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Hunting on my birthday
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misanthropic_curmudgeon
Sep 26, 2012, 10:10:44 PM9/26/12
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It was my birthday, one of ‘my happy-places’ was being 1080ed about now with my tax dollars, and I needed to get into the bush. Just marvellous.
So a couple of us decided to check out a few places we’d checked out before, but not paid anywhere enough attention to, in part due to some hostile locals we did not trust our vehicles around. The plan was to drive down on Friday night, drop me off and I’d dart on in to where we were going, and the other guy would check out somewhere else with more obliging locals.
It took me too many hours of bush-bashing and night-time navigation under a full pack to get where I wanted to be, and I set up my tent with enough time to get a couple of hour’s kip before the Saturday ahead of me. There were two places I wanted to visit, with a wind change expected after the first day that would dictate the sequence I would be approaching these two places.
On Saturday I arose and headed into the wind, further in, swinging by some places I’d seen sign at and which looked promising from both the map and from what we knew. Sure enough, I found tracks and signs and where things were and where they were not. I found some campsites, and some old rubs and wallows, but nothing fresh. There had been deer here, but not this time of year. Not now.
The Sunday saw me heading off on another tangent, again into the wind due to the change overnight, to see about an area that just looked right. It seemed like I’d hardly left my campsite when I found fresh prints in fresh tracks, so I slowed down and mooched along. Soon I came to clearing from downwind, my objective, and there was sign aplenty. The deer are here at this time of year!
For ages I scanned the clearing, but saw nothing, so I took an hour or so to edge along it from inside the bush. There were tracks in the mud leading in and out, and I was quite optimistic.
It was hunger-time when I decided to sit down under a tree and watch the clearing, so I settled in under and against a tree and had my bars for lunch. As I finished, I reached to put my wrappers back in my pack, and I saw him.
A big stag head, sticking out of the bush, perhaps 40 meters away. The bugger had been there for gawd-knows, and he’d stuck his head out, frozen, nose down, to have a look before stepping out properly. Clear as day I could see his entire head, brow tines and the lower reaches of his antlers, and all of neck, all in profile. I could see his bulging darting eyes and flaring nostrils.
And I’m sitting down, with one hand reaching in the air for my pack with a wrapper in it.
Slowly my hand lowers to the rifle beside me, and up it comes, loaded and ready to go. To my shoulder.
He probably saw me move, for he took a step back, meaning I now had his head and only a couple of inches of neck in clear view.
I acquired him in through the scope. Safety off. Should I take him in the head, or that bit of neck (because based on those brow tines he’s got a decent set of antlers on him)? Will he come out and give me a better shot?
And I’m thinking if, here I am on my very birthday, sitting in the most stretched and uncomfortable position, trying to decide where and when to shoot this stag. In my mind is the discussions I had with other hunters after my last story, and how I decided against trying to head-shoot another stag that was face-on to me and my dithering gave him time to scarper.
In a flash I decide that I’ll take the shot now. A deer on the ground is worth two in the bush. It’s definitely a positive ID on a deer, although I’d much rather have a nice big shoulder to shoot at in this uncomfortable position. So I line him up and touch of a round.
And just as I do that I know the shot was bad. At the very moment I squeezed the trigger, I saw him raise his head and step back again.
I’m hoping that I got him before or as he did it, and my shot was good. Perhaps I’ve mortally wounded him and have a short track on my hands now.
Rising, I collect my gear, and head on over to where he had been.
As I approach, I desperately want to see him down, there, but nothing. I’m looking for any blood sign, but nothing. There are a couple of possible exit routes, both messed up with fresh prints, but nothing I could identify as being minutes old.
No blood or anything at the point, nor on any of the exit routes. Nothing.
Until almost dusk I search, back tracking, checking things out. Climbing knolls and large fallen trees to see what I can see. Checking under large fallen logs, and all for nowt. My shot must have missed him, going under, just as he lifted his head.
Pretty quickly I had found where he’d been sunbathing before rising and moving the 10 meters or so to where I saw him, but I could not find any sign of him post-shot. No blood, no nothing.
And so it was with mixed feelings I headed back to my camp. Was that a good birthday present to myself or not?!?! Pleased that I now knew where the deer were this time of year in this area (and I’ll be back!) and kind-a relieved I would not have a hell-carry the next day, but quite disappointed I’d goosed up the opportunity to take a decent head and full my freezer.
The next day was one of those relaxing and indifferent days, of packing up and walking out, of finding a new way out of this place that maybe would be easier than the way in (it wasn’t!), and to be picked up and to return to Auckland, empty handed.
On the drive back, we plotted a return trip. Quite when was undecided, but I will be coming back and going for this guy again. One of us will be unlucky next time!
