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A stag on the deck is worth …? Well, I found out that a stag on the deck is a good prize indeed, but the two stags that I missed this roar were especially valuable in a very different way. After the excitement of my boy Zion getting a roaring stag for his first deer (see story at www.wildhunts.co.nz), I was looking forward to getting away for an extended Easter roar trip by myself. I was still smarting about clean missing a stag on the Haast trip (again, see Homepage story) and was keen to get amongst it again. So I packed gear and food for a six day jaunt around the tops in Arthurs Pass and left town at 3am. After parking up and torching up to the tops, daylight revealed more snow than I anticipated. When waist-deep powder was struck at only 1400m, I knew that my tops jaunt was unrealistic and unlikely to be productive. Dropping back down the hill into the bush, I now made plans to stick to the river valley and hunt the side creeks. Pic taken after retreating back to the treeline. 
With snow falling continuously from the trees all day, it was difficult hunting. Even at known hotspots (and with fresh tracks in the snow) there were no responses to my hopeful roars. I figured the deer were probably being spooked by the unceasing crashing of snow from treetops. After hunting continuously for 12 hours and only stopping for a 15 minute lunch, I’d covered a lot of ground but only seen one hind and what looked like a stag flicking around in the beech trees above her. He was too cagey to make a proper appearance and the hind eventually followed him up the hill. I’m sure my subsequent roars only hastened their sly exit! This hind felt safe, while the stag remained aloof just behind her 
As night fell, I was grateful for my new sleeping bag which provided an unbelievably warm night in probably the coldest conditions I’ve bivvyed in. But I made plans to bail for home in the morning and hatch another plan. The new plan was to head further west and, with my annual leave fast running out, I was really hoping to at least get an average head to show for the roar. After repacking the vehicle, I set off with Mazz the dog for a favourite West Coast valley. While coming down from a hill on the second day of Plan B, we were making plenty of noise busting through a thick patch of regen. Suddenly my heart was thumping as a stag let rip with the loudest and gruntiest roar I’ve ever heard! What a moment!!! He was only 50m away but I knew I had to get to a better shooting position. With mounting tension, Mazz and I snuck up to a mossy log that overlooked semi-open bush. I let out a low moan and scanned the bush for any sign of movement. Looking up, I saw him! A stag looking straight at me through the mist. I could see his head, some antler (which looked pretty darn good!) and a little bit of neck as I eased the rifle in his direction. All I could think was “take your time and don’t stuff this up like the Haast stag!” I was also not keen for a head shot which would smash the skull of what could perhaps be something of a trophy. With the animal standing rock solid I took my time, aimed for his neck and let rip. Being uphill, I couldn’t see the stag but I was sure the shot had pole-axed him. As I rushed uphill the stench of stag hit me and a million thoughts raced through my mind: “great to have a success story for the WildHunts forum” … “how big are his antlers?” … “he looked like a good one!” … Busting onto the scene, I was mortified to see the stag smell was coming from an empty rut pad. The stag was nowhere to be seen! PHUK … have I missed ANOTHER easy shot!?!??? Optimistically, I worked Mazz over the area but, with no sign of blood, the intensely disappointing realisation began to sink in that another opportunity had been stuffed up. By the time I retreated back to camp, steady rain and a cold south-westerly wind had set in. Wind and rain strengthened in the afternoon and conditions were far from ideal for roaring up stags. That night I sulked in the tent as I struggled to accept what had happened. Sure - everyone misses the odd deer and I could accept missing a stag during the roar. But I just couldn’t understand how I’d now missed *two* successive close-range shots at motionless stags. Shit, the most recent one was less than 20m away! Perhaps because of the mind-management book I’d been reading, my thoughts then turned to why I felt like the roar had been a disaster so far. My analysis then expanded to why I go hunting at all and the reasons for shooting stags. Geez, it’s quite simple … it’s just good fun isn’t it!? But, breaking it down further, I recalled the simple pleasure I get being high on anticipation during a good hunt. Also the intensity from close encounters with roaring stags. Some people call this “being in the zone”. Most of all, I think I hunt because of the pure simplicity of it all. When I’m hunting, all the crap from the world falls away and I’m entirely focussed on living in the moment. Yep … for me it’s about being in the zone. When I thought more about it, I’d had some pretty damn good moments this roar. Zion’s stag was a moment I’ll never forget! And that roar earlier in the day was unreal … another moment of pure intensity and being lost in the buzz of it all. Heck, even the aborted jaunt around Arthurs Pass had its special moments. But I’d been a man on a mission and