NZ Outdoor Oct/Nov 2019 by eQuBe_publishing

YOUR 2019 ADVENTURES

Established in 1937

A MOUNTAIN KING Alpine Hunting with the Roarsome Boys PIGS VS DEER Rivalry on the Motu RED STAG IN THE CLAG 2019 family roar trip

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2019 TROUT

FISHING GUIDE

Oct/Nov 2019

NEW ZEALAND

Stewart Island Wilderness

HUNTING

October/November 2019 – VOLUME 81, Issue 6

Stewart Island Wilderness

INSIDE:

PIGS VS DEER

Alpine hunting

26 22

Seven years in the making –

the next generation

2019 Fishing guide

Field to Plate – have you

46 Connor McKenzie

considered rabbit?

Red stag in the clag – 2019 roar

58 Search for a Taranaki 30-inch billy goat

The Bushman’s Bible Journey NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Volunteers protect Greenhithe community from native species predation and Kauri dieback with automatic traps. By Tori Levy

The Greenhithe Community Trust has installed 200 Goodnature automatic traps across the community in a bid to protect the ecologically-important forest and native species dwelling in the suburb.

We’re also excited to see our self-resetting traps helping limit the interaction between humans and Kauri, and hopefully reducing the risk of spreading disease.” The reserves have historically had very little pest control. With community groups now trapping rats and possums, Auckland Council found no signs of rats or stoats in the two largest reserves when undertaking pest monitoring in all three reserves earlier this year. “Those results were great to see and confirm our efforts to date have been effective in significantly reducing pest populations and infestations,” Chambers says. “There remain some significant tracts of private land in the surrounding area where we do not yet have traps in yet where we would very much like to.” The Greenhithe community is now looking to recruit neighbouring property owners who would like to support the project by approving property access for trap installation and maintenance. “Our goal for the coming year is to work with our community to get more traps into private properties right across Greenhithe, and to grow community involvement and participation with the Greenhithe Community Trust and the Upper Harbour Ecology Network.”

The Trust, based in the North Shore suburb of Greenhithe, has rolled out its first large-scale pest control programme with the help of local residents. Following the south coast of Greenhithe down Hellyers/ Oruamo Creek lies 140 hectares of a half-private half-public native forest that boasts kahikatea and kauri trees as well as native species like the copper skink, ornate skink, green gecko and forest gecko. The volunteer-led group has deployed 170 Goodnature A24 rat traps and 30 Goodnature A12 possum traps within the escarpment and in surrounding wooded areas, including council UHEN is a network of environmental groups reserves and on nearby private properties to from across Upper Harbour that meet monthly decrease the population of rats and possums, to learn, network and keep up with developamong other invasive pests. ments in environmental issues across Auckland. Greenhithe Community Trust pest free project Roll out of the project was made possible thanks co-ordinator Richard Chambers says the self-reto a grant from Transpower for the purchase of setting nature of Goodnature traps will be a huge 200 Goodnature A24 traps, and grants from benefit for the project on an ongoing basis. the Lottery Environment and Heritage Fund “There is huge community commitment across Kiwibank’s Predator Free NZ initiative. Greenhithe to see this important ecological area preAdvancement of this pest free control iniserved. Because Goodnature traps are self-resetting tiative, along with others in neighbouring and only need to be serviced and re-lured twice a Herald Island, Whenuapai and Paremoremo, year, they are perfect for using in difficult to access have been assisted by funding of the Upper terrains like the forest escarpment along the south Harbour Ecology Network (UHEN) by Upper coast,” he says. “The low maintenance needed for the Harbour Local Board. traps is also paramount in keeping foot traffic minimal, and therefore reducing the chances of introducRichard Chambers ing other problems into the area, like kauri dieback disease.” About Greenhithe Community Trust The Hellyers Creek area has been labelled a high priority area in the North-West Wildlink Prioritisation report. The report recommended introducing a predator control programme into Greenhithe to promote wildlife passage through the diverse matrix. Goodnature A24 traps are now active in Redfern Reserve, Taihinui Historical Reserve, Hellyers Esplanade Reserve and, with owner permission, in some adjacent private properties. The A24 automatic trap, developed by Wellington conservation technology company Goodnature, is the world’s only predator trap which automatically resets up to 24 times before it needs to be serviced by a human. A24s are designed to kill more pests than traditional traps while also reducing the labour costs by up to 90 percent on some projects. Traditional traps need to be checked every two weeks while the A24 automatic trap only needs to be checked once every six months when using the Automatic Lure Pump (ALP), which slowly releases non-toxic lure keeping it fresh and enticing. Goodnature representative Adam Cording says, “Grass roots projects such as this, which cover public, private and conservation land, play an important part in the future of New Zealand’s ecological biodiversity. Without dedicated people like those in Greenhithe, we risk losing our valuable native flora and fauna. 2

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

At the Greenhithe Community Trust our vision is a vibrant, healthy and caring community. Our mission is to equip Greenhithe community with practical ways to achieve this vision. We do this by drawing together resources and services, and by mobilising the community to make Greenhithe a better place to live. We honour te Tiriti o Waitangi. We endeavour to lead well, ensuring our vision is at the forefront of all decision-making. We comply with safety regulations including the Health and Safety at Work Act and the Vulnerable Children’s Act. We are a registered charitable trust and we receive an annual independent financial audit. To find out more information, please visit: www.greenhithecommunitytrust.org.nz

What is your community doing for conservation – share your stories to inspire others to volunteer and create vibrant, healthy and caring communities.

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EL RANGE THE PEAK OF PERFECTION SEE THE UNSEEN

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EDITORIAL Welcome to spring, the year has been passing us by very quickly. It certainly went from a reasonably dry warmer start to winter to some very wet, cold weather. On a personal note, I have had a switch of careers from being a builder to an opportunity to work on my family’s dairy farm. It was a big decision but one that I am absolutely thriving on. Once I get through the busy period on the farm, I have some great new adventures planned that I look forward to sharing with you. Spring is now well and truly here and is ramping up to be a great time of year, with longer evenings providing a great excuse to get out for a quick hunt after work. The Wapiti ballot is now open and closes the first week in October, so be sure to get your entry in. I am still to draw a block, but the dream still drives me that one day I will be lucky enough to venture into Fiordland’s wilderness. If you get to visit this amazing place do send us a story of your adventures. You don’t have to be successful with securing an animal to share a great yarn, it is all about the journey after all. A couple of months ago, I headed south in the search for tahr and chamois in a nice West Coast river catchment with my brother Sam and good mate Campbell. We had a great week securing a few meat animals and searching for a big fella. We were fortunate to be given one of the MIA tents that you may have heard about that helped to keep us more comfortable for

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STATEMENT

HOW TO REACH US: Email: info@nzoutdoor.co.nz Post: PO Box 18038, Merrilands, New Plymouth 4360 Ph: 0274 871 447

the week. A full review of this tent will be in our December issue. In this issue Tim has shared our epic tahr hunting adventure from last year with you. We had a special week in the mountains and were able to take my dad along, which made the trip even more rewarding. We trust that you are enjoying the Roarsome Hunting articles since we have become involved with NZ Outdoor and it has now been a year since I took on the role of Editor. It is a rewarding experience and something both Tim and I are really enjoying being a part of. Cheval has written a fantastic fishing guide and shared some of the fishing trips that he has ventured on. He has been introduced to NZ Trout App that is well worth checking out. This app has been created in Taranaki by Jeff Gorringe, who has a real passion for fishing our country’s waters. Daryl Crimp takes us to Stewart Island, popular with tourists,

trampers and adventurists and a magnet for Kiwi hunters, attracting over 2,000 annually. The chief drawcard is whitetail deer and Daryl introduces his fifteenyear-old son, Daniel, to one of New Zealand’s great wilderness icons. The sika show is coming up on 28th and 29th September. Be sure to get along for all the latest on what is happening in our industry, as well as the taxidermy and head displays which are always worth a look. Some of our team will be walking around enjoying it all so hope to see you there. Make sure you set some time aside to get outdoors and secure some prime-eating wild game meat for the busy BBQ season ahead. Until next issue, happy reading and stay safe. Andrew Martin, Editor/hunter

“To promote, enhance and protect safe, public, recreational hunting of wild game animals in balance with a healthy ecosystem.” Respect your game. Utilise what you shoot. Leave only footprints. SUBMIT YOUR STORIES TO: stories@nzoutdoor.co.nz www.nzoutdoor.co.nz

WHILST EVERY CARE IS TAKEN, WE ACCEPT NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR SUBMITTED MATERIAL. NO MATERIAL HEREIN MAY BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM, WITHOUT PRIOR WRITTEN CONSENT OF THE EDITOR. OPINIONS EXPRESSED IN THIS MAGAZINE ARE NOT NECESSARILY THOSE OF THE NZ OUTDOOR OR ITS STAFF. ALL CONTENT ©2019NZO HUNTING. ISSN 1177 8741

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If it was a stepping stone, the next step would be a very cold swim or, if you possessed incredibly long legs, the sub-Antarctic Auckland Islands. Stewart Island (Rakiura) at the southern extremity of New Zealand is one of her last great wilderness icons - a primordial landscape that is alluring and testing.

An epic wilderness experience.

Sand dunes are a favourite haunt of whitetail. 6

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Popular with tourists, trampers, and adventurists, it is also a magnet for Kiwi hunters, attracting over 2,000 annually. The chief drawcard is whitetail deer, of which there are good numbers, although trophy potential is weak compared to American whitetail, due largely to poor genetics and the harsh environment. The only other herd is in Wanaka, main South Island, but it suffers huge pressure and requires better management. While considered an introduced pest by the Department of Conservation, they do offer some intrinsic value other than hunting for meat, which I consider second only to moose. Trampers who sight them do believe it enhances the wilderness experience. Stewart Island is also one of the few places where you can see abundant kiwi in a natural setting. This national symbol frequents the beaches where meandering tracks trace its nocturnal perambulations as it probes the sand for food. The tracks are often not alone,

revealing a sinister sub-plot; feral cats frequently stalk the bird but it’s a futile pursuit - the adult kiwi, although flightless, is perfectly weaponised with powerful legs and sharp spurs. The predators tend to have better luck with other natives, such as the beautiful parakeet. The kiwi can also be seen poking about the forest during daylight hours. Bush hunting is challenging, as the deer are cagey and most elusive, appearing and vanishing like magician’s smoke. The forest is thick, in places flat or undulating, and carpeted with large areas of crown fern so these tiny animals hold the advantage. It is also disorientating, and hunters easily become lost. Movement is your enemy - a deer trying to hide in the main street of town is a good analogy to a moving hunter in their domain, so finding an area with plentiful sign and staking it out is a better option. Whitetail love native broadleaf, as indicated by the uniform browse lines on every tree,

so breaking off branches and creating an ‘ambush’ is also a successful tactic. However, we found the deer preferred the windfall about three days after it was felled; perhaps the sugar levels in the leaves intensified or the deer just needed to acclimatise to the altered environment. I was hunting with a group of mates and my fifteen-year-old son, Daniel. As it was his first time to Stewart Island, I was keen that he at least get to see a whitetail - many hunters generally see just that, a white tail flashing through the vegetation - so we bush stalked first. However, after encountering little sign and being thwarted by the still conditions and dry bush carpet due to a vicious summer drought, a change of tactic was called for. Whitetail also love the beach, coming down to feed on kelp washed ashore after a storm. It possibly increases their mineral uptake or perhaps they just love the sand between their toes. They also like nibbling on the herb mats that carpet the sand dunes, so we focused our intention here.

By Daryl Crimp

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Stewart Island is a package experience and natural food is abundant. Daniel catches a trumpeter for dinner.

March coincided with pre-rut activity and we were to discover a preponderance of bucks frequenting the beach but catching them in the open wasn’t easy. Much of the sign indicated they were beachcombing after dark, but I reiterated a valuable lesson to Daniel - expect deer when you see them; they can pop up anywhere at any time. It was windy so we focused on a swampy network of sheltered clearings at the back of the dunes and quietly padded

through them. Daniel indicated a fresh set of small tracks in the sand, which had me on full alert. Then fresh droppings. Glossy. Extremely fresh. Then I froze and put my hand to one side, palm back. The signal I’d seen something. I didn’t flinch or break eye contact with the deer but it twitched, about to take flight. It then heard Daniel quietly cock the rifle, changed focus, and hesitated again. Wild animals will often hold longer if distracted and confused by two different threat

sources, giving a few extra seconds to make good the shot. Daniel stepped clear of me in one fluid movement, aimed, and fired. The inexperienced yearling kicked and accelerated forward while the young nimrod cranked another round into the breach and swung to lead the animal. “Hold on,” I said, resting a hand on his shoulder, “he’s dead on his feet.” His shot had been true, which was not surprising - we had just stalked to within six metres of the whitetail before he fired!

A rugged coastline; whitetail love the kelp when it gets washed ashore.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Daniel with his hardearned whitetail.

Wilderness hut Stewart Island Close quarters hunting certainly amps you up. His grin spoke volumes and even the long haul back to camp with the animal over his shoulders didn’t dampen his spirits. Other members of the group also enjoyed success, which was heartening considering we’d selected a tough block and were told we’d be lucky to see deer, let alone shoot any. None came easily though and there was no real consistency to where and when we found them.

I encountered one right on last light and almost missed the opportunity because I was focusing on the dunes, when I inexplicably glanced back at the tide. There, with his hocks in the water, was an old buck nibbling on kelp. I crouched to blend in with the logs that littered the beach and waited anxiously as darkness descended. Fortuitously, the buck abruptly ceased eating and headed directly for cover, passing me at only a stone’s throw away.

The benefit of good optics came into play as the Swarovski scope pulled in enough ambient light for me to take the shot. Seconds later it was ink dark and difficult to locate the fallen deer amidst the clumps of driftwood. The old buck carried a real character head; six twisted points, chipped, gnarly, and knobby! The whitetail are a bonus because hunting Stewart Island is a package experience.

Stewart Island; windswept and remote.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

I revelled in creating exotic dishes like whole fish baked in kelp and seaweed and bluecod soup.

Natural food is abundant and I revelled in creating exotic dishes like seaweed and blue cod soup, whole baked fish in kelp, seared venison with whiskey mushroom sauce, and coconut crusted paua. Despite the remoteness, most evenings saw one or two trampers stumble into the hut - many were international visitors and great company but some were ill-equipped for the conditions. One Czech bloke stumbled into camp dishevelled and disorientated.

He was hungry and communicated that he must catch fish, so we directed him to the end of the forested peninsula. When he hadn’t returned well after dark, we searched and ultimately found him confused and exhausted, having not found the ocean. He’d wandered in circles for hours. He had no headlight and no cooker, just a packet of matches, some rudimentary fishing gear, and one hell of an appetite; that night he ate two whole deer, six paua, all our fish, and a partridge in a pear tree! By midweek, Daniel was pacing, scratching, and sighing and if he didn’t get out again soon he was ready to match the Czech by devouring our entire cache of freeze dry meals. Shouldering our gear, we headed to a remote spot we’d cased out earlier. With a high bush edge feeding a sheltered steep sparsely vegetated hillside at the back of the dunes, it screamed deer but hadn’t yet produced. We crawled through the tall dunes to a vantage point and staked out the face, covering half each. We were in position early so as not to disturb the area during the ‘magic hour’ and had a long wait, which was shortened for me by a ‘nanny nap’. Upon waking, Daniel told me an unbelievable story: “While you were asleep, I heard a crack and looked up to see a six-point buck feeding down toward us. It had huge antlers and stood broadside on at 50m,” he said, eyes agog. “Why didn’t you shoot it?” I interrupted, spellbound. “I woke up,” he said with a grin. Cheeky lad. But the words proved prescient. I’m not making this up; we’d just decided to cut our losses right on dark when Daniel heard a noise and turned back to the face. A whitetail had materialised on the bush edge and was feeding broadside on, not 70m away. Camouflaged by the failing light, Daniel threw his daypack down, dropped prone, and took a shot from over the pack. I stood disbelieving at the amazing seven-point buck and ribbed Daniel for being a jammy little bugger. He thought for a moment and then grinned, “Yeah… I guess you could call it a dream come true!” <<<

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With the roar over for another year, our focus changed from roaring stags to rutting bull tahr. Hunting these majestic beasts in their alpine environment is truly a humbling and exciting experience that every keen hunter should try at least once in their lifetime.

