As we travel down the pathway of life many bad things happen to us along the way and often we are left wondering why did this happen to me? My story is no different to many stories of people that have experienced tragedy on their journey through life. I share my story in the hope that others may find comfort to learn that they are not alone in bearing such pain.

I was just 16 years of age when I accidentally killed my 11 year old brother. I was in my last year of high school I was in the 1st Rugby 15 and had just come second in the school cross country event.
I was a very fit young lad in those days. My father managed a Lands & Survey block of land for the government. It was 2000 acres of scrub and bush and the land was being broken in for farming. When we moved to the property I was introduced for the first time to the sport of pig hunting and deer stalking. I took a real liking to the sport. As a fit young boy there was no bigger thrill than to go chasing a wild pig trough the bush alongside a pack of pig dogs. Once the dogs had cornered the pig I would catch it by the hind leg, tip it on its back and stab it with a sharp pig sticking knife though the throat. Then my friend and I would stand back and watch it bleed to death. They called it sport and I knew no different.
Deer stalking was another of my passions in my teenage years. In the roaring season we would stand on the edge of the bush and make a noise like a stag. The roar of a stag is to challenge other stags to a dual and the one that wins gets to keep the hinds during the mating season. The stags would hear me roaring and come crashing through the bush expecting to meet another stage for a dual. What they would get instead is a bullet through the head from my 303 rifle.
They also called that human behavior sport.

How I killed it’s Mother
I was a lovely clear summer’s morning when my friend and I climbed the hill behind our house with our 303 rifles ready to shoot some more deer. We were walking along a fence line when a mother hind and her baby fawn appeared before us. When they saw us they took fright and ran up a hill. I quickly cocked my rifle and took a wild shot as they disappeared over the brow of the hill. When we walked up the hill we found that the bullet from my rifle had penetrated through the back of the mother deer’s scull and killed her instantly. We then heard a bleating sound and looked around and saw this little baby fawn with its ears sticking up amongst the thistles. It had discovered its mother was no longer by its side so it had come back looking for her. My friend wanted to shoot it but I stopped him and the little baby deer ran off into the bush crying for its mother. That night and for many nights later I could not sleep thinking of what might of become of that little baby fawn. How would it cope on his own without a Mum to protect it and teach it about to survive as a little wild deer. I wondered if it would he find another Mum that would look after it? I felt sick in the stomach and did not want to see another rifle again. I felt like a murderer because I had intentionly killed a baby deer’s mother. How would I be able to go through life carrying such guilt.?

Harsh Punishment.
I did not realize it at the time but a few weeks later I learnt one of the great lessons about life. Life is like a boomerang, what ever you give out in this world it will always come back to you and I was about to receive my punishment.

There was no school bus past our gate so during the week I boarded with one of my school mates and his parents. To pay for my board I lent a hand to milking 100 dairy cows every night and morning. It was a long weekend and my friend asked if he could come and spend the weekend with me on our farm. I asked him if he had a rifle and he said, no but he could borrow a .22 rifle of the neighbor. There were 5 of us boys at home on the farm that weekend. My 3 younger brothers my friend and myself. Saturday morning’s entertainment was to see who was the best shot with a rifle.
 We put tins up on a wooden gate and we would shoot them off. I was by far the best marksman. Mother called us in for lunch and I was first to finish my lunch and ran outside eager to set up another target. Outside our house was a tank stand for the water and underneath the tank stand was a generator that generated our power. After setting up my target I went behind the tank stand and to steady the rifle I learnt my elbow on the tank stand to give me the perfect shot. I pulled the trigger and what happened next was the beginning of something that completely changed the direction of my life.

My Brother Trevor

I recall a body falling down in front of me and I froze when I saw blood squirting out from my young brothers head. I had shot him at close range through the side of the head. He had followed me out of the house to join in with the fun and had run directly into my line of fire. It was a long way to the hospital in the Ford V8. As my parents and I sat in the waiting room of the hospital to learn the fate of my young brother I remember thinking to myself what if he lives and becomes a living vegetable. How would I be able to live with that?
I felt so upset and so guilty that I would have accepted my punishment if I had of been charged with manslaughter but the police decided it was an accident. My parents sent me away to my Uncle and Auntie’s place to help me get over it but I never did.
It took me many years to forgive myself for what I had done to my brother and to that baby deer’s mother. Today I have finally found the strength to share my story publicly for the first time. I have chosen to share it not because I want self pity but because I want others to know that life is not fair but these things do happen on our journey through life and they happen to us for a reason.
I will talk about my reason in a later chapter.