NZDA HUNTS Course Tahr Hunt Friday the 24th of October finally arrived, the day that I have to pick up Scotty for the trip down to Ben McLeod Station for a weekend of hunting. This trip was the final stage of the NZDA HUNTS course which I was a student along with nine other participants. The day was sunny with a cool breeze coming from the north; time seemed to slow down as I was getting ready to go, 1:30pm was pick-up and go time. Scotty was ready with his gear and rifle placing them in the back of my Toyota Marino and saying good bye to his wife. Most of the trip down went without a hitch, Scotty and I talking about work, past hunts and the course with a stop at Rakaia for a top up of petrol. As we were getting closer to our destination my cocky behaviour on the gravel roads got the better of me, the rear end of my car wanted to be in front. Over steering twice to compensate but ending up hitting the brake and a small bank. Scotty cracked up laughing, we were both ok and the car had a dislocated bumper and later the discovery of a flat tire that had to be replaced with an un-tested and possibly untrustworthy space saver. We made it to camp, my confidence being hit hard with the events that just occurred a few km before. The views from camp were spectacular, snow capped mountains in the distance with steep hill sides and shingle scree’s just above us and a river just a hundred meters away. Tents were going up every where, as I was setting up mine I volunteered to help Paul out with his that he had borrowed from a friend, what a mission a tent can be without instructions. Food was the next thing on my agenda, then a few yarns with the others. This is when I noticed Karl, our tutor with his bino’s out glassing the hill side above us, he saw a group of tahr close to an S shaped shingle scree, with tussocks following the shape of the shingle. With my inexperienced eyes looking through the glass of my bino’s, I tried to see what Karl could nothing, I kept on trying, not giving up until more people started to see them. I finally got my chance, a group of light coloured tussock patches started to move, hang on these tussocks have legs and a head, TAHR!!!. That evening came the more serious talks on safety and also the selection of who was going with which guide and what time to get up the next morning. My guide was Bill, who was also going to be taking care of Paul who I helped earlier, the time was set to be up and ready by 6am the next morning. The alarm went off right in my ear, this is it, the day had finally arrived, the day I get to shoot my first tahr. Paul and I were at Bill’s tent ready to pack the 4x4 at 6am with our gear and rifles and head down the bumpy road to our designated hunting spot. The bumpy road didn’t seem so bumpy in Bills 4x4; my car bottom hit every stone along that road. We arrived at our spot as the sun was beginning to wake the hills up with its rays of light, and what a morning to start our climb up the steep hill side, clear skies with the air warming up as the sun started to reach over the hill sides in the distance. I followed Bill and Paul up the hill taking my time looking at where to place my feet next. It took a couple of hours for us to get to a position where we could glass above us and start to see where the animals were. A small group was spotted across a scree on a ridge to our right, I didn’t get ready in time to get my rifle out and place a shot before the animals ducked over the ridge. We continued up till we spotted a few more animals on the same ridge but further up, one animal was atop a rock jutting out from the ridge, like I’ve seen in many magazines, just sitting there, if I tried that I’d fall over on my arse. This is when the action started a small group of tahr were on the ridge that we were spotting just in range of me to take a shot. Two were seen, then a third. My rifle was set up and all I had to do was get comfortable, hanging onto the rifle with one hand, my other holding a tussock bush above me and my legs spread apart to get a good footing. I lined up my shot on an animal which was face on to me, then all of a sudden one appeared broad side, to the left of the my first choice, “ok I’m lining up on the far left animal”. “Aim a little lower on the chest” Bill said, the cross hair was on target, round in chamber, safety off, calmly I breathed in squeezing the trigger when I was ready. The shot rang out, watching through my scope as the animal hunched, stiffened up and started to roll down the hill to a stop, no further movement was seen from the animal. My first tahr, Paul was next to set up to try get his first, he didn’t have a bi-pod like I did so had to use Bill’s and his own back pack as a rest. I had to remove my gear from the spot I shot from to allow Paul to get a better bead on the animals above, Bill said do not hesitate, Paul let his shot ring out. Miss, the animals were now on the move, Paul had to swing around left as the animals stopped on the shingle scree, the second shot rang out and another miss. After all the noise a group of tahr were well above us watching what was