Two Nights In Q CREEK

I’d set Angus up with the rifle over a pack to prepare for a shot but there was a problem – the wind. The forecast had predicted nor’ west gales or severe gales for the duration of the weekend, and it had proven accurate.

We watched plumes of dust and debris being hurled into the air from the streambed below us while the tussocks surrounding us shuddered with every gust. Dust blasted into our ears and eyes.

But there was little we could do about the weather and we couldn’t close the distance for we were utilising the last piece of cover. The tahr meanwhile, were tucked away in a little fold amongst the tussock face, sheltered from the elements. The