Many years ago when living in NZ I worked as a shift operator at a large thermal power station.
There were 20+ guys on each shift (4 shifts) about 90 operators all up.
Working around the clock you got to know your work mates, we all had hobbies and interests of one sort or another. Gardening, bow hunting, fishing, diving, craying, building canoes, you name it. My hobby other than gardening was deer hunting, I did this for many years, ever since leaving school.
There was this guy on shift Bert who told me he had a .22 Hornet rifle at home, he'd never been hunting, could I take him on a trip.
So I arranged a trip up the Wanganui River, several hours drive to get there, I was towing an aluminium dingy.
We arrived afternoon, set up camp next to river and I said we would row across the river for a quick speccy, no shooting as we would go back in at dawn for a proper stalk.
Now this was an ideal spot where we were, miles from civilisation, road right next to the river, slide dinghy down a short steep bank, row for 5 minutes and you were smack bang into prime hunting territory - fallow deer.
Bert insisted/pestered he wanted to carry his Hornet, I said no, but he kept bleating on so I relinquished. My rifle was a .308 BSA Monarch carbine which I left in the car.
We rowed across after launching, quickly arrived on the other side, then there was a bank to climb up, maybe 20' high. As we got to the top, bugger me there is a deer standing right in front of us. My natural reaction would have been, get down, we'll be into it in the am.
But no, Bert jumped up to take a shot but couldn't fire because he had the safety catch on.
After fumbling around getting the safety off, he ups to take aim but can't shoot as he's shaking too much with excitement.
He gives me the gun and as I'm about to shoot he decides he wants it back, so snatches it off me.
Well by then the deer decides to bolt.
Bert runs after the deer but falls over smack on his face after tripping on a tree root.
He gets up again, the deer had paused for a look back at the commotion, so Bert rips off a shot which went through leaves and branches. A .22 Hornet is a toy you shoot rabbits with, not deer, and certainly not for bush hunting.
Well the long and short of it, we never saw the deer again, I was pissed off at the fiasco.
About a month later I went back on my own and found a dead deer down by the water.
Bert came off my Xmas card mailing list, we never spoke again other than swear at each other.
Moral of the story, well you can work that out yourself however you like, but life can get difficult if someone talks you into something when you have the experience and they don't.
in the overall longer run of things,
