North Canterbury Roar: Just Like The ‘Good Old Days’

Hunting and Wildlife Magazine - Issue 224 - Autumn 2024

Words By: Roger Stokes

I was sinking as my plans to get dropped onto the top ridgeline for a fly camp were freezing in front of my eyes. As our chopper approached the frontiers of the Alps, all we could see was deep snow right down into the creek bottoms, as the tail-end of the unseasonal March cold front moved north.

Garth and Tony were in the front row of the Eurocopter and had plans to be placed at a DOC bivvy on the bush line, where shelter and a fireplace could be counted on. My son Jeremy and I were in the back seats, so a quick plan switch was made on the fly-in to unload us at a hut on the valley floor.

As the last snowy flat before the forest closed in on the stream and came into view through the canopy, we were lifted by the sight of eight deer heading bush - only about 100m downstream of the hut!

Jeremy and I had packed light, so we were soon out and giving good luck thumbs-ups to the others as the chopper backed away, pivoted over the stream while shedding accumulated snow from the skids, and headed up the valley and out of sight for the week.

A bonus to find an empty hut and no sign of recent occupation; the main signs of activity are multiple fresh deer footprints headed downriver to escape the heavy falls up high.

Soon, Jeremy and I spread our gear around and sunk our first bush teas. The remnants of the southerly coming upriver and the watery sun offered promise for an afternoon stalk downriver. A spiker popped out above the bush line on a dazzling snow face, confirming the animals were seeking to escape the dripping snowmelt in the bush. The stream was about knee-deep and 8m wide, so wet feet were an inevitable consequence of any expedition downriver as the flow meandered from side to side, squeezing under bluffs every few hundred metres. Fortunately, we’d come prepared with our crocs to avoid wet boots on the crossings.

After about 600m downstream, we’d pushed into a side creek with an outstanding animal trail when the unmistakable sound of a roaring stag low down on a face across the mainstream, reached our eager ears. A hind and fawn were quickly spotted feeding on the grass, and as luck would have it, a clear view shaft 140m up the face revealed the preoccupied stag. My binos showed a moderately-mature beast with wide sika-style 8-point antlers. First, there was a moment of indecision, then we moved to set up the Javelin bipod for my new Tikka T3X Superlite in 6.5 PRC, and Jeremy settled behind it. It had no real potential to grow more points, and its genetics wouldn’t be a loss to the herd. The real clincher was the gentle 700m carry back to the hut. The stag had his head up and roared when Jeremy’s shot took him just behind the shoulder. He skidded down the face onto the stream terrace, straight past the surprised-looking hind.

After another wetting of the crocs, we gave high fives over the beast; Jeremy being pleased with the widespread and solid black timber on the antlers. The snow was melting fast as we dragged him away from the boggy slip face to firmer ground on the flats to take all the meat off him.

While carrying our loads, we got to about 300m from the hut when we heard more roaring and spotted a couple of hinds, plus a yearling, 100m up the face. Soon, long 9-point antlers appeared over the scrub bush and followed the hinds down towards the river. Using the scrub cover, we got to about 60m from them, and Jeremy got some truly great images of them all with my Nikon P900 superzoom camera. We had the wind right, so they weren’t too bothered as we slipped past them in the fading light and back to our hut. We saw this very mobile, mature stag many times over the week as he dominated two creek systems in his search for cycling hinds, with our hut clearing being the lower boundary of his beat.

Day 2 dawned a cracker after my poor night’s sleep in the uninsulated, snow-bound hut. The persisting southerly determined that another downstream mission was required. The day was beautiful and started with some distant sightings up a side creek face, including one stag marked for a visit later in the week.

We’d made it about 1.5km down the river, going cautiously with the heavy stag sign on the little benches, and stopped for a bite to eat on a long, flat run of the stream. Slip faces were above us, and a grass and manuka terrace was on the opposite side, which was clearly good stag territory.

“That’s a dog barking,” Jeremy said suddenly, while I responded sceptically. The next moment, there was a strong roar low down on our side of the stream, and I just had time to put my binoculars up to catch a stag stride out of the beech and plunge right into the stream about 150m downriver. My brief glance had shown three points on each top and good trey tines. The stag was headed up the opposite valley as he carried out his patrol.

I roared and immediately knew that I’d changed the stag’s plans as he responded to me. Jeremy sat beside the stream, about 10m in front of me in full view. I gave another roar, and wow – it was all on! The hot-to-trot stag came in at a canter. Up the flat, and with a twist of his antlers to get under the lower riverbank manuka branches, he stood opposite us on the shingle of the stream bank. I stared into his eyes with my binoculars, waiting for the shot… and waiting some more. Then, the stag crossed the stream to us, finally coming to a halt and standing on a little island. My blood pressure was at dangerous levels. Finally, Jeremy’s shot came - the stag sprinted onto our side, tried to start up the slip, but fell back onto the sunny riverbank.

I wanted to know why Jeremy waited so long as we stood by the shapely 10-pointer, which missed bey tines like most of the stags in this part of Canterbury. His explanation that he wanted the stag to cross the river to our side wasn’t completely sensible, but as his plan had worked perfectly and he didn’t have to put his crocs back on, he wouldn’t listen much to me. We judged the stag of similar maturity to our first-day stag, and in fact, this was proven as Jeremy took the stag’s jaws. They were both five years old and would never grow to a high trophy standard.

When we returned to the hut that night for a hot cuppa, we had seven heavy legs of venison festooning the surrounding trees and the two impressive racks of antlers we wired to the exterior hut wall, creating a very agreeable ambience.

We already had all the venison we could handle, so we decided to shoot only another stag if we found a top trophy. However, a chamois buck remained high on the list of targets.

