After the move to Hawkes Bay, life's been pretty good. I've gotten out and chased Sika more than ever before, but still unsuccessfully. I've put in the hard yards on both public and private land. I've started to see animals more and more and also seen my first wild pigs in the last week! Things have been looking good.
Today I turned 25 though and the deer tally has been looking a bit sad despite the highs of seeing animals. All stops were pulled for the weekend - this was it. I was to get a deer. I drifted off to sleep on Friday night with a bit of a sniffle and sore tummy, hoping that it was just nerves. But Saturday morning I woke with another bout of Dougie's famous flu. My nose was running like a tap, face felt like I'd been hit by a truck and I even had the added bonus of struggling to keep my food down. I tried to sleep it off but the wind howled through the house, making the windows and doors whistle. I rolled over and checked the forecast on my phone - gale force winds for the evening. I wasn't counting on my birthday deer after all.
Brad arrived home from work a bit early and prodded me in the ribs cheerfully but it didn't help. I felt like a train wreck! But I was going to struggle through it. I'd be completely gutted if the boys went without me and arrived home with deer on the ground.
Our mate Steve rocked up as I wandered out to the deck, sleepy eyed and half doubled over with sore puku. Steve poked a few insults my way and we laughed about his present for me for my birthday - a yellow apple crate, just what I wanted!!! Now I'd fit right in with the lads. We all have our hunting gear and spare set of clothes ready for a quick deploy to a hunting block at a minutes notice.
We loaded the rifles and apple crates into the ute and set off to collect the block manager. It wasn't long until we'd arrived, the boys had a good gander at Black Beauty (I figured with the wind and the possibility of a bit of distance, I'd leave the Savage at home) and I had a few minutes practice getting into position and dry firing the .260. The plan of attack was for the manager and Steveo to take a more gentle approach and hunt the forestry roads and nearby clearings and Brad and I head into the tops on foot. I scoffed a banana quickly so as to trick my body into keeping some kai down and we went about getting the evening hunt under way.
The slower men dropped us off and Brad and I began the walk up through the young pines. It wasn't long until my head started spinning and I had to let out a few laboured sighs! My guts turned and I tried my best to overcome my dripping nose and general unwellness. Up ahead, my hunting partner stopped in his tracks. He looked back at me with wide eyes - "Pig!!!" I peered up above us and caught the edge of a black pig's ear, pointed our way. He was a medium sized boar and at only a few meters away, obviously feeling a bit threatened as he puffed up his bristles at us before making his way back to a safer position. What a rush!
As we continued up the ridge, sheltered by trees I started to feel worse and worse. Our frequent breaks became more frequent and longer. Brad glassed from the edge of our track and I felt a huge pounding in my chest. My heart rate slowed right down and I could tell I was on the verge of fainting. I tactfully stepped away from the ledge, sat down and sunk into a laying position with my feet uphill. I tried to give the blood a chance to get back to my brain before I completely passed out! It slowly worked and Brad looked concerned. "If you want to bug out bub, now's the time to do it."
"No."
:)
I sipped some water and we slowly plodded on. We were close to the open ground which I knew would lift my spirits. The wind started to rip through the edge of the pines as Brad glassed a giant wild cat in the rocks on the hill above, scampering to find shelter. We headed towards the cat's vantage point and spotted more pigs. Putting every last bit of energy into my ascent, I pulled up to click out my bipod and mentally range the lead of the five massive bodied pigs that grazed the land to the West of us. Although appearing effortless, they covered some ground quick! But we weren't there for pigs. We wanted deer. We agreed that we would poke our nose over the other ridge and if nothing was seen, come back to meet up with those pigs on dark and introduce them to the .260 and .270 respectively.
The scout around the corner proved no results. I let Brad take the lead and cover some ground before doubling back to me, crouched and doubled over, feeling like I was ready to spew. The wind had picked up again and was cold this time. But it was coming from the West which was still good news. We had a whole last leg of our loop to hunt, and it was untouched of our scent.
We donned warmer tops and set off. Glassing, we could see across to a clearing near the road we'd driven in the ute earlier. Thud. We clearly heard the familiar sound of a rifle in the distance. Thud thud. Thud. Watching the clearing, a large Sika hind bolted across to safety. Then another, then a spiker, then another! The whole family spooked from our mate's shots far, far away. It was amazing to see more animals in the block we were hunting. But, back to the task at hand, those deer were too far away for us now. We continued into the wind, into the setting sun.
We stopped for a little break for me to wipe the snot from my wind-blown face and shelter from the cold breeze. We glassed the neighbouring property and spotted a whole heap of red deer!!! Well....Brad did. He laughed, then his laughs turned to frustration as I still couldn't see what the heck he was seeing. I was instructed that we would not be moving on until I could see the seven huge red deer grazing the clearing. Luckily a bit more explaining with different words and different reference points had me see the animals both sitting down and hanging out amongst sheep. Brad snatched the binos from my face. "Right, let's go then!!!"
