Bull Tahr Trophy Of A Lifetime

Hunting and Wildlife Magazine - Issue 226 - Spring 2024

Words By: Brian Witton, NZDA Life Member

This story started on a fishing trip on Auckland’s West Coast in late April.  My fishing mate Garth Johnson rang and said his uncle was up from South Canterbury for a few days and was keen to catch a snapper or three. “How does it look for a trip over the Manukau Bar?”. It was OK, not great, but we decided to give it a go the next day.

After a bumpy ride out, we found the fishing slow, but in the end, managed to get our limit. Gerald was pretty happy even though we didn’t get anything very big. A few days later, he headed home with a box of frozen fillets.

It was a couple of weeks later when Garth rang. Gerald had invited us down for a hunt, so it was all on. Garth checked his roster. He had a few days off later in May. We flew to Christchurch on the 21st of May but had to be back by the 25th. That would give us three days of hunting.

From the airport, we drove to Garth's uncle's place. With only a car, it would be a long walk to our hunting area, so Gerald arranged for a friend of his to take us in his 4x4. However, the weather was not playing its part, and low clouds obscured everything. We stopped at a stream and started walking. Hamish came with us as he was after a red stag in the area, but we saw no sign of it.

The low cloud persisted, but hoping the clag would clear, we climbed up to the crest of a ridge to give us a good view of the face across the valley. Now, I am no spring chicken, so it took me a while to get there. Garth and Hamish were set up, but there was no visibility, so it was a waiting game. The odd clear patch would appear for a minute or two, but nothing was sighted. By 5pm it was starting to get pretty dull. Garth told me later he was just going to suggest we give it a miss and get back down while there was still some light left.

I was lying, glassing directly across from our spot on the ridge when a small gap appeared in the cloud. Although it wasn’t completely clear, it was enough to see the opposite face. Suddenly, a bull tahr came out of the scrub on the left, crossed an area of about 30 or 40 metres of clear ground and disappeared into more scrub. “Bull tahr”, I said and pointed out the area. However, it was soon enveloped in cloud again. Five minutes later, when it cleared for about 30 seconds, Garth picked up the animal a bit higher up in the scrub. Again, the cloud came over, and another five or six minutes went by before it cleared enough to pick it up before the cloud returned. By this time, it was getting pretty dark, and then suddenly, a gap appeared, and there was the tahr out on a clear patch. I lined it up and waited a few seconds for it to turn a bit more side-on. I was totally confident of the shot and squeezed the trigger. Horror of horrors. Just a click! What a time to have a misfire.

Reloading, I lined it up again and waited a wee while for it to turn side on again. By now it was just a dark shape moving around in increasing gloom. This time, however, all went well, and I heard the projectile hit. I have been reloading my own ammunition for over 50 years without ever having a misfire; however, I was recently given one and a half boxes of 180-grain 308 factory ammo, so I decided to use that. Luckily, I was able to get a second chance.

My immediate thought was to leave it and come back the next day to retrieve it, but Garth and Hamish said they would get across to it. I set off down to the valley floor while there was still a smidgen of light left. It was wise to do so since after having surgery on my right eye five years ago, the sight in that eye has been severely compromised particularly my depth-of-field vision. Near the bottom, I managed a couple of somersaults, losing my hat and walking pole in the process. I had to put my headlamp on to find them before I set off again, but only a few steps later, I took another tumble, so I decided then to wait for the others to catch up.

It was pitch dark by the time they reached the tahr. Before they went, they had asked me if I wanted the skin. I said no but to bring the head, and if it's any good, bring the head skin and a bit of meat. Well, when we met up later, the first thing I saw was a head skin hanging off a daypack. So, I said, “The head must be all right”. They both replied, “You have shot a ripper”. Garth had taken photos for me. He said getting down from where I fired was pretty steep and not particularly easy. A big thanks to Garth and Hamish for retrieving it.

The next day, we were greeted with a fine day. We took the head skin off and tidied it up.   By then, the dreaded low cloud had come in again, but not so low this time. Garth and I headed up to a spot where he had shot a good pig on a previous trip, and we split up. I sidled up the valley for quite a while but saw nothing and headed back to our meeting point late afternoon. When nearly back, I spotted a group of tahr a long way off, which included a very large-bodied bull. It was too far away to see any horns through my binos. While watching them, I heard a shot from the direction Garth had gone. When we met, Garth told me about seeing a bull and four or five nannies quite far off. He had made a beeline for them, but when he got there, the whole area was covered in cloud. He got set up and waited a long time before a small area cleared enough to reveal the bull about 260 metres away. After the shot, he made his way across only to discover it was not the big one he initially saw. However, it was a nice representative head.

Day three was a repeat, thick cloud, so we gave it a miss. In the afternoon, we drove through some interesting country with Gerald and saw a few fallow deer quite close to the road. We then went to Dave Keen’s place, and he measured my trophy - 15 ½” long and a Douglas Score of 49 ¼. It has been over 50 years since I last shot a tahr, so this one is something special.

Footnote. Garth rang again three weeks ago. His friend Mark was up from Alexandra. Could we go over the bar for a fish? It was calm enough, so with another friend as well, we went out and caught our limit, and Mark was able to go home with a heap of fillets. You may ask, what has this got to do with our hunt? Well, the last thing Mark said to me was, “You will have to come down for a hunt with us”. Now, I might just take him up on that!     

Electronic or print copies

Members receive an electronic version by email but printed copies can be ordered (for a print and postage fee) which will be delivered to your home.

To order printed copies visit our NZDA Shop at www.nzda.shop

Read Previous Editions Online

Read the historic editions online for free now. Browse here.

Write for Hunting and Wildlife

Join NZDA To Help Us Advocate on Your Behalf