STAG-OUT

Low cloud shrouded the rolling Canterbury hills, behind which stood higher summits, now unseen in the gathering dusk as we headed in on the Friday night.

Steep forest-clad spurs descended from the ridge crests, their darkened shapes hard to discern as tendrils of mist floated over the faces, joining larger bodies of grey cloud in the valleys. It looked ominous as I tried to stay on-track in my ute while the flats gave way to the first terraces and the valley constricted around us.

I was nervous and excited. Although I had been out on day hunts during the roar and had had several close encounters, I had not yet secured a stag. Having my 15 year old daughter along also served to up the ante and increase my desire to get some sort of representative animal. I also hoped Bernadette might get a shot at something along the way. She had already proven herself on a tahr hunt with me the previous spring when she had taken a good-sized bull with horns measuring 11 inches. She was as keen as I was to be out hunting.

We were able to park under some beech trees and set up camp right behind the ute on a flat spot. With the tent up