By Tim Menzies, Roarsome Hunting

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Due to other commitments, we were a little slow with our planning and missed out on the area we really wanted to hunt. However, it is always exciting heading into a new spot and after completing our research we were full of anticipation of what this new spot might bring. On this trip Andrew’s dad, John, came along with us not just for the hunting but to spend time in the Alps and experience what his son has such a passion for. After a night in Franz Josef, we were up early and headed for our heli-ride that would drop us up in the mountains well above the bush-line. It was great to be in open tussock country, but it also made it very hard to set up camp as there was no shelter and the wind was howling down off the main divide.

After battling for a while, we had to admit defeat and set up our tent behind a big rock to block the wind. The ground was rocky and uneven but at least the tent wasn’t getting flattened anymore. I spotted a nice bull tahr across the valley from us, but he had obviously been watching and decided he wasn’t sticking around to see what we were up to next. He headed for the ridge and disappeared over the other side, never to be seen again. With camp set up and gear unpacked, there was only one thing left to do; go hunting. Andrew glassed a mob of tahr feeding down from the rocky tops and after watching them for a few minutes, we could see a couple of big mature bulls that warranted a closer look.

We headed out full of enthusiasm, as it was still only the first day and some respectable bulls had already been spotted. Making our way down the valley, we needed to predict where the bulls were heading as we knew once we started to climb we would lose sight of them. We hoped that we could get ourselves into a decent enough position to have a crack at one of the bulls. As we made our way up a rocky gut, we spotted a nanny feeding that had a young bull following her. However, he wasn’t one of the big boys we had seen earlier so we just had to sit tight behind a rock and hope they fed away out of sight. This would allow us to continue our climb for a true mountain king.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

It was only the first day and some respectable bulls had already been spotted.

Finally, they disappeared and we continued sneaking from rock to rock towards the place we had seen the mob. It was steep and we didn’t have much to hide behind, which made stalking very challenging as we knew that we could be spotted at any moment. A sharp little ridge to the side of the rocky gut we were climbing up looked like a good place to position ourselves. We crept forward slowly while keeping low and moving together to remain undetected. We were almost there when we heard the first whistle, the alarm that we had been spotted. With tahr popping out all around us, we were frantically searching for the biggest bull. There were nannies everywhere, all looking down and whistling to warn off the intruders. Suddenly, the big boy showed up at only 100m away and we finally got a good look at him as he followed his nannies around. Fortunately, there was only one thing on his mind

and it wasn’t us. He had great length in his horns that curled back around and heavy bases. There was no doubt in our minds; he was a trophy bull tahr. We didn’t have to wait long for him to be in a good position for a shot and Andrew wasted no time with the 300win mag. The hit was solid and he came tumbling down the bluffs towards us, falling out of sight and into the rocky gut below us. We were disappointed to discover that both horns had smashed off, but he still had a magnificent winter cape. A quick search found one of the horns, that revealed that he was over 13 inches, and 45 minutes later we located the second horn sitting nicely on the edge of a cliff. With both horns secured in Andrew’s pockets, we made our way back to the bull.

We were running out of daylight, so the plan was to get the bull into a better position and return in the morning. Back in camp a few hours later, we enjoyed a nice hearty meal John had prepared for us. It was only day one and we had already secured a big old bull tahr; the boys were happy. The next morning, we were up early and with full bellies from the night before we set off keen to retrieve the big old bull and fill our empty packs. We took as much meat as we could possibly carry but even broken down into our packs a bull tahr of this size is a heavy load to carry, so we took our time getting down the mountain.

Trying to remain undetected, as the nannies were everywhere and they are quick to warn off intruders. 14

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

The real challenge is getting close enough.

Over the next few days, we explored the valley and saw plenty of animals and even got quite close to a few. However, they were either too young or in places we couldn’t reach. This is often the case when tahr hunting; finding them usually isn’t too hard – the real challenge is getting close enough. With the weather forecast not looking too promising, we had a feeling that we may only have one more chance to spend a full day out on the mountains.

While glassing around camp, Andrew spotted a bull chasing a nanny around further up the valley in an easy to reach area. We set off up the valley and climbed the opposite side to where the bull was so that we could look across. He was bedded down under an over-hanging rock, his blonde mane blowing in the wind. This could be my last chance on this trip so we set off straight down and up the other side to come in below him. John stayed behind with the binos to watch the upcoming show unfold.

As we climbed up the waterfall, I could see the rock the bull was under but not him or the nanny. Nearing the crest, I misplaced my footing and kicked down a few loose rocks, immediately capturing the bull’s attention and causing him to come out from under his rock to investigate. He was staring straight down at me at about 60m away; an old bull with a great skin. I closed my bolt and dropped the hammer, watching as he rolled forward off the rock and tumbled down in front of us.

Father and son with the mountain king. NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

An old bull with a nice-looking skin.

The nanny attempted to escape but since we were close to camp we took her for meat. After a quick debrief we met back up with John at the river and headed to camp with another full load. That night the rain arrived just as the weather forecast had predicted. During the early hours rain turned to snow and at 6am we awoke to the roof of our tent about a foot from our faces. After attempting to get some shape back into

our shelter, I crawled out through the front and confirmed what we already knew; we had been buried in snow. John stressed, “I just wanna go home,” and after a chuckle we fully agreed and sent a message out to James Scott requesting a possible pick up. With confirmation that a chopper would be sent as soon as possible we wondered how long we would have to wait.

The mountains were a complete whiteout and it would be a mission to get us and numerous other parties out before a three-day storm hit. We got lucky and were picked up first, but others weren’t so fortunate and were forced to wait it out for the next few days. While we waited for our ride we reflected on what an exciting and eventful week we had experienced in one of nature’s treasures – the Southern Alps.<<<

We got lucky and were picked up first, but others weren’t so fortunate.

We awoke to the roof of our tent about a foot from our fa ces.

One of nature’s treasures – the Southern Alps. 16

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

SINCE WELL BEFORE I WAS BORN, THERE HAS BEEN AN ONGOING RIVALRY BETWEEN US NORMAL FELLAS AND THOSE OTHER FELLAS THAT STALK DEER. WHEN I FIRST MET UP WITH THE DEER STALKING DUO OF ANDREW AND TIM FROM ROARSOME HUNTING, I WAS CURIOUS AS TO HOW THEY MIGHT HANDLE A DECENT PIG HUNT. STRAIGHT OFF THE BAT I REALISED THAT TIM WAS GOING TO BE JUST FINE, AS HE WAS A BORN-AGAIN DEER STALKER WITH PLENTY OF PIG HUNTING BEHIND HIM.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

I saw potential to swing him back to the dark side. Andrew, on the other hand, was going to be a challenge. As our conversation drifted to stags and the roar, I saw his eyes glaze over and our chat immediately became more animated. Andrew talked at length of roaring red stags and stalking them in close, and he almost got me. The bugger was so passionate I almost got excited enough to contemplate heading away with these fellas for the roar with no dogs on board. Sanity quickly prevailed and as I swung the conversation back to the true sport of kings, I was relieved to see a twinkle of interest in his eyes at the thought of bailing up a few pigs.

GAME GEAR ADVENTURES

“Would be good to have the dog just in case the stags don’t roar, “said Andrew, and with that comment I immediately knew there was very little hope of turning this fella to the dark side. Plans were made and we decided rafting the Motu would be an awesome roar trip. I stressed the importance of traveling light, as I knew from experience these deer stalking fellas liked their creature comforts. One gun between the two of them and one pack each, I mentioned, along with freeze dried food and a shared cooker. I contacted Mark Looney from Motu River Jet to arrange the logistics of being dropped off and borrowing his raft and after outlining the trip ahead, he told me he was coming too. For those of you that know Mark, you will realise his small frame packs a punch when it comes to experience on the river.

Pack light Mark stressed and one person on each corner of the raft would balance things out perfectly. With that decision made, I had to deal with another deer stalker on board. Panicking about weight on the raft, I spoke to the boys again and could see the pain in their eyes at the mention of one gun between them. Andrew even suggested that if we left the dog behind, he could not only include another gun but also his binoculars and more food. He was a long way from being converted to my bark, bark, bang method of hunting! I reached an agreement with them that they were allowed one pack each and one gun between them, and in return I would stick to one dog. In hindsight, I should have specified the size of the packs. I nervously packed my gear and with one small pack and four days of

Absolute Wilderness food I couldn’t pack any lighter. The little dog would dine on biscuits and sleep under my hammock. Even my hunting pouch was thinned out to only contain 10 rounds of .44 ammo, a torch, pocketknife and spare batteries. If everyone packed this well, the raft would fair race down the river. I didn’t realise the extensive creative thinking that deer stalking fellas do whilst they sit glassing for animals, and Andrew used his time wisely leading up to the trip. The day of the trip rolled around quickly, and we were on the river’s edge early in the morning. Mark and I fussed around blowing up the raft and as things took shape, we suggested Andrew and Tim grab their gear out of the ute and stow it away on the raft. A cheeky smile from Andrew alerted me to the fact something was up and they both returned grinning like idiots, with two of

the largest packs I had ever seen bursting at the seams with gear. “One pack each,” Andrew sheepishly mentioned as he pushed and squashed his monstrosity of a pack into the raft. Tim’s single pack followed and with all available space now gone, my very Ethiopian looking bag and Mark’s day pack containing all he needed were strapped to the top of the two massive packs. We laboured down the river, bumping and grinding over every rock. Andrew suggested things would lighten up as we chewed through our food and I wondered quietly just how much weight we could lose by removing freeze dried meals? A few hours into the trip and my little dog began to whine and move about as she perched on top of the mountain of gear. She must need to go to the toilet, suggested Andrew and we headed to the shore to let her off.

MARK MADE SHORT WORK OF THE 300-METRE CLIMB AND A SOLID BOAR OF 100 LB WAS THE FIRST ANIMAL FOR THE TRIP.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

I sat quietly thinking that it was more than likely pig scent that caused her to get excited and as we beached the raft, she confirmed it by leaping off and immediately disappearing into the bush. Within seconds, a very angry looking boar splashed down next to the river with the little dog following right behind. A good bail started and quick as a flash, Andrew was off the raft and sprinting completely unarmed toward the action. The boar looked up and seeing a madman in a bright yellow life jacket and running shoes racing toward it, charged right over the top of the little dog before disappearing straight back up the bush face. The huge excited grin on Andrew’s face as he spun around gave me some hope that he might catch swine fever and I quickly suggested to him that when the dog barks again we should take a slower, quieter and

preferably more well-armed approach. It wasn’t long and barking from 300 metres up the face told me the pig had been stopped. Andrew and Tim suggested Mark and I sneak in and shoot the pig and they would join us after securing the raft. Mark made short work of the 300-metre climb and with a well placed shot a solid boar of 100lb was the first animal for the trip. After photos and tying the pig to the mountain of gear, we decided dinner and setting up camp at the next decent clearing would be a good option. The Roarsome boys were well practised and quickly had a tent up and campfire going. As I wandered past to grab some water for my freeze-dried dinner, I was sure I could smell steak and hear a faint sizzling noise. Getting closer, I was greeted by Tim and Andrew sitting next to a large and very full fry pan.

“Snuck in a few extras since I couldn’t bring a gun,” said Andrew and as I looked down my mouth watered at the sight of two huge T-Bone steaks and six large sausages sizzling away in butter and oil. Suddenly, my Wilderness Stew in a bag seemed slightly less appetizing. “Plenty here,” said Andrew with a cheeky grin and I decided a shared dinner was a wonderful idea. Day two started with an early breakfast and then it would be back on the river, as the first few hours were prime time to see deer on the river’s edge. After devouring a muesli bar and condensed milk coffee I began to load the raft. The faint smell of bacon drifted down from the deerstalkers’ tent and as I looked up from the raft, Tim sauntered down through the darkness lugging his pack over one shoulder and carrying something in his hand.

“WOULD BE GOOD TO HAVE THE DOG JUST IN CASE THE STAGS DON’T ROAR.”

I UNDERSTOOD WHY THESE DEERSTALKERS STOPPED TO GLASS AREAS SO OFTEN. 20

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

IT WAS 3-1 TO THE DEERSTALKERS AND THAT MEANT A REMATCH WAS ON THE CARDS. “Wrap your mitts around this,” he said and planted two wedges of homemade bread in my hand. Lashings of bacon and a fried egg were sandwiched in the middle and he laughed as he commented, “Enjoy, plenty more where that came from!” We hit the water and I understood why these deerstalkers stopped to glass areas so often. I could hardly move and that was just from eating their leftovers. Wet gear and dragging the raft over rocks for the first hour wasn’t easy; corporate fellas call it team building. As we worked together to drag the many kilos of deerstalking essentials downstream, I found myself hoping my mates would get their wish of shooting a deer or two. We didn’t have to wait long before Andrew’s eagle eyes picked up a red shape way down the river. “It’s a stag,” he said as we pulled to the opposite bank. Mark was our first shooter and with his .260 ready to go, he positioned himself on the bank and took aim. His first shot echoed down the river and the stag hadn’t moved. Bang went his second and still no response. “Fire again,” Andrew instructed, and as Mark’s third shot went off the stag casually turned around and looked back at us. Then in the silence as we waited for a fourth shot, we all heard the dreaded ‘click’. Mark had run out of bullets. As I heard zips opening, I watched both Tim and Andrew exit the raft with rifles. “What is this?” I stammered, “one rifle between two!”

“Out of the way, pig hunter,” Andrew chortled. “There are deer to be shot.” The stag had other ideas though and upon seeing numerous guns appearing, decided to just give up and die. He staggered and before anyone could send more lead his way, fell over stone dead. Mark copped numerous remarks regarding the placement of his shots as we rafted over to the stag. However, upon turning it over we found three holes grouped perfectly just behind the front shoulder. Our now completely overloaded raft wallowed further down the river and as the hidden guns had now been seen, they remained strapped on top ready to go. The previously peaceful raft now resembled some sort of carcass-carrying gunship and as we lumbered further down the river, two

separate deer made the mistake of standing in awe at the spectacle we made. A bright yellow raft, four idiots in Hi-Vis lifejackets, a dog and a large blue tarp. Maybe it was the three expensive firearms with large glinting scopes that held their attention, or perhaps they were just stunned at what we were wearing. “If you really want to get into the deerstalking market, you need to do camo,” grinned Andrew as we loaded the third deer on the raft. We all looked at each other dressed like glow worms with not an ounce of camo in sight and cracked up laughing. It was 3-1 to the deerstalkers and that meant a rematch was on the cards. Next time I would be wise to their tricks and take one dog for every gun they arrived with. It would be game on.<<<

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

By The Other Guy

Humans, as a collective species around the world, have an incredibly chequered past when it comes to co-existing with other earthly inhabitants. With the benefit of hindsight, we can look back at some of our decision-making processes and collectively shake our heads in disbelief. Back in the day (as early as the 1830’s), after the early settlers arrived in New Zealand, rabbits were introduced for food and sport. These settlers were either terrible shots, average hunters, or not that hungry because before long the population of rabbits exploded. In some areas they had reached plague proportions. The rabbits ate the grass and crops planted for sheep. The sheep would go hungry and produce very little wool or meat. In drier areas the plant cover was devoured by these cute and cuddly rabbit critters, exposing the soil to wind and rain. The result was land erosion and destruction beyond repair. With hungry sheep and eroded farms, many farmers in the Otago region walked off their stations solely as the result of these invading rabbits. Shock and horror, the decision to release the rabbits proved to be a bad one.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Some joker (let’s call him Stan) had an idea. “Bro, let’s introduce some stoats, weasels and ferrets to control the rabbits.” There were some scientists and bird lovers that kicked up a stink about the pending release, but what would they know? Stan was a man with a plan. The warnings from the stink kickers were ignored and the release went ahead. I could just imagine the stoats, weasels and ferrets’ cries of joy when released into this bird lovers’ Utopia. You see, stoats, weasels and ferrets are bird-lovers too. With no natural mammalian predators, the native bird life made an easy and delicious meal for these foreign invaders. Before long the stink kickers noticed a sizable decline in bird numbers. “We told you so!” chirped the stink kickers, but alas it was too late. The number of birds continued to spiral downward, and some species became extinct.

