ABOUT 100m ahead of me in waves of grass the colour of wheat biscuits, the fallow deer turned gracefully, twitched its ears and died.

A single shot was all it took for it to become a remarkable venison banquet cooked by one of the nation's great chefs.

On a stony Granite Belt hillock about a kilometre away, a mob of goats wandered into the rifle's cross-hairs.

A billy goat with a black and white coat lingered just long enough for me to get away a deadly shot.

Slow-roasted shoulder of goat is a feast that should be a Queensland staple. But it is not. Don't have too much sympathy for feral goats and deer.

They are vermin competing for fodder with native animals and sheep and cattle. And they are wrecking the bush.

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