Thread: When men were men

I shot deer for a good part of my income for a couple of years during the 70's. I left shepherding to do it and casual mustering & shearing, and the first deer I shot I got more than a week's shepherding wages. I then went onto deer capture and then deer farming.
Ive never thought that there was anything manly or unusual about it, and seldom reflect on it. Truth is I'm a lot better hunter now and when I look back I was really a bit of a naive kid (in my late 20's). Good times though. Quite a selfish life for a married man with a couple of kids (like I had).

Ive got almost all of the old books. No use to me, but reluctant to let them go. Nostalgia I guess.

The books by Joff Thompson are classics, recounting culling and shooting for skins in the era before meat hunting.
Anyway, here is a wee anecdote from yours truly.
I was a new boy on a particular block and a chap familiar with the area suggested an excursion into a creek that had some nice small grassy flats amongst teatree and scrub. The creek meandered through this parklike area.
He directed me to a bench overlooking the first flat and told me to give him half an hour or so for him to circle well downstream, the idea being we would then hunt from two directions toward each other, but safely above any animals below and not be hunting each other. After the half hour I began to sneak quietly along the top edge of the bench scanning the occaisional open areas below. After a while I picked lut a couple of donks and lined up to take a shot. Then BOOOOM from downstream. My donks fled across the creek and I managed to drop one just as it was about to dissappear into bush 150 yards away.
So, went down to get ears and backsgraps and mate hollers from above. "Want a hand"?. "Nup, only this one"; what did you get? "

Silence.
Well, met him up top. Sheepish looks. One parry duck down his swanny.
"Good change of kai eh mate"

My old meat hunting days gave me a great dislike for Swanndris. Nothing colder or miserable than the wind whipping into a wet Swanndri on the Ruahine tops while trudging back to camp.

Brno .222





Summer

Ruahines

[/URL]

Puketoi



Tararuas
5 hour carry out

A good title for your thread @Micky Duck.
This is one of the men that I will always remember as a “real good man” – Henry Irwin who lived in the bush behind Tokomaru just south of Palmerston North – he made his living from deer skins and ammo from tails. He packed the dried skins out in big bundles and down to the end of Albert Rd to catch a Newmans bus to Dalgety’s in Palmy.
Sadly – Henry lost his way in life after the war and became a recluse in the bush – he was a good friend to most of us hunters who bothered to visit him – he would always tell us where to get a deer.
Pictures around 1965 on the Tokomaru River.

@Time_out Much later than the time you mention I had many a pleasant trip fishing the Tokomaru with dry fly and nymph and took some beautiful brown trout. Catch and release because the resident population was so small. Lovely piece of the world.

Originally Posted by time out

A good title for your thread @Micky Duck.
This is one of the men that I will always remember as a “real good man” – Henry Irwin who lived in the bush behind Tokomaru just south of Palmerston North – he made his living from deer skins and ammo from tails. He packed the dried skins out in big bundles and down to the end of Albert Rd to catch a Newmans bus to Dalgety’s in Palmy.
Sadly – Henry lost his way in life after the war and became a recluse in the bush – he was a good friend to most of us hunters who bothered to visit him – he would always tell us where to get a deer.
Pictures around 1965 on the Tokomaru River.
Attachment 181205

Attachment 181206

Wonderful pics! He was character all right. That velvet stag Im holding (above) was over the top in the Managahao from the biv up the creek. Carried it right back to Rider's house.

Originally Posted by time out

A good title for your thread @Micky Duck.
This is one of the men that I will always remember as a “real good man” – Henry Irwin who lived in the bush behind Tokomaru just south of Palmerston North – he made his living from deer skins and ammo from tails. He packed the dried skins out in big bundles and down to the end of Albert Rd to catch a Newmans bus to Dalgety’s in Palmy.
Sadly – Henry lost his way in life after the war and became a recluse in the bush – he was a good friend to most of us hunters who bothered to visit him – he would always tell us where to get a deer.
Pictures around 1965 on the Tokomaru River.
Attachment 181205

Attachment 181206

He was a character alright. I first met him when he was living behind the rubbish tip at Toko. He moved into an old house up in the farm. We would always drop in and give him a pair of shoes and some bread and milk. He had some great yarns. Strangled a couple of deer.

Originally Posted by Cowboy

He was a character alright. I first met him when he was living behind the rubbish tip at Toko. He moved into an old house up in the farm. We would always drop in and give him a pair of shoes and some bread and milk. He had some great yarns. Strangled a couple of deer.

I only new him when he lived up on the plateau.

On reflection those pics of him really are outstanding.

Its a generation nearly gone. Is your (step?) Dad still alive?

They really are. Yeah he's been working around the world and came back for the Covid era. Stayed on his yacht here in the harbor below my house. Flew out to Germany and then Sri Lanka for work just yesterday. Was nice to have him round to see my little girl grow from 3 to 5.
His dad,Ted Rout, has been gone a while now. After I posted that last post I had a look at the area on sat photos and see our old hut appears to be still there.
Such a nice time to grow up. I love how we used to blow the horn as we came up the drive if we'd been successful. The old girl would always have food ready to go. Just a nice time. Every one had pride and weren't ashamed of it.

Originally Posted by Cowboy

They really are. Yeah he's been working around the world and came back for the Covid era. Stayed on his yacht here in the harbor below my house. Flew out to Germany and then Sri Lanka for work just yesterday. Was nice to have him round to see my little girl grow from 3 to 5.
His dad,Ted Rout, has been gone a while now. After I posted that last post I had a look at the area on sat photos and see our old hut appears to be still there.
Such a nice time to grow up. I love how we used to blow the horn as we came up the drive if we'd been successful. The old girl would always have food ready to go. Just a nice time. Every one had pride and weren't ashamed of it.