Shock and horror (again), the decision to release the stoats, ferrets and weasels to control the rabbits proved to have been a bad one. Fast forward to today and coupled with habitat destruction and other crazy ‘Stan decisions’, New Zealand has lost many species of birds. We also have species of birds and reptiles that are on the absolute verge of extinction. Eventually someone, somewhere, (not you Stan – you blew it) was going to make a good decision and I think I have found them. They are the trustees, committee, volunteers and staff at the Rotokare Scenic Reserve. The Rotokare Scenic Reserve is situated just a stone’s throw away (12kms) from the Eltham township in central Taranaki. There is a 17.8ha natural lake at the bottom of a 230ha forested hill country catchment but more importantly … the reserve is totally enclosed in a pest-proof fence encompassing the entire perimeter (over 8kms).

The Fence The following is an excerpt from the Trust’s website describing the history, need and design of the fence and how it works. Following the recommendation of a feasibility study (Oecologico, 2005), the Trust began the challenging task of fundraising for a $1.9M pest-proof fence to circle the 8.2km reserve perimeter. Thanks to the overwhelming public and sponsor support received, Xcluder Fence Company began construction work on this customised fence in November 2006, taking just over two years to complete it.

No ordinary fence! Unlike your standard stock or garden fence, this fence has special features that make it a barrier to unwanted predators: • • • •

Its height, close to 2m tall, stops jumping animals such as cats from getting over the top; A fine stainless steel mesh (25mm x 6mm) is small enough to stop even baby mice from getting through; A smooth, rolled hood prevent climbing animals like possums from getting a grip to climb over; A skirt that goes underground acts as a barrier to digging animals like rabbits and hares.

Rotokare’s fence follows a ridgeline, making it less likely to be damaged by falling trees. This path also ensures that the entire headwater catchment is enclosed within the fence, preventing any contaminants entering the reserve from surrounding land. The fence also has a surveillance system. An electric tripwire runs around the top of the fence; if a tree falls on the fence, the wire shorts itself on the metal pigtails through which it passes, and a text message informs the Site Manager of an obstruction. This system allows fast and efficient repairs to be made before any sneaky pests can get in! The pest-proof fence is a fine piece of engineering. I often walk the ‘Ridge Walk’ when training for something like a Fiordland hunt, or when my jeans start getting too tight or I get puffed trying to tie my shoelaces. It is a tough walk, all 1220 steps of it, so to the people that built the fence…

I salute you! The Ridge Walk enables you to see the amazing pest-proof fence up close and personal, while also allowing you to take advantage of the wonderful vistas on offer from the ridgeline. Intensive trapping has cleared the zone of any possums, stoats, ferrets, weasels, possums, rabbits, hares, rats and mice. The fence continues to keep them out and regular monitoring ensures nothing has been missed or has snuck in with an unsuspecting visitor. As you enter the Reserve you are required to drive through a double gate system. The system doesn’t allow you through the second gate until the first one closes behind you. Within this double gate system are traps (lots of them!) just in case a wily weasel sneaks its way in. From this point forward the type of adventure you have is entirely up to you and your fitness level. The flagship activity of the reserve would have to be the Ridge Walk (in my opinion) but there is so much more to do. Power boating is seasonal but nonpowered (kayaks and paddleboards etc.) can be done all year round.

The flagship activity of the reserve would have to be the Ridge Walk.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Kiwi can be observed foraging for food in the bush. (photo by Chris Dodd)

Male hihi. (photo by Tony Green)

There is freedom camping, picnic tables, toilets, a visitor centre and limited wheelchair access for part of the lake walkway. And the bird life is next level. In the swampland area you will find a pontoon that extends out into the lake. I have found this an excellent place to take the kids during our night missions to listen to the many kiwi within the reserve. If you walk quietly around the lake edge walkway, kiwi can be observed foraging for food. Guided night tours can be booked by emailing educator@rotokare.org.nz. Check out details on the website.

I am always amazed at the tui’s singing ability and often stand beneath these magnificent birds as they belt out a tune. I once counted at least 15 tui in a single tree. However, the saddleback would be my personal favourite of the bush dwelling birds. They are territorial little buggers and can give you a real earful as you walk by. Oh, and beware of low flying wood pigeons, the B-52’s of the bush! One recent development at the reserve is the introduction of the hihi (stitchbird) in 2017. This honeyeater-like bird hasn’t been seen in the Taranaki bush for around 130 years! The hihi is one of New Zealand’s

rarest and most vulnerable forest birds, with a global population of around 3,000, and are found in only six other locations around the North Island. The only natural population left is on Little Barrier Island. The hihi are doing well at Rotokare, much to the delight of staff and volunteers. What are you waiting for? Make your way to the Rotokare Scenic Reserve and wander through a slice of predator-free native NZ bush. Remember to drop a gold coin in the donation box. As for me, my middle age spread and I have a date with the Ridge Walk. If only I could reach my boot laces. Wish me luck!

Visit www.rotokare.org.nz for more information. In the swampland area you will find a pontoon that extends out into the lake.

Wetlands boardwalk development.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

By Cheval Graham

Nothing will ever beat my first outdoor pursuit growing up, which was with a rod and reel. Boulder hopping estuary sidings, flicking my spinner in every which direction, and peering into the glossy rivers hoping to snag a kahawai riding the tide, or a sea-bound trout frolicking about the river mouth, was how I spent my spare time.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

As with hunting, fly fishing takes practice, ... Summers and winters were filled to the brim with fishing and swimming. Once I got the hang of spin fishing and reading the water, I watched my tally grow as I hiked further up rivers to fish. One day my grandfather pulled out his #9 Wynrod fly rod, to show me what real fishing was all about, and the rest was history. Getting into fly fishing can be a daunting array of wacky-named flies, casting failures, and many a long day with nothing to show for it (not to mention being a few flies short). But just like deer stalking, fear not, and never let the unfamiliarity of the sport hold you back.

In New Zealand, we are fortunate to have the chance of utilising the most rewarding and visually stunning forms of fishing - most of which passes right under the game-hunter’s nose. Fly fishing is very similar to deerstalking, only harder. Not only do you have to find and stalk the fish, you then must trick it into eating a hook disguised as prey; ie fly/insect/fish/ larvae. If you get that far and the fish does take, it may spit it out before you set the hook, or just throw it off as you fight it. So, after all that, what’s the point?

It sounds tedious and unproductive at the best of times. However, as every hunter knows, you don’t go out and snag a deer on your first attempt either (unless you are a lucky bugger). It is all about practice, patience and persistence...and those three things are what turned hours of undoing leader knots, wet legs and bush bashing bramble into a pastime that provides many rewarding adventures for myself and many other anglers. For those wanting to learn, it is beneficial to find someone who can teach you, join an angling club, or even go to YouTube for some lessons.

... patience and persistence. NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Photo courtesy of Cath Sheard, South Taranaki LibraryPlus, Hawera

The gear you will need to get started is a fly rod, fly line, a reel, some nylon for the leader, a net and flies. As you get more interested and dedicated to the sport, you can invest in other gear; fancy waders, a surgeon’s pouch full of tools, and state-of-the-art reels, rods and gadgets. When it comes to flies, there are thousands of variants. However, to keep it basic you have dry flies (floating flies/ terrestrials that land on top of the river), nymphs (below water fly larvae that get swept down the current) and wet flies (below water but imitating fish, not flies). I will recommend three for each category as nine flies is more than enough to start with and are my tried and true for mid-North Island rivers and streams. Wet flies - Woolly Bugger, Mrs Simpson, Rabbit. Nymphs - Hare & Copper, Pheasant Tail, Halfback. Dries - Blue Dunn, Dad’s Favourite, Cicada (an awesome summer fly when they’re making noise!)

Visit the library and read books on when to fish, how to fish and what to fish. Online information is also easily accessible, and we have a location directory to help kick-start our midwinter adventure with New Zealand Trout App. This app has been created in Taranaki by Jeff Gorringe, who has a real passion for fishing our country’s waters. ‘’As a fly-fishing angler in New Zealand, trying to travel and fish new areas independently with a busy timetable, I found myself either not having current information or leaving detailed maps behind on the desk at home. Just to know where public access points were or finding nearby accommodation was tricky, without blowing valuable fishing time asking around. It’s easier just to fish the same local waters that we already know, right? To find the information of these waters today, it has all but been buried by time.

Instead of having a 30-year-old map and the yellow pages in their back pocket, most modern anglers now carry a smartphone. New Zealand Trout App provides access for anglers to known fishing points, with new fishing hints and local knowledge every month supplied by pro-fishing guides. This information is valuable for a new or visiting angler. Nearly everything is interactive, from selecting your region and river to finding multiple detailed fishing access points (which link to Google Maps), local businesses: e.g. tackle shops, accommodation, dining, alternative activities; as well as the current month’s tips and techniques from the local pro-fishing guide.’’ NZ Trout App makes locating fishing access points and riv er information easy!

My favourite flies to attack most North Island waterways.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Adjust your fly to the conditions, location and time of season.

Hours of fun can be had fly angling, with most fishable rivers and streams only a short drive away for most of us!

Handmade in Wanaka NZ, Epic Fly Rods are a quality tool in every anglerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s arsenal.

Taranaki Armed with my new #6 Epic 690C fly rod, from Swift Fly Fishing New Zealand, we are ready to get the adventure underway. We will be hitting my local spots south of Mount Taranaki for a day of small river stalking, to see what we can snag using NZ Trout App as our guide.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Catch & Release in low stocked rivers.

I’ve had plenty of fun hauling in some of the best rainbows in Taranaki! The Waingongoro river has great access, holds good numbers, and is a reliable river for teaching kids to fish. Experienced anglers will enjoy trekking up further into clear pools under the mountain for the larger and wiser trout that reside in the headwaters. Our afternoon begins with a dirty flow coming straight off the mountain after a rough night. Dirty water presents another opportunity to wet fly a larger lure or nymph; something flashy to attract a visually impaired trout after a good flush. After assessment we decide to nymph the pools, as day showers have cleared to much improved overcast conditions. We can’t see anything move but after some time, the Epic rod comes to life in response to our nymph being taken. Our brown trout tally starts climbing as the afternoon wears on. This river is tried and true for putting fish on the table, with access getting a big thumbs up from us!

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Around the coast further, the Kaupokonui river is a family favourite and recommended to all those who love sea fishing. You also have the option of wandering up-stream and trying the tidal pools for some great sea-run trout. The upper reaches near Kaponga see some very clear, fast-running water over boulders into deep crisp pools. I’ve had plenty of fun hauling in some of the best rainbows in Taranaki! One afternoon, after spotting a mature rainbow cruising in his pool, it took a few fly changes to finally snag him on a wee nymph. I underestimated his size or power because it took a good 20 minutes of heaving between us, darting up to the top of the pool and back down, nervously steering him away from the boulder-strewn gauntlet to finally bring him in. After thoroughly enjoying this powerful lad, I put him back to give someone else the joy of coming across him one day (secretly hoping it’s me again!).

Kid-friendly access can be enjoyed here as well. I remember one trip when a school of juvenile rainbows were loitering in the river at arms-length. Tempted to see if I could hook one, I dropped my line above them and they were like a mob of piranhas, darting amongst themselves to score their lunch. Watching them go for it time after time was great fun for myself and the kids. I even got my young son, Tristan, to man the rod and haul in his first wee rainbow! Fun times are always had at the rivers with children; if there is no fish or swimming to be done, then it’s eeling and rock throwing. The Waiaua river sits right next to Opunake and has great walkway access, mixed with good pools up and downstream of the SH45 bridge. This is a piece of water that does not see much pressure and after two years of fishing here, I have only spotted one other angler.

My Waiaua Brown. One evening, I headed to the bridge and would work my way upriver. Flicking a wet fly (Mrs Simpson) at the tail end of a shallow rapid heading into a deep pool, I was intending on waiting for signs of any movement in the pool as the line glided down the rapids. My weighty line immediately went taut and I assumed it had snagged on a rock in the fast water. A tug of war ensued between myself and a stubborn brown, who came to life from the rapids and at times came in like dead weight. This trout was a good six-pound haul for something I never would have expected to see hanging out in these waters. The access to waterways in Taranaki is the best in the country and holds some of the most underrated rivers and trout available. This area is a great starting point for both beginners and the more experienced, so I urge you to head up under the mountain and explore these hidden gems!

â&#x20AC;&#x153;The access to waterways in Taranaki is the best in the country and holds some of the most underrated rivers and trout available.â&#x20AC;?

Hooked up!

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Taupo Lake Taupo and its tributaries is regarded as one of the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s premier fishing destinations, which comes as no surprise. Anyone who hunts the Pureroas or Kaimanawas can attest to the water quality and headwater environments. From the late 1800s to the present day, the Taupo fishery has provided anglers of all skill levels the chance to capture a fish of a lifetime. Much of the region is open all year and water seldom turns dirty. Some areas are closed during the winter however and it is important to check the regulations before fishing any water in this region. Department of Conservation, who manage the fishery, have a large presence on the waterways.

Lake Taupo itself provides excellent boat fishing and shoreline fishing throughout the year. The winter months see huge spawning runs occur, with literally tens of thousands of fish moving up the rivers. Many fishermen regard this as the prime time to fish the region but for me nothing beats summer-time adventures, with low water levels, cicadas humming around you and clear streams to hunt down the shadowy beasts darting in the current. The Waitahanui is my all-time favourite spot for fishing in New Zealand. This tiny stream close to Taupo is spring fed and you can always stalk your fish from the mouth all the way up to the more secluded pools. Much of my early fly-fishing days were spent here and it is always great to come back.

Taupo fishery is blessed with pristine water, trophy trout, and great weather throughout the year.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Today, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m nymphing with dropper setup; essentially a dry fly as an indicator with a small nymph on a foot of line below it. The clear cool waters always look calm but have a swiftness about them on the pumice shingle bed. You soon realise this when you step in and regain composure from the force of the flow. Dark spots in the river dart around in tandem as feeding trout navigate the currents surrounding them. Sometimes they are easy to spook but other times it is a territorial competition; like any other animal really.

Bridge Pool always has a few trout that cleared the lake entry and hold up patiently before moving upstream. A few pools up from Bridge, I spot a rainbow actively feeding in one spot across the stream, only darting left and right every so often. It has found itself a nice area to hold up in the current, waiting for food to come tumbling down. Stealth is still required, so sudden movements and noise must be kept to a minimum. Casting well ahead, my flies drift above him and while he does react nothing is taken. Every cast captures interest, but he is obviously not feeding on

what my flies imitate. I swap out to a smaller nymph (ones with rubbery legs tend to have an explosive reaction) and boy did it go off with a BANG! The passive trout turned savage and started throwing itself downstream in a fit. Trying not to let him take control, I persuasively hold my line taut to steer him back up to the softer water. A few minutes go by and the wild rage settles down with the battle won. Another successful day of fishing has been enjoyed in Taupo!

Waitahanui Rainbow in full colour.

The Taupo fishery has heaps of kid-friendly access!

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Waders optional!