going on from the ridgeline. We started on our way to get my animal, Paul’s bag decided to take a tumble down the hill and close to the scree, no getting that any time soon we thought. We continued on, having to cross the shingle scree that was between my animal and us this is where my troubles began. An old fear of mine started to sink its teeth into me once again, a fear of heights, making crossing the shingle scree that much harder. My rifle started to slip and get caught on my leg then the strap was under foot making me stuck in position, the only way off the scree was my own will to get off it. Running to better ground, my fear was taking a good hold on me, but also in my mind was that I have to get my animal the only way to get it is to go up further. With the aid of Bill’s ice axe and me clinging to the hillside while Paul and Bill seemed to walk up the same hill. Bill had his camera out filming us as we were going he had already spotted my animal and was a little more above it directing me on where to go. There it was directly in front of me the tahr that I shot earlier, a yearling nanny the recommended target of choice, I was amazed, no words could describe the feeling of this achievement. After a few photos Bill showed me the way of skinning and removing the limbs before I tried having a go, my knife was not helping as it was a little too big and my back-up knife a drop point and was too small. Keeping a watchful eye on where to make cuts and how to skin the animal Bill showed me the quickest way he knew to prepare an animal ready to cart out. We all had a bite to eat and a little to drink while we waited for the meat to cool taking the opportunity to take in the view and a lot more photos with the fine weather we had. The climb down was just as bad for me as the climb up but this time spending most of the time on my arse sliding down the hill. We got to the scree, this time I set my gear up better for the walk across but my legs just didn’t want to work for me so I was on my arse sliding down the scree, scared out of my wits as I put it. We located Paul's bag and retrieved it. Once I got off the scree and further down the hill my legs were in action again, my fear disappearing with every step closer to the bottom. I was glad we hit the bottom, but more so that I did what I did and came back with something to show for it, along with the experience gained while up the hill and memories that will stay with me forever. We drove back to camp to have lunch and rest up while we waited for the others to arrive back with their stories. The first to leave camp was Paul he had a bit of a fall on the scree spraining his ankle so decided to pack up and go home. The weather now was starting to pack in people were rushing down the hill to get out of the weather, first the rain came just as everyone was getting back into camp then came the snow. Many came back with tahr and their own experiences of the slopes. Scotty along with his guide Julius were last to arrive back, Scotty managed to head shoot his animal and had to skin and butcher it back at camp. That evening Scotty and I made the decision to leave camp and head home, my tent had already folded under the weight of the snow so there weren’t many options. After the drive, dropping off Scotty, getting back home at 2am, it gave me time to reflect on the time I spent on Ben McLeod Station hunting tahr. I enjoyed every moment of it and wouldn’t change any part of my experience as it showed that there is a lot of room for improvement that will show on my future trips hunting. Thank you Karl for being a great tutor and to your many volunteers who helped along the way and on the day. Thank you Bill for taking me up the hill to get my first tahr and putting up with me on the way down. I highly recommend those who are starting hunting or want more experience, to take part in the HUNTS course. Happy Hunting Chris Barnfield     Willy's First Deer The roar for 2008 was just around the corner and so I was busting to get back out into the hills for a quick look about. The weather all week had been a bit dodgy but the forecast for the weekend looked okay, some high cloud otherwise fine. I hassled Willy that he should come along instead of playing with his Nintendo Wii computer thing but we compromised in the end with him being allowed to take his portable game-boy. The things parents have to do nowadays to get ya kids away from the TV! Well I packed our gear and we were off late Friday afternoon heading towards Arthur’s Pass. Willy was armed with his .243 rifle and I with my digital camera. Whilst heading up the valley leaving my vehicle far behind us, I quickly scanned the bush line with my bino’s looking at likely areas I had visited before. Within seconds I picked up a deer out in the open feeding through some scrub. With the light fast fading I couldn’t make out if it might be a stag or hind? Giving the bino’s to Willy, I asked him if he could make the deer out? He also couldn’t see if the animal had any antlers but things looked good for the morning hunt. We were up before first light and into some