I apologise - by your Dad I actually meant your GD Ted. He was a good man. Yes, wonderful times. So much simpler.
I would love to go back up the Toko. Too late now.
Great memories.
Ta for the pic. Looks bigger.

Originally Posted by Tahr

I shot deer for a good part of my income for a couple of years during the 70's. I left shepherding to do it and casual mustering & shearing, and the first deer I shot I got more than a week's shepherding wages. I then went onto deer capture and then deer farming.
Ive never thought that there was anything manly or unusual about it, and seldom reflect on it. Truth is I'm a lot better hunter now and when I look back I was really a bit of a naive kid (in my late 20's). Good times though. Quite a selfish life for a married man with a couple of kids (like I had).

Ive got almost all of the old books. No use to me, but reluctant to let them go. Nostalgia I guess.

your a very humble man @Thar good on you

It's almost closer to that valley now thanks to certain public access. I never get down there any more. A mate called in at our hut a few years back and found someone had left a pile of meat sitting on the table. A holes. Shot my first deer there up by what we called Henry's burn. Didn't Craig get his first round that way?

Not quite deer stalking days as I was 10 years too late for that. I spent a few years as a rabbiter though, Always wanted to put some of my experience down on paper so to speak. It went to about 80 pages but heres the opening few.
Working title is

A Rabbitters Tale

2009
I was travelling across the USA, in a Dodge pickup, we planned to travel
from Abilene Tx on up to Miles City MT in one haul. I was with a guy
that trained dogs, we had 25 dogs and 3 horses on board a goose neck
trailer we were hauling.
I didn’t know it at the time but we were pretty much following the
journey from the movie “Lonesome Dove”.
We didn’t have near as many adventures as Gus and his partner’s but we
had a few!
The trip ended up taking about 33 hrs due to having flats on the trailer
and having to get off the Interstate and have the blowout repaired at the
nearest town.
To pass the time and get to know one another we traded stories, by the
time we got to Montana we were about all talked out, but Dave reckoned
I should write a book. So here it is
This story started in January 1979.
Along with a group of 18 or so other trainees. We became the 11th
induction of the APDC (Agricultural Pest Destruction Council). This was
a government funded authority that subsidised the rated farmers at a $ for
$ subsidy.
I was a thin, young, good keen man, (and yeah, I had read all those
books) excited by the offer of my first ever job and they were going to
pay me to shoot rabbits!
2
An Introduction
After a bum numbing bus trip to Wellington from the Taranaki, we found
our way via train out to Trentham a bit more exciting.
We were billeted in the Central Institute of Technology campus.
After introductions by the senior people running the trainee scheme an
outline of what was expected from us, was given.
Over the course of two years. We would:-
Visit and stay on a selection of 'rabbit boards'
Complete a report specific to that region. Of about but not limited to 50
pages
Obtain a pass rate of 65% in a course of correspondence run by the
technical correspondence institute (TCI) for agricultural pest destruction.
Obtain licenses to apply chemicals for poisons for pest eradication.
Collect, press and preserve for identification 200 plant species.
Bugger I thought to myself, more learning! Can’t we just get on and kill
bunnies.
3
My remaining memory of that week, was a trip to a clay bird range.
A great education on the effect of bullets was demonstrated.
This guy shot plastic coke bottles full of water (plastic milk bottles hadn't
been invented yet)
First came a .22 .......... Pop! ... thunk! and a little dribble of water
A brief explanation on penetration followed.
Next up was a 12-gauge shotty....... Bang!....whack! the coke bottle was
riddled with dozens of little holes, the top flew off, and the bottled
skittled away spinning on its side.
That’s more like it I thought.
A brief description on the scattering effects of a shotgun followed.
Next up was a .270 This is going to be frekin awesome!! I was thinking.
WHOOMPH
..........nothing!
He'd missed!!
We all tried to hide our smirks while the instructor explained his rifle was
sighted in for 300yds.
Next shot and the bottle vaporised ...... all that was left was a damp patch
and a bit of plastic.
4
There was no need to explain the devastation a high velocity centre fire
rifle round can inflict.
Clay birds
The next part was a bit more hands on and we all got to try our luck at
traditional Down the Line clay bird shooting, from the 18 yard line.
Craig prowled up and down the line, like an army sergeant.
We were given Remington 1100's to shoot with....... I liked the 1100 and
had used one briefly when I had gone on a night shoot with a local
rabbiter before signing on.
By the time we had done 25 birds it was pretty obvious who the good
shooters were.
There was one guy that hadn't missed and was quick off the mark as well,
Craig decided they should have a shoot off.
They went on for about 10 clays stepping back a yard after every clay and
then he tried to up the stakes by making it one shot only.
Young Steve just kept on nailing them, then Craig missed and a cheer
went up from us all.
" Where did you learn to shoot like that? " Questioned Craig
" I've been shooting black birds on my dad's vineyard all summer" came
the reply and a wry smile

Ok. Another instalment of my privilege to spend time with an old school meat hunter.
Ian Mitchell AKA Mitch was a meat hunter in Fiordland, particularly Lake Hauroko and around the Tarries, The puketois, the Akas. He also did possums in the puketois, the Akas and in the Eastern Hutt. He also worked for Reg Elward (I think) in the Ruahines as a shooter/gutter and for Joe Keely out of Opotiki.
He told me that the meat hunters and chopper crews used to have massive piss ups at a pub in Te Anau. The barman used to mop up the slops off the bar and ring the cloth into a bucket. At the end of the night the last men standing used to drink the contents of the bucket.
That’s hard!!