You never really know what to expect when you go hunting and when you plan a hunting trip months in advance all sorts of unexpected changes to the original plan can and often do happen, sometimes for the best and sometimes for the worst.
This is a story about how some averagely laid out plans turned out to be one of the best hunting trips I have ever had.
Early Feburary after several emails phone calls and text messages I had a week of annual leave booked, a place to hunt, a couple of my good mates keen to join me and a very rough idea of what I wanted to do in April, hunt stags for the 2013 roar.
Easter crept up very quickly one mate had pulled out and before I knew it it was finally time to start packing for the trip, we had gained veichle access through a very large and remote east coast farm so luckily for us that factor alone saved 16km of walking with heavy packs.
We were hunting the Eastern Ureweras, and after walking for a way with heavy packs I had had enough, a likely looking grassy clearing high up on a ridge in the park became home for the next two nights.
It was roughly 4pm and camp was setup, a couple of tents and some gear strewn tidily enough around the edges of the clearing, the scene was set. Daypacks were loaded with afternoon hunting essentials, water, gps, survival equipment, wet weather jacket, some choccy bars of various nutritional value, and a knife amongst other bric a brac. A plan was made to check the local area out for the next day’s hunting, and of course our rifles came for the walk too.
It wasn’t long before some fresh deer sign was seen, and soon after we walked into a long grass clearing a stag bolted out from the left hand side followed by a hind, I never managed to put the cross hairs on him but he had a rack and god only knows how big he was. We tried speaking nicely to him but he was spooked, the hind did come back and have a look though, I let her live.
2 deer seen by 4.30pm on day 1, a good start maybe?
It soon became evident that the area we were in was alive with animals, as we walked and got further along our ridge top, several moans were heard on both sides of us, we both decided to investigate and started a full blown conversation with a stag that decided to not show himself after winding us very early on, on we carried and not more than 5 minutes walking later, a different stag replyd to Kurts tune he played on the roaring horn.
This time the wind was in our favour and it wasn’t long before we were clearly inside of a stags territory, we moaned and the stag moaned back in reply, we walked 30 meters and roared and the stag roared louder and closer again. As fate would have it this particular stag was clever, a young spiker still half in velvet and a hind came to us from down hill, all the while with the hind barking at us, we were still hoping for a more decent animal to present himself, Kurt had a bead on the spiker with his 308 and with a clear shot available took it, camp meat.
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The thing with brand new knifes is its mandatory to test the sharpness out on yourself as Kurt did, I am sure there was more blood from his new gaping vent on his hand than from that spiker he had just shot. A quick patch up job with some of said bric a brac and we had back steaks, two back legs and a front leg loaded and ready for the walk back to camp.
With the meat back on the main ridge we were originally on, we continued and realised just how dry it was where we were, underfoot was crunchy, there was no creeks, water was going to be a problem and for the ureweras theres usually no shortage of it, It was light enough still to scope out the terrain.
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Several more stags were roaring and moaning right up until and well into dark, we backtracked and headed back to camp, for a hot feed, cold beer and good rest. In the middle of the night I woke to another stag going off just behind camp. He sounded close very close. Morning came quickly and although it did not rain my tent managed to give me a condensation shower and with a heavy dew a new day dawned.
Kurt decided to get amongst it early and off he went, my plan was to hunt my way back to the truck and get more water for camp, I roared as best I could on my way and had two stags reply to me at various stages to the truck and back to camp, when I arrived back kurt was back from his morning hunt and it had been successful for him , he managed to roar up a nice 6 pointer and trooped the meat back aswell, he wanted to get all the meat back to the truck so he loaded up with the prior days meat and the mornings meat and off he went. A heavy full pack of meat was deliverd to the truck while I had lunch, salami and cheese sandwich with muesli bar and apple on the side.
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While enjoying a rest at camp the stag behind camp started up again, so I went to investigate, I found scrapes and a stag pad and I gave afew roars to which he replyed. But no joy there. Back to camp and I fell asleep quite content with life.
Kurt had returned aswell and left his boots by my tent so I would know he was back, I told him about the stag behind the camp and how it was going off and that excited us into preparing for an afternoon hunt. I wanted to see the 6 point head he had shot so we cruised off to where it was and had stags roaring not far from where he had shot it.
