LATE SEASON HUNTING
Emil and I strolled in to the hut with a few luxuries slowing us down, arriving in time to appreciate the landscape before cold and darkness drove us indoors. Given we were on a purely recreational trip with no pressure for success we didn’t get up ‘til about 8.30ish
I’ve always found these great rolling seas of tussock alluring, top it with the clean white snow against an aching blue sky and I feel small and humbled. Just the kind of country I like to hunt in. Winding our way up the gravel roads I felt stresses I didn’t even know where there lifting off my chest.
After a quick brekkie we plodded across the flats and up a leading spur onto the main ridge. As we wandered, getting a feel for the area, we spotted two small, isolated groups of tahr but nothing worthy of investigation. Carrying on up we settled in to glass just as it began to rain that icy, miserable, wintry rain.
Not long after I spotted a mob of stags 1.5km away. Surprisingly they were on the dark side of the ridge, obviously preferring the chill in the lee to the driving wind and rain. All of the stags were very pale, almost Wapiti-like in pelage. Straining the Swaro through the rain we saw a young stag first, then another young one, both grazing. Then I panned up to the right and spotted a big stag lying down. I took a photo on the Nikon and knew he was well worth investigating.
It wasn’t going to be a straightforward stalk – he had the wind and it was 1pm already. With such vast country we found we were constantly underestimating distances and times, so the stalk took even longer than anticipated. Despite my weak protest (I’m allergic to altitude gain) Emil suggested we dropped down in front of us and
