It was just going to be “filling the freezer” to help us get through the rest of the New Zealand COVID-19 lockdown, which prohibited leaving your house except for limited grocery shopping and was enforced by police stops along roadways. Hunting was banned on public land because of the fear that the virus could spread among a search and rescue group if they were required. Hunting on private land hadn’t yet been addressed. With an almost empty freezer, the owner of the station where I rented gladly let me go on the private property for a “meat hunt.” With limited freezer space and the assumption of access to fresh meat all season, as my clients harvested animals, I had not saved meat from the early season hunts I guided, but instead donated it to immigrant fruit pickers as we do every season.
With the first hint of light, I climbed up a ridge north of my planned hunting area because the wind along the lake normally issues from the south. Stags welcomed the dawn with tremendous cries from every direction. However, with the high value of stags on the property as a trophy to clients on guided hunts, my target was a tasty female. This was my first time hunting this area, but the evening prior my binoculars revealed terrain out of a bowhunter’s dream, with ideal bush and numerous fingers to execute stalks. I’d also spotted several groups of hinds, each harassed and herded by an over-excited stag, roaring and parading ostentatiously. One stag in particular caught my eye. He had the most length and width, although his points were so short and thin that they could barely be made out in the evening light.
The face I climbed plateaued, collecting water from the steep hill above, and thereby creating an open, grassy marsh. Two fallow deer fed on the far side. At 45 yards, they were well out of range for my little West Asian recurve. As they worked into the wind along the marsh edge, I half-heartedly crept through the native manuka bush downwind of them. Although fallow are tasty, they’re much smaller than red deer and would result in half the meat. Not being a fancy French portion type, I was really looking for a mature red hind. I truly wanted meat, but even more so, to spend a day hunting out of lockdown. The day was still young.
Rustling in the manuka to my right distracted me from my stalk. More investigation revealed a cream and black blotched hog, then another, and another. Choosing the hogs over the fallow, I pulled two arrows from my quiver, nocked one, held the other in my bow hand, and crept through a game tunnel in the brush toward the hogs. All half-heartedness left me. I was immersed in the moment as the excitement of the close stalk kicked in! The tunnel provided silent passage through the thicket, and soon I was within touching distance of a shoat. A clear shot at the sow was possible from a slightly different angle, motivating me to sneak by the younger pig.

The author with her West Asian recurve. Although beginning style of shooting for mounted horse archery competitions, she quickly converted to this style for hunting as well.

Accomplishing that, I hesitated for a moment, weighing the effect this would have on the rest of my day hunting. It felt cool enough to chill the carcass once field dressed, which would allow me the opportunity to continue deer hunting. With that decision made, I waited for her to give me the perfect broadside angle. Then, “Thwack!” My arrow stuck into the ground in front of her almost as straight as a flagpole. My concentration had been too focused on that magic tuft of hair right behind her shoulder and not on the surroundings. One of the manuka limbs that framed the opening deflected the arrow. All the pigs ran into even thicker mahoe porcupine scrub. Confidence in my shooting now scathed, I took a practice shot. Bang on! The remains of the ripe rose hip coated my arrow.
Working back to the fallow clearing gave me a great view above. Six red deer hinds fed a couple of hundred yards overhead with a wildly roaring stag pacing below them. I watched them to ensure they were content feeding in the clearing and not on the move. Planning a stalk, I mentally mapped changes in elevation to help mark the correct level to exit the sheltering bush before plunging into the thick manuka tunnels where vision would be restricted to under a yard. However, my careful planning was needless, as the unceasing roars from the stag led me unfailingly to the deer. Bright light penetrating the manuka trunks ahead revealed the clearing. Before creeping to the edge, I nocked an arrow and held a spare in my bow hand. In the clearing, five hinds were visible, the closest at the bush edge. Brush prevented a shot.
As I inched closer to set up a clear trajectory, the stag charged in among the hinds. Thick fog blasted from his mouth as hot air burst from his chest in a deep and powerful roar. The vibrations of his thunderous call resonated with the trembling of my body. Despite three years of guiding, experiencing the vigor and might of these spectacular animals during the rut still makes every inch of my body tingle with awe and appreciation, especially when the stag is only 30 yards away!
One more scootch forward gave me a clear line of shot at the hind now just 10 yards distant. Setting the bow down, I pulled out my phone camera. What is it about a stag displaying all his strength in peak rut that is so mesmerizing? I sent the recording including both the hind and roaring stag to the landowner with the question, “Why do antlers always look tastier than meat?” His reply was game changing: “You can shoot a cull stag of eight points or less.”

