While in Carnarvon we did some hunting.  For me, this entailed running about 500m through the bush after Tim’s dog Mako.  It was hunting, in a traditional way, with swiss army knives.  No guns, or bows or traps.  Just a couple knives, our legs and a great dog.  For the record, Mal and Tim did the killing, but I didn’t stab myself, so I see that as a victory over the goats.


Category: Australianess, Travel Comment »

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