hadn’t really appreciated all of this. So I began to question why I felt like I was on such a mission … and why missing those two stags was hurting so much. It’s one thing to be focussed and plan to achieve great things, but I’d had many great moments during this roar, so why was I not allowing myself to be happy? I had to be brutally honest with myself and admit that I was feeling pressure to drop a good stag for all the wrong reasons. Mostly, I was feeling pressure because of my own and other peoples’ expectations (for whatever reason) of what I’d achieve this roar. By my own doing, WildHunts had also become a burden and I’d created my own pressure to “shoot something worthy of a post”. It occurred to me that this was a pathetic irony: one of the attractions of hunting is getting away from bullshit and pressure that the world can dish out … yet here I was creating my own pressure in the bush. But, at the end of the day, I have no trouble admitting I’m just an entirely average Joe who has had the privilege of spending time with some very proficient hunters (eg. Craig Burgess, XCuller, Rhino). So what could I do about sorting this issue? The answer became obvious … I resolved to make a completely honest posting to WildHunts about the stags I’d missed. What better way to destroy hype and expectations than to openly broadcast two successive stuff-ups and a roar with no “results”!? I’d certainly been humbled by the experience. I also decided I’d never again let my hunting experience be adversely affected by my own (or others’) expectations of results. This had been a big release and, with rain and wind beating down on my tent, I suddenly felt liberated and very, very happy with how the roar had turned out. There was so much value in the outcome from those two missed stags! Because I was leaving the following day, I had one more day on the hill before the roar was officially over for me. I hatched a plan and woke early next morning. Every other hunter had now departed the valley and overnight the weather had settled and the sky cleared. I enjoyed my morning excursion up the hill and felt a new lightness as I worked some new country, even though no deer were encountered. Returning to break camp in the afternoon, I was still smiling as I recalled all the genuinely special moments from the roar of 2009. Driving down the valley, I couldn’t resist having one last throw of the dice on a forested fan that is mostly overlooked by hunters (including me), but had potential for a stag. More than anything, I just wanted to let myself get in the zone and enjoy that pure and simple hunting experience … regardless of results. As I slipped into the bush, I was immediately enjoying myself amongst the beech forest with mahoe, griselinia and punga understorey. Frequent deer trails and fresh sign had my attention as I made my way into the heart of the fan while letting out frequent roars. It felt very different from any other hunt during this year’s roar and I was entirely focussed on the moment. There were no thoughts of past hunts and neither was I thinking of the many things I had to do after this last hunt and the roar were over. I was definitely in the zone! As the sun lowered in the West, the bush grew darker and the wind dropped to the slightest breeze. Mazz and I were working well together – following leads and combining our senses as we systematically hunted the available area. The pure simplicity of the experience hit me and prompted the thought “God I just love hunting … I really couldn’t be happier!” Being “in the zone”, the concept of time had disappeared … so I have no idea how long it took to reach the centre of the fan. But around then, I thought I heard rustling after I let out a roar. Mazz was looking interested too, so I stood still and continued listening. The rustling stopped and was followed by a pregnant silence, then … a roar! Quickly advancing to a more suitable place for ambush, I let out a low moan to indicate our position. This prompted more rustling coming in our direction, while Mazz and I stood motionlessness and quiet, with rifle up and ready. As the stag strutted into view, the crosshairs found their own way to his shoulder and I squeezed off a shot. Slowly lowering the rifle, I looked down at Mazz with a smile, as I knew there was no need to rush. The shot was good and I had another great moment to enjoy while it lasted. Then making my way to the fallen animal, I was amazed at what had just happened. With no pressure, the purity and simplicity of this hunt had me feeling completely happy and this outcome couldn’t have been better. Looking at the antlers, I could see it wouldn’t be a particularly high scoring trophy but he was still a good stag. The head was brutally ugly and uneven, but I just loved the thick and chunky nature of his antlers. What’s more, he had 13 points which is more than any stag I’ve yet taken. Was this outcome a consequence of good hunting and skill from some master hunter? Nup - definitely not!!! I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. It did feel like it was meant to be and, looking down at the slain animal, I felt humbled again. It was a privilege to have taken this stag and I will always treasure the character trophy, as a reminder of this extraordinary hunt that brought the character-building roar of 2009 to a close. 
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