NZ Hunter – August 2019

(Ann) #1
him about where he had hunted and
telling him where we planned to go, he
left and Dad told us he was satisfied
we would still have plenty of hunting
spots to check out.
After a good night’s sleep on the NeoAir
mattress with Bella tucked in between
us, each of us downed a Backcountry
smoothie and we were on the move at
5.45am. We left camp, walking down the
river with Bella nosing to and fro in front
of us. With the intention of locating a
stag up on the valley sides, we headed
along, with Dad stopping to roar every
ten minutes or so. Unfortunately, the
only replies he got were high above
us and in unreachable areas so we
decided to turn to the left and head
up a steep creek towards a large face

that Dad had discovered previously
on Google Earth.
It took an hour of slipping on wet rocks
and climbing small waterfalls before we
got there but thanks to daylight saving, it
was only just full light. The slip had plenty
of grass but we soon determined that
there were no deer above us. We decided
to make the most of the view and have
our breakfast of salami and cheese
sandwiches there, followed by Cadbury
flakes. All the time, Dad was letting out
roars but much to our disappointment
there were no replies from the creek
head.
Feeling a bit flat at the lack of action we
were not particularly looking forward to
the slippery walk back down the creek,
so we spent some time finalising our
plans for the rest of the hunt. After some
discussion, we decided to head back to
camp to pack up our gear and go for a
fly camp up the river where many creeks
branched off, all leading to good hunting.
With our course of action set, we moved
back down the creek to camp with a
spring in our step.
This optimism may have had an effect
because as soon as we cleared the creek
and started the walk back upriver to
camp, Hugo announced that he could see
some pigs. Sure enough, on a slip across
the river only 100 metres away, three
good-looking porkers were feeding in
the morning sun. Visions of delicious
pulled pork sprang to mind as Dad
sank to the ground, found a good
rest, lined up the scope and pulled
the trigger.
Watching with my fingers in my ears, I
saw a pig drop and roll to the base of the
hill, which would make retrieving it easy.
The other two pigs had mixed reactions
to the death of their companion; one
raced off the side of the slip into the bush
in an instant. The other loitered for several

minutes, dawdling to the top of the slip
as if it was lost, but it soon disappeared
as we raced over to check out the kill.
Upon inspection, we determined the
pig’s age to be about one year old.
Dad had bagged the pig with a head
shot, so I was given a lesson on how to
remove the forelegs. Those, along with
the hind legs and back steaks gave us
quite a haul of meat, even if we didn’t get
a deer later on. Returning to camp, we
left the meat to cool in the shade before
whipping up a dahl curry for lunch from
a sachet. We selected the food we would
take with us on the fly trip and stored the
meat in a cool place.
With our tent and packs loaded onto
the bike, we headed upriver several
kilometres before ditching the quad
to start the real climb to get to our
temporary camp. On the journey
upstream we heard many tantalizing roars
but unfortunately all of them came from
up the vertical sides of the gorge and
none of Dad’s roaring could persuade the
stags to come down.
After a hard slog, we finally made it
to where we would be pitching our
tent and we dumped our packs on
the ground wearily.

We couldn’t rest yet
though, the light was
already fading

and there was just enough left to slip up
a side creek and see if anything would
appear. We crept up the creek on our toes,
aware that the small clearings on either
side of us might suddenly reveal a deer.
After fifteen minutes of stalking, the creek
ended in a large grassy slip with fingers
of native bush running down it – perfect
deer country. The three of us settled
down to wait and watch while Dad roared
in an attempt to get a reply from a nearby
stag.
We sat there for half an hour as the
remaining light faded until we had no
choice but to accept the inevitable.
We got up, stretching after the period
of inactivity, unable to keep the
disappointed looks off our faces. We
attached our head torches and plodded
back down the creek to set up the tent
and get dinner on. As we ate our meals,
we discussed our plan for the next day.
The other creeks we had planned
to hunt were unusable as we had
spotted a tent in the fork that led
to them, meaning that other hunters
had been through the area. The next
morning’s hunt was the only one we had
left as we had to be back at the car by
lunch time to head out.

