There's been a bit of internal debate as to whether or not to write up this rambling through the jungle. Things didn’t exactly go to plan, or in a way that ethically I was happy with. This certainly isn’t a perfect hunting story. Perhaps that's why I pressed the Submit button. Early January, the Sako strapped to the pack we'd clambered up to my favorite tops haunt in the Kawekas. It had been a blast, and I’d ticked off some personal goals, namely 1) don’t rush to shoot the first deer you see, and 2) enjoy the trip and deeply breathe in the scenery. I’d spent three days glassing and evaluated a dozen sika including a couple of respectable young stags in velvet, and a hind and bambi fawn the size of a handbag. I eventually took a young hind and spiker. Unfortunately, the spiker had developed “knobs” when on the ground, which I hadn’t seen while glassing I’d had the luxury of glassing to make a call on what to harvest and had wanted to – save a bro, shoot a doe. :oh noes:
A few weeks later the Browning came out of the cabinet, and a Kaimai bush stalk it was. The goal, a meat animal, preferably a hind without a young one. We’d heard movement off the track, and Kai had us trailing into a consistent wind in wet, overcast conditions. Just perfect. Sure enough, 5 minutes in, he locked up. As did I. Silently scanning the bench ahead for movement. A young, healthy hind popped up, and boosted to our left. I tried to get a bead on her, but she soon was ghosting through the thick supplejack. A quick fawn call, and she barked back, obscured from view, never to be seen again. Too slow. Wake up. Make a coffee.
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There's one ahead
After setting up camp that morning we explored some new, steep territory. We put up a couple of animals only metres away without making eye contact. Late in the day, with fatigue setting in, a careless slip of the foot nearly resulted in a decent fall down a gut into a dry creek bed far below. Wake up, don’t make dumb decisions. Time to pull the pin and trundle back to camp. We boosted back, fighting the supplejack and getting ripped by particularly nasty bush lawyer. I nearly trod trod on a bedded hind and fawn.
Day two, we opted to hunt down a slope adjacent from camp. The theory being they’d be resting up, tucked up on little ledges enjoying the warm morning rays. About an hour in, I’d stopped to have a bit of quiet time, sitting on a particularly peaceful bench. After a brief reading break, Kai notioned us forward toward a small gut. It took us about 5 minutes of standing still, moving forward slowly, standing still, scanning to my left… there, a hind, front on, staring at us 10 metres away. I opted to drop the red dot down past the exposed head and neck, to her chest obscured by light foliage. Squeezing a round off, she crashed away… Yes! Success. Putting the boy on sit, I sat there as patiently as I could for 10 minutes while he whined and whined and… (repeat)
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She was standing face forward in the gap above
Moving forward, I was dismayed to see I hadn’t dropped her a few metres from the spot. 40 minutes later, there was no sign of blood and she was moving steadily away. I’d either completely missed (tick), or I’d hit the foliage at close quarters. Later I concluded she’d been standing up on a mound and I’d most likely missed her chest shooting under her. I should have taken the available shot. Stink. Stink. Stink. Stink.
We covered some kilometres that day with no other contact made. To be honest, I was pretty gutted. Kai was doing his job – I wasn’t doing mine. At least the deer wasn’t injured. My simple goal bush hunting this year is to be more efficient in placing lethal shots.
By day three, I was completely sold on bringing the frying pan along. Slightly browned Garlic pita pocket with melted cheese, bacon and peri peri sauce hit the spot. Packed up, we headed ever so slowly down the track – surely the chances of bumping an animal were pretty low? Kai hit the brakes from a canter up ahead and stopped to wind, nosing the air like a seal. Something ahead. We spent the next 5 minutes ninjaing forward, one carefully placed step at a time. Rounding a corner, Kai anxiously looked back at me. The was a deer there, somewhere in the gloom of the gully. Dead still, we waited, and waited, and waited. 10 metres ahead a hind stepped out of the gloom. Raising the rifle, quietly thumbing the hammer down from half-cock, I aimed for the exposed shoulder as she started to ghost. At the shot she bolted. It felt good.
