Author-Bruce Townhill

It was late march 2007 and I was in good company with my host “Gerald Fluerty” and guide’ Clint’ on the hunt of a lifetime in New Zealand with Wildside Hunting Safaris (www.wildsidehunting.com).

I had spent the first one and a half days unsuccessfully stalking several magnificent 12-18 point 300kg red deer roaring in the rut on the gentle foothills of snow capped Mount Ruapehu. We finally found one that made a mistake. Instead of madly changing direction with no rhyme or reason, I had a stag that trotted down a low hill into a wallow in front of us. Gerald said “come on here’s our chance”,.We covered the 100 meters down the hill in seconds .My heart  raced as we closed on  the black mud wallow in the thick  tussock grass. He’s gone! Was the call from Clint as we scanned the area for this restless prize. A few seconds had Clint pointing to the stag now another 200 meters in front of us out on the flat. This tussock plain was pretty open but still had the odd tree and scrub for cover. Again luck was on our side as the stag stopped to rub his heavy and wide rack against a large gum tree. Using this only tree to block the deer’s line of sight we crept in downwind of him and settled in at 25m behind a thick fallen branch .The stag still had his head on the other side of the tree presenting a broad side shot of all his vitals-a bow hunters dream. With Gerald’s video purring I took a few steps further in and realized I was about to shoot my first large game. I had practiced this scenario over and over in the last 2 years. The shooting sequence worked like a count down and my finger touched off the carbon arrow. I thought the shot was good but Gerald was not so sure and whispered “too low”. The rest is now crushing history-That deer started walking and then just kept on walking until we could not see him in the dark. Confident we would find him where we last saw him on Dusk-A party of 4 set out for the recovery the next morning with high hopes. After 2 days of grueling grid pattern searching in semi open ground to jungle, it become obvious we were never going to find this deer. My carefully planned and practiced overseas hunt had met with all ethical bow hunters most sickening nightmare-non retrieved game.

Why had I shot so low? An inspection of my bow revealed the new serving had slipped by over 15mm!  Subsequent shots on the homesteads 3d deer target fell 25cm low at all ranges-I know a bad trades men blames his tools but this was true gear failure on one of the most vital shots of my life.
This was also the first hunt I had not bothered to take my spare Hoyt too.

The guys were really positive and supportive as I was punishing myself with what had eventuated. It would have been easy for them to be critical or indifferent. Instead they got on the phone and invited Kevin from Advanced archery down for dinner, and told him to bring his serving kit! In the mean time I had a some real sole searching to do. This is high stakes hunting and if you draw blood, the considerable trophy fee applies. Fortunately I have the best wife in the world. I phoned her and discussed the financial cost of pushing on. Merrilyn said with out hesitation to go for it. (I am pretty sure Merrilyn decided she couldn’t put up with the moaning when I got home)
That night after a hearty meal-Kevin demonstrated his skill to us all by reserving my Hoyt over a few beers on the kitchen bench. This was a tremendous favor to an Aussie in a jam and speaks volumes for the service he must offer his kiwi customers.
I stood outside in the dark next morning watching the pink dawn rise on the Volcano that dominates this entire area-it was game on, the stags were roaring and I was happy I was not leaving with my tale between my legs.

Stalk after stalk got blown for one reason or another and I found myself still empty handed on the last morning of one rollercoaster 5-day ride. I don’t know if it was the constant adrenaline surges /the grueling 2 day futile recovery search or the alpine air but I can assure you, I was starting to wear out following these kiwi boys up hills, down hills and then back up again chasing these rut crazed stags. My short legs were working overtime and doubt began to drift into my thoughts as to if I could even pull this off even if my never tiring guides got me in position. The thought of 2 non-recovered deer did enter my mind so I quickly gave myself a mental uppercut and got on with the considerable task in front of us.
The best part about stalking is that it can go from seeming impossible situations to a ‘quickening” of events where it all falls into place fast.

Clint and Gerald had their binoculars on several dominant stags down on the plain when one decided it was time to go and bed down. We backtracked fast while watching the stag move towards us 250 meters away. I was guided into an incredibly thick and dark cavern like canopy of ferns and native trees with excellent natural shooting lanes to game paths on either side. I removed my back pack and was fumbling around in it thinking I had plenty of time when Gerald tapped my shoulder and said” you had better get ready”. I looked up and saw the stag silently flickering in the sunlight along the game path only 30 meters away! I lifted my Hoyt Razortec and drew the 70-pound load very slowly and silently. I held the 125grain Muzzy pointed down the shooting lane and looked thru my sights. Red/brown fur filled my entire sight as the deer stepped into view at less than 10 meters. Gerald broke the slow motion feel of the moment with a quiet hind call. This froze the stag right in front of me. My fluro green pin was in the centre of his shoulder but I did not fire, fearful of him jumping the string as he was really wired. I waited in this Mexican stand off until I saw the shoulder muscle relax as he was about to move on, satisfied all   was well. I touched the trigger and the arrow buried itself up to the bright orange fletching dead centre of his shoulder. The stag buckled his front legs and then reared up and was gone.

We all felt the Massive relief of a good shot as we congratulated each other. After a short wait we followed up the Stag and found him piled up an amazing 300 meters from where I had shot him. The muzzy had punched through both lungs before burying itself in the opposite shoulder blade. Imagine how far that stag would have gone without a good shot.

I had no indication just how special this stag was until 100 meters away i could see one long heavily tined antler pointing skyward. It was a magnificent 8 x 8 elegant rack with super long tines. Much more than I than had ever hoped for. Gerald and Clint estimated it at well over 400 Douglas points as they set about taking photos. I was left alone with my prize while they hiked back to the car to radio for the Polaris utility to come and pick up the stag and me. Sitting next to my trophy I reflected back on the week. I was thankful for the great team effort that had contributed to such an unforgettable adventure.

Bruce Townhill
Australia