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The Ultimate Fair Chase Hunt

             The elite big game trophy in New Zealand is the Himalayan tahr. It is the fair chase hunter's Mt Everest. Its status derives twofold. In the first place, the bulls are magnificent, maned masters of the craggy peaks, while secondly, only the elite of national and international hunters ever secure one. Unlike deer species, where fair chase trophies have antlers vastly inferior to enclosure animals, the wild tahr population still provides the vast majority of big trophies taken in New Zealand. They are only found in the South Island of this country, and then, only in limited locations. The government has allowed a controlled population to exist, but there are strict regulations, and whenever reports suggest the population is getting too large, or spreading too far south, or north, then extermination helicopters are called in. That is the extent of the management plan.

           The surviving herds live in the rugged Southern Alps range, some on the wet, steep faces of the West Coast, others on the drier shingle fan country of the East Coast. Overseas hunters are best suited targeting the eastern herds, as there is less physical danger from environment, terrain and climate. The drawback though, is hunter competition, and finding a location with adequate trophy potential, and reasonable prices. Most guiding outfits offer tahr hunts, but the reality is, they have to approach farmers to acquire animals. They pay a trophy fee to the private runholder, add their own trophy addition to that, add guiding costs, then the total bill is passed on to the client. Fair enough, but this can make a trophy bull tahr a pricey addition to the trophy room.

           The best combination, is where the runholder and the guide are the same person, so no additional costs are added to the bill. This seldom happens with tahr, and that is what makes Lilydale Wilderness and Hunting Area an exciting option for the true fair chase hunter. Lilydale is the name of a 12,500-acre high country station, owned by Donald and Barbara Bray. His contact details are: postal: Donald Bray, Lilydale, 17 RD, Fairlie, New Zealand
Telephone: +64 3 6854856 fax: +64 3 6854854 e-mail: lilydale@xtra.co.nz website: www.lilydalewildernesshunting.com

Of this acreage, 10,500 acres is true high country, and home to a good tahr population, and smaller, but stable chamois population. In their native Nepal, tahr are an endangered species, and even in New Zealand many experienced hunters have never seen one. Lilydale is unique. It has a resource worth protecting. Bray offers this service because he loves hunting, and is proud of the fact that individual Lilydale tahr now grace the walls of many overseas homes. His major payoff is seeing others experience the thrill of a successful tahr hunt. The farm has long been in the Bray family, and is situated only two and a half-hour's drive from Christchurch International Airport, and three and half-hours from Queenstown. The Brays are happy to pick clients up from the airport, conduct a hunt, and then return them to the airport. Taxidermy facilities are close at hand.

The tahr spread on to the property in the early 1970s, and are now well established. Seeing animals is a certainty. In fact, big bulls are now remaining throughout the year, and no longer returning to summer feeding areas. The animals are managed by the Bray family, and if numbers peak dramatically, culling methods are employed to keep them below the government density figure.
Bray has set a limit of six bulls a year on the property, and guides clients personally. Bookings are essential. You will not find better prices in New Zealand. The fact that Bray is hunting on his own property is an extra advantage, as he knows where the quarry is likely to be found, and through past experience, the best tactics for success. If his own clients do not take the quota of six bulls, he will allow outside guides to bring their clients on to the property. Those clients pay their guide's rates.

           Tahr country on Lilydale is alpine terrain, 3,000 to 7,600 feet above sea level. The winter months, June to August, can experience heavy snow, but this cold does create the magnificent pelt and mane, bull tahr are famous for. The country is steep, and strewn with shingle scree faces and native vegetation. There is no bush, so all hunting is in open terrain. Three large valleys dominate the tahr range, each with its resident animals. The largest bulls live high, looking down on the world from lofty bluffs. Trophy quality is excellent, and the securing of a representative 12-inch bull is a high possibility. The best bull taken by a client was slightly less than 14 inches. Chamois quality is also good, but not exceptional. A good buck would be 9 and a half inches long.

The greatest asset a fair chase hunter could invest in is fitness. If you aren't walking up, then you must be coming down. This point needs to be stressed, as hunters who want the biggest trophy need to glass several bulls, before taking the big one. Unfortunately, many hunters lack the stamina, and take the first close one, usually small and immature. The best technique is to climb high, as tahr expect danger to approach from below. Many hunters, who travel up the valley, see animals, but those animals have also seen them. A whistle of alarm signals the end of the hunt for that day. By staying on the lee side of the ridge, the hunter can appear above animals, and stalk down on the selected bull. Vehicle tracks can get you well up the hill before you start walking, but you will still have 1500 feet or more to climb. One successful hunter was so elated with what he had achieved that he had his walking pole mounted on the wall, alongside his trophy. Helicopter access is not used.

