Post by safaritours on Aug 2, 2007 4:53:41 GMT 1
I am not a writer but I enjoy telling stories about my Mate who is now gone, I hope you like them to, please let me know Good or Bad and when you have had enough. John
Bad Weather Hunting, With My Mate Brutas, the Weimaraner
I know I can’t tell people in Europe how bad the snow is when it starts to thaw and refreezes but for those who don’t know it can be very hard on dog and man.
One mid September morning found my mate (Brutas the Weimaraner) and I in a very narrow Valley called Te Wai O Tuparita, in New Zealand. The Valley ran North South and was, as you can imagine exposed to all the bad weather from the South. We had been engaged by an ex S.A.S soldier to try to obtain for him a Sika Stag before the antlers dropped prior to re growing again in the spring. It was a sunny bright day and we had just landed in a light plane; a Cessna 185. It was a bad landing area but the 185 was a workhorse of the deer recovery industrie, able to land on river beds and tussock flats and lift large loads utilizing its large flaps and powerful engine. Little did we know, we were going to put this little plane to its test later that week?
Usually I stay out of the high areas at this time of the year due to chance of heavy snow, but as my client was a bow hunter and his mates, who booked the hunt for him, had told me he was very fit and competent, I decided this area was his best chance for a trophy Stag. So, with Brutas leading the way we headed down stream to Blue Duck Creek and a tent site I had there.
The stream crossings were welcomed, as with packs on it was getting hot. However when the water reached my crutch, I remembered the snow the water was coming from and shivered a little. While trying to walk on my tiptoes, I noticed Brutas on point on the far bank, figuring it would be a Hare or Pheasant I gave my client a nudge to be ready with the bow when we reached dry land , I was about to find out how good he was as we sneaked quietly up the bank I noticed the Pheasant under the cover of the golden tussock and with a cluck I got the dogs attention and signaled to him to drop, I was still not sure how good this bloke was with a bow and didn’t want an arrow in the back of the dogs head, as the dog flattened his head on the ground whack went the arrow, no problem Pheasant for the pot this guy was as good as he said so with no further adventures we reached the tent site and unpacked, I cut tussock for bedding and we soon had a feed and were ready for a early night.
The next morning we followed a side creek off the main stream that climbed to the open tops and we soon came on sign of deer but not fresh enough to excite the dog, remembering how warm it was yesterday I had decided to go higher looking for a breeze that would keep the biting flies off the deer, later in the day, we found it at 1500 meters and plenty of fresh sign, Brutas was looking for a Stag in all the aroma on the ground and found it, I could see his shoulders shaking slightly after checking which way he wanted to go I called him back and we climbed high enough to catch the cent rising on the wind I again told the Brutas to find and three hours after leaving camp he found them, the dog was moving slow with his head up from the ground, he had the wind and as he moved forward the shaking was getting worse, I figured the Stag was bedded down and there would be at least a spikey with him and maybe hinds even though it was long after the rut I moved the client in to the side of me and we watched the dog by now his whole body was shaking and he was on point but at the last moment his head turned just as we saw the hinds in front of him, the stag was in line with the dogs head at right angles to the hinds and twenty meters away scratching his coronets with his hind leg , twang went the bow and the Stag was hit, the other deer crashed off and stopped fifty yards away to whistle to each other they still hadn’t seen us.
The Stag of course was gone so we rolled a cigarette and waited for fifteen minuets wondering how many points he had, the impact point was good and he wouldn’t go far the dog was anxious to get going and soon found blood and after following for ten minuets we found the Stag dead in a fresh tree fall a nice long antlered animal but with only six points.
