I frequently return to Western Southland, as it’s an area that ticks all the boxes for me: challenging terrain, beautiful native bush, low deer numbers and quality genetics. It’s taken a long time and many trips to find a few special areas.

It’s worth all the time and effort once you’ve laid eyes on something truly special. After not seeing a lot, sometimes it can feel pointless, or lack of success can leave you feeling a sense of failure, but looking back after a hunt is when I really appreciate all the learnings I’ve taken from the experience. In the moment, it can be difficult to appreciate; later reflection is the key to success.

Creatures of Habit

I’d learned from previous hunts that hinds in the area would feed out of the beech forests just on dark, and they usually live between 500-900m in altitude. It was a constant reminder that they’re creatures of habit, and learning these habits would be crucial to finding the big stags.

During the months of November and December, I concentrated my efforts where the hinds were, knowing they were feeding up at nearly full-term pregnancy. Also, stags would be close by, making the most of the late spring feed while growing their newly forming velvet.

It was a surprise that, for many months, I couldn’t find a single stag – there were many hinds but no boys in sight. In late January, when my younger brother Tazman was home from work overseas, we took the opportunity to climb high together and scout farther into some new catchments beyond where the hinds usually reside. We managed to see a number of animals on our first evening – it looked promising for the next day.

Hunting with Tazman

In the morning, we were greeted with heavy fog, so pushed higher to try and get onto animals moving away from feed areas. We bumped two promising fallow bucks in early velvet then got onto a mob of pigs. Tazman was lined up with the .270 to do some pork management, but they snuck away into the tussocks never to be seen again. The rest of the day was spent pushing to the top and looking into multiple catchments.

Finally, the end of the day provided the excitement we’d hoped for – stags!

Peaking over a small ledge and looking down into some manuka faces, I managed to spot a large 10-point stag who appeared to be nearly hard antler. A glance around the face he was on revealed another six stags; we’d found the honey hole. It all made sense: shelter from the south/west wind, spring creek flowing through and plenty of fresh grass.

After a good look through the stags, I decided we should leave the boys with most potential and get Tazman onto a good cull animal as his first stag. We had plenty of time to get set up, and to our surprise, the stags fed straight towards us.

Tazman managed to get a good rest and nailed his first stag with a great shot to the lower neck. He passed me the rifle, and I was able to peel off another cull. Now the work began.

We boned out the two deer then picked our way down to the valley floor and out to the truck. It was an awesome adventure with my younger bro – memories last a lifetime.

Carrying on from this hunt, I did two further scouting adventures, locating multiple good stags, but not the big old boys I was ready to pull the trigger on.

Two Young Stags

Come late March, it was game on. Word of stags roaring early had spread through the province. I packed for an early start – a day trip into the area in the hope of finding something special.

After two hours of walking up the river, the stunning change of light was revealing the mountain tops, birds started their songs, and suddenly, roars of big red stags echoed around the valley. Heart racing, hairs sticking up on the back of my neck – this is what it’s all about.

One stag was roaring well on his own on the edge of the bushline. It made me think he was rounding up hinds, so I headed in that direction. Suddenly, as the sun came up, he went quiet. I snuck onto the nearest ridge in the beech forest, then gave a subtle hind call. Crash! Crash! Crash! A stag was coming in hot! It didn’t take long before he appeared, pushing his way down through some young trees.

At first glance, it was obvious he was a stunning young stag – a 12-pointer but with very narrow timber and not a lot of length to his beams; I let him run past me. Such a great sight to see for the start of the morning.

I carried on up the ridge with the wind in my face and a clear game trail ahead. It felt like the right direction to head. Along the way, I was stopping, giving out the odd hind call, and it wasn’t long before I got another aggressive reply.

Again, this stag come crashing in, displaying the same behaviour as the stag before and making me guess he’d be young; I was right. Another beautiful animal with a wider rack – strong 10 points – holding the more common traits of the area. I left him to grow bigger for another day. Once he was well gone, I carried on up.

A Ripper Ten

After a further 20 minutes of walking along this open ridge, I got a low growly reply to my hind call. This sounded a lot deeper and more aggressive than previous encounters; it stopped me dead in my tracks, as it seemed to me like he was on the very next ridge.

