While glassing a few deer or searching for a nice rainbow trout, spend some time reflecting on 2025; a personal audit as a hunter, angler and member of society is a good way to identify what habits/actions you should take into 2026 and those you shouldn’t.
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The most common query we hear at COLFO is from people who’ve had their firearms licences suspended or revoked for non-criminal reasons.
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It was June 9, and winter had well and truly arrived. The early morning air was crisp as we laced up our boots and organised seven days’ worth of hunting equipment at the helicopter pad.
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We had to deviate from our original plan a bit due to some nasty weather that was meant to roll in. Eventually, we found ourselves on our way up the Awatere Valley.
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It was my first time hunting in this area, and I was excited to explore and see what animals were about. I’d packed for two days of hunting. Moo, sensing the adventure ahead, was equally enthusiastic.
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It wasn’t until I was around 23 that I started hunting. A mate introduced me, and it’s been an itch I simply can’t stop scratching ever since.
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Tayla and I decided it was the perfect excuse to road-trip from our home in Morrinsville all the way to the Deep South. We dubbed it a work trip – with a side of hunting, of course.
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Where to hunt? It’s a question that gets asked all the time by hunters young and old. Underpinning this question is usually one’s desire to have success either on the meat and/or trophy front.
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I know I’m not alone when using the phrase: “I think I’ve lost my mojo.” I’ve used it in the past when I’ve been going through a rough streak with my fishing exploits, but most recently, my lack of mojo – or bad mojo – has applied to my hunting.
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When Lord and Lady Belper sailed for England on the steamer Aorangi on May 12, 1925, they took with them a swag of seven excellent red deer trophy heads.
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The product of cooking in a ‘potjie’ is often a matter for serious debate, particularly around a campfire! Potjie is originally an Afrikaans word for what in English would be known as a ‘three-legged cast-iron cooking utensil’.
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In the cold and windy month of June last year, my dad, Mike McClunie, and I went on a four-day tahr hunting trip into Canterbury.
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