While I was capping the head out I noticed the sky changed from blue to grey then black, sleet started falling by the time I finished the head and by the time I had removed the back legs it was snowing and blowing a gale, stuff it I thought, but at least I have a good bloke with me wont have to worry about him, I figured if we went over the top we could get back before dark so off we went, by the time we hit the open tops the soft snow was only an inch deep but it was on top of icy snow with a crust already hard, the dog walked behind us as even he was falling through the crust and had to leap in front, the weather then took a turn for the worse and a white out came in. Now what to do try to go down and get back long after dark or push on, by now the client was worried he wanted to throw the head away he said it was to heavy all his adrenalin had gone he was tired and worried his sweat had chilled and he was saying he was cold he just wanted to go home, this wasn’t to bloke who came in with me yesterday I thought, but in a strange environment and being not used to the mountains fickle weather you could forgive anybody for wanting out also when in a white out you see nothing everything is the same grey no bright spots to tell where the sun is no nothing like in a room with no exit. Where we were there were also cliffs with four and five hundred feet drops straight down, you can’t stop in these conditions it is to cold, you have to decide what to do and go, I decided to go on over the top hoping the wind would blow away the thick cloud causing the white out.
I threw away the deer legs and took the head from my client and walked ahead in the general direction I thought was home trying to always stay on high ground and follow the ridge this should have keep me in the middle of the ridge it didn’t it wasn’t long before the inevitable happened and I was bushed standing in front of me was a bloody great wall of stone that should have been behind me and below , all my practice swearing and cursing over the years came in handy as I called myself all sorts of idiot I had taken a side spur, what can I do, cant tell the client I was lost he, was lost five minuets after leaving camp so no point getting him more worried, four pair of eyes were looking at me I had to do something Brutas I called, GO HOME , the dog looked at me GO HOME, he moved away then looked back GET HOME I said, and with that he walked away tail down he stopped several more times but with more encouragement he was heading home at least II hoped he was, we followed him, but after only a kilometer or so in the lead I started seeing blood spots in the dogs tracks in the snow and when I had a look the inside of his back legs were bleeding from the ice, his scrotum was purple and shriveled up like a dry prune, we stopped my pack had a spare pair of shorts in it which I put on him and away we went again, the dog took us straight home via the quick rout we got back just after dark thankfully but I couldn’t play the big guide anymore my client had seen who found the way home and never stopped talking to the dog all night.
We managed to get through on the two way radio that night and ask for the plane to pick us up the next day but they were in trouble everywhere, trying to get people out of the mountains but said they would try next afternoon weather permitting, that night was bitter cold and I gave the dog my down jacket to wear in the tent along with the kidneys from the stag I had put in my pocket earlier, they were still warm in there and he went to sleep between the client and I.
Next morning at a late hour when I woke there was no sound at all and on opening the tent and looking out the sun shone bright and the snow looked clean and sparkling, the dog pushed past went outside to stretch I closed the tent flap and started to get dressed I could here something sounded like he was peeing on the tent, he doesn’t usually do that I thought, I looked out again he was cocking his leg having a leak okay, but not on the tent like I thought but in my jacket he still had my new down jacket on, looked like he was smiling at me that was the start of a bad day.
By the time we packed and got back to the landing site the weather had closed in again and another cold front was coming so we set up camp and I started cooking a venison stew fresh meat from the back steak of the stag that was in my pack with the head skin and a few dry vegetables, I fed the dog the liver in strips raw as I only had the one hiking stove then while the stew was cooking we got the HF radio going to listen to the base for any news.
My pilot called and said he was working in the next valley and would try to get through when the cloud cleared we listened on the radio to all the chatter between aircraft and soon a helicopter pilot said there was a hole in cloud at 5,000ft at the head of our valley my pilot could get through if he was quick, within ten minuets we heard the plane coming down the valley and he landed without the usual go round to check wind ect, flatten the tent and throw a log over it and hop in he said, we will get it when the weather improves, we did as he asked and jumped into the plane, dog in front with the pilot client and me still holding the stew and packs in the back and off we went .
The pilot was at pain to remind us if the hole in the cloud went we would all be staying there, up and up we went in never ending circles, have you any idea how long it takes to get to 5,000ft turning in circles in a tight valley, I felt crook the hot stew was stinking the plane out and then the dog started, the liver had turned his stomach and he started passing wind, the pilot was screaming at me about the smell and all I could do was turn the air vent open more, it smelt real bad then the pilot opened the door and said throw that stew out, and if you don’t stop the dog farting he is next, god help anybody that that pot of hot stew hit but out it went still steaming I watched it disappear towards the ground, I knew the dog would eat him if he tried to throw him out so I settled back and closed my eyes.