This stag stood his ground, roaring occasionally. I hadn’t moved for what felt like forever. Such an exciting moment; I could hear other hinds, and I could hear him rounding them up. I was reluctant to roar and scare him off.

While he sounded busy, I decided to try and close the gap. Sneaking my way around the edge of the steep mossy ridge, I felt like I’d gotten close enough to call again. Trying my luck with two short, sharp hind calls, I was met with dead silence. I had a feeling … like he was coming, or he was close, or he was watching me. Not moving was my best move.

After another heart-stopping five minutes, he let off a huge, long roar and completely gave away his position – I could see him! I could see his huge body, fat neck and his big, wide antlers. The only catch was, he was facing away from me, looking in the opposite direction, roaring and flicking his big ears trying to pick up on my location. It was him, an old boy, holding the hinds – big and smart. Now was the time for a roar; I had to turn him for a good shot.

Well rested on a moss-covered dead log, I nervously let off a moan. He swung his whole neck, head and shoulders around in my direction. Perfect. Frozen in amazement at this public land beast, I nearly left it a second too late. Luckily, as he took another step forward, he stopped and looked back again. Bang! One clean shot to the lower neck, and he dropped on the spot! What a rush. The trusty .270 does the damage once again – hard-hitting, show-stopping – love this calibre.

I took a few deep breaths before heading over to see him: a ripper 10 with big body, low coronets and wide timber. It’s an overwhelming feeling sometimes; you put in so much time and energy into these hunts – to finally pull it off and take the life of such an incredible animal is a humbling experience. Something I’m truly grateful to be able to do.

A few photos, some snacks to recharge, a bit of rest and then I was ready to carry on climbing. I scouted the area for the rest of the day but didn’t meet any more stags.

Feeling content with the morning, I headed back early to see our girls. They love hearing Dad’s stories; it’s a special moment retelling my adventures to them – and now to you.

Another Old Boy

After some time at home, some time at work and some more planning, I was ready for the next mission.

This time, a more local trip into Eastern Southland to a spot I find attracts regular visiting stags all through the year. Local farmlands provide easy access for deer to move through pockets of bush, and some areas hold very large numbers. Over the years, it’s been hard to find good genetics in here – they’re usually odd-looking characters.

Either way, it provides a super exciting experience with a lot of competition for stags to hold hinds. I find that in these areas, it’s key to concentrate efforts around rut pads and wallows that the stags frequently use. A specific wallow in the middle of a well-flowing spring creek had provided just this for me over the last three years.

On this particular morning, I moved into the area of this wallow then sat and waited for the sun to come up. Not hearing any roars, I felt it was time to give off some calls. I let out a loud, long roar and smashed some sticks in the wallow. Waiting for a reply, I could hear nothing, which was unusual considering the amount of sign. I was not convinced.

After another ten minutes, I let off a short hind call and got the surprise I’d hoped for – smashing of sticks and deep grunting. He was coming my way – and fast! He sounded a long way out, but he was coming … and meant business. Grunting away and smashing everything in his path, I sat ready with the rifle positioned between two branches while trying to remain calm. Suddenly he was right in front of me.

He’d come in slightly to my right – not where I was expecting – and only 10m away; his huge rack had me absolutely fizzing.

Bang! Nailed him in the chest – it was the only shot I had available to me. Bang! A follow-up shot in his neck as soon as he dropped and he was dead on the spot. Wow! That was intense. Another great big ten. An old boy like I was after – such a great hunt and an exciting morning.

Another Funky Head

I returned to the area a week later to find the stags were going off. Following the exact steps of my previous hunt, I was able to close the gap on one stag who was constantly replying to my calls. After a bit of cat and mouse, he swung down below me to get my wind, and that was his last move. Another funky head on this fella living in very thick scrub, but another mature stag and amazing experience all the same.

I gained so many lessons and learnings from this season, and I’m looking forward to putting in more yards in 2026, hoping for an opportunity to secure that elusive big old 12.

Good things take time. What a country we live in. New Zealand truly is special.