“The Jill of All Trades” — Claire’s Story

Claire grew up in a big military family — and big is underselling it. She’s one of nine kids (six brothers, two sisters, same two parents, still together), and her dad served in just about everything: Army Reserves first, then the Navy — until seasickness got him — and finally the Air Force. When he came home from deployments, his uniforms came with him, and there’s a treasured photo of young Claire swimming in her dad’s army greens, arm up, big thumbs up, grinning her head off.

She always wanted to serve — military, police, paramedics, something in that world. Her dad had other ideas about his baby girl joining the army, and then kids came along, so it never happened. But the connection never left. These days she helps run physical training for cadets at the local uni, her whole approach to preparedness is soldier-shaped, and she’ll tell you straight: her gratitude for what soldiers do runs deep.

The bush was always there too. A normal outside kid — climb the trees, roam till the street lights come on — who moved from Sydney to the Gold Coast at eighteen, met her husband (Army Reserves, naturally), and married into a family from inland of Ipswich with hunting going back generations. That’s where it took off. And then, in classic Claire fashion, she took it further than any of them.

“It’s not just about the hunt. It’s about the outdoors and everything. The connection, the grounding — just where I’m meant to be.” — Claire

Every hunter has the story they can’t stop telling. Claire’s is a goat at Tenterfield. She’d just had her third child after a rough, bedridden pregnancy — brutal for someone as active as her — and headed out on a family hunt carrying more weight and less fitness than she’d ever had. She missed her first shot. The second one connected... at the bottom of a massive hill.

“I’m so happy in the photo that I’ve got the goat — but I am so red and puffed. I just remember dying. I was like, can a helicopter come get me out?” — Claire, on her first goat

She got the goat up that hill, but the lesson stuck harder than the trophy. It’s why she shoots strategically now — always asking what the recovery will cost before the trigger goes back — and it’s the origin story of her newest project. Because if there’s one thing Claire knows after twenty years in the fitness industry, it’s that the hunt doesn’t end at the shot. You have to be fit enough to finish the job.

Claire’s list of qualifications is genuinely absurd — personal training, gym instruction, Pilates, stick mobility, Hyrox coaching, business admin, bookkeeping, mortgage broking, half a criminology degree, and a two-year stint in government intelligence before she worked out that desks and Claire don’t mix. People call her a Jack of all trades. Her correction: at least call me the Jill.

Now she’s fusing the two decades of fitness with the hunting. Hunt Ready is her eight-week program launching through her training business, Hybrid Tactical Performance — hunting-specific fitness built on functional movement. Hills, fences, pack-outs, awkward carries: it’s all trainable. She’s big on rucking and weighted vest work, because when you train heavy, the real thing feels light.

“People don’t know how capable they are. They work up to a certain point, you push them, and suddenly they’re a different person. They’re levelled up. That’s me winning.” — Claire, on coaching

Her pre-first-hunt advice is exactly what you’d expect from a coach: practice, practice, practice. Get a weighted vest or a ruck pack, get into the bush, put yourself in the positions you’ll actually shoot from — and get your body ready before the moment arrives.

Through New England Hunters and Gatherers, Claire teaches the firearm safety course out of Armidale — in a proper classroom that happens to live inside a shed. People arrive terrified of the test. They leave laughing, confident, and usually asking when the next workshop is on.

Nervous students are her favourite students. There’s always a reason behind the nerves — usually something they’ve heard, or a fear of the unknown — so she breaks it down with rapport first, then knowledge. Train someone thoroughly enough and the fear has nowhere left to live. And yes, plenty of people are shocked their firearms instructor is a woman. She loves that bit too — and she’s noticed more and more women coming through her doors, some because they’d rather learn from a female trainer, and some spurred on by the proposed firearms law changes, getting licensed so their household can spread the rifles across two licences.

“The animals that end up at the supermarket — what we do is far more humane. One shot, no suffering, and we use every single bit. People just don’t know what we do. So have the open conversation.” — Claire, on the biggest misconception about hunters

That’s the conversation she has with every sceptic: do you eat meat? Do you know where it comes from? Because hunters do — and the respect runs all the way through, from the one-shot kill to the hide on the wall to the offcuts for the dog.

