Redhills Report - Mar/Apr 97

PRESIDENTS REPORT GROTTS GRUMBLE
BELGIAN TOURIST WRESTLES WILD STAG
MY FIRST HUNT

Presidents Report

This will be the last newsletter before the 1997 Annual General Meeting which is due to be held towards the end of May. Further details about the AGM are provided elsewhere in this newsletter however it is normal for the President to submit a report of the year for the members consideration. Generally this is done at the start of the meeting but this year I have decided to publish the report earlier in order to give members time to read and consider it.

The past year has been one of growth for Massey Archery, both in terms of facilities and membership, this being a noticeable contrast to the previous two years which were dedicated to regrouping and reorganising. The growth in these two areas tends to be self feeding. New members bring new ideas and a greater pool of workers and income. These enable the club to provide more facilities and events which in turn makes the club more attractive to new members. Therefore the challenge for the coming year must be to keep this momentum going.

Grotts Grumble

That’s it, another financial year over, all that’s left is for Trev and the Grott to divvy up that big fat juicy profit, and we’ll be out-a-here! Also over for another year is the roar, the Grott didn’t do to bad this year, I ended up with a freezer full of venison without even loosing an arrow, let alone stepping out into that yucky, drippy, cold bush. I found that the easiest way to get a feed bambi was to call in a few favors from all of those idiots who had time (or were aloud) to actually get out there and get into some real archery instead of faggoty targets, the end result was that I had more venison than I could flood the black markets with, full points for the grottman. Unfortunately, this roar I couldn’t get out hunting because of work commitments (this year I committed myself to doing less than last year), and because of that I have no hunting story to tell you, but no fear, Steve, Grant and Les did, of which I heard a bit of a story, Grott thought that it might go down well in the report, so I asked Steve if I could put it in, and his answer was a definite NO! So here it is…

The scene is set on a normal dark, sunny Kaimanawa day, some where in the vicinity of Les’s secrete spot X. Day 3… midday… amongst the fallen, mossy birch trees, beside the gentle bubbling of a barley flowing stream, surrounded by a whirlwind of dancing fantails, is Steve tossing himself. No, sorry that was day 2. Day 3 he was sitting in this secluded spot having a bit of lunch, which consisted of the previous night hunting – cold black robin and a couple of Tuatara drum sticks. All of a sudden the keen, razor blade sharp senses of the hunter kicked in, and apparently the hunter in which those sensors belonged to shot himself a deer in the Ruahenies, but in the mean time Steve just sat there chewing on his last bit of Kakapo. After finishing his lunch our mighty hunter decided to rid himself of any man type smell by having a cigarette. Half an hour passes, and once again the fearless one was off with his eyes to the ground and his nose searching out ahead of him, for that elusive trophy of the "roar". While contemplating his situation – "3 days in the bush and I haven’t even seen front, let alone a hind!" our man thought that he had heard a noise, a noise that seemed out of place, a noise that could be DINNER! This called for a closer investigation. Slipping into stealth mode with all the prowess of an intoxicated rhinoceros, Steve stalks towards the faint noise that had sent a shiver through out his entire body, as well as make his bladder release. After what seemed like an eternity if straining his ears till they felt like each one would explode, there it was again "kshshsh kshshsh". The bloodhound was now on the trail, the spider had latched onto its prey, the sniper had his assignation within the sights, got the picture yet? Scanning the surrounding vegetation like a blind man in a strip joint, Steve confirms that it is safe to proceed towards the other side of the clearing, when suddenly out of the corner of one eye – he digs out a big hunk of congealed sleep. With no noise being emitted from the direction Steve was hunting, he thought it was time to make a bit of noise himself, a few whistles should do it. After no response from either Dixie or When the saints go marching in, Steve finally hit the jackpot with the third verse from "If your happy and you know it". Closing in on the noise now, Steve can see the bushes slightly moving, and yes is that a movement from something other than fauna, "I think its waving to me"? No it must be an ear, looking a bit harder through the light bushes Steve can make out the forequarters, "YES. Side on"! Slowly dropping to one knee like a head shot bullock to steady himself, before he knows it there is already an arrow on the string, and Steve is fumbling with his release aide. One deep breath and the bow is tensed up like a coiled spring and back at full draw, with the adrenaline pumping through his veins Steve finds it hard to keep that 80 yard pin on the animals chest, slowly the bow firms up and the pin is stationary for a split second, just enough time to snap off the shot. With no idea if it was a hit or a miss, Steve runs up to where the animal stood, first he spies his arrow in a tree just behind where he was aiming – DAMN, buts it dripping blood – YAY. Looking down for a blood trail Steve finds a stone dead deer dropped where it was standing with a single shot through the heart, from 80 yards, Steve had shot his first deer – a remarkable 16 point sika stag.

