After catching up with Paul, his family, and a few other good friends, Joe, Adrian, Carl, Vaughn and my brothers Peter and David, we hatched a quick plan and then headed to bed. We were awaiting the arrival of a bunch of keen young lads coming out to the farm for a few days of learning how to hunt, take the meat, process and cook it.
Monday consisted of getting ready for the week and taking the lads out target shooting, wrestling matches on the wool fadges, a hearty feed and cooking up a plan for the morning.
Once out the door next day we headed up to the valley that we were to hunt. The other group were deer hunting and headed up a ridge while Joe, the three boys and I headed along the track up the valley. We hadn't even gone half a kilometre from the truck when I picked up a young stag 400 metres away on the ridge where the other group were heading. We tried to radio them but without any luck. So after showinggully. While the others glassed up the valley, I told Joe I would have a peek over into it. I hadn't walked 20 metres before I heard something behind me, and turning, I saw a couple hinds just 15 metres away, already moving off. I quickly nocked an arrow, but they were out of sight. Just then a couple more came trotting out and a stag followed, but they kept moving. I gave a yell to Joe and the boys, but by the time they got there and Joe had set up the .270, the deer were starting to head over a knob and moving closer to the neighbour’s place. The stag was the last one and stopped, but he was on the skyline and covered by a matagouri bush. I thought he had escaped, but a hawk spooked out of the bush which in turn spooked the stag, who trotted back around onto the face of the hill broadside. I could see the impact hitting and the stag only went a few metres; we were stoked to say the least to have an animal down.