Claire’s proudest hunting moment is also her best confidence story. Hunting reds in the rut at Oberon with her husband and a mate, she spotted a stag on a ridgeline. Her husband called it in — and it popped up just fifty metres away, so close she had to wind her scope right down. In the scramble, she got her shot away and the deer was gone. The boys were sure she’d missed. Reds run; that’s what they do. They started walking.

Claire didn’t. She was adamant she’d connected, and she trusted what she felt over what they said. She walked down that hill on her own, eyes peeled, heart going — and there it was. She finished the job, turned around to the two figures up on the hill, and threw her arms in the air.

“If I hadn’t trusted my own instincts and been confident, I would never have gotten that deer. That is such a proud moment. I was like — see, I told you.” — Claire, on her first red

Her verdict on the species divide, delivered with love: reds are the hard ones — they hide, they hold back, they make you earn it. Fallow? “They’re Bambies. They’re just dumb.” (Her words. Take it up with her.)

Nothing goes to waste in Claire’s world. Backstraps come home, offcuts go to the dog, hides get tanned — she’s got them on the workshop wall — and the venison goes straight into her current obsession: nachos and tacos. A mate recently turned up on her doorstep with minced venison as a gift, which in hunting circles is roughly equivalent to arriving with flowers and chocolates. She’s still thinking about those nachos.

The dream purchase is a Traeger smoker — she watches what American hunter Eva Shockey cooks on hers for ideas — but honestly, most of the Claire household diet is barbecue anyway: harvested meat, barbecued veggies, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing exactly where every bit of it came from.

Ask Claire what draws women to this world and she lights up. There’s something primal that switches on when women get around a fire, into the bush, onto a game trail — and she’s adamant it doesn’t come at the cost of femininity. That’s the misconception she wants gone: that women who hunt must be masculine, mannish, hard. Rubbish. You can be feminine, do feminine things, and still gut a deer, track a pig, and light the fire.

“We can be feminine out there. When women come together in the bush it’s primal — that’s who we’re supposed to be, that’s why we’re happy, and that’s what we crave.” — Claire

Her role models say it all: the warrior from Avatar (her declared dream life — running through the trees with a bow), Wonder Woman, and Xena. There’s a standing proposal from this episode for a Women Who Hunt event where everyone paints themselves blue. Negotiations broke down over the tail.

Self-sufficiency sits at the centre of it all. Her picture of a perfect camp: everyone contributes. Someone’s on firewood, someone’s on water, someone’s on shelter, everyone can navigate — contour lines, compass, the old-school way, because relying on a phone defeats the purpose. Not prepper, she’s quick to say. Just prepared.

For women heading out on their first hunt, Claire’s advice comes in two parts. First: preparedness. Know your plan, know what you’re hunting, know what to pack for where you are — New England mornings hit minus five — and know how you’d get help if it all goes wrong. Preparation is what lets you relax and actually enjoy it.

Second: when the animal appears and the buck fever hits, slow everything down. Breathe. Get your heart rate under control so you can think clearly. Never take a shot just because it’s there — get stable first, lean on a tree, use the fork of a branch, whatever works. And on shooting stance, her hard-won rule is refreshingly simple: shoot the way you feel stable and accurate, not the way someone else tells you to stand. You’ve got to feel the shot.

“I wish I’d known to believe in myself more. Women need to know that. We’re meant to do this — our body knows. We can do anything we put our mind to.” — Claire

And the big dream? A group of Australian women hunters travelling to America — meeting the women hunters over there, hitting SHOT Show, and turning this movement into a worldwide thing. She gets goosebumps talking about it. Her husband gets nervous about the bank account. Minor details.

Claire — thank you for the energy, the honesty, and the laughs. For turning a lifetime of “what’s next?” into pathways other women can walk down, and for proving that confidence isn’t something you’re born with — it’s something you build, rep by rep, story by story. The Women Who Hunt family can’t wait to see Hunt Ready out in the world. 🦌