Whakapapanui

Tongariro Just down the road, the Tongariro meanders through prime landscape and is regarded as fly fishing central in the heart of our hunting and outdoor country. Although the larger, wider river style is not my cup of tea, it is still a picturesque place for adventurers. There is a sense of camaraderie on the river as well as in the hills for both angler and hunter. Rivers have character and the Tongariro evokes tales of a bygone era. Generations of families share stories as they reminisce on past seasons and make ominous predictions of the seasons to come.

Small streams require more stealth and cunning to snag trout.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

For more remote adventuring, the Whakapapanui is a large river for the more experienced. This river pours down the slopes of Ruapehu, to then merge into the headwaters of the Whakapapa and Wanganui. The area around National Park, Owhango and Kakahi, has an exciting stretch of white water darting around boulders and you can rock hop almost anywhere up and down this river. If you play your cards right, you can reach some of the small pools and slower waters scattered amongst the flow. One autumn, just as the frosts were setting in, we camped around National Park. A small stream that fed the Whakapapanui had a darting shadow in a slow pool, the light was low, and surrounding bush blocked out most of the light.

It felt like a cave in that bushy den and was a fun experience. I changed flies a few times and held the trout’s interest as it darted further in excitement, until finally he snapped at one. ‘’I’ve got you on now, you bugger!’’ I muttered as I heaved my rod back in response. The goldfish-sized rainbow flung out onto my feet and I burst out laughing, as I tried to work out what I had missed. I put the wee rainbow back in the water and it still makes me smile as I write this. ...Just remember, some notable fish in your life may not be the biggest, baddest ones! NOTES: Epic Fly Rods: www.swiftflyfishing.com. NZ Trout App: www.nztroutapp.com. Tongariro Trout Centre: www.troutcentre.com.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

“Just walk quietly and be ready!” I glance back and nod. Walking up towards the skyline, I eagerly await what could be on the other side. The clouds have closed in and a slight drizzle is soaking us. Slowly, I place my raincoat over my already wet garments, but I don’t mind at all when there’s a chamois on the cards. My senses tell me to go slower. Yes, I’ve done this before - and failed. But, I’m better from the experience and feel confident that I can grasp it this time round, if I get the chance. We spotted the chamois from camp in the valley floor this morning, while we were eating our rock-hard porridge (not my cooking!), so we roughly knew where the animal was.

I get down to a commando crawl as my heart races like a frightened buck. Reaching the top I see nothing, not yet anyway. I glass down the gully scanning the area and sure enough, the Leupold’s pick up a red hind grazing on the alpine grass. She is unaware of the danger 100 metres above her. “There could be a stag near her,” my dad whispers. We continue to view the expanse but don’t pick up any other animals. I pick up my faithful Sako .308 and we begin to sidle around, eagerly awaiting what could be in the next gully. “Any chamois that pops up is mine,” I think to myself. Upon completing a firearms training course, the trainers told us to have this mentality when you’re going to shoot an animal. It will make you more confident and therefore you will shoot straighter. Believe me, these words were echoing in my head and high up on the Olivine range of South Westland, I sure was counting on it.

A warm breeze blew into my face, which was comforting and reassuring. “The wind’s blowing the right way,” I whisper excitedly. This is the start of better things to come. We get over the ridge and have a good scan of the area. “We’ll have to keep moving, it’s getting dark.” He’s right, we are straight above our tent, a tiny dot far below on the valley floor. It will be a long walk back down, but we’ll worry about that later. Right now, we’re after a chamois. Doubts start playing in my head. The evening light is beginning to fade and we haven’t come across the chamois yet. Realistically, I’m probably not going to get another chance until next year. I was currently working at the Smithfield freezing works in Timaru, working long hours as I prepared for my OE to Canada where I was going to work for an outfitter. Ever since I was eleven, I had been trying to get a buck chamois. I was now eighteen and all the unsuccessful trips were getting

a little tiresome. We had promised we wouldn’t put any pressure on ourselves and that this was a pastime to be enjoyed, regardless of what the outcome was. Despite this, I was still feeling some frustration. A few boulders come into view, but the grey blanket of drizzle is still with us. Reaching the next ridge, I walk slower taking care not to make too much noise. “This animal is mine,” I keep saying to myself. Coming slowly up to the dark grey skyline, the moment I’ve been waiting for finally arrives. There, standing on the ridge, is my chamois. He stares back at me and then bolts, forcing me to place a round up the spout before applying the safety catch. I run to catch up and spot him standing on the ridge in the next gully. Experience reminds me not to mess about, so with the safety off I place the crosshairs on his shoulder. The raucous blast breaks the stillness of the serene snowgrass and he plummets into the unknown beneath him.

THE NEXT GENERATION

BY JAMES KINSMAN

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

“Hell yes!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I race to where my chamois is lying in a hebe bush and inspect his horns. Dad arrives and taking one look exclaims, “he’s a good one!” I can’t quite believe it; this is what I have been working towards for so long. “I reckon that’s about a nine incher!” says Dad. With heavy packs we have a tough three-hour trudge through the bush in the dark before we arrive back at base camp. When I now look at the buck mounted on my wall, a flood of memories come back; the sweat, the failure, the frustration. It had been an enjoyable ambition, which took us over many parts of the South Island’s alpine environment. It makes me appreciate that it is about the journey, not the destination.

Lewis Pass

Godley Valley

I’m eleven years old when we slog our way up Deer Valley. I’ve got a couple of deer under my belt but right now, things aren’t looking good. We’ve been trudging along for four and a half hours and haven’t covered much terrain. The bush is thickening and the valley walls around us are starting to close in. Dad is complaining because he has a heavy pack on and I am too. We stop for a breather. “I think we’ll have to turn back. It’s a long way,” he says. Unwillingly, we head back to the campsite. The next day, we head up to the tops and finally hit the bush line with ease but don’t spot any animals.

The next trip was up the Godley Valley, when I had just started high school. We took the Land Cruiser up the riverbed and upon entering conservation land, started seeing a few mobs of tahr. The next day, we crossed the river and set up camp before heading out for a hunt. We stalked the ridge and suddenly a voice behind me states, “James, there’s a bull tahr staring right at ya.” I looked up and sure enough, there was one straight above us. I make a steady rest with my day pack and placing the crosshairs of my .223 on my target, I fire. Unfortunately, it’s not enough and a second bullet is needed. Lesson learnt; use a bigger calibre than a .223 on tahr.

The journey Whataroa; a renowned area for chamois.

Over the moon to get a tahr in the Godley Valley.

We enjoyed a climb up to Sealy Tarns, Mount Cook and the views would have to be some of the best in New Zealand. NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

He was an old bull with thick bases but no length. I was still content as I had my first tahr! The next two days we kept stalking around with no sign of a chamois. However, it was a valuable experience and an awesome trip into a fascinating corner of the South Island.

Makarora The following year saw us spending a week in a roar block, west of Wanaka. We stalked around the flats for red stags and glassed the tops for chamois. A climb high up into a glacial lake was a stunning view, with towering peaks and glaciers, but sadly no animals were to be found. The country was surprisingly rugged. Again, a big learning curve with more experience gained.

Mount Cook

Haast

An opportunity to get away for a few days saw us make our way to Mount Cook, staying at NZDA’s Tahr Lodge. We saw multiple tahr but nothing worth taking and there were no chamois spotted. My father had taken his chamois in this area when he was in his teens, an 8¾ inch buck with good thick bases. We enjoyed a climb up to Sealy Tarns and the views would have to be some of the best in New Zealand. However, we realised things had changed and we would have to get further west for chamois, as in Westland. These animals were proving to be elusive and it seemed to be all tahr and not much else.

This was where we started to get somewhere. After a walk in the West Coast fog, it finally cleared in the evening and provided an opportunity for a hunt. Just below the hut, we saw a chamois on the opposite face in amongst the rocky bluffs. However, despite our best efforts we lost him and with darkness approaching we reluctantly headed back to the hut. The next day saw us hunting the gullies around the alpine tops. We were perched down below a ridge having a rest, when we spotted a doe and kid making their way across the gully. We watched them for about ten minutes and they never knew we were there. It was an amazing opportunity to see such a beautiful animal in their natural environment.

Remarkable views of mountains and valleys.

My buck now sits proudly on the wall, a constant reminder of a thrilling quest.

It had been an enjoyable ambition, which took us over many parts of the South Island’s alpine environment.

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Whataroa 2016 saw my dad, mate Jacob and me flying into the Whataroa area. We were aware that this is a renowned area for chamois and there would be plenty of scope for stalking. Five days would give us plenty of time to search the area. The second day saw Jacob and I walking up a ridge that lead to the top of the range, where we could glass down gullies and ravines. We were continuing up when I spotted something and ran back down to the ridge. Standing in the bottom of the gully were four chamois looking straight at us. Alerted to danger they took off and I ran after them but slipped on a rock and almost fell downhill. I remembered what the old timers always say, “No animal is ever worth being killed over!” The wind was blowing as I lay down and assessed the mob, my ethics being to leave the younger ones as well as the does. I made the mistake of taking too much time and they soon disappeared, showing a lack of experience on my part. I learned the valuable lesson that you can’t mess around trying to assess them. The mob was made up of about four animals so I doubt whether any animals would have been of trophy length, as the big boys are lone bucks; another lesson I learnt.

The remaining days saw us spotting some tahr and one chamois and it was a grand trip into a renowned area. No time in the hills is ever wasted and it was an adventure to be climbing up and down waterfalls and finding suitable routes past bluffs.

South Westland The year after, we drew a Haast roar block in the ballot and what a tremendous week it turned out to be. The first few days saw us stalking the beech forest for stags, but nothing was worth taking. We saw an eight-pointer and a six but we felt it was better to leave them to grow into twelves. Those stags were big bodied, which suggests the area had plenty of feed. However, the stags weren’t roaring as we were only in the second period of the ballot system. One crisp morning, we were glassing and picked up a lone chamois. It was above camp on the tops, so we kept an eye on it while continuing to stalk for a red stag. Two days later we saw the chamois again in the same spot. We hatched a plan to walk up to the top of the ridge and then across to the other side so that we were above it. As most alpine hunters know, the escape route for tahr and chamois is up.

We took a route through the bush for 15 minutes and when we reached the bush line, we filled up our drink bottles at the stream. We then ascended a steep ridge which took about an hour or so. We were rewarded for our efforts at the top with a remarkable view of Fiordland, with mountains and valleys stretching for miles. As tempting as it was, we couldn’t stay there all day though as we had a job to do. Upon being lifted high above the West Coast water, I got an amazing sense of accomplishment. A feeling that no doubt, will stay with me for a long time. A fascination for chamois took us over many parts of the Southern Alps, from the edge of Fiordland to the Lewis Pass. From the age of nine, I dreamt of my chamois buck and feel content that this has now become a reality. As this amazing adventure comes to an end I plan my next objective; hunting the majestic bull tahr. I am so grateful to my father for introducing me to hunting and spending the time taking me out and teaching me not only the skills but important ethics as well. <<<

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It was an early start to the family hunting block in the central north for Good Friday 2019. After spotting a couple of nice red stags on a trip the weekend before and taking an uneven ten-pointer with my dad, I had my heart set on a big mature roaring red stag for Easter weekend.

The more time our boys spend in the outdoors, the more their love for nature grows.

By Ashlee Strange 42

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Hubby, dad, our two young sons and I arrived at the cottage at around 2pm, where we unpacked our gear and stashed Easter eggs in high cupboards before the boys woke from their afternoon kip. This year’s roar was going to be a memorable one with both our boys joining us. They have been coming out hunting with us from a young age and the more time they spend in the outdoors, the more their love for nature grows. This year there was no way they were going to let us leave them behind. Taking my boys hunting is quality time and I get to teach them valuable life lessons, carrying on the tradition that was taught to me by my father.

It was mid-roar and the hills were alive with plenty of vocal action. The next morning, we would be heading 40 minutes down the valley to a block we had acquired access to for this year’s roar. However, with two little hunters rearing to go we were straight out the door to find some stags on the home block. We headed up to our usual glassing spot; a flat pad looking down at a nice grass clearing that usually holds a few hinds. We had hopes of getting the boys in on some roaring action if there happened to be a stag hanging around. The boys were very keen to put their many weeks of roaring practice into play. One after the other, they made their best

efforts to replicate a big stag call and sure enough to their surprise (and ours) a roaring red stag replied. With guidance from Mum and Dad to cut down the roaring from every 10 seconds, the stag popped out at 50 metres. A young bushy eightpoint red stag checked us out for a second before tossing his antlers back and diving into the scrub. The looks on the boys’ faces is a memory I will always treasure. The next day, we woke to a calm morning and the roaring stags echoing throughout the valley made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. In the darkness we left in search of my roaring red.

“This year’s roar was going to be a memorable one with both our boys joining us.” NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Arriving at our destination, we parked the ute, slung our packs and rifles on our backs and set off on foot. The valley we had arrived in was thick with fog, making our search that much harder as visibility was less than 10 metres in front of us. After walking a few kilometres, we reached a high point where we could hear the croaking of bucks in one direction and roaring of reds in the other. I knew which direction I was heading and off we went. The sweet sound of a roar filled my ears. And then another one, there were two stags! We were closing the gap. My heart began to race; we were within 400m and we knew where they were holding on a face on the other side of swampy wet land around 100m wide. We would be able to push into the edge of this swamp and set up for a shot after we had laid eyes on the stags. We pushed forward in the thick fog quickly but quietly, before deciding to let off a roar to pinpoint our stag. Within seconds a responding roar was heard, and it was exactly where we thought about halfway up a steep grassy face looking down on the swamp.

We pushed forward again with the thick fog for cover, at only 50 metres visibility, and another roar confirmed our theory. Although we now knew the vicinity he was in, we were going to have to wait for the fog to lift in order to lock eyes on him and hope he wouldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t disappear. We set up for the shot so when it presented itself, we were ready. A few more roars were exchanged, and we had this fella well and truly wound up. Patiently, we sat waiting to get a look at the specimen that was making all this racket. The fog slowly began to break, showing half of the hill face through to a small patch of trees surrounded by grass. We searched the visible area for any movement but still could not spot the stag.

Regular roars had kept us alert of his location and patience had finally paid off after waiting for this big fella to show himself through the thick fog.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

I let out a roar in the hope that he would respond and alert us to his location. Sure enough, the bellowing came from the patch of trees and he was moving out. I got myself down into position and put one up the spout, I was ready! Within seconds he came walking out from behind the trees, roaring his guts out, this was my big chance.

Keen to put the many weeks of roaring practice into play.