Although his restrictions ruled this heavy 14-pointer out, I struggled to leave the stag’s presence. There might be an opportunity for a closer, more thrilling video. While waiting for the near hind to feed away, I recalled the stag’s appearance through my binoculars the previous night. He was big, with great spread, beautiful height, and thick main beams, but, luckily for me, he had very few points. Maybe he would make the 8-point restriction? When the hind finally fed behind one of the intermittent clumps in the clearing, I sneaked to the scattered cover in the glade. From there, my camera captured an enthralling exhibition of roaring, grunting, bush thrashing, and hind chasing.
The display eventually ended, and the feeding animals retreated to the brush to shelter from the strong sunlight. I made my way unhindered by worry of being spotted, toward the stag that hopefully sported small enough antlers. Stopping a bit downwind, I spent the midday lull where a little mountain trickle pooled in a freshly visited wallow and many trails merged. Sign so fresh and abundant was not to be passed up and left downwind, especially without concrete knowledge of the few-pointed stag’s current whereabouts. The hills, alive earlier that morning with the sound of musical roaring, now were silent.
After a mossy sip from the little drizzling stream, I passed siesta time jotting down memories from the morning’s hunt and ideas for a few articles. A young stag quietly stole into view from the bottom of the clearing, working back and forth with many glances above my elevation, allowing me ample opportunities to count his nine skinny points. Was he a shooter? Probably, but not without a quick photo to check with the landowner. Also, he was young and on the move which would add to the difficulty of predicting a potential point of intersection. I’d try for the photo at least. After giving the stag time to work over the ridge and ensure he wasn’t doubling back, I checked my surroundings, and gathered my bow and quiver, but standing upright immediately resulted in crashing brush directly above me. Whirling, I spotted a spike dashing off through the short, scattered scrub. Because of the hillside’s steep pitch, even the short bushes had concealed the spike from me.

The real object of the author was a tasty hind such as this one.

In the manuka tunnels, it became obvious that efforts to follow the 9-pointer were hopeless. Game trails and paths merged and split many times, rendering it impossible to tell which he had taken on the hard, dry ground. After finding the edge of the brush, I made for lower ground that afforded a better view of the faces above. Glassing, I felt excited to discover the very stag I was after, just one ridge over from where I’d exited the manuka. The large group of hinds he held, however, was going to make a stalk much more difficult. Even still, when I came to his clearing’s edge he was at 35 yards. I noted that his few small points numbered only eight, and how deeply set his coronets were in his skull. He was an old, mature stag, the perfect type for culling.
Barks exploded in my left ear as a hind stood maybe two yards from where I was hidden in the manuka. I could make out her legs and chest, although the bush was too thick to see her face. I doubt she smelled me, or she would have immediately fled. Instead, she just stood there barking. All the animals in the clearing stopped feeding and stared at her. The stag let out a magnificent roar, trotted a few steps forward and roared again, apparently unconcerned with the noisy hind. Silently, she backed a few paces, then turned and continued barking. Finally, she charged up and over the next ridge, taking all the other hinds and lastly my stag with her.
Happily, the animals quickly settled and fed along the top of the ridge. Set on this stag, I watched them and then cautiously followed. The climb up the next ridge was not as easy as it appeared. The entire slope was covered with thin, brittle, dead manuka, making a silent stalk almost impossible. Continued roaring reassured me that my game was still on and offered hope.
Despite the noisy ascent, I managed to reach cover behind a large manuka clump on the edge of the face where the deer now congregated. The roaring stag sounded close, driving my excitement to an even more intense heart-pounding level. Peering through the thinner edges of the great bush, I could make out the thick main beams and skinny tines of my sparsely pointed stag. If he continued on his path, he’d pass my ambuscade at perfect shooting range. I eased a step from the bush to allow an unhindered shot. With the bow up and ready to draw, I waited, striving to control my urgent breaths and shaking hands.
Then, to my dismay, I caught sight of a stag chasing a hind up the steep bank to the south and disappear over the top. In utter disappointment, I let my bow arm fall to my side, only to witness my stag arrive exactly where I’d envisioned. He wheeled away with a swift and gentle sweep. A glimpse of a satellite stag led me to drop my guard, ruining a chance on the perfect animal.
Disappointment and chagrin surged through me, but as the excitement ebbed, the knowledge that the stag would be there in the coming days consoled me. Surely other chances were coming. The day had been exceptional, and not filling the freezer was the perfect excuse to treat myself to another hunt just as enjoyable. Daylight was dimming. I pulled out my phone to check the time, discovering a message from the landowner. He had forwarded a government website link. “All hunting banned under new government order,” it read, “enforced by power of arrest.” The lockdown had come at the height of the roar!
I did not fill the freezer, but regardless, the day filled my mind and soul. In the six weeks of indoor solitude that followed, visions from that day on the mountainside played in my mind, keeping me excited and hopeful for the future.

Equipment Notes

The recurve in this article is a 52# Saluki Bow Company Turkish hybrid bow. With this bow the author shoots feather-fletched Buck Buster shafts rated for a 65-70# draw because the stiffness loosens with the 125-grain Wensel Woodsman broadheads and 100-grain steel adapter she uses.