The snow crunched under our feet as we started to crest the saddle. The only noise in the barren Mackenzie tussock country was our heavy breathing as we breached the shade of the hill and opened the views to our hunting spot. Suddenly a matagouri bush barely five metres from us exploded in a shower of powdery snow. A young bull tahr erupted past us, stopping only 10 metres away. This was going to be a memorable trip.
After calming down and convincing ourselves that wouldn’t be the only opportunity for an animal on this trip, we started looking for a flat spot to pitch the tent. Unbeknown to poor Daniel though, I was already having concerns about both the condition of the tent and the absence of pegs or potentially poles. These concerns weren’t without reason and not long after we came to the unhappy realisation the pegs were absent. After some quick thinking and some disgruntled comments from Dan we discovered a stash of rib bones from an old deer carcass nearby and fashioned makeshift pegs. With this issue out the way it seemed it was all smooth sailing from here, until both the tent poles in some impossible twist of fate decided to snap, one after another. By this point Dan was more than a little upset about my poor preparation and going for a hunt seemed like the best way to take our minds off the issues we might encounter that night.
As we sidled around the hill face, the valley we had planned on hunting opened in front of us. Without saying a word, we both started glassing. After a good half hour with no luck, Dan pulled out the thermal and within minutes of putting it to his face he announced excitedly the previously lifeless hill in fact was covered in animals. After an hour taking in just how many animals we had in front of us, we came to the most unlikely conclusion there were simply too many. Whatever move we made would spook something, which in turn could spook the entire valley. This didn’t stop us from making a try. After an unsuccessful stalk on a mob of 16 reds, we decided to call it quits and head back to our ramshackle tent for the night.
The next morning, we woke to the pleasant surprise of an upright tent. The morning already off to a good start, we pulled on our frozen boots and started the trudge through the dawn half-light, hopeful but nervous. The previous night’s badly orchestrated stalk may well have spooked all potential animals out of the valley, so we were pleasantly surprised white
blobs appeared through the thermal as we looked around the frosty hill faces. One of these white blobs was close too, within shooting distance and standing in a stalkable position.
We put a plan into play and not long after Dan pulled off an absolute cracker of a shot into a beautiful public land fallow hind. The excitement was real, but it wasn’t over yet, only a few 100 metres behind Dan’s now grounded hind stood another deer, a young fallowhind confidently feeding, oblivious to the blood that had just spilled on the fresh snow. We made the play for a double and got within shooting range only to find this ignorant deer had fallen asleep. Three quarters of an hour later the deer abruptly stood up ready to spook. In my excitement I managed to miss two shots before I finally connected, but we had done it, a deer each and fallow at that, an awesome hunt in a beautiful part of the country with an amazing mate.
