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I guess that's why they call it Hunting and not Shooting
It seemed like forever, but finally it was Flyday. Sunday 24th April and I am off to Ngaawaparua hut with Gary, one of my workmates, on the winning raffle ticket NZDA Napier fly-in trip with Chris and the team at East Kaweka Helicopters.
Saturday afternoon had been spent doing final checks on my gear and supplies then an early night.
Sunday I woke to drizzle but was confident the trip would go ahead and after a breakfast of French toast, thanks Bronwyn, it was off in the Landcruiser to Puketitri. We arrived to be greeted by Chris and after loading our gear onto the trolley we were introduced to Lauren who promptly asked for payment, when I explained it was the Napier DeerStalkers trip she informed me that Marc had only paid for one trip but after some negotiation she agreed to check with Marc and we were loaded onto the chopper and off we flew with Pete in the “Black Chopper”.
Arriving at the hut we were greeted by Gavin and Clinton waiting be extracted by Helisika who had just taken the other two from their party away with the heads. Tales of much sign and roaring and two stags and a hind taken gave us hope for the next few days.
Soon we had the hut to ourselves and after a brief lunch and an unpack we trekked off up Herbs creek. Lots of deer sign as we went higher but alas no deer sighted, so after a 6-hour round trip we arrived back at camp, raised the fire and cooked dinner. I had forgotten how interesting Readers Digest can be, but at 930 it was lights out and off to bed.
Monday morning was an early start, a short pause to remember the significance of the day and it was porridge for breakfast and off into the bush.
We headed off down along Herbs creek and I chose an easier track up the sides of the ravine and Gary headed off further up the valley. I found a quiet clearing with a freshly opened rutting pad and settled down, alas no stags, or deer just a curious Black Robin who popped down to check me out and then flew off as the temperature dropped and night time loomed. Dinner was followed by a few more copies of Readers Digest and it was off to sleep.
Tuesday morning arrived, cold and crisp inside and out as the fire went out at about 4am, still it was motivation enough to get dressed quickly and it was then that I learned the benefit of waterproof socks! Not only do they stop water getting to your feet, but they also keep wet boots from two river crossings away from your feet. Wet boots and warm feet make for a happy hunter!
I opted to hunt the Southern side of the creek and Gary opted for the Northern side, with no shooting across the water no matter how big the stag looked, better no meat than no mate!
A 200m steep climb up through thick bush and then into level more easy going trees and deeper along the river bank. I passed thru one clearing but with no new sign trekked onto a second one we found the day before, up a bit higher and I settled in to wait.
After what seemed like a lifetime (25minutes) a large hind dropped into the clearing and I raised the rifle and chambered a round, heart racing, blood pumping I looked down the scope and aimed at the area of the heart, target checked and safety off I eased on the trigger and exhaled. Ready to pull the trigger and make my first kill the young-un popped out from behind mum and my heart sank. No way could I take the shot and orphan the fawn. Finger off the trigger and safety on and I lowered the rifle, just as the wind changed and the hind caught my scent (3 days with no shower) and the both bolted into the bush.
Still there is hope, let’s wait and see if a stag followed her into the clearing. Sure enough about 5 minutes later there was a single hee-haw from above me. What the hell I thought and I gave my best attempt at a roar, and to my surprise he roared back a bit closer and I roared again but no response, may have been a change in the wind, but I reckon he picked up on the Irish accent in my roar and he knew something wasn’t right and took off.
So as it was getting late I set myself the challenge to climb to the top of the ridge then descend down to the river and back to camp. A short walk up the river and as I was passed by 3 decent sized trout and it was back to camp for the last night, Gary arriving back about 45 minutes later, empty handed.
Lying in bed listening to the possums I thought about going outside and taking some shots, but it was dark and bloody cold so the possums could go get F%^$#d!
Wednesday we woke to a hard frost and set about getting things ready for the fly-out, breakfast, gear packed and hut cleaned. Some wood chopped and stalked for the next arrivals and at 1015 Pete arrived and the short trip back to EKH base. Greeted by Chris and a smiling Lauren who advised that Marc had paid the second half of the trip. Tales told, stories swapped and we headed off home.
I arrived back to be greeted by the wife and had to admit to no meat for the freezer, but she agreed to let me into the house anyway! Tired, bruised and smelly it had been a great trip and a fantastic introduction to the NZ Bush, three days of fighting the bush, the aches and pains but still that first deer eludes me.
Oh well there’s always next time and after all I guess that’s why they call it hunting and not shooting.