So a couple of us decided to check out a few places we’d checked out before, but not paid anywhere enough attention to, in part due to some hostile locals we did not trust our vehicles around. The plan was to drive down on Friday night, drop me off and I’d dart on in to where we were going, and the other guy would check out somewhere else with more obliging locals.
It took me too many hours of bush-bashing and night-time navigation under a full pack to get where I wanted to be, and I set up my tent with enough time to get a couple of hour’s kip before the Saturday ahead of me. There were two places I wanted to visit, with a wind change expected after the first day that would dictate the sequence I would be approaching these two places.
On Saturday I arose and headed into the wind, further in, swinging by some places I’d seen sign at and which looked promising from both the map and from what we knew. Sure enough, I found tracks and signs and where things were and where they were not. I found some campsites, and some old rubs and wallows, but nothing fresh. There had been deer here, but not this time of year. Not now.
The Sunday saw me heading off on another tangent, again into the wind due to the change overnight, to see about an area that just looked right. It seemed like I’d hardly left my campsite when I found fresh prints in fresh tracks, so I slowed down and mooched along. Soon I came to clearing from downwind, my objective, and there was sign aplenty. The deer are here at this time of year!
For ages I scanned the clearing, but saw nothing, so I took an hour or so to edge along it from inside the bush. There were tracks in the mud leading in and out, and I was quite optimistic.
It was hunger-time when I decided to sit down under a tree and watch the clearing, so I settled in under and against a tree and had my bars for lunch. As I finished, I reached to put my wrappers back in my pack, and I saw him.
A big stag head, sticking out of the bush, perhaps 40 meters away. The bugger had been there for gawd-knows, and he’d stuck his head out, frozen, nose down, to have a look before stepping out properly. Clear as day I could see his entire head, brow tines and the lower reaches of his antlers, and all of neck, all in profile. I could see his bulging darting eyes and flaring nostrils.
And I’m sitting down, with one hand reaching in the air for my pack with a wrapper in it.
Slowly my hand lowers to the rifle beside me, and up it comes, loaded and ready to go. To my shoulder.
He probably saw me move, for he took a step back, meaning I now had his head and only a couple of inches of neck in clear view.
I acquired him in through the scope. Safety off. Should I take him in the head, or that bit of neck (because based on those brow tines he’s got a decent set of antlers on him)? Will he come out and give me a better shot?
And I’m thinking if, here I am on my very birthday, sitting in the most stretched and uncomfortable position, trying to decide where and when to shoot this stag. In my mind is the discussions I had with other hunters after my last story, and how I decided against trying to head-shoot another stag that was face-on to me and my dithering gave him time to scarper.
In a flash I decide that I’ll take the shot now. A deer on the ground is worth two in the bush. It’s definitely a positive ID on a deer, although I’d much rather have a nice big shoulder to shoot at in this uncomfortable position. So I line him up and touch of a round.
And just as I do that I know the shot was bad. At the very moment I squeezed the trigger, I saw him raise his head and step back again.
I’m hoping that I got him before or as he did it, and my shot was good. Perhaps I’ve mortally wounded him and have a short track on my hands now.
Rising, I collect my gear, and head on over to where he had been.
As I approach, I desperately want to see him down, there, but nothing. I’m looking for any blood sign, but nothing. There are a couple of possible exit routes, both messed up with fresh prints, but nothing I could identify as being minutes old.
No blood or anything at the point, nor on any of the exit routes. Nothing.
Until almost dusk I search, back tracking, checking things out. Climbing knolls and large fallen trees to see what I can see. Checking under large fallen logs, and all for nowt. My shot must have missed him, going under, just as he lifted his head.
Pretty quickly I had found where he’d been sunbathing before rising and moving the 10 meters or so to where I saw him, but I could not find any sign of him post-shot. No blood, no nothing.
And so it was with mixed feelings I headed back to my camp. Was that a good birthday present to myself or not?!?! Pleased that I now knew where the deer were this time of year in this area (and I’ll be back!) and kind-a relieved I would not have a hell-carry the next day, but quite disappointed I’d goosed up the opportunity to take a decent head and full my freezer.
The next day was one of those relaxing and indifferent days, of packing up and walking out, of finding a new way out of this place that maybe would be easier than the way in (it wasn’t!), and to be picked up and to return to Auckland, empty handed.
On the drive back, we plotted a return trip. Quite when was undecided, but I will be coming back and going for this guy again. One of us will be unlucky next time!
Jim Phyllis
Sep 27, 2012, 9:44:38 PM9/27/12
to
Where were you hunting?
misanthropic_curmudgeon
Sep 30, 2012, 6:54:31 PM9/30/12
to
On Friday, September 28, 2012 1:44:46 PM UTC+12, Jim Phyllis wrote:
> Where were you hunting?
In the North Island of New Zealand
> Where were you hunting?
In the North Island of New Zealand
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