Doing the hard yards with the old man.
I haven’t posted a genuine story in a few years for various reasons but this is a trip I’ll remember for a long time yet. My old man is starting to slow down a little (he’s 60 now) but is still mad keen and ultra fit. It's been a while since we've hunted in the Ruahine Ranges together.
The school holidays were fast approaching and there was nothing else on my mind except chasing the elusive red stags. I sent my old man a text mid week indicating that I would be heading high the following week as the forecast looked immaculate. After a few days of no reply I had given up hope until mum text me saying Dad was starting to slowly get his gear sorted and was keen – typical Dad! A plan was made to head high and explore some new country that none of us had previously hunted.
After reaching the car park we decided we would fly camp half way to the tops and have a look into some creek heads in hope of putting some meat on the deck before heading to the tops. Two deer were spotted that evening but no shots were fired. The following morning a yearling was spotted in a easy location to retrieve and after trying for several minutes to get Dad into a shooting position, it was decided I would take the shot. Bang – flop, meat on the deck. I snuck over to retrieve the deer whilst Dad hung around camp and had a brew.
After hanging the meat in a nearby tree we packed up camp and continued pushing to the tops. Upon reaching the tops, we checked a nearby creek and to our surprise it was bone dry. Bugger! I told Dad to begin setting up camp and I would go search for water. We had enough water but wanted a little more just to be safe. A few ridges over and as I approached the skyline, I heard the tell tale sound of flowing water but I stopped dead in my tracks. Less than 100 yards below me were two hinds sitting out in the sun. Great – hinds = stag eh?
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We were using the opposite ridge to gauge our height.
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Where's the stag? Two hinds in the photo (lower center).
I returned to camp and told Dad about the water and the hinds in the sun and how there had to be a stag close by. As we crested the same ridge, the two hinds soon turned into three but no stag was spotted. After a while we decided to move further around the basin in an attempt to change our angles. This proved fruitless and with light fading, two of the hinds got up and started heading back to the bush edge. It is at this point that I should mention Dad had been carrying the rifle for the past few hours in hope of a stag and as we had ‘given up’ he handed the rifle back to me.
We dropped down into a dark gut and began filling up our drink bottles – yakking away. We had given up all hope of seeing any more deer for the evening. After filling our bottles up we began heading back down the gut towards where the hinds had been sitting when all hell broke loose. The next thing I remember is a hind jumping up outer the tussock about 80 yards away and high tailing it outer there followed very closely by a stag. Although we never saw the stag front on, it was very evident that the stag had good length to him.
The stag was outer there and was hoofing it however, he was running in a straight line ….. bad mistake. I ripped the rifle off my shoulder, flipped open the alumina caps and begun following him in the scope. Just as he was about to head over the last little gut and outer sight I fired. I had aimed below the base of the neck hoping that if I misjudged it a little, I would still hit him through the spine and angle it down into the vitals. We didn’t see the stag go down but we didn’t see him drop down into the gut.
What has just happened ….. from the moment I saw the stag until the moment I fired it would have been about five to six seconds. I had no rest and took the shot standing at about 150 yards. After the shot we slowly made our way over there and Dad gave me a rough area to begin searching. Initially I couldn’t find him and began second guessing myself but in the end I found him buried deep in the wee tussock gut. High fives all-round!
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The smile says it all huh.
We made the decision to remove the head, gut him and collect the meat the next morning. Wise move in the end. A few photos were taken and we retuned to camp just after dark. Back at camp we replayed what had happened a million times and slept easy that night.
The next morning we awoke to another beautiful morning and went for a quick morning hunt before returning to deal to the stag. We saw a lousy six pointer for the morning hunt. After boning the stag out and slogging our way back to camp, the decision was made to pack up and pick up the second deer we had hanging in the tree before walking out to the vehicle.
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What's that down there boy...?
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Back at camp the next morning.
Although the stag is only a six pointer, he measures just over 32” in length and has really strong timber to him. He absolutely dwarfs any other head I’ve seen or shot. Perfect weather, a few deer seen and great company ….. two very happy hunters!
Cheers,
Pop Shot
