Thread: A Whiff

I’d been getting a little twitchy since my roar trip the previous month. One too many youtube bush hunting videos had been watched. A bush hikoi at the local was duly scheduled in. We’d been ambling along beside a gently flowing stream for an hour or so. Just soaking in the fresh air and enjoying the bush. A loud “knock” stopped us both in our tracks. My guess, a hoof collecting a log in retreat. A few minutes were spent scanning, but nothing was spotted. Kai happily ambled along in front, picking his way across the stream, content in his place of work. There was barely a whisper of a breeze. This area tends to have little microcurrents of air flow working between the gullies, guts and ridges. My rule of thumb, trust the dog, follow him, and try to make the most of the wind. It’s the same rules for the animals and for us.

A 100 metres or so, and a small whiff of deer hit our nostrils. Kai turned and gave me an anxious look. We spent the next 5 minutes locked up, looking ahead. Nothing. There was game ahead, the question remained how far had they travelled? Maybe we’d spooked a group that had split? Questions, questions. Resuming a quiet walking pace, Kai moved ahead, and we pushed into the next gully. It was then we were hit with another, more powerful waft of deer. Very close. Carefully picking our way across the moss covered boulders in the stream step by step, scanning around, Kai tigered ahead into the fern. Game on.

He took us up the muddy bank carved up by freshly made hoove marks. Not in a rush, but definitely had moved this way. Quietly weaving along the bank, we paused every couple of steps to gaze through the fern fronds to the gully wall ahead. Nothing. Nothing moving. Kai then veered back down into the swampy fern belt below. Tippy toeing through the drier patches, careful to keep myself obscured, we were hit with yet another big whiff of deer. It could be a couple of metres to our right. Was that a movement I saw? Kai locked up for a few minutes looking ahead, then ever so gingerly stretched forward, carefully placing each paw. Obscured from view, deep under a clump of fern I scanned ahead as he worked into the open beside the stream.

It took a few moments dead still, waiting, before I spotted movement ahead. A young deer trotted into the open about 70 metres in front, alert but unaware of us. He slowly started to move across the stream. Raising the Browning I had an off hand shot, but I had a little time. Not much. But wanting to make it count, I spotted a rotting log a few metres ahead. Running forward, putting the dog on a quiet sit as I boosted past him, before stretching out to get a solid rest for the rifle.

Placing the red dot on the animal’s chest, I pressed the trigger. A lung hit, he lurched, then turned and to our surprise, boosted down the stream directly towards us. Cycling the lever action I put two more into his chest, the second causing him to tumble and then lay still 20 metres below. Then only the sounds of the trickling stream remained.

The spiker was in good nick. Making sure to drag him up and away from the water, the meat processed and hung quartered in the shade of a large tree. Out of the sun, covered in fresh fern, it chilled down nicely, ready for pick up a couple of days later. Apart from putting up a stag at 10 paces in deep fern the next morning, it was tough hunting. Picking up the meat on the walk out, I was grateful for the time spent soaking in the bush with my mate, and the access we have to public land.

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Grateful


My mate, just doing what he does