into their Back Countrys that night.
First light found us up high glassing
hard. We spotted them in all of 30
seconds so we threw all the gear we
could need for a day into the packs
and flew down the face. Slaloming
down through the trees, we were praying
we didn’t bump into any other animals
and spook the stags. In minutes we came
out at a perfect lookout, I immediately
started setting up the camera and spotter
while Emil organised himself for a shot. I
was fortunate enough to catch the two
stags sparring on film, but that’s where
our good fortune ended as they never
stopped moving long enough for a shot.
Right at the start Emil had a brief window
where the stag was partly obscured by
a shrub but I cautioned him to wait for
a better shot, after their disappearance I
began regretting it.
We spent all day waiting, spotting
the big bull again as well as other
tahr. Two huge spikers made an
appearance, coming home late from the
snowline above. The day stretched on
and it became quite an exercise in will to
keep glassing, keep looking, be patient
and diligent. Then at last light a stag
appeared on the clearing. He was large
bodied and pale but closer inspection
revealed it was only a younger 8. We hung
in there until we wouldn’t have even
recognized the stag if he walked out in
front of us so we had to admit defeat and
head back to camp, feeling a bit sorry
for ourselves. After the optimism of the
previous evening and morning the reality
of outwitting big public land stags was a
bit sobering.
The next morning we were at the lookout
before daylight, freezing in the bitter
clear cold but nothing showed, it wasdemoralizing. Later in the morning Emil
spotted two young stags fighting up
high but strangely no animals down the
left end and no tahr at all, highly unusual
and we couldn’t explain it. The weather
had changed from warm overcast to icy
cloudless skies, so perhaps that was it?
As is usual for me I was anxious
about the gullies we couldn’t see
into, so I scouted a new lookout.
I’m glad we did as we found a little gem
much closer to the clearings. The stag
face was now 500 yards instead of 700
and ol’ Silverback’s clearing was 700 not
900 ... much more interesting. The only
downsides were that it was quite exposed
and the shooting platform was tricky.
Despite the lack of stags, with the morning
sunshine finally warming our bones we
were feeling positive. Until we spotted two
hunters on the far ridge. We went through
all the phases of righteous indignation,
waving Emil’s blue jacket and grizzling to
each other, how dare they poach our spot!
When we calmed down and accepted that
this was public land, not our land, it started
to make sense as to why we hadn’t seen
anything down that end.
With the hunters looking as though they
were going to stalk through the face we
were watching and absolutely destroy
our plans we started frantically rushing to
find either the stags or the bull. Initially
we were going to focus on the stags first
as tahr are far less flighty than cagey old
stags.
After an hour the big bull ambled out
onto a gutter to the side of a little
pocket of wilding pines with some
nannies and two younger bulls. He
presented a marginal shot at 720 but given
what happened last time we hesitated,
we decided to take the shot. I had
complete confidence in Greg’s rifle after
its performance earlier in the trip, but the
contorted position I was in left little to be
desired. I settled the crosshairs on the rear
of his vitals (the shoulder was obscured)
breezed my finger over the spectacularly
crisp trigger and felt the recoil thump into
by bicep - yes I was that contorted! He
dropped at the shot, but our celebration
was a little muted as we didn’t want that
stag being ‘one that got away’.
After the hours of intense glassing we
thought we were due some noodles
as celebration, taking no more than 10
minutes off the binoculars. But before I’d
even raised my binos to resume I looked
down, just the other side of the pocket
of wildings, and spotted two large pale
shapes on a clearing that weren’t there
before. The Leicas leapt to my eyes and
confirmed both stags. Excitedly I whisper-
shouted ‘Stags! Your stag, both stags!!’
It was amazing how quickly we swung
into action. We knew in advance from theMy best bull to date, an impressive
12 7/8 specimen with an exceptional capeThe young 12 and Emil's 14
having a friendly tussle8 NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE ~ August / September 2019into their Back Countrys that night.
