A TUSSOCK STAG

Here’s a story of my first club trip into the Tussock Hut in November 2012
Party: Mike and Jeff Marston, Craig Mitchel and me (Heath Faulknor)

Tuesday 13th:

After a dodgy forecast, fly in day for the Napier Branch Spring fly in trip dawned a bit wet but Chris Crosse at East Coast Kawekas managed to get everyone into a hut.  The Tussock boys were one of the last in so with the gear stowed at the hut and a quick geography lesson with the hut maps the first evening saw us all split up and head off for a deer or 3. The Marston's went out to a long range spot which we (I) later named rumridge, Craig went up the valley and I opted to look at a side creek close to the hut with some nice scrubby guts.

With a vantage point sorted out I settled in for the evening in some prime tussock/ scrub country. With the light fading I finally picked up the distinctive white patches which had the brain thinking ‘that’s a deer’s arse’.  Sure enough 2 sika hinds materialised out of the tussock.  Unfortunately for me these deer were up the next side creek downstream so I settled in behind the binos and got some eye time on watching deer as they fed their way back up the gut and into the scrub.

Still, a promising start, I thought to myself heading back to camp and with a shot heard up rumridge way I was expecting some meat hanging up and a story of a 1000 yard running neck shot.

Back at camp we had a debrief of events and heard how Mike and Jeff had seen a few deer and Jeff had a crack at deer with the new 7mm Mag but had lost it, nevertheless some rum was in order and all I can say is that some serious rationing was in order to see the rest of the trip out!!

The newly renovated 8 bed Tussock Hut, home for 6 days.

Wednesday 14th:

A lateish start had us all heading up rumridge for a look at the country and also see if we could find Jeff’s deer. She is an awesome spot for the magnum boys that’s for sure. We glassed for a while and with no deer about we crossed over the gulley and headed up to the clearing where Jeff hit the deer, after some searching no sign was seen so we split up again. Craig and I headed along the ridge to some native patches further along which looked promising. We found some more primo country and also spied a ridge in the distance down the valley which had us thinking fly camp.

The day was uneventful in the deer department but sign was about in the tussock/ scrub guts. Heading back up the valley to the hut I cut up a side creek to overlook the area which had the 2 deer in it from the night before. But with hunting being hunting and not shooting, the deer didn’t arrive on queue and I headed back to the hut empty handed.

That night we had a full hut as 4 hunters turned up after midnight from the Harkness hut which was full. These boys sure loved a good walk having being dropped off up Te Puke way and also knew how to shoot, collecting 2 deer on the way up the valley. Two of the younger lads also liked a good joke and managed to smuggle a decent sized rock in to an older guy’s pack for the hike out the next day. They managed to choose the biggest of the old boys to pick on and it didn’t help he was wearing a back brace as well. When Craig mentioned if it was a good idea when he finds out, the younger guys reckon it was well worth it and they would out run him anyway. Seeing him hoist his pack up before heading off it took him 2 tries to swing it up over his shoulders and it was hard work not breaking into a smile.

Thursday 15th:

Today some bush hunting was in order so I headed up the valley to the Mangatainoka hut track.

After a quick climb I was soon on the ridge and sidling through the upper Mangatainoka stream creek heads and working my way down the valley. The creek heads had some nice open areas to catch a deer in the open but were steep. With pockets of sign about, deer were here alright. A lot of small wind fall made the going a bit loud for me with only the one spooked for the day.

So I arrived back empty handed again, but hey I was consistent.

Craig doubled my tally for spooking for that day and came back with a top tip, when hunting leave the barley sugars for when taking a spell as its hard to whistle a spooked sika to stand still with a barley sugar in ya mouth.

Friday 16th:

Fly camp day. Craig and I loaded up our packs and with the faithful Huntec biv headed down the valley to the spur we had spied from rum ridge which looked like a good spot to camp up and spend some time glassing.

Having walked the valley track for a hour we cut up a tussock side creek and hit a manuka side spur which as luck would have it had a nice cut track which made the going pretty sweet, we soon hit the native tops and wound our way around the bush edge which brought us out on a nice tussock nob which provided enough room for the biv and also a nice open spur which we could glass off.

With camp made we had an early tea and around 5ish headed out to start looking, we had gotten only 100m from camp when a sika squeal had us looking at each other thinking ‘that’s early’ and also ‘where is she’. We hunkered down and scanning the feet first Craig finally located a sika hind on the far spur, the one hind soon turned into 4 hinds which were feeding their way around the spur towards us.