A big mature 11-pointer that had reached his peak. Through the scope I could tell he was a big bodied stag. He was moving across the face and I was struggling to keep the crosshairs on him, as hubby watched through the binos. He’s big!” I heard the words uttered behind me, followed by a quick roar to stop

the stag in his tracks. With the crosshairs now on the stag’s shoulder, I sent a 7mm on its way and was happy when my shot placement put the stag down on the spot. I was eager to get a closer look at him so we gathered up our

gear and as we drew closer, I could immediately tell he was the stag I had been after. Big bases, good mass and length, he was a big mature 11-pointer that had reached his peak – I could not have been happier, bring on the chocolate for breakfast. <<<

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Brian Beamsley sat on a handy log and waited. He waited for more than an hour past the agreed time but as per usual, Clayton hadn’t shown up. Also, as per usual, Brian took off with his Martini Enfield .303 and dropped a couple of pigs in the first clearing he’d come to. After that, he’d driven home, dressed out the pigs, put them in the freezer and then thought about his mate, Clayton. Without doubt, Clayton was a weird rooster, no two ways about it. He had enough rifles, shotguns and fishing rods, not to mention all the ammunition and paraphernalia that went with it, to open his own sports shop but nobody had ever seen him fish or hunt. Without doubt, Brian would run into Clayton again over the next month or so and Clayton would have some excuse for not showing up. He’d been in bed with the flu, or his sister in Ohakune had a plumbing problem with water gushing everywhere, or his mother had taken sick and so on. He was never short of excuses, was Clayton. Not that any of this worried Brian; live and let live was his motto, but to save time and hassle he decided against taking Clayton too seriously at any time in the future. Besides, it wasn’t as if he needed Clayton. He did all right without him hanging around and he wasn’t short of mates wanting to come along, knowing too well they would soon be into some action. Some of the newcomers thought the pigs and deer were easy, but those who had been out with Brian more than once soon learned that he just made it look easy. Despite the time of year or whatever the season, Brian knew where the deer or pigs would be. It was useful knowledge gained through years of hard study, which most hunters wouldn’t bother with. All too often they would head for their favourite hunting ground, find the place barren and keep up with their own theories as to why. 46

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

“Too many meat hunters,” one would say, and, “I reckon there’s been too many hunters, full stop,” another said. But Brian would just have one glance and know that there wasn’t enough edible palatables at that time of year to keep the deer or pigs interested in the place. He tried to pass on this knowledge but mostly it was a waste of time. Whether it was deer or pigs, rabbits or possums, they had to eat, but so many wouldn’t factor that into the equation. After a while, Brian hunted alone or with a trusted mate. He did O.K. out of it too and held down a good job at Railway Workshops. At eighteen years of age, Brian had married his sixteen-year old sweetheart Anne, and of course there were those who said it wouldn’t last but it had been going for fifty years now, so you do the math. During the winter months, Brian would set out the traps and with his catching and Anne’s cleaning and tacking out the skins, they didn’t do too badly at that either. Just as well too, as Brian and Anne started their family early. Three daughters at first, then after a spell, along came another daughter. By this time things weren’t going too well at the Railway Workshop so Brian got a position with the Pest Destruction Board. This made him a full-time professional hunter and the job was made for him. He got on well with everybody and worked with blokes who had a lot in common. He also got himself a couple of dogs who were quite handy on the pigs as well as the rabbits. Keeping his family fed and the bills paid wasn’t easy most times, but Brian wasn’t frightened of hard work. So much so that he always had some game left over and that’s when the prices for game meats became profitable. By all accounts, Brian must have been working like the proverbial onearmed paper hanger, but he seemed to thrive on it. He could work all night for the Pest Destruction Board, then put in a good day on the pigs and deer. Goodness knows when he slept. At the time, the country was thriving. There was work aplenty for those with willing hands and there didn’t seem to be any shortage of these.

Everybody was employed, things seemed to be going well, but the signs were there; signs of lean times ahead. At first it seemed to be the building game, then some of the smaller businesses closed their doors. The Railway Workshops folded and work was getting harder to get. Brian was still O.K. with his Pest Board job and his meat hunting, but he could feel things were slowing down. The rising prices for meat were sending more ‘would be’ hunters out to mess up the camps and hunting, and generally make things more difficult. It seemed as though Brian was doing twice the work and covering twice the country to get half the result. On one occasion, Brian came across four fallow deer which had been shot and left to rot, not so much as a back steak had been taken. It was enough to make a man sick, but Brian couldn’t afford the luxury. With winter closing in, he concentrated on the possums and hit the market at just the right time. Good skins were bringing good prices and with four daughters eating him out of house and home, Brian needed good prices. With spring approaching, Brian got the urge to hunt the Kaimanawa. Now the truth is, he got the urge to hunt a lot of places but his longing to hunt the Kaimanawa became nothing short of an obsession. He had holiday time stored up, so he headed off for five days to try his luck and didn’t need much of it. Using his instincts, that had been honed through regular use, he followed a creek for a couple of hours which put him into some high country. This in turn led to a valley not too far from a road. The next day was spent finding the way to the road, which was a little complicated like it was meant to be. With more bends and turns than you’d ever think possible the road, which was little more than a track, came out just short of the highway. Taking a good look around, Brian couldn’t help thinking he’d found one of the pick-up points for the meat buyer. There were some old tyre treads which could have come from a large ute or truck, and some other marks which definitely came from a pack horse.

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Brian was still mooching around when a heavyset bloke showed up in his Holden one-tonner, pulling a trailer well loaded with deer carcases. “This used to be a regular stop for me, but it looks as though the Philburn brothers decided to give the game away or have taken off for pastures new,” said the heavyset bloke. “I’ll be passing again day after tomorrow, if you’ve got anything for me just wave. I pay forty-five cents a pound for neck or headshot and forty cents a pound for the rest. “And by the way,” said the heavyset bloke as he pulled out to the highway. “They call me Trevor.” Without wasting any time, Brian headed back up the track, made himself a lean-to bivvy, then hunted the valley while running out of daylight. More out of good luck than anything else, he managed to score a decent-sized stag and added two hinds to his tally the next day right where he expected to get them. Things like that give a man a good start to the day. Getting all three deer down to the track wasn’t exactly easy but Brian was hard and fit, and made it look that way. He even had time to hide all three deer and go back for his gear. It didn’t look like rain, so Brian made himself comfortable and apart from two buck possums having a scrap spent a reasonably good night in the bush while he waited for Trevor. Trevor showed up around about 8:30am the next morning and always the businessman, weighed the deer and handed Brian a handful of notes. “Hope we can do business again,” he said, and with that took off with a wave and a shout and that was that. Brian got back up to the track, crossed the valley and found his vehicle after a few problems. Something to do with him taking a wrong track alongside a wrong tree. I never got the full story. After that, it was a drive home but not without Brian doing some serious thinking about things that would affect

both him and his family. It seemed like Whanganui was standing still while so many other places were forging ahead. Two of his friends had crossed the Tasman with their families and seemed to be thriving, while another two had taken their building businesses to Auckland and hadn’t looked back. Without saying too much to anybody, Brian waited another month before taking another seven-day holiday.

“HE MANAGED TO SCORE A DECENT-SIZED STAG AND ADDED TWO HINDS TO HIS TALLY THE NEXT DAY RIGHT WHERE HE EXPECTED TO GET THEM.” He spent two days in Rotorua asking about work and liked what he was hearing. Then he spent another two days securing four deer in the Kaimanawa, which he sold to Trevor. A day in the Mamaku ranges, with a bloke called Ralph, then saw him returning home with enough pork to start his own bacon factory. As luck would have it, there was nobody home when Brian pulled in. He figured they were out having a day in town or visiting relatives but just as he finished packing the pork neatly into the freezer, Anne and the girls turned up. They were always excited to see what Dad had brought home from his latest trip.

After ten minutes, the girls went inside to watch some T.V. programme they didn’t want to miss while Anne stood around knowing Brian wanted to talk about something. There were no flies on Her. Not wanting to mince words, Brian came right out with it, “What do you think of moving to Rotorua?” and Anne shrugged. “Seems O.K” she said. “There’s plenty of work, that’s for sure,” Brian added quickly. “Got offered a good job straightaway.” “Sounds O.K.” Anne allowed. And that was that. The next morning everyone in the family was helping with the packing when Clayton came by wanting to see about a hunt, but Brian stopped him short. “If you do turn up for a hunt, Clayton, which will be a minor miracle, I don’t think you’ll find me here. Along with the family, I’m taking off to Rotorua. I’ve been offered a good job and we’ll be living within an hour’s drive from some of the best hunting and fishing in the country.” “Well, it seems to me like you’ve made a hasty decision,” said Clayton, “and you know what they say about hasty decisions. You repent at leisure.” “Yeah, I think I’ve heard that somewhere,” Brian said, “but I’ve also heard it’s never too soon to better yourself.”<<<

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

WWW.COUNTRYTV.CO.NZ *Conditions apply. Country TV Online is only available to Country TV direct domestic customers with an online subscription. Country TV costs $16.10 per month and is subject to Country TV Online standard terms and conditions. Prices are correct as of 1 September 2019, are payable in advance and subject 48 toNZ OUTDOOR HUNTING change.

New Zealand’s Sambar and Rusa Deer: The Full Story By Phil Chalmers

NEW

For most of my adult life I have both hunted and spent countless hours studying NZ’s most secretive and least understood game animals, Sambar and Rusa deer!

It was only after reading so many inaccuracies about them (in NZ) that I decided to write my own book. Consequently, I have spent the last seven years tracking down as many previously unrecorded trophies around the country (as I wanted the national record books to be as complete as possible) and formulating my lifetime’s worth of study material into a book. In recent years this has also included a full DNA testing programme in order to finally show our herds’ genetic makeup. Something that has been argued in certain circles for the last 60 years. The book itself totals just short of 300 pages and has comprehensive sections on: • Hybridisation. • NZ Sambar (origin, history, detailed distribution, description, habits, hunting, & much more). • NZ Rusa (same subjects as for Sambar). • Miscellaneous (covering a variety of subjects). • NZ Sambar Record Book Photos & Douglas Score Chart. • NZ Rusa Record Book Photos & Douglas Score Chart.

Two options are available, both ‘hard cover’ with the same dust jacket, but they differ by the following: Collector’s Edition - has a green sakura cloth covered slip case, with gold embossing on the front and spine of both the slip case and book. Each collector’s edition is a numbered copy and the pages are printed on Lumi-silk matt-art paper. Standard Edition - has a red sakura cloth cover, has silver embossing on the spine only and pages are printed on regular matt-artpaper.

Contact details for ordering: Phone/Text: 0274-875839 E-mail: prschalmers@hotmail.com Facebook: New-Zealands-Sambar-Rusa-Deer-The-Full-Story

Cost: Standard Edition $49.95, Collector’s Edition $89.95

(plus $7 p&p, & $3.90 rural delivery)

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

When Shay and I first met, he introduced himself as a possum trapper. I was too embarrassed to admit that I’d only just learnt what that meant when my Dad explained it to me. I had never seen a possum before and asked if he could entice one to come out for me to see. After he got over the initial shock, Shay cut up an apple and placed it on top of an old stump in the hut clearing. Come nightfall, we (a group of 10 people celebrating my Dad’s 50th) were inside the hut when my uncle came in to tell me there was a possum outside eating the apple. I wasn’t the only one excited to see this possum, as all the adults stampeded like a pack of wild gazelle to the door. Uncle Colin ushered me to the front of the crowd so I could be the first to see this furry, bug-eyed creature. It was in this moment that I understood the meaning ‘like a stunned possum in headlights’ as I stared into the two eyes bulging from the head of this cute wee animal, most likely terrified of the 10 sets of eyes staring back at him. This was my first ever possum encounter and a year later I found myself walking into the middle of the forest to give possum trapping a go myself. For those of you who already know Shay, you may have encountered the natural talent he has for making everything sound easy, or at least achievable. Possum trapping is rather easy for those willing to work hard but you must firstly learn the tricks to finding these nocturnal creatures.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Before I could even begin, Shay had to clear the hut of all things creepy crawly. There was no way I could sleep at night with Mr Eight Legs in the corner watching me. I also knew I was going to need all the energy I could muster for the day ahead, for setting up my new line. The following morning, Shay and I sat at the hut table with steam warming our noses as we sipped on our delicious coffee.

There’s something special about being in the middle of the bush that makes all things taste like a festival for your tastebuds. “I’ve saved this ridge for you,” Shay told me as he pointed to the map. Apparently, the squiggly lines meant 3D ridges and gullies and I almost went cross-eyed trying to figure it out. My map reading skills were yet to come and the day the A4 printout finally became an aerial view of all that surrounded me, my mind was free to run wild with unlimited possibilities.

Packs on and bellies full, we headed out with enthusiasm. I soon learnt that it wasn’t as simple as just whacking a trap on a tree. It seems everyone, including my uneducated self, believed that possums are just running amuck all through our forest, breeding by the dozen. Surely, I would be able to catch one anywhere - right? Day one as a trapper’s apprentice and I soon realised I was wrong. The first step to succeeding as a possum trapper is to understand where to find the possums.

Finding possums

the money. Now that I knew that these furry creatures were sleeping soundly all around me, all I had to do was find the perfect tree to set my first trap. (Note: the area we were trapping held no ground birds, therefore we didn’t have to raise our traps. However, if your permit states that there are ground birds around, you will be required to raise your traps off the ground.) Finding the perfect tree is easy, you just need to look for that special spot. An area with a nice flat surface to bed your trap, within proximity of a possum highway or a tree well climbed.

If options are limited, then a tree on a lean can be a good sign because what animal doesn’t like it when life’s a little easier. Now that the line is ready to go, it is time to head back to our home away from home. A hut can feel so homely when you have been living in it long term and you feel at peace with life when cut off from the world. One of my favourite times is at the end of the day when the work is done and all that is left to do is sip your freshly brewed cup of sweet tea and watch the fire’s magnificent dance.

Like all living things that roam this earth, filling our groaning stomachs with the best tasting foods is what we strive for. Therefore, you will find most possums in areas with a high percentage of feed trees such as kamahi, broadleaf, kowhai, coprosma, rata, etc. If you are just after some extra pocket money, farm edges can also be a winner for our furry friends. Do bear in mind that due to the easy accessibility, often the edges have been thoroughly trapped compared to the deeper native. 95% of possum trapping done by Shay in the last decade has been on public land managed by Department of Conservation. There is so much land to choose from and getting a permit to trap these areas is almost as simple as putting your hand up in class. I suggest you visit a Department of Conservation office and ask to put your name down on a block. Every step we took on the new line, my eyes were scanning for any potential sign of life. Droppings were as exciting as finding a penny on the sidewalk, and the mini highways worn into the earth showed me that we were on

I finally understood the meaning ‘like a stunned possum in headlights’. NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Its warmth makes you sleepy and there is no urge to check the latest on social media or reality TV. It is just you, your partner and the sound of silence. Another thing about life in the bush is that no alarm is needed. If the dawn chorus isn’t enough to wake you, then the warm sun beaming through the curtainless windows should have you stretching and getting out of bed. Shay cooks a breakfast fit for a king; hash browns or cubed potatoes, baked beans or spaghetti, fried cabbage, eggs, bacon or venison steaks, all piled high on a plate like the mountains we climb. When we are confined to the hut, we also drag out the camp oven and whip

We don’t go hungry and there is always plenty of food.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

up some dough. My mouth waters as the butter melts on the warm fresh slice of fluffy bread. If you have a sweet tooth a blob of strawberry jam also makes a tasty addition. While we are living in the bush, we don’t go hungry and there is always plenty of food for someone of my size. When setting up our hut, an overloaded helicopter is so full of gear that Shay often needs to walk; there are canned goods and enough boxes of bars and sweets that we could build a cardboard house. The fly-in is always considered when choosing what block to trap, with accessibility to walk in and to get possum fur out.

Day two of the trapping exercise is always the most exciting, as this is when you get to see if your detective skills have paid off. Lead up my line by Jill, my savvy bush dog, she knows her way around the bush better than a GPS. She is like a guide dog for technically challenged map readers like me. As I headed towards my first trap, I could feel my heart pounding with anticipation. I had my first possum.<<<

The first step to succeeding as a possum trapper is to understand where to find the possums.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

There is always significant focus on large game hunting. It is most satisfying to bag venison or pork for the dinner table, or the largest animal with the biggest head for the trophy wall. But how about a bit of consideration for the little guy; that frustratingly annoying animal that gets everywhere, into everything and quite often causes many injuries when youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re walking through your paddock and drop your foot into their home.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

By Simon La Monica

What am I talking about you ask, as if you hadn’t guessed - the rabbit, the pest, bugs bunny? I know everything always tastes just like chicken and it may sound like a cliché, so here goes…rabbit tastes just like chicken. If enough of us started eating it, we would no longer need a virus to keep their numbers down. I read an article that states the only way to reduce rabbit numbers is to poison them with toxins and chase the latest biological innovations. I propose to provide an alternative for consideration. These little “pests” could become a cheap staple for the dinner table. By cheap, I mean free, bar the costs associated with cooking them. I can imagine all the rolling eyes, but seriously, it is all about perception. Why not? It is free range, lean and tasty. All we need to do is create a market for it and hunters / pest controllers and the like could make a living out of reducing their numbers. Spare me enough time to read this article to see if I can persuade you to give these pests a go in the pot. Not only for the sport they create and the taste they allow us to experience, but they also don’t have any welfare concerns over how they have been grown, like you may have with chicken.