We were on the downhill leg of our hunt and the light was fading fast. One last open saddle sat between us and the native that would have us covered in and into darker light that our scopes' probably couldn't handle. This last patch of clearing literally was the last chance. And what would be standing there? A hind and young spiker. We were within range and these two had no clue we were headed right for them.
We cut down out of sight, on the Eastern face of the ridge. We covered ground quickly and I went over my shooting process in my head. I found a spot that was 140 odd yards from the spiker. He grazed up towards me, facing dead on, still unaware. I set up as good as I could. My feet were slightly uphill and I needed my pikau under my bipod to provide enough height at the front of Black Beauty. Brad took up cover scout a few metres to my right.
We sat and waited. I wasn't going to shoot until the spiker present himself broadside. The wind blew a moderate power but directly into my face. I was on quite a steep downhill angle, maybe 30 degrees. The deer was a good 140-150 yards, so I figured aiming exactly dead where I wanted my bullet to hit would result nicely with the extra distance (sighted to 100yards) and steep angle. I watched the spiker and waited for him to turn, rather than face me. He was still completely unaware of us! I heard a large animal just ten meters below me to the left and looked at Brad, wide eyes, and pointed to the noise. "Just pigs. Shoot the spiker!" he whispered with some urgency.
I decided to come further to the right where he lay, as we both sort of looked at the grass that was in front of my barrel and figured it might muck things up. We shuffled down the face, I lined up in the much flatter spot and the spiker grazed.....and then finally turned broadside. Click....thud. With a WHOMP he took his last steps. Brad squeezed the .270 trigger on the hind. And within those few seconds, we had two deer on the deck!!
We hopped up and quickly made ground towards our venison and the loud sound I had heard revealed itself as a sika stag, not the pig Brad had thought!! He trotted away with not much urgency. We decided to leave him for another day; we already had plenty of work to do.
When we arrived at my spiker, we could see a sharp white object poking up just a meter from where he lay. With a bit of digging, Brad discovered a full sika stag head!!!! What a find! We laughed at the randomness of the situation and I noticed something by my boot - "Look! My first cast antler!"
My partner made quick work of the gutting and we dragged our quarry to a pile for some hard case photos. The sun was well and truly gone by then and we had a long way to go. We agreed that I could carry the smaller deer with the traditional pikau method and he would use the belt to carry the bigger animal. We radioed the boys who had got one deer on the road and already packed up, then we stuffed our polar fleece pikau's into the carcasses and prepped for the long walk home.
I wish I could say that I was a big machine and monstered my carry, but I didn't. I struggled with balancing my rifle and the wide set hind, who’s fore legs kept slipping off my shoulders. My thighs shuddered under the weight of me, my few possessions and the animal on my back. I took smaller steps to try to keep my balance but I found every third or fourth step was completely misplaced. Brad walked up ahead and kept a close ear on my huffing and puffing. It wasn't long until it was decided that we swap animals and I give my best go at the belt.
We shared a laugh as I tried to dump my carry but I went with it, all the way down to the ground. I crawled out from under the bloody hind and Brad helped strap me into the belt with the spiker dangling around my body at a lower than ideal height. On my buddy's strong, large frame the spiker sat across his lower back. On my much shorter back, the carcass hung around the back of my thighs. The belt made things much more comfortable but it wasn't long until my snail pace and coughing and spluttering had us stopping and calculating plan C.
We decided that ferrying the two deer back down to the road was the best option. I was to stay at the top animal with the guns and the stag head as Brad descended with the other animal. He would then follow my shouts and torch light back up to grab the second animal and we'd head back down together. After countless trips like this and a real lack of complaining from my other half, we made it to the near bottom. I had given up on sniffing and blowing my nose at this stage and snot ran down my chin and soaked the collar of my polarfleece. I tugged at my sleeves to pull them over my hands as we discovered the very last hurtle - a huge blackberry thicket on a steep bank leading down to the creek that separated us from the lads and the truck.
With another hop-scotch effort, Brad chucked the deer down onto the blackberry to push it down. We used the carcasses as big furry bulldozers to find the bottom of the prickles and mash a way through. I passed the rifles to Steve while the manager kept himself warm in the truck. Without too much more effort - we made it! And without time to think or congratulate or even wash the muck off our hands, the manager pushed us into the truck and sped off.
Even with the aid of some pretty heavy flu medication and the 1am tuck-in time, I still hardly slept. It wasn't long until the sun streamed in and reminded me of the work to be done that was hanging in the shed waiting for me.
Many hours later...and with a little (a lot) of help, the meat is now in the chiller and the washing is clean. What a way to welcome 25. And what an experience for Black Beauty!!
An obvious special thanks to Brad, Steve and the block manager. Also another huge thank you to good sorts on this forum who made Black Beauty happen. Sorry for taking so long getting some blood on her, but my goodness it was worth it. Hot barrels.
