.

All the deer disappeared ,leaving behind a very amazed Bowhunter.(I MISSED!!) I had obviously misjudged the distance, but I could not believe that this deer’s reflexes e faster than 24Ofps On the other hand I was pleased that I had got my first shot at a fallow deer, on my first stalk. Anyway, I put that experience down to not having string silencers, and not enough practice with my new bow.

It was not long before another trip was arranged, this time being during the Fallow Roar in early April. however, is e I had string silencers on my bow and plenty of practice with my new bow under my belt. As I approached the top of the first hill 1 looked down into the main valley as the mist just started to clear. I sat down to wait for the sun to appear over the horizon. It was then that I heard my first Fallow Roar. It was quite an amusing sound, sort of a cross between a pissed off Pig and a Bullfrog. I soon began hunting the valley systematically with the wind, and found myself getting within spitting distance of deer I couldn’t see, hiding in the shade of thick manuka, very well camouflaged. I was pleased with my stalking skills, but was getting frustrated with these highly graceful animals with senses, which were ten times better than mine. It was roughly midday, and after having a huge lunch (i.e. one famous Rehm Dog Biscuit) I made my way to a good looking patch of bush which was on the far side and at the end of the main valley. I made sure the wind was right before entering the bush, and then began hunting up and down the face in a zig zag type pattern. It was quite swampy and noisy at the bottom, so I headed up higher. this felt much better, and I found a lot of small clearings. I stalked through the bush some more before coming to a big clearing. I sat down and glassed the area with my binos. It was quite a long clearing with a spur running up at the end of it. I sat still for about ten minutes, before moving to another place where I could look out over the clearing. I did this about five times before crossing the clearingto the uphill side, but this time I didn't sit Down, I just stood in front of a manuka bush. By now I was near the end of the clearing and from where I was standing, I was in view of small parts of the spur. I had been standing there for a couple of minutes, when I heard some very faint rustling, which sounded like it was moving up the spur. All of a sudden I was aware of a head poking out of the scrub to have a look around. I froze. Even though I was partly out in the open, I was wearing full camouflage including a facemask and gloves. The hind slowly moved out of the trees and made her way up the spur, followed by two more hinds and a yearling. I already had an arrow on the bow, as they headed up the spur. I picked a gap in the trees where I could see the spur, and raised my bowarm, pointing in the direction of the opening, which they should be walking past. All I needed was for one of the hinds to stop in the gap. As the first hind came into view she stopped and looked straight at me at about 3Oyards." SIIT!!", I thought to myself," She's seen me", just then she turned her head and looked the other way I slowly came back to full draw, and concentrated on her chest, and released. My 2514, thunderhead tipped arrow flew perfect, hitting her just low of center lung, YOU BEAUTY!! She immediately turned and ran down the other side of the spur out of sight. I walked up to where she was standing, and found a huge spray of blood, where the arrow had exited. I sat down and waited for ten very long minutes, before blood trailing her. I found her stone dead with a hole through her heart, what a textbook shot that was. I felt very proud at that moment, to be both a Bowhunter and a hunter and to have shot such a magnificent animal as a Fallow Deer, whose senses are at least ten times better than mine.

PRESIDENTS REPORT GROTTS GRUMBLE
THROUGH THE PEEP SIGHT 20 POINTS AND A FELLOW DEER