           Accommodation takes many forms. The most serious hunters stay on the hill, in a small hunter's cabin, while those with non- hunting partners may stay in the nearby town of Fairlie, or in farmstay homes. It depends how serious you are. The farm's location is also nestled in the middle of good fallow deer country, trout fishing lakes and rivers, small game hunting for hares and rabbits, and skiing opportunities during winter. The Brays can organise all these activities for clients, and in fact run their own snowcat skiing operation.
To shoot a trophy tahr is still the pinnacle of alpine fair chase achievement.  

Stag Time

             April is the main month of the roar. At some point in this thirty-one day period, most red deer stags will reach the peak of their rutting agitation. Animals without hinds get particularly ‘pussy'. The whole purpose of the roar is to mate, so these lesser animals are worked up to the point of insanity. They look, and smell terrible. Red eyed, gaunt, mud and urine splattered, sexually frustrated, and of evil intent, they roam the bush looking for unattached girls. They roar the most, and, as a result are the animals most often shot by hunters. Let's be honest, it's the hinds that usually spot the enemy, and without them, these bachelors can't see much through the red mist that clogs their brains.

The saddest case of the lot is the spiker. He has the urges, and bulk of an adult, but the antlers, and mentality of a kid. He's at the bottom of the mating tree, but doesn't know it. Kicked out by mum, he roams on his own, or travels with a couple of his peers. Large mature stags even use these boys as girl teasers. The spikers join hind groups that are yet to come into season, but, as soon as it becomes obvious that their amorous efforts are bringing hinds into readiness, they are driven out by the boss stag, and spend the whole rut, roaring helplessly on the fringes. Spikers too, suffer high mortality during the roar.

Last year I had an opportunity to see the whole dynamics of male behaviour unfold before me. Don Cameron, an exceptionally gifted hunting guide, had invited me to hunt for an April red stag on his high country property. There were good numbers of animals here, and they had been roaring well in the two weeks before my visit. During April, at least ten stags had even taken up residence opposite his farmhouse, and they screamed abuse at each other for the whole month.

Just a week prior, up in the top basin where I would be hunting, two clients from Fairlie had shot a representative stag each. Both stags were bachelor animals. The larger beast, a long 8 pointer was particularly worked up. It had emerged from the bush, and walked slowly up to a wallow located in the saddle of two valleys. It didn't notice Don, and one of the clients sitting near it. They could probably have been sitting in the wallow. Roaring continuously, it had thrashed bushes, urinated over its belly, rubbed trees, then flopped into the mud. The shot that cleanly killed it, was probably a relief, as he wasn't getting ‘no satisfaction.'

The first day of my weekend was spent travelling into the back blocks, but come the next day we were up nice and early and on the trail to a particularly good stag valley. Away in the distance, we could hear two stags roaring, but both were deep in the bush. The individual animals we caught sight of were all young stuff, confused, and unsure as to why the adults were all acting so belligerent. Contrary to popular belief, the roar is not the best time to hunt a trophy. The best stags have proved their dominance before the rut, and having rounded up their harem are holed up somewhere out of the way. They have no need to roar, or wander, and the hinds will warn them of danger. The best time to hunt them is often May, when they emerge into the open, keen to put on weight after a month's loving.

We checked out several guts and gullies with the binoculars, but it was clear the only stag still roaring was holed up in thick bush. There was no alternative, but to lose height and go in after him. He was very cunning though, and only roared every thirty minutes or so, which made it very difficult to pinpoint his position. Under the forest canopy, the bush was quite open, and we stalked up on three individual animals. The first two were an old hind and young daughter, and the last a wide-eyed spiker. Sign of the stag was everywhere, and we often got pungent whiffs of his perfume, which was very strong. Two hours of pussy footing brought no success, and even his roaring had stopped. We decided to head back up to the saddle we had come from, and perhaps find another stag up high. On this property, stags are often found way up in the tussock and shingle faces.

            On reaching the top we saw some hunters on a neighbouring property walking along the far skyline. Their scent must have washed down into the bush we had just been hunting through, as suddenly out of a ravine, close to where we had just been, trotted nine deer. Seven hinds, a hopeful spiker, and bringing up the rear, the boss stag we had been looking for. He was a good ten pointer. They were heading in the opposite direction, so all we could do was take our medicine on the chin, and watch them cut across into a distant gully and disappear from view.

