Read this before every trip, not just your first. Nearly every firearm accident on record is one of these twelve rules being broken by someone experienced enough to know better. The rules do the work so your judgment doesn't have to.
Every single one, every single time, including the one you just unloaded thirty seconds ago and watched someone else unload before that. This rule exists because "I thought it was empty" is the most common sentence at a firearms inquest. There is no such thing as a gun you've checked enough.
The muzzle points at dirt well ahead of you, or at the sky, and never sweeps across a person, a vehicle, a dog or a building. Not for a second, not while turning, not while getting out of a ute. Know where your muzzle is pointing without looking. If you have to check, you've already lost it.
There is no version of this that is a joke, a demonstration or a fair exception. Do not point a firearm at anything you are not willing to destroy. If someone points one at you, say so immediately and out loud. Nobody gets to be precious about being corrected on this.
Index finger straight along the receiver, outside the guard, until the sights are on the animal and you've made the decision to shoot. Your finger goes to the trigger last, after the safety comes off, not before. Under adrenaline, hands clench. Keep yours somewhere harmless.
Not to lean on it, not to rest it, not while you catch your breath. A plug of mud, sand or snow in the barrel turns a rifle into a pipe bomb, and the pressure has nowhere to go but back toward your face and hands. If the muzzle touches dirt, unload and check the bore is clear before firing another round. Every time, no exceptions.
Chamber empty and action open in camp, in the vehicle, around the fire, and any time the rifle is out of your hands. It loads when you're in position and hunting, and it unloads the moment you're not. A rifle in a moving vehicle is unloaded, full stop.
Use it, always, but understand what it is: a mechanical part that can fail, get knocked, wear out or be nudged in scrub. The safety is a backup to muzzle control and trigger discipline, never a substitute for either. A rifle on safe that's pointed at someone is still pointed at someone.
Not a shape, not a colour, not movement, not "it must be". You identify the species, the sex and the animal, or you do not fire. Fallow at night under a spotlight in mixed country is exactly the situation where people shoot cattle, dogs and each other. If you are not certain, you don't shoot. Certainty is the whole job.
A bullet that misses, or passes through, keeps going for well over a kilometre. Before you fire, you account for what's behind the animal: rising ground is your friend, a skyline is not. Never shoot at anything silhouetted on a ridge, and never fire toward a fence line, a track, a house or a light you can't identify.
Fences, gates, creeks, steep banks, climbing into a tray. Unload first, cross, then reload. When handing a firearm to anyone, open the action, show them the empty chamber, and hand it over open. The person receiving it checks it themselves as well. Two people, two checks, every time.
Not one. Alcohol and firearms do not share an evening, and the same goes for anything that affects your judgment, your balance or your reaction time, prescription included. If you've had a drink, you're finished shooting for the day, and that decision isn't up for discussion later around the fire.
Check the calibre stamped on the barrel matches the box in your hand, every time you load. Know how your particular safety, magazine and bolt behave before you're standing in the dark with an animal in front of you. Store firearms and ammunition separately and securely, and never leave a rifle leaning unattended.
These rules are layered on purpose. Any single one being broken should not be enough to hurt anybody, because the others are still holding. Muzzle control catches a negligent discharge. Trigger discipline prevents it. Target identification stops the shot that should never have been taken. Break one and you're relying on luck. Break two at once and someone gets hurt. That is how every accident happens, and it's how every one of them is prevented.