breakfast, then washed it down with a hot drink each, then we were off. Willy led from the front and it wasn’t long before we entered the bush and started the climb up towards the bush line. I let Willy find our way up the hill, giving him advice on the best route through the bush, though some of my advice had us both pushing through regrowth, me cursing to myself whilst Willy ducked and weaved under the branches, bush lawyer ripping at my hands! Before long we broke out into some open beech and started to pick up fresh deer prints in the soil. The wind was blowing a bit so I told Willy any deer would be out of this wind hiding down the sides so to keep his eyes peeled. Willy pointed to some prints in front of us that led upward to an open spur. I agreed that we were onto more than one animal so slowly we moved forward. We approached the crest of the spur with the wind biting us from our left, the rifle still over my shoulder. Carefully we both looked over the edge not initially seeing anything then moved forward for a better view, deer! I quickly raised my bino’s and picked up a red hind feeding down below amongst some scrub on a shingle scree. Willy saw her too with his naked eye. Another one – and it’s a stag Willy!! Both deer were easy to see without the bino’s so I quickly told Willy to follow me as we dropped down onto some scree heading towards some stunted trees growing out from some rocks. Within a minute or two we made it to the trees without being detected by the deer. I gave Willy his rifle – got out my range finder and measured 247 yds to the stag. Willy rested the rifle across branch and placed the cross hairs on the stag. I leant over Willy and checked the bolt was closed on a round and the scope was on nine power. Seconds ticked by then minutes, the wind was blowing and finally Willy said, “ I can’t hold it still”, buck fever had set in! No problem, the stag moved about feeding until it finally presented again slightly side on. This time Willy squeezed off the shot, the stag faltered, dropped slightly then regained its composure and started to trot off after the hind. The hind soon departed the scree into the bush but the stag stood still, remaining out in the open, hit but still standing. Willy fired again but with no effect? So Dad fired a shot or two! Willy gave me the high five, and we both eagerly moved out across the scree in anticipation of viewing the stags antlers. On approaching the animal we counted seven points, not big but a stag all the case! Checking for bullet placement, Willy’s first shot was just a bit high in the shoulder and guess where Dads bullet was? One in the backside and one through the back of the head that broke the skull, bugger! The final distance where the stag lay was 300 yds from Willy’s first shot. With venison loaded into my day pack we both headed back down to the valley floor, Willy again leading the way through the beech holding those antlers like they were chop sticks. Terry Austin     Close But No Cigar - The Adventures of a Rookie Hunter It all started over an innocent cup of coffee at morning smoko, as many an adventure seems to do. A friend and fellow colleague of mine had a bit of a dilemma, a brand new Ruger 30- 06 that he’d never fired in anger. Yes, there had been a few trips to date but all had ended in little more than bush lawyer rash or a cold night out and seriously wet backside to boot, not the key to success… The thing is, it wasn’t that long ago that I was new to this hunting caper myself and I well remember wondering if big game animals actually existed (in fact I was at one time convinced that deer footprints were actually left by a twisted cruel saboteur with a hoof shaped stick). Yep, it was definitely high time my mate knobbled something tasty and so a plan was hatched to sneak off into the Two Thumb Range the next weekend in pursuit of the mighty tahr. The minor inconvenience of the next week at work soon passed and we were heading south in Crazy Ivan (my trusty Niva). After a quick 4WD into the block we shouldered packs, slung up rifles and headed into the quickly descending darkness. Progress was slow through the sopping wet bush and so camp was made well short of the planned location. Never to mind, a warm sleeping bag was a welcome change to the persistent drizzle of the previous few hours, even if the location was not what I had in mind. Saturday morning dawned fine with plenty of sunshine and a bright blue sky. Now we were talking! The planned campsite was reached quick style, camp pitched and off hunting we went. I was surprised by the slow going up the creek, which was quite steep with heavy vegetation. After about half an hour of slogging away we reached a spot from which we could glass an area of rather ‘tahry’ looking bluffs. At this stage I must admit that I was a bit apprehensive about not seeing any animals, as I had taken Mark on a previous trip where not a tahr was seen all weekend (so much for my other mate’s “this is a sure thing” block!). Anyway, I needn’t have worried because within 5 minutes I picked up two bull tahr standing majestically in