Hunting with Jon and Kayla | Part III

Part 3: The Eucalyptus

There’s a clutch of Reds that Jon is bearing towards in the eucalyptus plantation, some of them wearing long shaggy peels of eucalyptus bark in their antlers like wigs. It’s hard to tell exactly how many deer are tucked away behind the dense rows of trees, but an ideal Red is among them.

Through the binoculars, Jon had spotted a winner: “That’s the guy,” he’d said when he glassed him. “That’s so awesome. Big long swords with fat palmations on the top.” It’s a handsome Red, no question, and would make a great conversation trophy on the wall.

It’s Jon and Kayla’s second day at Poronui. It’s an early morning, and Jon is after his trophy Red. The previous day, we’d scoped out the Estate together – Mark guiding them, me tagging along – and Jon had shortlisted two deer Reds in particular. Now we’re crossing the basin, the eucalyptus towering above us, slowly moving through the low native bushes to try and close the distance to the Reds.

Jon and Mark are stalking about 50 yards ahead of me, and Kayla is about half that distance, silently capturing pictures on her phone.

Now I’m too far away to hear what Jon is whispering to Mark, but it’s no doubt about our approach relative to the changeable wind. They’re making small hand gestures and nods, which seem to say, That’s the one… if we head this way… over this bit… behind and around… then we get him. Jon has the rifle in hand, finger off the trigger, ready to get into position.

Suddenly, Jon and Mark drop down: a prime stag is heading towards us, down the ridgeline. Kayla and I also crouch, making our profiles as small as possible.

This could be a perfect set-up: the deer are coming towards us – not quite head-on, but no doubt there’s a fairly clear line to a heart.

We hold: Will Jon have a clear shot? Is this the trophy he’s after?

Then a shift in the air. In a moment, half a dozen stags disappear down the hill, thundering their way around and away from us.

Kayla turns to me, taps her nose: They’ve smelled us.

Now that the deer know where they are, the whispers turn to murmurs, and the gestures become bigger. The jig is up, at least for now.

We meet back at to the Polaris. Mark begins. “Jon and I have had a serious discussion,” he winks, “and we’ve decided that we’re going for that second deer – the one that should be on the other side of the Estate.”

Jon agrees. The one that caught our scent was in the range, but it wasn’t our trophy, he says.