We quickly hatched a cunning plan to close the distance and with time and wind on our side we made a cautious approach to where they should be and yep still there so we tried to sneak in to around 200y. When we finally popped our heads over the ridge expecting to see 4 hinds obliviously feeding away they had vanished, crikey now what. With the options of waiting it out in our current position of heading back to our last location when we had seen them we opted for plan B.

We snuck back into position and couldn’t find the 4 we were after but an obliging hind and stag turned up. Craig offered the shot to me so with the heart pounding I positioned the pikau under the fore-end, wound up the Khales to 9x and tried to calm the nerves. The stag was in no hurry so with Craig spotting I positioned the cross hairs on the shoulder and fired.

HIT, the stag was down the hind exited stage left. I quickly worked another round into the chamber and was checking with Craig to confirm he was down for the count. After waiting for a couple of minutes and with 4 stiff legs in the air I was finally confident he wasn’t going to do a Houdini on me and we gave some hi 5’s. Not only was it my first sika, but it was a stag and also my first animal with my new T3 .308 bushpig (thanks Norm).

I ran off down the ridge and checked out the stag which turned out to be an even little six pointer in prime condition.  With the antler point re-counting over it was time to check out my shot and it was pretty bang on, a nice entry hole through the fore quarters into the engine room  and a bigger exit had this stag going nowhere fast, those 130gr TTSX Barnes sure do the business. A quick photo session was followed by some tips on butchering from Craig and I was soon saddled up with a stag on my back and a head in my hands, o for awesome.

Me and my 6

The next morning arrived with thickening cloud and a steady southerly, with Craig the only one keen to have a look I enjoyed a lie in and when Craig arrived back at camp we dressed out the deer and packed up looking to get back to the hut before we got a wet arse.

We arrived back at camp to find some meat in the safe and heard that Jeff got one on the board as well. There wasn’t a heap of meat hanging up but I’ll let Jeff     explain why at the next meeting if he wishes to.

Our luck with the weather finally broke and with the pressure off for me I spent the remaining 2 days making sure my head still had 6 points on it and also doing some short hunts close to the hut to look at some new areas. The last day had us stocking up the wood pile and giving the hunt a good clean. Chris turned up on queue and we were soon safely back the hanger.

Chris coming into the pad

Cheers to the Mike, Jeff and Craig for the good times on the trip and roll on the next club fly in trip. Tussock Hut is a special place and I can see myself back there soon, but I’m keen to check out some other country and by the reports back from another fly in trip the Lower Ohane looks good with plenty of deaf deer about eh Bruce.

Cheers Heath

MY FIRST CLUB HUNT

Peter Canning

It has been 33 years since I last shot a deer, but the memory and excitement remain. Thus, it was with great anticipation I joined six others on the club hunt to the Ruahines, based at No Mans Hut. I may not have shot a deer this trip, but at least I saw one! Getting closer!

The trip into the range, on late Friday afternoon, was steep and spectacular. Open tussock and patches of mountain beech replaced thick manuka as we rapidly climbed the range towards the hut. The alpine areas, quite different from the Kawekas where I have been reconnecting with my hunting past, were vast!

Excitement on the way in as a deer was sighted by the side of road – next time Murray! At least it proved there were animals there!

Arrival at the hut, followed by rapid unloading of vehicles, and the team spread out for a hunt in all directions. Much later a shot indicated success somewhere in the distance, with Aaron and Todd returning with a deer just after dark, shot at a damn long way (I think so anyway!)

This set the pattern for the next three days. The team out early and late, weather (especially wind!) permitting, glassing and finding deer usually at the bottom of steep huge gullies, taking long distance shots and if successful, spending much sweat and energy retrieving them uphill!

Quiet lunchtimes yarning in the hut over a brew – all varieties! And, after hanging fresh venison in the meat safe, evenings spent retelling the day by lantern-light through the smoke of the hut stove. Bloke’s stuff!!I thoroughly enjoyed the weekend, and am assured my snoring didn’t keep others awake – it was probably disguised by everyone else’s varied bodily noises! Next time I’ll bring more food and a warmer sleeping bag – didn’t expect a frost in early January!

It was great to have my love of hunting rekindled with such an amenable bunch of blokes. Thanks to Aaron, Mark, Todd, Murray, Otto and Simon for having an old fella (me!) along. My long awaited deer is getting closer!

STEWART ISLAND CLUB TRIP

Stewart Island

Wednesday after work saw Bruce and I heading down to Levin in his fully loaded yet surprisingly quick ute, where Bruce’s folks had kindly offered to put us up for the night. We had an early crossing in the morning to Picton, and due to the recent weather, a very rough crossing was in the back of our minds.