the cool breeze, high up on the mountainside. Mark quickly picked up the two animals in his glasses and a master plan was hatched to get the barrel warm on that 30-06 of his. The two animals were directly uphill at around 400 yards range, entirely gettable in an ideal world but not a suitable shot for a new hunter (or me for that matter unless a better option wasn’t available). The pending epic stalk involved sneaking about half a click further up the creek, climbing up a rather steep hill (gotta hate those steep hills), dropping over the far side of the ridge out of sight, stalking into wind and ambushing the unsuspecting critters from above. Sounded fabulous in theory, now it was time to see if we could actually pull it off. Well, to cut a long story short, after two hours of grunting upwards we reached the ridgeline, dropped over to the safe side and advanced in three goes to within shooting range of the tahr. Initially two animals were spotted from the creek but by the time we got into position, no less than 5 tahr were in sight and ready for the taking, including a reasonable bull. We dumped our packs on the far side of the ridge and sneaked downward behind the cover of a bluff, emerging at a nice shooting point slightly above and about 120 metres distant from the unsuspecting animals. Wow, this was going sensationally well, I was almost beginning to look like I knew what I was doing. The moment of truth was upon us. I urged Mark to take the bull if he was able to, or the next closest animal if that was a better option. We eased our heads over the bluff, being careful not to show our silhouettes on the skyline. No tahr to be seen! How do they just disappear like that? “Never mind“, I told Mark, “They can’t just vanish. Give it a few minutes and they’ll show up”. And sure enough, five tahr nonchalantly wandered into sight shortly afterwards but unfortunately no bull materialised. “If we were patient, the bull would probably show eventually but lets just concentrate on getting you your first animal”, I reassured Mark. “Just take your time and let one have it when you’re ready”. And then came the long wait… It seemed to take forever for that shot to happen. I don’t know how many times I looked at the tahr and then at Mark and then at the tahr and then at Mark until suddenly BOOM! A clean miss, and the tahr were all into top running gear in what seemed like an instant. Well, the element of surprise was all over now, so we both opened up and made a whole lot of noise but not much else. My first shot, in that critical moment after his but just before the animals got on the move, was the first misfire I’d had in several hundred hand loads (why did it have to happen when I was pointing the barrel at a critter? Murphy is alive and well). “Well, close but no cigar” I exclaimed philosophically to a very disappointed rookie hunter. “Don’t worry, they’ll still be there next time.” Needless to say, the walk out and trip home were taken up with a detailed assessment by Mark of where it all went wrong, just like I‘m sure we‘ve all done at one time or another. Here’s the thing though, both Mark and I had a great weekend away. We saw and successfully stalked 5 tahr undetected to within easy shooting range. The weather was very favourable for the most part. The company was outstanding, and the troubles of the world didn’t even rate a mention for the whole time. Now that’s what I call hunting. And it goes without saying that my mate Mark is keener than ever to get back into the hills now… By Julius Long     Harper Avoca Hunt Friday afternoon saw five newish members and myself heading up past Lake Coleridge for a planned hunt off the Harper River for red deer. The weather forecast looked pretty good with a bit of low cloud hanging about the hills. Bevin and Allan C drove up the valley in Bevin?s 4x4, Dave and myself rode quad bikes with Allan G and Murray riding shotgun. We hit sun strike in the late afternoon glare and suffered some rough river crossings, not been able to see exactly where the big rocks lay. We also had a whoops with Dave and Allan getting wet with their quad bike on its side in the river but no damage done! We drove as far as practical, parking our vehicles, throwing on packs and walking the short distance to the hut. Everyone was up at around 5am, gear stowed into daypacks and off into the gloom. We all paired off with Murray and myself stalking downstream before selecting a likely creek to follow up. Murray had recently completed a hunts course and had shot a tahr so he just needed venison to add for a Xmas bbq. Bevin and Allan C headed across the other side and I pointed out a spot where I had observed deer a couple months earlier on the bush line. Dave and Allan G headed straight up the main valley to check out the large clearings before entering the bush. There was a bit of deer sign on the flats, hoof prints in the sand but all appeared to be night time activity. The sandflies started to bite just as the sky lightened up, damn those critters, never got use to them! Anyway Murray and I started to climb a spur that would lead into a