Our position was quite close to the big wallow that the earlier 8 pointer had been shot in, so we decided to watch it for a while. The churned up mud showed it was still very popular. Eventually, out of the bush high up, stepped another young spiker. It stared longingly at the wallow. He wanted to act like a big boy, and go splash in the mud, but his demeanour was one of fear, and caution. He knew that if he were caught there, he would get a fearsome hiding. He began to mooch down the hill, pretending to be grazing, but heading on a rambling route to the wallow. I decided to intercept him, and get a photo, but somewhere along the way I lost sight of him. Thinking he had winded me, and snuck away, I gave up stealth, and walked boldly around a totara tree. The spiker was coming out of a nearby gut at exactly the same minute, and on seeing me he nearly died with fright. I think he thought I was a vicious old boss stag who had caught a kid in his swimming pool. His eyes bulged, his shoulder hair stood on end, and he rocketed towards the bush.

At one point he was so scared, that he jumped high in the air, like sheep do in the yards. He hesitated a moment on the edge of the bush, and my resulting photo clearly showed his rump hair standing on end. That deer was petrified with fear. Don had watched the whole thing from his spectator position, and was cracking up with laughter. The day was now well advanced, so we decided to head back to the hut we were staying in. It was in the second last gully that we ran into one of those typical bachelor stags I described earlier. He was a small 8 pointer, who would never make a good trophy, and Don was happy for him to be culled. I shot him for venison. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I was recently back on this property in January of this year and saw three magnificent stags in the velvet, so the prospects for a client seeking a good trophy look good. They're certain to see plenty of those worked up younger stags, roaming their beat, hoping today is the day. I have included contact details for Don in the fact file. His company can arrange free range hunts for any of the South Island's big game species. Two other specialty animals are chamois and tahr.

The Mighty Tahr

            September is an unusual month. It's neither one thing, nor the other. Hints of spring, but still cold enough to remind people of the winter just ended. The fishing season proper hasn't started, but in many areas the winter extension has ended. Plants think the good times have arrived, but then get destroyed by a late frost. It's not a bad time to put the fishing rod aside, and take on the greatest fair chase challenge of all. Climb a mountain, and see if you can outwit the master of that environment, the bull tahr. It doesn't need to be a pipe dream, and is cheaper to achieve than catching a marlin. The hunting is better than it's been in years, mostly due to the respect overseas hunters have for this trophy. When an animal has a high dollar value, then it's worth looking after. It's a shame the government doesn't think the same way, so consequentially tahr numbers are highest on private land.

            Tahr, (commonly spelt thar here) were introduced to New Zealand in 1904. They were a highly valued present from the Duke of Bedford to the government of New Zealand. The Duke had gained his animals from India several years earlier, and for New Zealand to gain some progeny was seen as a magnificent coup.   I still think it was.   Released near Mount Cook, they slowly acclimatised, and by 1917 there were some twenty animals. Now established, their numbers boomed, and animals spread along the Southern Alps, slowly increasing their range. Without a natural predator, the increase became a flood, and tahr eventually became labelled as a pest. The gloves were off, and by 1960, some 19,000 animals had been shot by cullers. Without government protection, vilified as the destroyer of alpine meadow, and easy fodder during the helicopter era, it looked as though tahr would be reduced to a few hardy survivors. Some groups wanted total extermination.

            Deerstalkers rallied to their defence, and at last a degree of compromise was struck with the government. A tahr range was established, but the rules were strict. Numbers must stay low, and animals off the range would be immediately eradicated. Demand by overseas hunters for tahr trophies has also seen high country farmers perform a degree of tahr management on herds found on their properties within the range. It's not a perfect scenario, but it's better than total eradication. Numbers have improved, and once again, there is trophy bull tahr out in them thar hills.

            A bull tahr in full winter coat is one of the greatest sights anyone will ever see. Standing on a bluff precipice, with his mane blowing in the wind, he is truly magnificent. Overseas hunters rate him as one of the greatest attractions New Zealand has, and will pay thousands of US dollars to shoot one. Remember that New Zealand is the only place in the western world where they can be legally hunted free range. You can probably understand why guides and local hunters are shocked, when DOC carries out search and destroy missions that often see trophy bulls shot and their carcasses left to rot. Overseas visitors shake their heads in amazement, but then they can't understand 1080 poisoning, or the destruction of our wapiti herd either. Tahr are creatures of habit, and very gregarious. If left alone, herds will stay in the same place, and eat everything. This causes localised damage, and if numbers get too big they do need to be culled. No question on that, but nannies should be shot, not the bulls.