Day 3 had warm rain much of the day, which melted the snow and raised the mainstream to an uncrossable height. We did get out later, climbing to a vantage point above the hut, and according to Jeremy’s diary records, we spotted 15 deer - but only two stags plus three pigs, mainly across the flooded stream.

Day 4 revealed the expected westerly wind shift, which unlocked the high ridge behind the hut. Too much happened to give a blow-by-blow account here, but Jeremy and I had a fantastic day checking out intense rutting activity over three catchments.

Although we had an hour of rain mid-afternoon, the stags roared well all day, and with the rapid retreat of the snow, the animals were ranging high and wide. After an early sighting of a solitary chamois, our final count was 39 redskins seen, including 11 roaring stags ranging up to an elegant-but-younger 12-pointer with both bey tines intact – just the sort of stag we wanted to see left for breeding.

The camera got a good workout without us disturbing a single animal. Of particular interest was seeing the big 9-pointer from the hut clearing on our first evening, ranging widely over a 3km beat, spanning two catchments. He checked out individual hind and yearling groups for any cycling animals while evicting any young hopeful stags. Arriving back above the hut clearing at last light, we were amazed to see him chasing the hinds around there again - we’d only seen him an hour prior, high above the bush line in the next catchment. It was amazing how quickly he could navigate the trails around the faces and across the forested ridge.

Day 5 had the wind coming from the north, so we headed downstream to where we’d shot the 8pt, then followed a large stream northward while keeping ourselves on the dry and forested southeast-facing country. Again, a marvellous day ensued, with roaring stags holding territories on the mixed open/bush faces across for us. We only saw one spiker on our drier and cooler side, but the warmer and sunnier faces opposite allowed us a final count of 33 deer, including seven stags.

The highlight of the day for me was the many photo opportunities the nearly mature 12-point stag holding the lush territory on the lowest faces of the stream gave me. He roared himself silly, and it was so interesting watching his undisturbed rutting behaviour, not gathering hinds in any large group. Instead, he controlled a 700m strip of prime-feed faces the family groups preferred to feed across. Jeremy had him in the scope at under 200m, and he never realised how lucky he was that we considered in the end that the herd needed his superior genetics more than we did.

Day 6 and the weather dawned perfectly for a big day trip up to the bluffy country in the alpine headwaters. It was a chilly morning, and the downstream katabatic wind held steady until we left the final beech trees behind. Despite the excellent deer sign from the summer, we were surprised at the apparent absence of any physical deer sightings.

What looked promising were the bluffy south-facing crags above us, with scrub fingers extending up the edges of the scree fans right into the gutters between the bluffs. It was just a matter of time before we saw chamois. Indeed, not much time at all. The first one was seen moving across a gutter, but it was obscured before we were underneath it. Jeremy spotted a head with a methodically-chewing jaw sticking out of the scrub above us. It was 168m away, but not much of it could be seen, and it was at a steep uphill angle. After some study, we concluded that it was a bedded buck that didn’t seem too fazed by our presence, though he kept a steady eye on us. We agreed that this was an ideal start for Jeremy’s chamois collection.

Unfortunately, it did not offer a good target, so Jeremy’s first shot showed no immediate result. However, a quick follow-up shot was a solid hit, resulting in the buck standing up and taking a few steps. Then, Jeremy’s much easier third shot rolled him back down to near his bed.

Another celebration was in order, but we wanted to promptly head around to view the head basin to see if the shots had generated further animal activity. We continued up the stream until we ran out of tussock. The last 2km of the creek and its faces were a crumbly mess of near-barren loose scree that we did not even bother to glass. However, the south-facing bluffs above us revealed three chamois, all separate but none noticeably bigger than the buck awaiting us.

The lower screes were ridiculous, offering no support on our climb to the buck. Jeremy was pleased with his 8 5/8” length at 3.5 years old. On the way down the river in the later afternoon, we spotted a 10-point stag we’d not seen before high above us on a bench; he had 3 points on each top but missed bey tines. An encounter in a bush clearing gave me a great photo as a young hind came closer to investigate us, but the reversing katabatic wind suddenly gave her a big fright.

We made good time through the beech forest above the stream, having more luck keeping on animal trails and out of the boggy terraces. We got home quicker than expected so we could fix the buck to the exterior trophy wall of the hut before it got dark.

Day 7 We decided on another mission up the Hut Ridge to check over the Day 4 territory again, which was a good idea. It was windy, and the air had more than a hint of drizzle, so we spent the day glassing the extensive country, hoping a big fella would pop out. I did some dozing out of the wind between stints on the binos. Jeremy’s sightings diary records 15 reds sighted, three being stags and one chamois that had been scared by distant shots from Garth and Tony’s direction.

Day 8 dawned, and we immediately began skinning the legs, bagging the meat, and carrying everything to the river terrace. We also set to doing some hut maintenance, improving the drainage, re-cutting the track to water, and gathering a pile of trash and well-expired food to fly out.

Then, it was a dash to the landing pad as the Eurocopter arrived with Garth and Tony aboard. They’d taken seven stags of up to similar trophy quality as ours, so the chopper was pretty loaded with boned-out venison - just as well it didn’t have a full fuel load aboard, I reckoned.

So, I ended a wonderful roar trip with my son. The quality of the red deer hunting was something I’d not experienced on public land before. No huge trophies were seen, but many rising young stags. I’d taken some great animal photos, which won awards at the Taupo branch competitions, and Jeremy won the chamois category with his buck.

For 2024, we’re again heading back in there with Tony and Garth, so I expect we’ll see some of the stags we left in 2023 - but hopefully even bigger this time!

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