Wrapping up the red roar 2016
As the red deer roar season for this year heads into its wind down stage over the next few days, most hunters like myself will have done their 'serious' roar trip and life as we know it will begin to turn back to normal.
It's crazy to think only a month ago I was having sleepless nights thinking about where to head --- away from the masses of hunters hitting the hills --- and what the mountains would have in store for us this year. As it turned out they had a bit of everything thrown in for good measure, rain and more rain, bush lawyer, bluffs, no water and sunburn, winds that freeze your bones, amazing views, fresh air, a few deer and most importantly no worries!
A couple of thousand kms driven, a couple of hundred walked and a couple of chopper rides to from and around mountains and bush all in the quest to hear or see a mighty red stag in his element, it is a strange thing.
Jamie from Sika country up north joined me for a huge week in huge country, we hunted hard in an amazing valley, where the bush was always wet and the mountains as steep as any I have climbed, where some of the heaviest helicopter shooting occurs and consequently where deer numbers were low.
As expected we only saw very few deer, but there were no stags and there certainly wasn't the deafening echoes of roars in the hills around us that we were longing for! With perserverance we eventually found some deer after several days of glassing and walking from creek head to creek head.
On our final morning, high in the scrubby bluffs I spied a stag that would haunt many a hunters dreams, a mature, heavy antlered beast. He teased us with a five minute glimpse, no chance of a stalk, far to far for a shot, and just like he appeared...he vanished almost into thin air. The arrival of the Pete in his helicopter minutes later meant we will likely never meet that stag again. It was bittersweet, but for a stag to mature like that and survive the constant threat of helicopter pressure --- in my mind he deserves to live.
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Photo credit - J Fairbairn
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Photo credit - J Fairbairn
A short flight and a big road trip back south had us in local country, where the stags were really going for it.
We spent a few days in Southland hills looking for a tidy representative stag, and on the final evening of hunting, in a small gully tucked away from all the other hunters spied that day, we got onto five or six roaring stags.
We contemplated heading out on dark after assessing all were too young to shoot, but as light faded our roars enticed a nice mature stag into the tussock and we made the call to take him. Jamie downed the stag with a perfectly placed shot. With packs full of meat and antlers we made the slow return to my Landcruiser, arriving well after midnight, spent.
He might not have been the biggest stag, but he was well earnt in a public land area with heavy hunting pressure.
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A couple of days later and an early start had Scott, Dean & I heading into some new unexplored country with enough food for three or four days on our backs. We spotted a stag within a half hour of leaving the truck --- a great start. Too young, he was left for another year or another hunter.
We hunted and walked for several hours, reaching the saddle into a large catchment we planned to hunt for the next couple of days around mid afternoon. Spotting some young deer immediately in the distance had our hopes high for a decent stag in the same area. One with potential was seen in the distance, so we set a plan for the following morning and sidled out to a neat little hut that sees very few people, and would be our home for a couple of nights.
Dean and I were on the hill at first light and the chestnut coat of a stag shining in the rising sun across the valley had us feeling optimistic, he was young and keen but safe from us. He suddenly became alert and hit the afterburners, straight for the bush diving for cover. At the same time a helicopter whipped in over the saddle and the serenity of the mountains was broken by the slapping of blades and volleys of gunfire.
The machine flew right by us and into the valleys we hoped to hunt that day, working them methodically, and skillfully. Several more gunshots later and we watched the young deer we'd only watched the night before take the long rope out of the hills and on their way to a dinner plate in Europe. What a bugger, our open tops hunting had been buggered for the day and Scotty was in the bush, so we retreated back to the hut for a chill out. As much as it is an inconvenience to have a helicopter ruin a days hunting - especially after taking a day to walk in to a valley they fly in five minutes, it is a risk we take hunting public land, and we laughed about it after a brew or two.
That evening we headed back, hoping to find the stag we'd seen the night before - knowing the chopper had missed all the deer we'd seen up there the night before. Our efforts were rewarded and two young stags made their way out of the bush on dark to feed under the safety of darkness - the choppers don't get them all!
Another cold night was thwarted by the fire in the hut and we slept soundly. We had our boots on early, heading down stream towards civilisation again, hoping to look into some decent country on the way home.
Sign in the bush was few and far between, but Harry the dog insisted deer were not far from us as we travelled quickly and quietly. Stopping for a break on a small slip I was sure I heard a roar in the hills behind us, but quickly dismissed it when nothing responded to ours.
Harry was indicating well, and as we were sidling through the slip and back towards the river I glimpsed a deer slipping back into the bush. Chambering a round at the same time as letting out a loud grunt, a stag with better antlers than we'd seen all trip paused and trotted out into the open. I made the split decision to shoot and he dropped on the rivers edge.
With our packs now much heavier we continued on, hunting our way down the creek, glassing the 'staggy' looking country surrounding us. After several hours we broke from the bush and into the scrub country and were immediatley treated to the sight of a small group of deer relaxing in the sun.
This topped off an awesome few days in the hills and we made the call to push on to the truck that afternoon. So ended the roar as I like to remember it, awesome missions into awesome country, with good mates.
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The red stags may be quietening down, but that's just in time for the fallow to start croaking, opening of duck shooting season, and chamois and tahr to start rutting --- filled in with something called work and plenty of family time!
Stay safe out there and happy hunting.
Cheers
JoshC* :)