Next thing I know we had landed at a bush airstrip used for venison recovery, in other words two wheel tracks leading to a cliff at either end and it was pouring down, we sat there with the doors open to stop the plane windows fogging up while the cloud cleared the engine was left going because sheets of rain were going over and the pilot was scared it would not start again, but at least the dog had stopped passing wind, there was a call on the radio from that bloody chopper pilot again saying go now there is a clear spot coming, so of we went doors open bouncing down the wheel tracks but the plane wouldn’t lift with the engine coughing and spluttering it was to late to stop and we ran over the edge of the cliff and the plane was falling to the river 500 meters below, the pilot cursed and the client screamed the dog passed wind again he was stuck to the roof didn’t have his belt on and didn’t like zero gravity, I braced for impact, the pilot looked at the dog cursed him again the dog growled back at the pilot he pulled full flaps and we floated like a feather in a updraft coming from the gale force wind 50 meters above the raging river, the engine spluttered into life still coughing but with energy this time and we were off, we couldn’t find away out of the clouds so we kept going up, we hit 2800, meters and still cloud all around us as we passed 3,500 meters the cans of powdered milk blew there tops in the back of the plane, the dog must have thought someone was shooting got exited and started passing wind again,
just as I was about to climb out of the plane and follow the stew that went out earlier we broke through the cloud and into the sun, our continues circles had now taken us over the active Volcanoes at the bottom of Lake Taupo, I remember looking down into the crater the steam was pouring out and the sulpher smell was like rotten eggs, the dog again passed wind and I thought surely the volcano will explode to finish the day off with a bang.
We watched the sunset from 3500 meters while trying to breath the thin putrid air, the dog passed wind all the way home, but nobody cared anymore when home I thought about his frozen purple scrotum up there in the snow and rubbed it with moisturizing cream for him, he turned his head and smiled again at me, that dogs human I thought, then I made him hot venison stew for tea with no liver we then went to the pub for a beer, and yes I took the dog in case I got bushed on the way home again.
Bad Weather Hunting, With My Mate Brutas, the Weimaraner
I know I can’t tell people in Europe how bad the snow is when it starts to thaw and refreezes but for those who don’t know it can be very hard on dog and man.
One mid September morning found my mate (Brutas the Weimaraner) and I in a very narrow Valley called Te Wai O Tuparita, in New Zealand. The Valley ran North South and was, as you can imagine exposed to all the bad weather from the South. We had been engaged by an ex S.A.S soldier to try to obtain for him a Sika Stag before the antlers dropped prior to re growing again in the spring. It was a sunny bright day and we had just landed in a light plane; a Cessna 185. It was a bad landing area but the 185 was a workhorse of the deer recovery industrie, able to land on river beds and tussock flats and lift large loads utilizing its large flaps and powerful engine. Little did we know, we were going to put this little plane to its test later that week?
Usually I stay out of the high areas at this time of the year due to chance of heavy snow, but as my client was a bow hunter and his mates, who booked the hunt for him, had told me he was very fit and competent, I decided this area was his best chance for a trophy Stag. So, with Brutas leading the way we headed down stream to Blue Duck Creek and a tent site I had there.
The stream crossings were welcomed, as with packs on it was getting hot. However when the water reached my crutch, I remembered the snow the water was coming from and shivered a little. While trying to walk on my tiptoes, I noticed Brutas on point on the far bank, figuring it would be a Hare or Pheasant I gave my client a nudge to be ready with the bow when we reached dry land , I was about to find out how good he was as we sneaked quietly up the bank I noticed the Pheasant under the cover of the golden tussock and with a cluck I got the dogs attention and signaled to him to drop, I was still not sure how good this bloke was with a bow and didn’t want an arrow in the back of the dogs head, as the dog flattened his head on the ground whack went the arrow, no problem Pheasant for the pot this guy was as good as he said so with no further adventures we reached the tent site and unpacked, I cut tussock for bedding and we soon had a feed and were ready for a early night.