First light found us up high glassing
hard. We spotted them in all of 30
seconds so we threw all the gear we
could need for a day into the packs
and flew down the face. Slaloming
down through the trees, we were praying
we didn’t bump into any other animals
and spook the stags. In minutes we came
out at a perfect lookout, I immediately
started setting up the camera and spotter
while Emil organised himself for a shot. I
was fortunate enough to catch the two
stags sparring on film, but that’s where
our good fortune ended as they never
stopped moving long enough for a shot.
Right at the start Emil had a brief window
where the stag was partly obscured by
a shrub but I cautioned him to wait for
a better shot, after their disappearance I
began regretting it.
We spent all day waiting, spotting
the big bull again as well as other
tahr. Two huge spikers made an
appearance, coming home late from the
snowline above. The day stretched on
and it became quite an exercise in will to
keep glassing, keep looking, be patient
and diligent. Then at last light a stag
appeared on the clearing. He was large
bodied and pale but closer inspection
revealed it was only a younger 8. We hung
inthere until we wouldn’t have even
recognized the stag if he walked out in
front of us so we had to admit defeat and
head back to camp, feeling a bit sorry
for ourselves. After the optimism of the
previous evening and morning the reality
ofoutwitting big public land stags was a
bit sobering.
The next morning we were at the lookout
before daylight, freezing in the bitter
clear cold but nothing showed, it wasdemoralizing. Later in the morning Emil
spotted two young stags fighting up
high but strangely no animals down the
left end and no tahr at all, highly unusual
and we couldn’t explain it. The weather
had changed from warm overcast to icy
cloudless skies, so perhaps that was it?
As is usual for me I was anxious
about the gullies we couldn’t see
into, so I scouted a new lookout.
I’m glad we did as we found a little gem
much closer to the clearings. The stag
face was now 500 yards instead of 700
and ol’ Silverback’s clearing was 700 not
900 ... much more interesting. The only
downsides were that it was quite exposed
and the shooting platform was tricky.
Despite the lack of stags, with the morning
sunshine finally warming our bones we
were feeling positive. Until we spotted two
hunters on the far ridge. We went through
all the phases of righteous indignation,
waving Emil’s blue jacket and grizzling to
each other, how dare they poach our spot!
When we calmed down and accepted that
this was public land, not our land, it started
to make sense as to why we hadn’t seen
anything down that end.
With the hunters looking as though they
were going to stalk through the face we
were watching and absolutely destroy
our plans we started frantically rushing to
find either the stags or the bull. Initially
we were going to focus on the stags first
as tahr are far less flighty than cagey old
stags.
After an hour the big bull ambled out
onto a gutter to the side of a little
pocket of wilding pines with some
nannies and two younger bulls. He
presented a marginal shot at 720 but given
what happened last time we hesitated,
we decided to take the shot. I had
complete confidence in Greg’s rifle after
its performance earlier in the trip, but the
contorted position I was in left little to be
desired. I settled the crosshairs on the rear
of his vitals (the shoulder was obscured)
breezed my finger over the spectacularly
crisp trigger and felt the recoil thump into
by bicep - yes I was that contorted! He
dropped at the shot, but our celebration
was a little muted as we didn’t want that
stag being ‘one that got away’.
After the hours of intense glassing we
thought we were due some noodles
as celebration, taking no more than 10
minutes off the binoculars. But before I’d
even raised my binos to resume I looked
down, just the other side of the pocket
of wildings, and spotted two large pale
shapes on a clearing that weren’t there
before. The Leicas leapt to my eyes and
confirmed both stags. Excitedly I whisper-
shouted ‘Stags! Your stag, both stags!!’
It was amazing how quickly we swung
into action. We knew in advance from theMybestbulltodate,animpressive
12 7/8specimenwithanexceptionalcape
The young 12 and Emil's 14
having a friendly tussle
8 NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE ~ August / September 2019