Bruce’s parents had kindly taped the evenings news for us, and with smiles on their faces, they showed us footage of the Blue Bridge ferry crossing in seven meter swells. Pumpkin soup followed by 2 sea sick pills were the order of the evening and then off to bed for an early start in the morning.

Four thirty a.m. meant it was time to saddle up the ute and catch a ferry. Another sea sick tablet and we were ready to go surfing! On board the ferry, Bruce retired upstairs to a cabin to catch some Z’s, while I sat in the TV-room trying not to look as sick as I felt.
Looking out the window and watching the other ferry plaining on the surface, passing us and then disappearing out of site didn't make me feel any better. Cheers Bruce for booking the slow one!

Picton to Blenheim, Blenheim to Christchurch, Christchurch to Timaru and it was time for our next pit stop. An orchardist acquaintance of Bruce had volunteered to take us in, and after a delicious meal, a few drinks, and lots of apple-related conversation, we hit the hay in preparation for another early start.

The dial rolled around again and pointed to four thirty a.m., so it was time to kick-start the ute and chase the weather down to Bluff.
With clear skies up ahead we both now realized we were going to make it without any weather hold-ups. All party members were now arriving in Bluff. And with a quick change into the proper attire, it was time to get into hunting mode.


Gear, food, booze and guns were loaded onto Herbie’s boat and Bluff faded out of site. Stewart Island appeared on the horizon, and Herb, with the finesse of a high school principal, had each team sorted and our backsides in the dinghies before we knew what hit us.

With the A-team on Tiko and the Elite team on Kelly’s, it was time to clean huts and stack food shelves in preparation for the next nine days. Darkness rolled around quickly, and both teams had good kiwi hash-up dinners and a few drinks before getting a semi-early night. In the morning the race would be on for the first venison!


Morning came and the game plan was made to all head in separate directions, have a good poke about, and then report back that evening so all could get an idea of the land. Mike and Geoff spotted the first deer of the trip, tricking it as they had decided to backtrack, catching it out on the track where they had just been walking.

Back at base, GPS waypoints from everyone were marked on the map.
Bruce’s waypoints didn’t tally up with the massive distance he thought he had covered for the day, and he copped a bit of slack as they showed he had only walked a stones throw away from the hut.



The regular check-in was made via mountain radio to the Elite team, and it had been reported that no deer had been shot that day, although they had been enjoying a good feed of blue cod. As we had been enjoying a feed of baked beans, Nick decided he'd get onto some cod the next day.

Day three, and Bruce was up and gone before the sparrows had even thought about chirping. Other stalkers went their separate ways, and after a long day found their way back to the hut by following the smell of Mike and Geoff's super hash-up dinner. All except Bruce, who had 'decided' to spend the night out camping.


Just after noon the next day, Bruce strolled back into camp. Turned out that after the shit he’d copped about his first day’s hunting efforts, he'd decided to embark on the mother-of-all-Stewart-Island- walks, seeing two deer and covering a massive Distance.


After a few more days hunting, some of the crew decided to get into the fishing side of things. For the A-Team this proved to be a bit of a challenge, due to the fact that wherever we went, we only seemed to pull in undersize cod. This was a major contradiction from the stories we'd heard of massive cod being pulled in on every drop from past visits. On the other side of the island, the Elite Team were easily managing six big cod a day. After a while our techniques improved, and with the aid of Nick's crab soft baits and paua guts as bait, we finally managed to get in some good hauls of cod. Both teams had managed to get fresh paua, thanks to divers Aaron and Murray on the Elite Team, and the rocks at low tide on the A-Team!



Day seven clocked in and still no deer on the score sheet. Sick of eating sausages, Murray formulated a cunning plan, and was dropped off down the bottom of Oyster Cove to cover some fresh ground. This plan was obviously a good one, as he shot a well-conditioned doe that was sneaking through a clearing. With all the action going on, he didn't realise there was another deer watching him until it was too late!




We had read in a hunting magazine in the hut that most hunters on the island find they shoot one deer for every six they see. Since we had seen five deer, we were not surprised when gun shots were ringing around Tiko, and Bruce walked back to camp carrying a young buck. Both teams now had a taste of famous Stewart Island venison, and had something (truthful) to gloat about during our scheduled radio broadcast.

The last evening and morning were spent cleaning the hut and sorting out our gear ready to be picked up and taken back to civilization.
Mike conducted some tours around the home of his pet Kiwi ‘Elvis’
which gave the guys a chance to get some awesome up close shots of a Kiwi.


Even though hunting at that time of the year was very challenging, nine days on Stewart Island was the best outdoor experience I've had. I saw Kiwis running around every day, and managed to see (and miss) my first white tail deer at about six meters away. Springy bloody things those whitetails!

Mike Baylis