The next morning we followed a side creek off the main stream that climbed to the open tops and we soon came on sign of deer but not fresh enough to excite the dog, remembering how warm it was yesterday I had decided to go higher looking for a breeze that would keep the biting flies off the deer, later in the day, we found it at 1500 meters and plenty of fresh sign, Brutas was looking for a Stag in all the aroma on the ground and found it, I could see his shoulders shaking slightly after checking which way he wanted to go I called him back and we climbed high enough to catch the cent rising on the wind I again told the Brutas to find and three hours after leaving camp he found them, the dog was moving slow with his head up from the ground, he had the wind and as he moved forward the shaking was getting worse, I figured the Stag was bedded down and there would be at least a spikey with him and maybe hinds even though it was long after the rut I moved the client in to the side of me and we watched the dog by now his whole body was shaking and he was on point but at the last moment his head turned just as we saw the hinds in front of him, the stag was in line with the dogs head at right angles to the hinds and twenty meters away scratching his coronets with his hind leg , twang went the bow and the Stag was hit, the other deer crashed off and stopped fifty yards away to whistle to each other they still hadn’t seen us.
The Stag of course was gone so we rolled a cigarette and waited for fifteen minuets wondering how many points he had, the impact point was good and he wouldn’t go far the dog was anxious to get going and soon found blood and after following for ten minuets we found the Stag dead in a fresh tree fall a nice long antlered animal but with only six points.
While I was capping the head out I noticed the sky changed from blue to grey then black, sleet started falling by the time I finished the head and by the time I had removed the back legs it was snowing and blowing a gale, stuff it I thought, but at least I have a good bloke with me wont have to worry about him, I figured if we went over the top we could get back before dark so off we went, by the time we hit the open tops the soft snow was only an inch deep but it was on top of icy snow with a crust already hard, the dog walked behind us as even he was falling through the crust and had to leap in front, the weather then took a turn for the worse and a white out came in. Now what to do try to go down and get back long after dark or push on, by now the client was worried he wanted to throw the head away he said it was to heavy all his adrenalin had gone he was tired and worried his sweat had chilled and he was saying he was cold he just wanted to go home, this wasn’t to bloke who came in with me yesterday I thought, but in a strange environment and being not used to the mountains fickle weather you could forgive anybody for wanting out also when in a white out you see nothing everything is the same grey no bright spots to tell where the sun is no nothing like in a room with no exit. Where we were there were also cliffs with four and five hundred feet drops straight down, you can’t stop in these conditions it is to cold, you have to decide what to do and go, I decided to go on over the top hoping the wind would blow away the thick cloud causing the white out.
I threw away the deer legs and took the head from my client and walked ahead in the general direction I thought was home trying to always stay on high ground and follow the ridge this should have keep me in the middle of the ridge it didn’t it wasn’t long before the inevitable happened and I was bushed standing in front of me was a bloody great wall of stone that should have been behind me and below , all my practice swearing and cursing over the years came in handy as I called myself all sorts of idiot I had taken a side spur, what can I do, cant tell the client I was lost he, was lost five minuets after leaving camp so no point getting him more worried, four pair of eyes were looking at me I had to do something Brutas I called, GO HOME , the dog looked at me GO HOME, he moved away then looked back GET HOME I said, and with that he walked away tail down he stopped several more times but with more encouragement he was heading home at least II hoped he was, we followed him, but after only a kilometer or so in the lead I started seeing blood spots in the dogs tracks in the snow and when I had a look the inside of his back legs were bleeding from the ice, his scrotum was purple and shriveled up like a dry prune, we stopped my pack had a spare pair of shorts in it which I put on him and away we went again, the dog took us straight home via the quick rout we got back just after dark thankfully but I couldn’t play the big guide anymore my client had seen who found the way home and never stopped talking to the dog all night.
We managed to get through on the two way radio that night and ask for the plane to pick us up the next day but they were in trouble everywhere, trying to get people out of the mountains but said they would try next afternoon weather permitting, that night was bitter cold and I gave the dog my down jacket to wear in the tent along with the kidneys from the stag I had put in my pocket earlier, they were still warm in there and he went to sleep between the client and I.