That’s how Steve told me the story – now here’s how I heard it from Les:

Sitting in the same clearing that he had been staking out over the past few days Les waited, around midday Jess (Les’s dog) started winding (that’s sniffing, not farting, for those of you who don’t know anything about hunting). Thoroughly trusting his dogs instincts Les checks the air for himself and can faintly smell something, a few minutes go by and the sent starts getting stronger – SMOKE – STEVE! Figuring that the hunting of this spot was buggered for the rest of the day Les grabbed the closest bush and gave it a might shake. The event which followed could only be decried as a heard of buffalo making a bolt from Burger king. The air was thick with the smell of smoke now, and 200 yards to the south a semi-bald head could be seen bobbing up and down, making its way north towards Les. Time to give the bush another shake, the head stopped, the head started whistling, Les had to pick up a couple of sticks and bang them together to conceal his laughter, this caused another charge from the head. Now Steve was in full view of Les, but still didn’t know where the sounds were coming from, as Steve moved closer the sunlight reflected off his watch straight into Les’s eyes several time, just about blinding him. Twenty yards away, Les gives the bush one more shake, Steve spins like a propeller, eyeballing the bush Les is hiding behind. Steve stood there like this for a few minutes, not wanting to scare away what ever it was he was hunting. Then the bush did a funny thing, it waved at Steve."Could this just be the light playing tricks, or does this deer like me" Steve asks himself.
Then the bush did another funny thing, it called out "Steve"
"Not only does this deer like me, it knows my name. This has to be rear"!
Unable to contain his laughter anymore Les sprang from the bush, yelling, screaming and laughing, at Steve’s expense, to end the game.

There's the two stories - you chose which one you want to believe.

That’s all for now, till next time remember, if you can’t say something nice about any body – sit next to me.

Grottamungus

Adventurer Extroindarie.

Belgian Tourist Wrestles Wild Stag

TIMARU – Belgian tourist Frank De Clercq thought the New Zealand country side was safe – until he found himself fighting for his life as he wrestled a wild stag in the Central Otago yesterday.
As he and his wife, Mia pulled into rest in the Lindis Pass, about 10km out of Omarama, yesterday he looked in the rear vision mirror – and saw a deer. Within seconds the animal was sticking its head into the car.
"I thought it was begging for a cookie", he said, not realizing it was the time of the deer roar.
Mr. De Clercq, aged 65 called to his wife to take a photo of him feeding the animal. "It sniffed and became very aggressive".
Mr. De Clercq got out of the car and grabbed the deer by the antlers to push it away. But the stag kept trying to attack him.
Mr. De Clercq recalled a rodeo program he had seen on television and got the animal in a headlock. As he twisted its head the animal began to fall to the ground.
Mr. De Clercq was too scared to let go incase he was gorged and a tearful Mrs. De Clercq began throwing food at the animal hopping it would loose interest in her husband.
She flagged down other drivers for help. The driver of the first car would not get out – he had children in the car. A second driver refused to leave his vehicle.
The stag was eventually stunned when Mr. De Clercq hit it between the eyes with a rock.
Mr. and Mrs. De Clercq said they were looking forward to sharing their story with their friend’s back home.

My First Hunt
By Brent Hayfield

It was Saturday, I had already had two unsuccessful stalks on a couple of nannies, then on another group of about six, but they had spotted us and ran off. The day was hot and sticky but we kept on going till we came across another group. All of them spotted us except for a young nanny, which was left by the group. While we started out stalk the young nanny started bleating, so it made it easy to find. When we got to a spot where I had a clear shot, I came to full draw and started shaking. I finally shot but I missed so I took another shot but missed it again. After the second shot it ran into a gut so I got up real close to the gut, I went on by myself and looked over into the gut, the young nanny saw me and ran up the hill right in front of me so I pulled back my bow and shot. I hit it; it ran down the hill and dropped into a little hole under some ferns. So we spent the next 15 minutes looking for it. When we found it we got a photo and gutted it, and took its head off. I felt really good that I didn’t wound it, but got a high lung instead. Then we started our long walk back to camp.

PRESIDENTS REPORT GROTTS GRUMBLE
BELGIAN TOURIST WRESTLES WILD STAG MY FIRST HUNT