Being a lifestyle block owner, I fight to keep these rabbits away from my vegetables and newly planted trees and shrubs. Often, I do not win this battle. It is without a doubt the most head scratching, frustrating job and despite having a fenced section, I still manage to hold a few rabbits. I try to balance managing their numbers with room in my freezer next to the venison and home-grown lamb and pork. I shoot and process them for my wife Sophia, who then turns the meat into mouthwatering tasty meals. We have an agreement in our house that I hunt, process and deliver the meat to the kitchen door and Sophia works her magic from there. Rabbit hunting is also a great way to introduce our three-year-old daughter to the outdoors. We share our hunting ethics and she can choose whether being self-sufficient is something she wants to be as she gets older. For Sophia and me it is simply a way of life, accepting the fact that if you can’t hunt it, grow it or fish it, then you simply can’t eat it. This is the @Kiwifarmhouse way. To enhance the rabbit hunting experience, I love to employ the skills of a great working gun dog called Fudge, an English Springer Spaniel. To be honest, it is Fudge that motivates me.

All day she relaxes around the house, until I move in a way that alerts her that I may be going to my secret place to retrieve my gun cabinet keys. She watches me out of the corner of her eye and as soon as I insert the key into the lock, she is up pacing and harassing me. One minute she is a docile 10-year-old housedog, a toy for the children to play with, and then suddenly she has turned into a hunting machine. In a whirlwind of excitement, she is at heal, walking tight to my left leg just to let me know she is there. Out we go, gun in hand, and on this occasion a .22 air rifle is employed due to the lack of backstops for anything more powerful. On a fenced section my dog does the hard work to the sound of a 210.5 pealess whistle and is as sharp as a razorblade to any instruction. At the sound of a peep she heads out on a tight 90 degree turn to my left, then as if there was a bungy rope attached to her, she whips back round to the right and casts off about 10 metres and repeats. Working her way through every inch of ground in the direction I walk, she always has one eye on her boss and is alert for any peep from the whistle that brings her back into line.

Suddenly Fudge has turned into a hunting machine. NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Ahead, I can see a couple of rabbits moving forward in the thyme-covered paddock. The pace and excitement from my dog builds up to lightning speed, her tail whipping so much style into her movements that it brings a tear to my eye. Then with a flash a rabbit breaks ahead, making a run for the corner of the field. Fudge stops, without command, and marks expecting a shot to go off but not yet as I know there are a few more to push up to the corner of the paddock. I set her off again and round she goes in a figure eight, pushing her nose into every bit of cover with the passion of an Olympic athlete. A sharp peep from my whistle at 25 metres out stops the dog. She marks and spots the one side, while I protect the other. Rabbits are stationary as they look for a way out, and as my air rifle barrel is broken I self-feed a pellet into the chamber. A standing shot sees one rabbit down and reloading by simply breaking the barrel secures the second one. Fudge shakes with excitement as I give the command to retrieve and deliver both to hand.

It is exciting to shoot a rabbit with a shotgun as they try and escape at full speed, having just been flushed by my dog. Going from zero to 100kmh in half a second, 50% of the time I shoot behind them. However, when I do get on them correctly, they tumble perfectly to a standstill for Fudge to retrieve on command. One of my favourite calibres for this is the trusty 4:10; it trains you to be sharp and on target and doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t tenderise your food too much. Now comes the simple task of processing the rabbits for the table. There are numerous ways to do this and I tend to follow the simple method of skinning the rabbit by making a small nick in the skin and peeling it back, and then pulling the front and back feet through. Taking a sharp knife, I then cut the head and feet off. The rabbit is skinned and ready for gutting in less than a minute. Cleaning can be done before or after. Simply cut from chest bone to the base of the hip joints. Cut back up all the way to the neck until the rabbit opens up. Now pull down from the heart and take the diaphragm with you all the way down.

Split the hips apart and complete the final stages of cleaning the rabbit. It is small enough to even wash in your kitchen sink. While I include a recipe below, you can simply replace chicken in any dish with rabbit. It is hard to tell the difference if you donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know. I always like to include gun safety whenever I talk about hunting. On this occasion, I would like to mention the backstop which relates to rule five of the firearm safety code. When out with your firearm, whether in the bush or on private land, always consider where that lump of lead will end up. We should all be able to account for every shot fired out of the barrel. Shooting at rabbits on a flat section when other lifestyle block owners surround you is always going to be problematic. Consider what will happen if you do not hit your intended target. What about a ricochet? There is no stopping that bullet once it gets underway. We are responsible for every bullet fired. Share your game meals with friends and family, what a great reason to get together.

Rabbit, leek and carrot pie This is the @Kiwifarmhouse way.

Soak freshly prepared rabbit in saltwater overnight (optional but we prefer this method) Cook rabbit in vegetable stock (ideally home-made) for 3-4 hours. To make the stock add: Celery, onions, carrots, parsnip, potato peelings. Add a small handful of wild thyme and salt to taste. Adding a teaspoon of marmite will enhance the flavour. Pour water over and simmer until condensed. For the pie base: 2-3 diced carrots, 2-3 chopped leeks, Wild herbs (we grow wild thyme) Add vegetables and herbs to pan and pour in some cider, season to taste. Allow to nearly cook. Transfer to an oven dish and add rabbit that has been picked from the bone. To enhance flavour and add calories make a cheese sauce to pour over vegetables and rabbit before topping with pastry and finishing in the oven.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

I challenge you to notice the difference between the rabbit and chicken.

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NZ OUTDOOR HUNTINGEXEMPT 57 ERRORS AND OMISSIONS

I was dozing off to sleep when my phone suddenly lights up. A notification from my Dad? I fumble in the dark to read the message that reveals a photo of a mature billy in amongst a mob of goats. The picture had resized itself upon being sent so I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t quite make out how big he was.

By Shaan Jane

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

It was a fast hike up through the native.

The unmistakable smell of billy goat was in the air.

So far in my bow hunting career I had shot 300 feral goats with the bow, and not one of them cracked the thirty-inch mark. A couple had come very close but never quite stretching the tape far enough. The weekend arrived and I had been invited out to my good mate Josh’s for a bow hunt, where we were hoping to secure his first deer with the bow. Early evening saw us slogging up onto the tops and heading along the main ridge towards some clearings where we had seen deer before. We sat in a good advantage point glassing the clearings until dark but had no luck. I pulled out my Bluetooth speaker to see if any curious deer would be attracted to some rattling. This method had been very successful in the past but being pre rut, I didn’t hold much hope. After five minutes of playing rattles and hind calls, something suddenly popped up on the skyline about 300 metres away. A quick check through the binos confirmed

it was not a deer but a billy. This billy was very curious about what was going on and started heading round the ridge to us. We set up in a good position with the speaker 30 yards behind us and started playing some goat calls. He continued to follow the ridge in our direction until he was just above us and then started to come down off the skyline. I nocked an arrow and set my pin and he was now starting to get very close and walked into a hollow less than 20 yards away. As I drew back and anchored, he popped up again less than 10 yards away. I stayed still and slowly settled my pin, sending my Gidgee Sticks arrow and VanDieman single bevel broadhead combo straight at him for a successful shot. We were up early the next morning to try again for the deer. We glassed over different clearings but saw nothing, so after an hour we decided to head for some terraces that we had never been up. Still no luck with the

deer, but the bush stalking located a mob of billies. It was now Josh’s turn, so we crept to within 20 yards and he presented a broadside shot to nail the billy. By the time we got back it was after 2pm and we had been gone for hours. After having a look through some footage from the hunt, I visited Dad and he asked me if I wanted to go after the billy he had texted me about. I studied the photos again and estimated him to be around thirty inches, give or take. A goat of this calibre is very rare to come by in this area, so I jumped at the opportunity before he was shot by a goat culler and left to decay. By the time we made our way to our hunting spot it was around 4:30pm. I looked up at the sky and it was dark and overcast. Dad turned to me and said, ‘’there is a good chance we might not see him,” but I still had hopes of bumping into the old goat. It was a fast hike up through the native before

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

“I spotted a young 25-inch billy on the bush edge and stood still as he grazed out of sight.” hitting the scrub and I was in full hunt mode, with an arrow nocked ready for him. We approached the big clearing where the billy was spotted last weekend and looked for a position to glass from. The unmistakable smell of billy goat was in the air as the wind blew the odour in our faces. Using my wind check we pinpointed the direction it was coming from and slowly move in. I spotted a young 25-inch billy on the bush edge and stood still as he grazed out of sight. He had caught our scent and luckily carried on over the rise and away from us. Dad said he hadn’t seen him in the original mob with the big white billy, but it would be strange for him to be out in the open all alone. We crawled about a metre to our right and searched through the binos to see if we could spot any colour or movement. Nothing?

Dad decided to slowly stand up to see if he could spot anything over the rise. Suddenly, he whispers in a very excited voice, “It’s him Shaan, he’s right there.’’ A rush of adrenaline comes over me and it is game on. I nock an arrow and get down on my belly, crawling into a good position for an ambush. He is now 15 yards from where I am, giving a sapling a good working over. I didn’t have much time to check out his head, but was certain it had mass, curls and a huge body. I slowly get up onto my knees, draw my arrow and stand. There is a small patch of bracken fern covering his shoulder that keeps me out of sight and I decide to shoot straight through it. He looks to be hit well, and I take a deep sigh of relief. I walk up to the bush edge and scan the forest floor, locating some marks where he had skidded on his way down.

I follow these tracks down and spot a patch of white through some pungas. He looks very impressive and I’m sure he will crack thirty inches. “Thanks Dad, I told you I had nailed the shot.” We packed up before it got dark and we would have to pull the headlamps out. As soon as we got home, we grabbed the tape and it stretched just under 31 inches; I was stoked with my success. <<<

To keep up to date with the rest of my hunting, you can follow me on Instagram @outdooraddictionnz. Also check out my YouTube channel Outdoor Addiction - Remember to like and subscribe.

A goat of this calibre is very rare to come by in this area. 60

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

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By Tim Stewart

The Waipunga Valley.

Hoi back at Base camp. (photo by Judy Brown)

The alarm broke me out of a restless sleep and in the darkness, I fumbled for the clock and turned it off. The hut was unfamiliar to me and as a young inexperienced hunter I had much to learn. However, for my Uncle Hoi the Matakahia hut and the surrounding hills had been home for a couple of years back in the late forties, when he was a government culler in the block. I crawled out of my sleeping bag eager to go on a hunt and it wasn’t long before my uncle and I were making our way down a forestry road, to see if we could find any deer. The wind had already picked up and gusted through the gully ahead of us. We crossed a culvert and looked up stream toward the bush edge and there, amongst the young pines, a decent-sized velvet stag hungrily fed beside a mature hind. Hoi said that we should stalk them but as we dropped behind the ridge the animals had our scent and bolted for the bush edge. We arrived back at the hut empty-handed. After breakfast, we headed down to the Hautapu river to a block where Hoi had

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

conducted regular sorties while employed as a culler. Back in the day, the road ended at the ‘Hautapu Hut horse paddock’. Hoi would load his horse up with supplies and cut across country, passing where the Plateau Hut would stand in years to come. Once he reached the benches he would head down into the river, hunting for the rest of the way until he reached the Hautapu Tent Camp. Once he finished that part of his block, he would load his skins onto the pack horse and send it back to camp. The horse would eagerly head for the ‘horse paddock’, chasing off any unfortunate brumby that was stealing the lush grass.

Wild brumbies were always a problem and once a hunter was spotted, they would head for cover spooking any deer in the area as they went. Hoi hunted the 1949 season from the Hautapu block, which consisted of the Pukahanui, Wheao, Whirinaki, Wiri, Mokomokonui, Matakihia and Waipunga, as well as the Ngamatea Station (Taihape) and Taranaki, shooting and skinning 425 deer. The Internal Affairs Department paid him 7/6 d for each skin recovered. He returned to the block the following year, finishing the 1951 season with a respectable 438 deer under his belt.

The Hautapu Valley Tent Camp. (photo Judy Brown)

Bill Axbey arrived into Hoiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s camp late one night and found him with an acute case of appendicitis. He was rushed to hospital with a burst appendix and taken straight to the operating table; boots, whiskers and all. When Hoi retired from deer culling, he had managed to save nine hundred pounds. His mate Nobby (Allan Hall) told him to buy a street in Taupo as an investment. At the time sections were selling for 25 pounds each and the roads were only dirt. Hoi said that it would never make any money and decided to buy a dairy herd and go share milking at Kaiaua for Alf Douglas. In 1956 he married Lucy Leonard and carried on farming at Kaiaua, before moving to their own farm in Silverdale several years later.

Arriving at the Hautapu Hut, we discovered that over the years fires and regeneration had changed the landscape. Where once the hill faces were open and easy to walk, thick manuka now smothered the countryside to above head height making it impossible to hunt. We decided to try our luck instead in one of Hoiâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s favourite areas, down in the Whirinaki Valley below the Plateau hut. While the bush was reasonably open, crown fern made hunting noisy and after three hours of earnest stalking we never came close to shooting a deer. Through the preceding years, Hoi and his two sons returned often to the old haunts. His knowledge of the trails and tent camps enabled them to locate the best hunting spots. However, for me the place was all but forgotten as I went on to hunt other areas.

Paddy at the Hautapu Hut remains.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Camping at the Matakahia. There is nothing like camping under a trillion stars. On my return to the block, I was unaware of where Hoi’s travels had taken him and forgotten where exactly we had hunted all those years ago when we had stayed in the Matakahia Hut. As I drove onto the block, I couldn’t help but reflect on how times had changed. Hoi didn’t have the luxury of maps to guide him and his roads were trails that he and his horse created, as they cut across country and travelled down rivers that flowed often in the deep valleys. The first paper map I could find of the area was published in 1969. I was fortunate to have a detailed topo map downloaded onto my mobile phone and could switch between topo and aerial photo mode with a touch of the screen. Technology that Hoi could only dream about. However, even with all this information on hand I still didn’t have the vast knowledge and understanding of the area. Waipunga valley had not changed over the years, so I ventured down it to get a feel of how Hoi would have found the block before it was planted in pines. Walking through the knee-deep scrub, I realised that stalking would have been good for Hoi as the terrain was like the deer’s homeland; the heathercovered hills and moors of the Scottish Highlands. Deer shelter during the New Zealand winter in the forest, feeding up on what leaf fall and fern they can forage in the bush.

Keep an eye out for the massive Whirinaki cave that gives this area its name.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Being a bush hunter at heart, I found what looked like a likely spot to hunt and left the open country behind me. Confident that I had done my homework, I pushed into the bush and knew that I was at the right altitude for good feed to be available for the deer. As soon as my stalk started I found young broadleaf trees that made good deer tucker but an uneasy feeling came over me at the sight of it. Did it mean that deer numbers were low, as back on my home turf these trees would be eaten back to bare branches? Half an hour later, after finding that the scrubby bush edge didn’t get any better, I retraced my steps back to the truck thinking that what deer were there could have the place. After a couple of wrong turns and rechecking the phone app, I found my way to the Te Hoe carpark.

The start of the TeHoe Track.