Next morning at a late hour when I woke there was no sound at all and on opening the tent and looking out the sun shone bright and the snow looked clean and sparkling, the dog pushed past went outside to stretch I closed the tent flap and started to get dressed I could here something sounded like he was peeing on the tent, he doesn’t usually do that I thought, I looked out again he was cocking his leg having a leak okay, but not on the tent like I thought but in my jacket he still had my new down jacket on, looked like he was smiling at me that was the start of a bad day.
By the time we packed and got back to the landing site the weather had closed in again and another cold front was coming so we set up camp and I started cooking a venison stew fresh meat from the back steak of the stag that was in my pack with the head skin and a few dry vegetables, I fed the dog the liver in strips raw as I only had the one hiking stove then while the stew was cooking we got the HF radio going to listen to the base for any news.
My pilot called and said he was working in the next valley and would try to get through when the cloud cleared we listened on the radio to all the chatter between aircraft and soon a helicopter pilot said there was a hole in cloud at 5,000ft at the head of our valley my pilot could get through if he was quick, within ten minuets we heard the plane coming down the valley and he landed without the usual go round to check wind ect, flatten the tent and throw a log over it and hop in he said, we will get it when the weather improves, we did as he asked and jumped into the plane, dog in front with the pilot client and me still holding the stew and packs in the back and off we went .
The pilot was at pain to remind us if the hole in the cloud went we would all be staying there, up and up we went in never ending circles, have you any idea how long it takes to get to 5,000ft turning in circles in a tight valley, I felt crook the hot stew was stinking the plane out and then the dog started, the liver had turned his stomach and he started passing wind, the pilot was screaming at me about the smell and all I could do was turn the air vent open more, it smelt real bad then the pilot opened the door and said throw that stew out, and if you don’t stop the dog farting he is next, god help anybody that that pot of hot stew hit but out it went still steaming I watched it disappear towards the ground, I knew the dog would eat him if he tried to throw him out so I settled back and closed my eyes.
Next thing I know we had landed at a bush airstrip used for venison recovery, in other words two wheel tracks leading to a cliff at either end and it was pouring down, we sat there with the doors open to stop the plane windows fogging up while the cloud cleared the engine was left going because sheets of rain were going over and the pilot was scared it would not start again, but at least the dog had stopped passing wind, there was a call on the radio from that bloody chopper pilot again saying go now there is a clear spot coming, so of we went doors open bouncing down the wheel tracks but the plane wouldn’t lift with the engine coughing and spluttering it was to late to stop and we ran over the edge of the cliff and the plane was falling to the river 500 meters below, the pilot cursed and the client screamed the dog passed wind again he was stuck to the roof didn’t have his belt on and didn’t like zero gravity, I braced for impact, the pilot looked at the dog cursed him again the dog growled back at the pilot he pulled full flaps and we floated like a feather in a updraft coming from the gale force wind 50 meters above the raging river, the engine spluttered into life still coughing but with energy this time and we were off, we couldn’t find away out of the clouds so we kept going up, we hit 2800, meters and still cloud all around us as we passed 3,500 meters the cans of powdered milk blew there tops in the back of the plane, the dog must have thought someone was shooting got exited and started passing wind again,
just as I was about to climb out of the plane and follow the stew that went out earlier we broke through the cloud and into the sun, our continues circles had now taken us over the active Volcanoes at the bottom of Lake Taupo, I remember looking down into the crater the steam was pouring out and the sulpher smell was like rotten eggs, the dog again passed wind and I thought surely the volcano will explode to finish the day off with a bang.
We watched the sunset from 3500 meters while trying to breath the thin putrid air, the dog passed wind all the way home, but nobody cared anymore when home I thought about his frozen purple scrotum up there in the snow and rubbed it with moisturizing cream for him, he turned his head and smiled again at me, that dogs human I thought, then I made him hot venison stew for tea with no liver we then went to the pub for a beer, and yes I took the dog in case I got bushed on the way home again.