Exciting times
It was 3.30pm and we were hearing stags going off all over the place, we picked a likely sounding animal out and headed off for him, we roared and he roared back we closed the gap and roared some more and this stag opened up, we could hear he was perhaps 200 meters from us, we roared and he kept coming thrashing the bush as he ran, he was pissed off.
Quietly and steady we moved in through a massive stag pad above a small creek in a grove of punga 20 meters at a time then we roared more, the stench of stag was all over the area. A couple more violent roars from kurt and the reply we got in return was inspiring.
I swear I nearly shat my pants when in from about 50 meters a freight train came through the bush towards me and stopped 15 feet away, the ground actually rumbled as this fulla ran in. I could smell him and see the steam coming from his nostrils as he peeked out from behind a punga fern, I could see one side of his face, half his antlers 4 maybe 5 points and some of his neck, I stayed very still Im telling you, I was in the open with a very angry stag on his turf and all there was between us was 15 feet of open space his punga and my 270, confident of a neck shot and having indentifed my animal I squeezed off the 270 and all hell broke loose.
The stag jumped and bolted the way he came from, I was confident in my gun and my shot but the stag ran on didn’t he. Kurt settled me down abit and we waited a minute or two that seemed like forever, when things went quiet we investigated and followed his tracks, I was looking for blood and found one small patch not far from the scene but that was all. No more blood and no stag. We searched and searched for an hour but no such luck.
I replayed it over and over and It was the perfect stalk without the result, I was gutted with the thought of him being out there wounded, but still happy at the same time with the thrill of it all. We walked out of his territory defeated and wondering.
Onto the next ridge and up up up we went, back to the tops again with dark closing in, out came the headlights and bush bashing a ridge all the way back to camp. I forget how dark it gets so quickly sometimes, thank you whoever invented gps and led lenser. Back at camp and guns away, kurt cracked a can open and I joined him, we had a big feed to restore energy and sank 4 beers each before bed. Sleep came easy until 2am, the camp stag roared.
Down came the rain
Luckily I had set up my fly over the tent and enjoyed a nice dry space to enjoy some food in the morning, kurt joined me for breakfast and we planned the mornings hunt, with the drizzle and it being our last day we decided on an easy hunt, the stag behind the camp was still going off and myself being keen to meet him, a plan was hatched. We roared and the camp stag roared back.
Down the ridge behind our camp we went, 50 meters we went stopped and roared, the stag replyd, it was open all the way and easy going with large natives and supple jack, the odd punga but mostly great visibility all the way down, each side of the ridge had deep punga guts and the bush was tight. We roared every 30 odd meters all the way down and had replys from not one but two stags. At the bottom was a small very nearly dried up creek, and a punga covered mound with a deer highway and fresh sign every where.
We went right and followed the freshest sign, but the stag was moving so we backtracked and crept up another trail through the pungas and into a beautiful open area, 60 meters visability easy under the tall natives in a 180 degree area. We roared and the stag came charging in from the left up high, he didn’t know where we were, he was trying to get around us to wind us.
Up came the 270, kurt roared and the stag roared back and boom went the 270, the stag jumped up and skipped like he was doing some kind of new dance and bolted away so I fired again, Boom a parting shot at his arse. Although I was confident the camp stag ran a good 80 meters through the open undergrowth and all went quiet, we both waited a minute and I was shaking with excitement, both kurt and I went for a look and I couldn’t see my camp stag, kurt yells out “here it is”.
I was stoked and admired the camp stag, he came up a nice tidy 9 pointer, the broad side shot was a little low and the second shot through the back leg didn’t help him either. Another stag roared not far from us and kurt was off to investigate, no joy there unfortunitly. I sat down with my trophy deer and had a moment with him, Buzzing was an understatement I was over the moon.
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What an awesome way to top off a exciting few days with a good mate, the trip was perfect in every way, even the drizzle as we packed up camp didn’t dampen the mood. Thanks kurt for the fantastic safe 2013 roar trip mate, im looking forward to duck shooting now.