The track looked like a good place to get some photos of the Hautapu River, so I started down it. I hadn’t gone far when the sound of an engine could be heard back up the valley. My truck was unlocked and who knew what shifty types were lurking around. Hurrying back, I was just in time to see the back end of a Nissan Patrol disappear around the corner. I knew they would soon be back as the road ended a short way along and sure enough the Patrol returned and pulled up beside me. It was my cousin Paddy and his son Timmo. Pleased to see them, I boiled the billy while I retold my morning hunt. Paddy laughed and explained that most of the Waipunga bush, even back in Hoi’s day, was rubbish. I mentioned that I might head up the Te Hoe track the next day for a hunt through the saddle but again was told not to bother, as the windfall from recent heavy snow made it too hard to hunt. We decided to explore the old Matakuhia Hut sight and the place

had certainly changed since Paddy had first come here with Hoi. Pine trees that were seedlings had gone to the mill, and the next generation were well grown. The huts that Hoi hunted from were long gone, a sign of the times. During the afternoon he showed me the horse tracks and tent camps where Hoi had culled. At the Hautapu Hut site we found an empty rum bottle of Hoi’s preferred brand, that may have warmed him up while he dropped skins off and restocked. Dropping me back at the Matakuhia hut sight to camp the night, the lads headed home. I set up camp and boiled some water on my gas cooker for my dinner before turning in. Waking to a heavy frost, it was so cold that pouring water on the windshield would have only added to the ice that was already coating it. I was glad that I had my ‘’two beer can meth’s cooker’ to make breakfast, as the hard frost made a gas cooker useless.

Breakfast over and the windscreen thawed with the heater, I made my way down to the Whirinaki cave to hunt off the side of the track. Deer sign got me keen with Elle tracking well on the fresh scent, but the thick crown fern and scrubby ridges that fell steeply away from the track weren’t encouraging. After visiting the cave, I spent the time working on Elle’s range training. She had been getting too far ahead after having free range on the fence line for too long. When she got too far ahead, I stopped until she came back and then we could travel on again. At times I wondered if we were ever going to reach the road end, as we were stopping every eighty metres. By the time we neared the track’s end her range was spot on, so the exercise had been worth the perseverance. It was time to leave Hoi’s old stomping ground behind and head back to civilisation.<<<

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

“Hurry up, it’s bloody cold, I squealed in a high-pitched voice to Dick Deaker, who seemed to be taking forever fiddling with the camera. “Stop messing around with the settings and push that big shiny button on the top will ya!” “Hang on,” a rather irritated Dick mumbled as he squinted through his glasses at the camera’s menu and tried to scroll with those huge fingers of his. If I wasn’t so freezing, I would have laughed out loud at the comical scene before me. There stood Dick fiddling around with the high-tech equipment - his big fingers not suited to be a dainty electronics whizz. The water I had been standing in was very cold and as I waited for the not so expert photographer to work out how to use his wretched camera, I could feel my bodily parts becoming numb. I had now been immersed for four minutes and twenty seconds, stark naked, in the icy cold water of this alpine tarn located deep within Fiordland’s world-famous mountains.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

It was hard to think of any positives about standing in this murky water but at least I knew I was safe, as no selfrespecting eel would be living at this altitude. A perfectly sane question at this point would be: “What the heck was I doing way up here with no clothes on?” The not so sane reply would be, “Sir Peter Jackson deemed this spot beautiful enough to use for his ‘Lord of the Rings’ film sets so I surmised that, ‘if it’s good enough for Peter’s movies, then it is good enough for the Bushman’s Bible’. I could think of no better way of promoting my book than a little good-hearted ‘bush porn’. Yes folks, I figured that using the clean green

imagery of Fiordland’s mountains as a background to my near-naked Grecian-like body would gain international ‘exposure’ to this book delivery business. I also figured that Sir Pete and I have a Trilogy in common. He has the ‘Lord of the Rings’ and I have the ‘Healthy Bastards Trilogy’ made up of Healthy Bastards, The Flying Doctor and The Bushman’s Bible books. Maybe a photo shoot like this could draw his attention my way and we could get together and make my trilogy into a movie series that takes the Oscars by storm? I could then use all the cash I earned to spruce up New Zealand’s mountain huts with things like new coal ranges, endless

supplies of sponge puddings, and hot spa baths in the nearby tussock for a little romance and star gazing. The tranquillity of my beautiful dream was suddenly broken when Dick yelled triumphantly, “I’ve done it.” The camera finally got rolling and in no time at all he had gained the confidence of a bolshie Hollywood Film Director, as he started ordering me around the freezing pond like I was some sort of spastic paradise duck. “Left, hold the book higher, that’s it, smile, no, really smile, a bit lower, that’s it.” Five minutes later we called it a day and I dragged myself out of the tarn, very cold and wet, along with cut feet from the sharp rocks that lay hidden on the bottom. However, it was not the sort of place you could be miserable in for long, with the stunning scenery and smell of venison sausages frying on the barbie Dick had expertly set up.

This adventure had begun at Dick and Noddy Deaker’s Upukeroa chopper base one hour before, as we loaded up the R44 with food, gear, musket, camera, and a copy of the Bushman’s Bible. In no time at all, we were skimming over the lush Fiordland beech forest at full speed heading for this awesome spot. Dick has been hunting and flying around these parts for nearly sixty years and his experience showed in the pure artistry of his smoothly balanced flying and the way he moved the chopper freely from one complex mountain valley system to the next. He was so familiar with Fiordland that you would think this world

heritage park was his own backyard. The fascinating thing about legendary hunter/pilots like Dick Deaker, is that they almost invariably started off in the early days as young ground hunters in the presence of even more legendary old-timers.

Sixty years of experience showed in the pure artistry of Dick’s smoothly balanced flying.

If it’s good enough for Peter’s movies, then it is good enough for the Bushman’s Bible. NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

With this fact in mind, I knew that Dick had spent time with one of these characters, Joff Thomson, who really interested me. The ideal opportunity had now arrived for me to quiz Dick about his personal experiences with Joff, as we sat around the frypan munching on venison sausages and sipping billy tea. Dick remembered Joff well and told me plenty of stories. As a young meat hunter, Dick had been given valuable advice from Joff on how to hunt the valleys close to town that were full of easy deer - it was fascinating stuff. My interest in Joff came mainly from his hunting experiences written in his two excellent hunting books, ‘Deer Shooting Days’ and ‘Deer Hunter’, that are full of riveting stories from Joff ’s hunting days.

The most intriguing chapter for me is entitled ‘That Third Man’ found in Deer Shooting Days. He begins by pointing out that: ‘Brief as it may be, this chapter and its title may well be unusual for a book of this kind.’ It is an understatement to say that this chapter is very unusual because it briefly breaks away from the tales of great hunts and delves into things spiritual. Joff freely admits that: ‘little is ever mentioned among our fraternity of climbers, hunters and musterers about religion.’ It seems to me that he is embarrassed by writing like this as ‘those who know me well will think that I have taken leave of my senses as they read on,’ and ‘I’m venturing on a subject that should remain strictly taboo…I realise that I will not only be the target of criticism, but will be breaking a rule that remains a secret part of each of us.’

Joff bravely moves on to record many stories of outdoor adventurers who had been caught out in impossible situations in the wilds, many of which should have met certain death. Something or someone that he calls the ‘third man’ guides them to safety. In one example, a mate of Joff’s was working as an alpine guide and he got hopelessly bluffed with a client while climbing in Fiordland: ‘And here I was with bluffs all around me and nowhere to go and a goodly-sized drop below me…I can still say to this day that I heard a voice. It said that if I moved in a certain direction all would be right.’ Joff’s mate followed the instructions and, ‘strange as is appeared to me then, I found a reasonably good pathway to better going.’ Joff ends the chapter by saying, ‘But in this chapter I’ve pointed out the ‘third man’ apparently does exist in some form,

Would you like to join the other chopper pilots, hunters, trampers and DOC workers who are helping me out by dropping off Bushman’s Bibles into mountain huts?

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Both Dick and his brother Noddy are ‘bloody good mates!’

and it is beyond me either to try to give an explanation or affirm any suggestions that there is or is not such a ‘spirit’. After an hour of listening to Dick telling me about Joff and a few other local pioneers, we packed the gear in the chopper and headed home. We had set out to bag a deer and drop a few books off into some huts on this trip.

However, we had been so engrossed in the storytelling that it had suddenly become too dark to venture out. It didn’t bother me though, as this trip turned out to be a great opportunity to learn some history from one of New Zealand’s master hunter pilots. There would be plenty of other times to chase a deer and drop books off. Both Dick and his brother ‘Noddy’ are like many other chopper pilots, hunters,

trampers and DOC workers who are helping me out by dropping off Bushman’s Bibles into mountain huts - I am very grateful to call them “bloody good mates”! Catch you in the next issue of the NZ Outdoor Magazine, when I embark on another trip getting this book out there into the wild blue yonder. <<<

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Howa Bravo

At one time, any rifle stock that was a colour other than wood was often just painted. There were a few stocks made from alloy and the Australians even had concrete stocks for their “fly” guns. I also once witnessed a “composite” monstrosity on a four-position rig but it wasn’t going to win any beauty contests. Wood is still doing well today but you need to spend reasonable money to get nice grain or a quality, stable wooden stock. One recent trend well worth the effort is the chassis system, which started out as the “full alloy” bedding system insert in genuine composite stocks to solve the accuracy woes most stock designs offer. Howa entered the market with their modular rifle concept some time ago, but it was not until the Bravo came along that Howa could offer shooters a true chassis system. Howa chose the 2.9lb KRG Bravo stock option. The Kinetic Research Group makes a lot of other products and the KRG take AICS style magazines. The Howa came with a 10-shot steel box magazine from Accurate Mag and as a hand-loader I do like these magazines as they allow for a bit more OAL than some others.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

One niggle was that I had to remove the cheek piece to take the bolt out, as the recess in the cheek piece was about 2mm too shallow (it could have just been a one-off issue and only took seconds to rectify). Otherwise the stock was comfortable. The grip was in the varmint/benchrest style with a more vertical handgrip, allowing for a comfortable stance in both standing and sitting. My test rifle, courtesy of Wayne at The Gun Shop, came with a 26” medium weight blued action in 6.5 Creedmoor. He also supplied one of the Nikko Stirling Diamond LR 6-24x50 scopes. This is a dedicated long range, illuminated optic from Nikko Sterling. It features their HoldFast T shaped reticle that offers some simple hold off on the reticle itself, but I would say it is best used for dialing on adjustment. Interestingly, the reticle is calibrated for use at 10x, not 24x. I compared the clarity against

other scopes in my rack by placing a 6” square white patch on a pine tree at 400 yards from my bench. The illumination feature made it the only scope that offered a precise enough aiming point that would have allowed me to take a shot through the mirage of a hot Wairarapa day and into the gloom beneath the row of pines. This scope is VERY good optically. I mounted the scope in Nikko 30mm rings on standard weaver bases. If I were to use this rig way out yonder, a 20 MOA base would be needed as the scope itself only offers 20 MOA adjustment internally. According to my trusty Strelok ballistic app, this means that you would run out of elevation at around 750 yards, which is a real shame as the 142 grain SMK is still supersonic past 1000. The SMK would need 31.2 MOA to make it to 1000 yards from a 100 yard zero or 125 clicks. As set up, the scope should get me out to 500 yards, assuming

By Gerry Veugelaers

I like the Bravo very much and would make it mine if I was not already building up a couple of other rifles to replace my apparently evil semi-autos.

I have 10 MOA of adjustment left. Even if I had the whole 20 MOA available, I would still need to use the reticle to make it to 1000 yards. The Nightforce by comparison has 80 MOA of adjustment. This would, in theory, get the sedate 6.5 CM easily out to 1300+ yards where it has just dropped below supersonic. Just in case you were wondering what the price of premium optics buys you. For hunting purposes, where 1000 ftlbs of energy should be considered the recommended minimum energy on target for deer-sized critters, the Creedmoor delivers this (just) at 500 yards which takes 10 MOA of upwards clicking if using a projectile like the 123 grain AMAX or 120 grain Sierra. If you go to a heavier projectile such as the 140 Berger or 143 ELD-X you have the same energy at 700 as the lightweights do at 500 but needing another 7 MOA of elevation. Lesson here is that if you really want to shoot long range, spend the money up front for the right gear. However, scopes such as the Diamond make for a very good entry option. The 1500 action is a tubular design, like many modern variants, and it came fitted with the two-stage HACT trigger system which I like very much. Two stage triggers are an old concept but when hunting, and your trigger finger is cold and numb, they are a great idea. The bases were weaver two-piece style but a rifle like this really deserves a decent 20 MOA one-piece rail. I rustled up some ammo and headed to the range for testing. It was a windy, blustering kind of day and my shooting was terrible, but even with old Shakey behind it, the worst group was just under MOA and the best (also with a twitched flyer) was 15mm. Load development was almost too easy. My go-to test load uses the 120 Sierra HPBT over AR2209 and

I happened to have some 142 SMKs on hand. Both courtesy of the New Zealand Ammunition Company. The 120 hpbt over 44 gains of 2209 gave me an average of 2955 fps with an SD of 17.7. Acceptable but could be improved on. The same load in a 24” Remington 700 gave an average of 2922.fps, so little difference despite another 2” of barrel. I tried two loads with the 142SMK. 41.0 grains of 2209 gave an average of 2690 fps with an SD of 9.9 and 41.5 grains of the same powder averaged 2733 fps and an SD of 7.4. Brass was fireformed .243 Hornady, primers by Winchester. This last load went into 15mm with a flier so well worth more work as pressure signs were still good.

My data for a 24” barrel gave me a maximum of 2700 fps using the same AR2209 powder, so while the extra 2” of barrel does not give you that much of an increase it does give enough of a boost to deliver an easy 2700 fps. This keeps the 142 Sierra SMK supersonic out past 1300 yards. In summary, I like the Bravo very much and would make it mine if I was not already building up a couple of other rifles to replace my apparently evil semi-autos. Howa might make relatively standard looking mainstream rifles, but their modular concept allows you to mix and match to your taste.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Five wannabe hunters, spending a weekend at Borland Lodge, Monowai, on the edge of the Fiordland National Park. Friday was our first night, so an early evening was never on the cards. Come morning, we got nothing but grunts and groans from the others, so it was just broin-law Morrie and I who headed out into the frosty half-light, kitted out in warm swannies, with just the one rifle. When we got to the nearby Borland Burn, we looked at the frigid knee-deep water, then at each other. Neither wanted to be the one to suggest we abort, so onwards it had to be. But knee deep was an illusion, a greenhorn mistake when viewing the crystal-clear water. By means of some careful tiptoeing however, the freezing water didn’t get beyond the tops of our legs, any higher would’ve been excruciating. On the far side, we headed up-stream, crunching along the bank as quietly as we could, until we reached a series of dry sandy-bottomed floodways - which were chock-full of ultra-fresh deer sign. Then, on bursting through a band of crackly toi-toi, we came upon a trio of deer, staring quizzically at us, wondering what all the noise was about. They all took off in different directions. Morrie raced forward with the rifle, and I momentarily lost sight of him. Boom! Then he yelled, “I got one!”. I found him solemnly gazing down at a large red deer, lying dead at his feet. This was our first deer and it produced a jumble of emotions. From sadness and regret for having ended its life, to absolute euphoria, and relief, for at last having got one. We expressed those feelings the way Kiwi blokes often do – with a grin and a handshake and then back to business. But it certainly put extra bounce in our step for the rest of the day. As we contemplated our next move, we became aware of a background hum – which suddenly burst from around the upriver bend as a helicopter, nose down, zoomed towards us. Suddenly it reared up, a shot rang out, and it dropped down behind the bush of the island ahead of us. In what seemed only seconds later, it rose again with a deer hanging below it and hovered watch-

ing us stand there watching them - then away it went upriver from where it came. Morrie and I looked at each other, knowing that if we hadn’t encountered our deer, we would’ve been on that island by now. How safe would we have been? Or, if we’d arrived a few minutes later, we certainly wouldn’t have found our deer standing where they were. We agreed luck had a lot to do with hunting success, and life in general for that matter. Good luck - being in the right place at the right time, and bad luck - wrong place at the wrong time. It wasn’t easy hoisting the pole onto our shoulders. We both had to help lift one end at a time while squatting, then carefully stand up at the same speed, so the deer wouldn’t slide to one end. It would’ve been a helluva lot easier if one of us had brought a knife! When we discovered we didn’t have one, we were gutted. Because it meant the deer couldn’t be. Despite trying, the whole deer was just too heavy and unwieldy for us to carry by hand. We should’ve thumbed that chopper! So, a pole it was, ala the merry men of Sherwood Forest. The first branch we tried immediately snapped under the deer’s weight, so we ended up using a tree trunk that must’ve weighed almost as much as the load. With Morrie having pulled the trigger, he was eight-foot tall - ideal for keeping the pole level – he could take the back end going uphill and the front end going down! The trip back to the Lodge took the remainder of the morning. Because of its excessive length, the pole proved a nightmare to manoeuvre through the bush. But it was worth the struggle. When we proudly marched into the Lodge grounds with the animal hanging by its feet from the pole, the other guys just stared openmouthed. The Lodge Manager also saw us, and somehow concluded we weren’t overly experienced in such matters. He came over and thankfully offered to help gut the animal and talk us through the process.