We stood there for a couple of minutes as I collected my thoughts. We then moved slowly forward from the point of impact. 50 metres into the bush, light blood on hoof marks. This looked promising. Another 20 metres and we bumped her, as she got up and cantered from view. Kai and I exchanged a fair few whines/words over the next 30 minutes as I kept both him and I on a firm sit. Surely we had this one? But she did look like she was moving well? We trailed the marks for another half an hour. The blood marks were bright, but lighter in viscosity, and started to become more transparent, then petter out to spots then nothing. The horrible thought that I’d gut shot her began to cross my mind. Reaching a gully and a ledge leading up to mound above Kai stopped, and we spent a few minutes dead still. I’m trying more and more to let him make his own mind up, no matter how long it takes. Sure enough, after a couple of false starts, he headed up, toward a thick band of scrub. A branch snapped on the other side. We locked up. The deer was literally metres on the other side. All of us knew exactly where each other was. I opted to move around on a small trail, and immediately heard movement, spotting the hind moving through on the other side. I raised the rifle, but couldn’t get a bead on her, spotting her once more ghosting through. We spent another 40 minutes waiting again before resuming trailing. But this time she'd out thought us, moving across a stream before Kai lost her tracks. I was just devastated. From the way she was moving, she’ll live. My thought was I’d nicked her low, just behind the front shoulder.
Hot. Tired. Frustrated. Annoyed. Frankly I was *issed off with myself. We headed back to the track out. It was now midday, and time to go home. To my surprise, Kai locked up a couple of minutes later. Another deer ahead. This time we went even slower, stopping completely as we cornered a bend. After an eternity dead still, I noticed a white fleck 20 metres ahead. What is that? A fleck of white, some movement? Not a deer bum? Huh. The fleck was the movement of antlers, a stag’s head appeared, then an exposed neck. Completely unaware, he gracefully stepped into view. Aiming for the neck, I squeezed a round. At the shot, he bolted.
We made our way quietly toward the spot where he’d appeared only moments earlier. Kai moved forward and winded ahead – there was another deer there, somewhere. He wanted to track this one. A few words were spoken, and we returned back to the starting point and trailed the shot stag. About 5 minutes in, Kai locked up, and I watched as the stag popped up and bolted up through the pepper wood. We found a big splatter of bright red blood on one of the hoof marks. He’d been hit. But he was still moving.
40 minutes later, Kai had locked up multiple times. We’d stood dead still for endless minutes, tracked, crossed streams, but nothing. Then, suddenly, a crack, the sound of a bolting animal and heavy hooves hitting a nearby stream. We boosted forward. Kai picked up his scent again, and off we trailed. 15 minutes later, I’d had enough. Kai was moving much too fast and there was no sign it was the same animal. It was then he moved out of view and I heard an animal moving into water, and a dog barking. What was another dog doing here, I thought? Another hunter perhaps? I then clicked – Kai was onto an animal. First time he’d done this. I ran forward jumping into a stream, and rounded a bend to see a young stag standing in the deep stream with big round eyes staring up a Kai barking from the bank above. The Browning smoothly worked through a couple of rounds. The young stag lay still in the water.
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Surreal. As I processed, I reflected on what I could have done better. Upon inspection, the first shot had hit him low in the front brisket. His forward movement had been faster than I’d accounted for when placing the neck shot. If I’d waited a split second I would have had a broadside engine room shot. It felt bittersweet. But the tracking was important, as this animal would have most likely died from his first wound.
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I’d learnt a lot from this trip. Things tend to happen quickly in the bush, and good decision making is important. You need to be more flexible about shot placement depending on what opportunities present themselves. I’m also going to read up some more, and ask a lot more questions of those in the know around tracking, blood trailing and scenarios. For what it’s worth, I checked the rifle at 25m on the walk out. It of course, shot like a laser beam.
