Thread: Probably

I was messaging a good mate @Rusky the other day. He’s one of the (if not the) most ethical, considerate and thoughtful hunters I’ve met. And an exceptional spearo to boot, so he's alright by me. We were comparing notes around our recent, consistent hunting failures. I’d mentioned trying not to get down about watching hunting youtubers who post consistently successful hunts, and he rightly pointed out what had been nagging on my mind. “No one posts unsuccessful hunts”.

So, in the spirit of “stuff-uppery” I wanted to share my pain around a recent hunt.

It was just after lunch on a relatively cold winter’s day in the Kaimai. Kai was working ahead siddling energetically along a face. My thinking and experience was that at this time of year that the bigger animals should be tucked up in deep ledges facing the sun. Well, that was the theory - the reality was often haThe thermals however faint were working in my favour, but it was awfully still. The ground was damp under foot. The supplejack and keikei jungle made quiet, subtle stalking extremely difficult. I’d chosen one too many of these still, sunny days to hunt recently, favouring my comfort over concealment.

Kai had slowed right down as we came across fresh droppings of a decent size. Yes, an animal ahead. He pulled back from his usual 10-20m place of work in front, which meant something was close, and he started to windicate. Game on. It felt “right” for a super slow stalk, and about ten paces later he locked up winding a gut about 10 metres below. We spent the next few minutes dead still. I’d move a foot at a time, spending precious moments placing each on terrafirma so as not to make a sound. Kai was firmly indicating ahead, then placed himself on a sit. There was something just below. There was a bit of a gap ahead, the supplejack intersected it, and the jumble of brush meant sitting still was the best option.

And so we sat and waited. And waited. It’s such a pleasure watching your pointer sniffing away anxiously, living out what he was bred to do. It’s taken me a long time to learn, but there was no point in pushing into the gut below, it was just too noisy. Moving isn’t always productive. So we continued to wait. About 5 minutes later we heard some rustling. Kai wanted to move off the ledge, but I kept him on a sit. Then, sure enough, about 20 metres ahead a branch on a tree moved up and down, probably 5 metres off the ground, as if being pulled. We couldn’t see what was pulling on it due to the foliage, but we both knew what it was. An animal, possibly on its hind legs chewing on leaves for lunch. Assessing the situation, in my gut I knew we just had to wait. And hope.


The two possible shooting lanes

There were two narrow shooting lanes about 20 degrees below us through a patch of punga, interweaved by supplejack. But doable from a stable seated shooting platform. The hope was the animal would step out. And then he did. A large hind quarter siddled through. A big animal. A stag. He stepped past the first lane separated by a single punga and glided broadside through the second - about 2 metres or so wide. To be honest the speed at which he moved suprised me. He was unaware. A little faster than I anticipated, I quickly lined up the red dot just behind his front leg and squeezed a round. At the recoil he flinched - and looked in our direction, surprised. Then he turned and bolted straight toward us. I remember his sambar like rack, with big heavy antlers at the peticle as he charged, like a bull might, below us. Quickly I placed a second round into him front on, then he darted to my left and away, two more rounds fired in quick succession from the Browning lever action. And then silence. We had him. Yes. We had him.

Stoked. Patting the dog on a job well done, I kept him on a sit. We were going to wait this out, possibly for 30 minutes before trailing him. I was 99% sure he would be down just around the corner, most likely double lunged, although the front on second shot would have done some damage also. I just knew it. Over three years of hard hunting and this was the first large bodied, heavy antlered, mature Kaimai bush stag I’d gotten onto. I don’t hunt the farm fringes, so doing it tough, a gnarly character bush stag, caught unawares outside of the roar, would be highly treasured.

We paced 20 odd steps to the point of impact. No blood. But, he was heavy bodied animal so I expected nothing for a while. We started to trail, expecting to find him piled up in the next 50 metres or so. Nothing. We trailed along and down for another 100m or so until Kai locked up peering down on a sunny, fern covered face below. I stepped forward only to hear a crash and a loud bark as an animal bound away. We trailed for another 150 metres down toward a stream, where the animal tracked back up behind us. I lost it - both the animal and my mind. Just gutted. My head swirling, I opted to go back to camp. I should have gone back the next day.

A week later with the encouragement of another good friend (cyber stalker/Hunting Forum commitment issues) I went back. Based on the description we reckoned it was piled up dead within a few hundred metres of the general area. Surely we could find the decomposing stag. I spent three hours with the dog siddling, climbing, slipping, falling and generally getting stuck in deep kei kei for no return.

We had a late start the next morning, sore from the day prior. With coffee and a nice cooked breakfast on board we found an excellent trail straight onto the exact area where we’d shot the stag the week prior. Kai moved in confidently, then suddenly locked up. We were on, and only metres from the original spot. Dead still we heard movement just metres in front, but couldn’t make out hooves below the log and deadfall ahead. Then a bark, and a scamper. Surely not? We trailed the animal for a couple of hundred metres into a gully. The hoove marks weren’t huge. I pushed away in my mind the sight of smaller fresh droppings and marks. Over the next two hours we had two more additional contents at really close range, before putting the animal up. At the final contact my suspicions were confirmed by a hind and yearling ghosting away. Bugger. That was me, done.

No doubt there will be those who question my choice of a lighter calibre for close range hunting. The reality is I am hunting over a dog, and I don’t want to rely on subsonics. That and I do not enjoy shooting heavy recoiling, louder, larger calibres. I have come to value precise shot placement. That and I know a 223 round will go through an inch thick steel plate at longer distances than I hunt. If anything, my shot may have been further back than hoped due to the unexpected pace of the animal through the gap. I checked the zero, and interestingly the first shot with tape over the muzzle resulted in a bit of a flyer a few centimetres of zero of a rest at 25m - but would have still hit vitals. But the rest were within MOA. I wondered if tape or an extra squirt of oil down the barrel had put the first shot off? Regardless, I just knew he was piled up dead somewhere, double lunged.

It’s not exactly the kind of area you can grid search, particularly with a dog who is likely to pick up the fresh scent of an animal on the move through there. But, for what it’s worth could I have placed a better shot? Probably. Could I have waited for the animal to move back into sight? Probably. Should I have flung a “meep” (fawn call) to stop the animal in its tracks before firing? Probably. Would I have taken that same shot again. Probably. I guess I’ll never know.