By John Bonn

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

There’s a story our tree later served as the Lodge’s flagpole, but we find that hard to believe – we’d put it on the Lodge’s log pile so it could be cut into firewood rings. The rest of the Saturday was spent toasting our success, with many a re-telling of the hunt. By evening this included the breaking through of the surface ice so we could tackle the precarious chest-high river crossings, the prolonged and challenging stalk, the cunning and speed of that deer, the dives into foxholes to escape the gun fire from that chopper, and the herculean efforts required to bring the deer out (the last being still quite accurate). The team was certainly primed by our success, and all were keen to head out for a dawn hunt the next day. Except perhaps younger brother Mikey - he was still very sore, possibly even slightly concussed. He was sporting the tell-tale black eye and swollen semi-circular cut to his brow, from when someone let him have a practice shot with a scoped 30.06 earlier in the day. His inevitable scar might even prove to be as good as his brother’s … After dinner, we continued to make merry in the communal lounge and didn’t call it a day until well into the wee hours. Morrie’s new gym shoes were still wet from the morning’s river crossings, so he’d had them drying beside the log-burner all evening. Before turning off the lounge light, I put them on top of the burner to give them a final tickle up - there were only some embers remaining. By morning the shoes should be bone dry. At least one of the team was still thinking. When walking back to our cabins, we heard someone holler over by the pylons. Running alongside the Lodge grounds are the lines which carry the electricity from the Lake Manapouri power station. One of the guys had borrowed a four-foot fluorescent tube from a storage cupboard and was holding it up in one hand while standing under the power lines - and it was lit up!

We all tried it, pointing the tube up towards the lines, and it would glow by itself, no wires attached. Amazing. Alarming! Got rid of any notion to ever live near high voltage lines, that’s for sure. When I walked back to the lounge in the morning, I could hear stomping and roaring laughter from inside. On opening the door, I was greeted with the sight of black-eyed Mikey clowning about, much to the delight of the others, performing an exaggerated high-stepping walk around the room in what appeared to be snowshoes. On looking closer, he was wearing Morrie’s gym shoes! The multi-layered soles included a spongy white layer, which had melted and flowed out around each shoe. When the fire cooled, the melted part had solidified again. Mikey had gotten up first and found two white pancakes sitting on the cold log-burner, each decorated with a gym shoe centrepiece. Someone suggested Morrie might prefer them that way for water-skiing. I very much doubted it - when Morrie saw what someone had done to his pricey new shoes, he would more likely be considering a waterboarding. We quickly rummaged through the kitchenette and found some scissors, with which we carefully trimmed off the melted stuff. Not bad. The heat hadn’t affected the other layers at all, so the soles were now just a bit thinner and had probably lost some bounce. When Morrie eventually put them on, we all watched with bated breath, but he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Phew. It obviously pays to buy quality; it can handle the knocks better. Carrying an ungutted deer by power-pole is hard enough but try organising a bunch of hung-over buffoons to go hunting! By the time they had prepared and eaten a full-on cooked breakfast, cleaned up, and leafed through a couple of NZ Outdoor Hunting magazines for hints, it was well into the day.

As Morrie and I were now the hunting experts, when we suggested it probably wasn’t worth heading out so late in the morning, no-one objected, and the motion was carried by the sound of someone ripping open the first can of the day. I suspect Morrie was happier than most, he wouldn’t have to get his comfy gymmies wet again. The Lodge Manager had offered us the gate key so we could go for a tiki-tour up the Borland Road, the access road for the electricity guys to maintain their lines. We all piled into one of our utes and headed up the gravel road. Then the skies opened - torrential rain like you’ve never seen. But it stopped again by the time we overlooked the Grebe River, so we all climbed out to stretch our legs and absorb the wilderness. Up in the Hunter Mountains above the road, we could hear the echoing roars of landslides and the booming crashes of massive boulders as they bounced their way down hidden gullies – and it was totally unnerving! We had no idea how far away those rocks were, and whether we were safe from them on the road. We quickly decided we shouldn’t hang around to find out, and didn’t stop again until we reached the roadend at South Arm. Until that experience, we’d had no idea how volatile and unstable the mountains could be, or how easy it was for a bit of rain to trigger mayhem on such a mega scale. Another great lesson for us budding outdoorsmen. On the journey back out, there was no need to play “I Spy”. Everyone was staring ahead to see what was around the next bend – the sheer number of deer we came across standing by the road was insane. Give Morrie and me a week or two in there, and a box of ammo, and we might well have nailed one. Oh, and you’d need to give us a knife as well.

Postscript: Once when wandering through some coastal dunes, I found a scattering of broken stones together with a perfectly weighted hammerstone. The stone debris included many broken-off tops of cobblestones. Intrigued, I did some reading about stone implements and it turns out I’d probably come across a site where someone had manufactured stone knives! First, find a smooth egg-shaped cobblestone about the size of a fist. Deliver a sharp blow with the hammerstone to knock off the top of the cobble, to give the cobble a flat top. Then strike the edge of that flat surface, from above, to break off a flake of stone down the side of the cobble. Done! That flake is your ready-touse stone-age knife. No further touching up needed. Hold the knife with the blunt top end against your skin otherwise it will cut into you. If the flakes break off as expected, several knives might be flaked off around the perimeter of the one cobblestone. When finished, you are left with a useless core and the cobble-top which you then discard in a sand-dune somewhere, to puzzle the next person who comes along. Not long after I’d become aware of this knife making process, I experimented on a piece of Argillite (the greenish shiny rock common along the Southland coast) by whacking the broken edge of a large boulder with a hammer. A flake broke off easily. I was rather dubious about how well it would cut - I was at least expecting to have to use a sawing action. I tested it with my finger and can confirm that the edges were naturally razor-blade sharp I still have the scar! Many a moa would have been butchered over the centuries with such a knife. Handy to know if I’m ever again caught out without a knife.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Don’t just look up at the sounds, immerse yourself at sea level. During this overnight adventure, you will explore one of the most spectacular places on Earth. The experienced guides lead a small group of kayakers for a fun, intimate paddle journey surrounded by the majestic Doubtful Sound.

DOUBTFUL

Sound – Overnight Kayaking

Fiordland National Park is a massive wilderness area made up of rugged snowcapped peaks and cool temperate rainforest. It is one of the wettest places in the world with a high annual rainfall, measured in metres, meaning the resident waterfalls and temporary falls cascade into the deep fiord, Mother Nature at her finest. Starting the adventure in Manapouri and cruising for one hour over to West Arm is the perfect intro to the Fiordland adventure. A bus will then transport you over the Wilmot Pass down to Deep Cove, the access point to the Sound. The Go Orange guides provide all the equipment you need, conduct a full safety brief and paddle requirements, then into the ocean you go.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

The itinerary is flexible, and the route is always dictated by the weather and the desire to explore. With around five hours of kayaking each day, you’ll really appreciate the expanse and primordial beauty of the environment that surrounds you. As you explore this wilderness, its hidden waterways and secluded islands, you need to be on the lookout for the locals. You may not pass another human while out in the ocean, but seals, dolphins and penguins regularly make an appearance. This two-day adventure connects you with nature in the spectacular wilderness of Doubtful Sound. There is no TV, no phones and no internet. Just you, a small group, and your kayak.

In the evening, your guide will lead you to the campground in Hall Arm. Camping amidst the forest is stunning. The food you bring will be cooked on an open fire with plenty of tea and stories with fellow travellers. Nestled in the native bush, tents are all ready to go so you can just settle into your sleeping bag and enjoy the sounds of New Zealand unfold around you. The next morning, rising early for sunrise is an excellent choice as you have the chance to explore more of the Fiord before heading back under sail by early afternoon. Returning year after year, Go Orange guide Oliver says he can’t get enough of the serenity in Doubtful Sound; “I return to this region for one reason and one reason only,

Camping amidst the forest is stunning.

I love how different every day in the office can be. There’s no finer feeling than taking a group deep into the heart of Fiordland for the first time and watching as they fall in love with the area, as much as I do. The unpredictability of the weather and the route we take makes my job exciting and I look forward to every season I spend exploring down here.” “Kayaking within this world heritage area is unbeatable, but often encounters a huge variety of weather. She can be pretty unforgiving at times but if you don’t experience Fiordland in the rain, have you really experienced Fiordland?” says Russell, head of operations.

Go Orange

present an experience like no other. Taking you on the ultimate ‘Go Beyond’ adventure, this overnight kayak experience in Doubtful Sound should be on everyone’s bucket list.

www.goorange.co.nz Don’t just go along, Go Beyond NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

INE P L A E W LO PACK E R R O T CERRO nzies, By Tim Me nting Hu Roarsome

A new pack has been on my wishlist for a while now, as my original one is 15 years old. When I was given the chance to test the new Lowe Alpine Cerro Torre, I couldn’t wait to get into the hills. This pack comes in two sizes; 65-85 and 80-100, and I chose the 65-85 for a few reasons. I hunt in the bush more than open country, so I prefer a smaller pack when pushing through the scrub as it makes things easier. I’m also not the biggest bloke around, so I don’t need to carry as much gear as someone of a larger build; less food, smaller sized clothes etc. These are all things to consider when choosing the right size for your pack. The adjustable VT Flex Carry system is a great design. It allows you to set the pack up to fit you properly, so that your load is evenly distributed over your shoulders and lower back/ hips making carrying heavy loads for multiple days a lot easier on your body. I also really liked the way you can access the main pocket from a zip in the front without having to go through the top

The adjustable VT Flex Carry system is a great design. It allows you to set the pack up to fit you properly.

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Five days of rain and my gear stayed dry the whole time.

A rain cover is provided which was very handy while on a five-day rafting trip into the Motu. Five days of rain and my gear stayed dry the whole time. The top of the pack is detachable which enables you to turn it into a 10L daypack. The top also extends up for an extra 20L, which gives the reassurance that you will be able to fit all that meat after a successful hunt. There are ample tying points as well, to secure that set of antlers for the hike out.

Another great feature is how you can compress down your load, making everything fit tightly. The pack sits on your back well and doesn’t move around, which helps with fatigue on long hikes. The pack base is made of a hard-wearing material, which is beneficial as this is where packs commonly wear out. I have been really impressed with the Lowe Alpine Cerro Torre pack. It is well designed and made well for a reasonably priced heavy-duty pack. It will make carrying heavy loads for multiple days easier for me in the future.

Visit www.outfitters.net.nz for more information.

“I used the Lowe Alpine pack for a recent alpine hunting trip on the West Coast and it is fantastic. The load compression straps and adjustable carry system made the pack so comfortable and was really good for climbing around the steep country. We experienced some wet weather but I simply pulled out the attached rain cover and it kept the whole pack entirely dry.” - Andrew Martin

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

HUNTING: My Lifetime Passion - Richard Turner, Self-published, $40 plus $7 p&p

Reviewed by Daryl Crimp If a picture is worth a 1000 words, the front cover speaks volumes about hunter Richard Turner and gives good currency to what follows. The photo of Richard, aged and clad in sopping wet hunting attire, supporting the massive rack of a huge wild red stag on the edge of a tight scrub-choked clearing, symbolises the dreams and aspirations of every young hunter who first stepped out the backdoor with a twenty-two in hand and rabbits in mind. The creases of a satisfied smile, chiseled facial lines, and receding silver mantel reflect a well-worn map of gullies hunted, mountains traversed, trials endured, successes celebrated, and friendships forged. It also epitomises the hunting journey, like the Mainland cheese ad - good things take time. Richard Turner fits the mould of archetypal Kiwi hunter who, as the epilogue rightly reflects, lived and hunted through an era that will never be repeated. That is not to say this book is not contemporary or of interest to younger

hunters, quite the opposite in fact. But his experiences through his formative hunting career imprinted an indelible stamp on his character and helped him gain a level of ‘bushmanship’ denied many gadget-enhanced modern hunters; Richard is old school - a hunter’s hunter. While the book is largely lineal in tracing his hunting timeline from youth through to present day, it deals with key eras, significant hallmarks such as Mount White Station, and various species hunted as distinct chapters. This pulls the material into focus and makes for a very interesting read that can be picked up and put down at will - although, I suspect, it will be read cover-to-cover in short order. There are plenty of good hunting yarns to keep any avid hunter entertained and inspired, and he covers the whole gamut: red deer, fallow, wapiti, tahr, chamois, sambar, goats, and whitetail, along with a salt and peppering of international hunts, which includes a recent fascinating and serendipitous hunt for Swedish moose.

The stories are well supported with plenty of colour photos and the layout and penmanship make for a flowing read. Much of the writing is understated, which is a reflection of Richard’s modest nature. However, there is an underlying sense of mischievousness throughout the stories and he comes up with some delightful turns of phrase: finding yourself in shitty country is being ‘mis-mothered’. There is many a chuckle in this book (I laughed heartily at the 10-year-old son’s comment to his father!). Aptly titled, Richard’s passion for hunting radiates from the pages, as does his love of South Island alpine hunting, the importance of family, great mates, and mentoring younger hunters. He now runs The Fairmead Hunting Experience just north of Whanganui, which combines trophy hunting with traditional Kiwi meat hunts in a rustic ‘natural’ safari park setting, complete with iconic mountain-style Totara ridge Hut. Hunting: My Lifetime Passion is not only a damn good read, but also an important record of our hunting heritage. Highly recommended. Order direct from the author: Email fairmead@farmside.co.nz or phone 06-342-8767 Richard Turner, Fairmead Lodge, RD 8, Whanganui 4578

Wild Forest Venison Casserole Recipe by Daryl Crimp

1kg venison haunch trimmed of sinew and cut into 2.5cm thick portions 250gm Portobello mushrooms 1 onion roughly chopped, One carrot cut into rounds 750ml stock (beef, chicken or game), 250ml beer, ¼ tsp garlic pepper seasoning (or 2 cloves fresh garlic finely chopped plus ¼ tsp cracked pepper) ½ tsp smoked paprika, 1 tsp dried rosemary 1 tsp crushed chilli paste Plain flour, Salt to season, Rice bran oil

NZ OUTDOOR HUNTING

Season both sides of venison portions with a good shake of salt. Dust with flour so well coated. Cover base of frypan with thin coat of oil and heat over moderately high heat until shimmering. Sear both sides of venison portions until brown and place in casserole dish. Add onions to pan and sear until soft and translucent. Remove to casserole dish. Slice mushrooms and brown in pan. You may have to add extra oil. Remove to casserole dish and add carrots. Add stock and beer to pan and bring to simmer. Add seasoning, chilli and herbs. Simmer until reduced by one quarter to intensify flavours. Add 2 tbsp plain flour to ½ cup cold water in a shaker and mix.

Stir into the simmering liquid and allow to thicken. Cook for three minutes and pour over casserole. Preheat oven to 200°C. Add casserole and cook covered for 1 hour 20 minutes. Serve with creamy mashed potatoes and winter vegetables.

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