Chasing red stags in New Zealand

I was stunned as I read the words: ‘Dear Chris, I am sad to inform you that my husband has tragically passed away.’ Regretfully, these were the opening words to an email from my New Zealand outfitter’s wife. After booking a spring hunt for tahr and chamois well ahead of time, respected NZ guide and hunter Aaron Kent had been killed in a farm accident, leaving a void in the South Island’s hunting industry. The news of Aaron’s passing rattled me as I felt like I’d got to know him personally, albeit by phone conversations and emails, and I was looking forward to meeting him. Building a rapport is important for any hunter trusting their hard-earned coin with an overseas guide and after some serious searching, I found confidence once again with outfitters Southern Hunting Adventures New Zealand.

My 2016 experience hunting the ‘big two’ of NZ’s imports, the alpine dwelling tahr and chamois, had me hooked. The beautiful NZ landscape and its people left an indelible impression in my heart and mind, fuelling a desire to return to the mountains and hunt both animals again. However, subsequent conversations with ‘Southern Hunting’ turned to red deer. When a cancellation for the roar allowed an opening too good to refuse, I had to take it.

It had been many years since my wife Sue-Ann and I had travelled to NZ together and after such a long spell, she too was keen to return. A two-week trip to the South Island, ending with a three-day hunt was planned for late March. Starting from Christchurch, our trip took us anticlockwise around the north of the South Island, down the west coast and eventually to our deer hunt rendezvous, Queenstown. NZ is a place where hunting is second nature to locals but not for many foreign tourists. While staying at Franz Joseph, Sue-Ann and I made the long walk to Fox Glacier and after reaching the lookout and viewing the surrounds, a lone figure caught our eye. The binoculars confirmed a bull tahr enjoying some solitude at the base of the glacier and as all good hunters do, we set the spotting scope for closer inspection. Watching the big bull was an experience we were able to share with a Polish and Austrian tourist who arrived in time for a look. Technically foreigners ourselves, we played tour guide that afternoon and left our European friends with a positive interest in NZ hunting.

Enjoying the larger proportion of hunting percentages when compared to home, it doesn’t matter who you bump into in NZ, locals all love hunting or know someone that does. Both islands are iconic to the world’s hunting fraternity. While enjoying a meal at the Haast pub, which embraces all things hunting, we bumped into a pair of young fellas embarking on their roar hunt among the rugged ‘Westland’ ranges shadowing the town. Infectious was their excitement as they spoke, a sentiment shared as my own stag hunt drew near.     

We arrived at a flash Queenstown house with a view and 12 hours later our guide, Matt, arrived early and after the brief greetings and pleasantries, were on our way to the hills. A brief stop off at their target range ensured the supplied suppressed rifle in 7mm Rem Mag was correctly sighted-in out to 300m.

Adventures come in all forms and our boat ride to the mountains was unique for me. While absorbing the majestic scenery, the utility boat cruised smoothly across Lake Wānaka. After a short trip, we cross-loaded our gear to the awaiting vehicle and headed for higher ground. Upon reaching the fenced, 50,000-acre property, it was time to leave distractions behind and put the game face on. Visibly excited, we’d entered a hunters’ playground. Deer activity was evident on the ground, but they remained out of view.

To Matt’s surprise I suggested we park the vehicle and climb quietly by foot. My calves burned as we pushed higher, however with every few metres gained, so did our advantage. At distance, a stag’s antlers appeared prominently above a tea tree bush and although he was our first sighting, the outlook was promising. The views were spectacular as the rolling green hills fell to the lake below mirroring the blue sky. Capping the mountains behind us was a light dusting of snow and most probably the playground for our alpine quarry. Despite a reminiscence of tahr and chamois hunting, the first audible stag roar caught my attention, reminding us of what we were here for.

In range, but out of view, more stags began to call. We responded by climbing further for a better view, however the nearest of roaring stags kept his position discreet. Positive he hadn’t heard us, we pushed through pockets of monkey scrub to get on top. Up and down we climbed and in and out we crawled, reaching a viewing bench. The loudest of respondents had managed to keep a buffer that kept us lured but remained out of view. I didn’t think hormonal stags were ‘bright’ during lovemaking season, but this one revealed more brains than brawn. With the big fella hiding down a nearby gully, our efforts turned to the hills below where various stags were beating their chests. Now safely sitting 700m away from detection, I trained my view to a couple of stags below sporting impressive antlers. The Swaro spotting scope allowed me to assess their headwear closely, while satellite stags appeared and disappeared. Then one caught my eye. He had everything I’d dreamt of, including size, shape and ‘classic royal’ points, the perfect deer for an afternoon stalk.

Matt and I formulated a plan, leaving the beautiful glassing spot to a safer tree line closer to the stag. NZ hills aren’t kind to mature knees, especially on the descent, but my less than mature mind enjoyed every part of the experience as we closed the gap. The stag moved in and out view but didn’t stray far from our target area. The tree line was a relief and thankfully he was up wind, busy pacing back and forth and bellowing his objection of rival stags close by. I left Matt and stalked in, using a ground hollow and tree branch for cover until the stag reappeared into view. At 140m, he crested a small rise, and his shoulder filled the scope. The sight of him almost got the better of me, but I managed to compose myself enough to squeeze the trigger. A kick in the air and resounding thud ensured a solid hit and down he went from a single round.

There he lay, my first ever representative ‘Kiwi’ red stag, a game animal of notorious ‘Woburn’ bloodline, that I’d been reading about for years was now a reality. Up close his body size and antlers were of excellent condition, and just plain huge! With mixed feelings, I surprisingly had a trophy on the first day. For a bush hunter that spends days chasing free-range stags back home, I wasn’t initially sure about the concept of estate hunting but had a fantastic day. With the sun about to disappear beyond the tops, we removed the trophy and departed by boat for home.

Day two’s hunt dawned when Matt arrived early the following morning. This time we concentrated our efforts above vineyard country at an altitude beyond the world of wine making below. The mountain commanded respect and its familiarity took me back to my 2016 alpine hunt. The antlers of a free-range large black fallow buck caught our eyes, and the next few hours were spent sidling and stalking the rocks to close in. Once again, thanks to alpine thorns, my punctured, bloodied hands and every vertically challenged step tested my comfort threshold. However, my thirst for adventure was strong, allowing me to push on.

At 250m, the huge buck taunted my patience for a clear shot as he moved among a tea tree bush below. He had no idea of our position, and just like that, he spooked, fleeing with his does to the safety of another gully and out of range. I’d been beaten squarely by a wild deer in fair chase conditions but despite returning to Sue-Ann empty handed, I must say thanks to my brilliant guide Matt for a ‘backpack’ full of lifelong memories.

Two days later, our holiday finished on a high, leaving a desire to return once again. NZ has always left us with an impression that when we say goodbye, it’s never farewell.