basin that I was familiar with. Gee, was there some deer traffic in the bush? Murray was surprised at the amount of fresh deer marks and so was I for that matter! Well we stalked up the spur in quite dry conditions underfoot expecting to run into something but to no avail. We spent all day glassing open areas and couldn?t believe the amount of deer sign around, but still nothing seen. It was while on the way back down that Murray and I stopped for a rest and glassed the other side of the valley. There?s a deer on that face? Closer inspection revealed 5 deer all up feeding out of the bush into the open. It was 4pm. You know how it is ? hunt all day then find all the deer are on the other side of the valley! Well it was back to the hut and reorganise for Sunday. The other guys slowly returned with nothing seen though Allan G and Dave found a small 12 pt head that had been shot earlier in the year. Obviously Murray and I hunted the other side of the valley this time, climbing high to where the deer had been seen. We rested amongst fresh deer prints when suddenly the sound of breaking sticks caught my attention as I glimpsed a deer running through the beech. Damn. Well onwards and upwards we climbed, in fact so high that we were stalking through snowdrifts! We both decided to look over a rise back down towards the valley floor. Yep, a bloody deer was standing on a shingle scree way below! A closer look revealed two more deer. Off we went back down hill, sliding pass Spaniard grass and over rocks. Murray was leading and we chose a spot that should take us just above the animals. Slowly sidling through some open beech we were approaching the edge of the scree when suddenly up went Murray?s hand. There maybe no more than 40-50 metres was a deer looking at us! Murray closed the bolt of his .243 and took aim. I peered over his shoulder as the deer tried to make us out. One shot and Murray had a yearling hind. With daypacks a bit full we descended to the valley floor. The other guys unfortunately did not see any animals but???.. until next time. Terry Austin Trip leader     Waimate 07 After ordering a my new .204 in November and having it arrive one week after my last wallaby hunt, I thought Friday the 24th would never come. I had organised for everybody to meet up at Shell Templeton at 12pm so we could arrive at the hut early enough to get a Friday night hunt. The group consisted of myself and Brad Collier in one vehicle, John Horneman, Ailers Lee, Chris Orme and Pete Yerby in the next with Peter and Luke Witteman and Murray Brydon in the final 4wd. The trip down went well and we arrived at the hut at 4.30, unpacked and admired each others weapons. There were 3 shotguns, six .223?s (one a semi auto) a .222, a .204, 2 .243?s and a 7mm08. Six of us headed out to various spots for a quick evening shoot with maybe half a dozen animals seen and I believe two were shot and many more were shot at. The hut sleeps 10 but with nine of us the living space was rather cramped. After dinner four of us headed out for a spotlight shoot. After three hours eight wallabies were shot with two hunters shooting their first wallabies. The next day arrived with a crisp frost and people headed off to there various spots in four groups, some for the whole day and some for the morning only. After a couple hours it was quite obvious that a shotgun was the weapon of choice. While walking through waist high tussock wallabies wouldn?t move until we were within two or three meters and we could only get a shot in between gaps in the tussock. In our group four were shot and we headed back for lunch. People arrived back during the day with the last arriving around 6 pm. I had shot my biggest and best condition wallaby during the day and thinking the vehicle was at least a two hour walk away thought it was the best idea to leave it behind but later discovered that there was a farm track 200 meters above the spot so I decided to recover it during the hottest part of the day, yes I later realised that it was not such a great idea. After I got to it what followed was possibly the most tiring hour and a half of my life. The person who helped me thought it wasn?t going to be hard enough to bring up and he shot another one on the way down and because it was only 200m down the hill we won?t need any water, what a mistake that was. Eventually we got both back to the vehicle and a well earned drink. We were retrieving as many as we could for the pelts. A few headed out again for an evening shoot and shot another seven wallabies. Another night shoot followed with seven more wallabies shot. The last half day a small amount of effort was put in with another couple shot which brought us to a grand total of 44 confirmed. After cleaning the hut and packing the vehicles we left just before 1pm and after mixing it up with the undie 500 drivers and seeing a fire in Timaru we arrived home at 5.30. The hardest thing of all was to organise perfect weather but I called a few favours and managed to get no clouds and no winds until Sunday lunchtime. Stuart Amos       News and Stories © NZDA North Canterbury.