Getting ready
for the long
trek back to
the quad

Hugo,Dad and
Bella struggling
down a difficult
patch of creek after
our first hunt

48 NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE ~ August / September 2019

him about where he had hunted and
telling him where we planned to go, he
left and Dad told us he was satisfied
we would still have plenty of hunting
spots to check out.
After a good night’s sleep on the NeoAir
mattress with Bella tucked in between
us, each of us downed a Backcountry
smoothie and we were on the move at
5.45am. We left camp, walking down the
river with Bella nosing to and fro in front
of us. With the intention of locating a
stag up on the valley sides, we headed
along, with Dad stopping to roar every
ten minutes or so. Unfortunately, the
only replies he got were high above
us and in unreachable areas so we
decided to turn to the left and head
up a steep creek towards a large face

that Dad had discovered previously
on Google Earth.
It took an hour of slipping on wet rocks
and climbing small waterfalls before we
got there but thanks to daylight saving, it
was only just full light. The slip had plenty
of grass but we soon determined that
there were no deer above us. We decided
to make the most of the view and have
our breakfast of salami and cheese
sandwiches there, followed by Cadbury
flakes. All the time, Dad was letting out
roars but much to our disappointment
there were no replies from the creek
head.
Feeling a bit flat at the lack of action we
were not particularly looking forward to
the slippery walk back down the creek,
so we spent some time finalising our
plans for the rest of the hunt. After some
discussion, we decided to head back to
camp to pack up our gear and go for a
fly camp up the river where many creeks
branched off, all leading to good hunting.
With our course of action set, we moved
back down the creek to camp with a
spring in our step.
This optimism may have had an effect
because as soon as we cleared the creek
and started the walk back upriver to
camp, Hugo announced that he could see
some pigs. Sure enough, on a slip across
the river only 100 metres away, three
good-looking porkers were feeding in
the morning sun. Visions of delicious
pulled pork sprang to mind as Dad
sank to the ground, found a good
rest, lined up the scope and pulled
the trigger.
Watching with my fingers in my ears, I
saw a pig drop and roll to the base of the
hill, which would make retrieving it easy.
The other two pigs had mixed reactions
to the death of their companion; one
raced off the side of the slip into the bush
in an instant. The other loitered for several

minutes, dawdling to the top of the slip
as if it was lost, but it soon disappeared
as we raced over to check out the kill.
Upon inspection, we determined the
pig’s age to be about one year old.
Dad had bagged the pig with a head
shot, so I was given a lesson on how to
remove the forelegs. Those, along with
the hind legs and back steaks gave us
quite a haul of meat, even if we didn’t get
a deer later on. Returning to camp, we
left the meat to cool in the shade before
whipping up a dahl curry for lunch from
a sachet. We selected the food we would
take with us on the fly trip and stored the
meat in a cool place.
With our tent and packs loaded onto
the bike, we headed upriver several
kilometres before ditching the quad
to start the real climb to get to our
temporary camp. On the journey
upstream we heard many tantalizing roars
but unfortunately all of them came from
up the vertical sides of the gorge and
none of Dad’s roaring could persuade the
stags to come down.
After a hard slog, we finally made it
to where we would be pitching our
tent and we dumped our packs on
the ground wearily.

We couldn’t rest yet
though, the light was
already fading

and there was just enough left to slip up
a side creek and see if anything would
appear. We crept up the creek on our toes,
aware that the small clearings on either
side of us might suddenly reveal a deer.
After fifteen minutes of stalking, the creek
ended in a large grassy slip with fingers
of native bush running down it – perfect
deer country. The three of us settled
down to wait and watch while Dad roared
in an attempt to get a reply from a nearby
stag.
We sat there for half an hour as the
remaining light faded until we had no
choice but to accept the inevitable.
We got up, stretching after the period
of inactivity, unable to keep the
disappointed looks off our faces. We
attached our head torches and plodded
back down the creek to set up the tent
and get dinner on. As we ate our meals,
we discussed our plan for the next day.
The other creeks we had planned
to hunt were unusable as we had
spotted a tent in the fork that led
to them, meaning that other hunters
had been through the area. The next
morning’s hunt was the only one we had
left as we had to be back at the car by
lunch time to head out.

Getting ready
for the long
trek back to
the quad


Hugo,Dad and
Bella struggling
down a difficult
patch of creek after
our first hunt

48 NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE ~ August / September 2019
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