A tahr hunter needs to be fit. The tahr range is located on both sides of the main divide in the central South Island. All country is steep, but the eastern side has better weather, and easier country. If going on DOC land then you need to be even fitter again, or hire a helicopter to get you well back in the hills. If you are contemplating a helicopter, then why not save the money and put it towards a guide instead. Guides will also take out clients who have never hunted before. We all hear of the first time marlin catcher. No reason it can't happen on tahr either. Complimentary use of rifles is available.

 Guides have exclusive access rights to private property herds, are skilled, and know where the bulls are located. They only charge for results, so no trophy and you only pay the daily guide fee, which is cheaper than a day out with a fishing guide. Most people will only want to shot one trophy in their lifetime so why not do it right. The access issue is of huge importance. Go where the tahr are, not where your father used to see them years ago.

            A representative trophy is a tahr whose horn length is in the 11 to12- inch vicinity. Not metric I'm afraid, as Americans still use the old system. One guides best personal trophy measured 15 and a quarter inches, and is one of the best trophies ever shot in this country. He missed another animal that was even bigger. He was using a new rifle, and after the first shot missed, he lost all faith in it, and later shots also missed as the tahr ran towards him. It escaped unscathed down a bluff. His second largest trophy is 14 inches. Another monster. Each inch means a lot on tahr, though many mount the trophy for the thick mane, as much as for the horns.

He has an affinity with tahr, loves watching and stalking them, and enjoys photographing their antics. He now gets a bigger kick out of guiding hunters to their trophy, rather than shooting one himself. His video footage is amazing, and one film sequence I watched captured the power of bull tahr. Two evenly matched males began pushing and head butting, and rapidly it turned violent. Vicious hooks, and gouges targeted belly and neck, and when one turned to flee he was pitched down the hill. The strength in the neck literally lifted the mature animal clear of the ground. Many trophies shot by clients display deep rips and bruises from fighting. This guide has the skull of one bull where the growth rings on the horns show it was 17 years old. The horns were a respectable 12 inches.  He was happy to give some tips about hunting this animal. They feed early morning and evening during the summer months, bedding down during the hot part of the day. You can work this trait to your advantage. Should you have missed out on a trophy early on, then find a good vantage -point to do some extensive glassing; as in the late afternoon tahr can suddenly appear from the shade and security of the bluffs moving down for food and water.  During the winter, when feed is in short supply, and snow covers the ground, they feed for most of the day. Watch for that big old bull spending the day in the bluffs above the main mob, and appearing on the scene just before dark. Spot your trophy first, then plan your stalk carefully, as there is always a nanny on the lookout, and tahr have an incredibly good sense of smell. The bull's pelt is best in winter, but hunting can be more hazardous then. Tahr love bluffs, so glass them thoroughly. Best tip.. buy a good pair of binoculars, and get fit.  

On a recent trip I was amazed at the inquisitiveness of the young bulls. On two occasions solo teenagers spotted us and rather than run came down for a close up look. They pretended to be mooching, but got closer and closer, finally fleeing when it was clear we weren't girl company. Watching bulls in the bluffs is like watching grizzly bears. Their shaggy black/brown coats looks like fur, their size is impressive, and their long front legs give them an unusual straight -legged walking gait. When they run, all awkwardness disappears and they glide across the terrain.

            Their frame is very sturdy so hunters need to use a powerful rifle of at least .270 calibre. Their overall shape has been compared to that of American bison. Powerful forequarters, and small hindquarters. They are one of the elite alpine animals of the world, and us mainlanders are incredibly lucky to have them right here on our doorstep.

Southern Profile  

In North America and Alaska, guides are called outfitters, and for hunters seeking trophies they provide an essential service. They have exclusive access to prime hunting blocks, have completed prior reconnaissance, organise food, accommodation and transport, and find the trophy for the client. They also stalk the client in for the kill. This situation is becoming more and more common in New Zealand, just like the trout fishing industry, where guides on the river or lake are everyday occurrences. The successful hunting guide has to offer a service that is just a bit more special than the rest.

          This particular guiding operation offers hunts for all the main big game species, but the two niche animals are the fallow deer and tahr. The fact this is a fair chase, free -range guiding operation is also becoming much more of an asset these days. The adage, ‘a trophy is in the taking' is number 1 priority with many. This is particularly important to Kiwi, Aussie and Danish hunters and many Americans as well. Their clients have taken some magnificent trophies; as good as anything encountered in the wild.  My guide's personal best tahr was over 15 inches and the best client fallow buck scored 242 Douglas score. One group of three North Island hunters, traveling as a group, all took bucks over the 220 Douglas score mark. 

It was this guides fallow deer hunting that had attracted me to his personal hunting paradise. The block he has exclusive rights to hunt, is fringe country on the edge of a long established fallow deer herd. In the last twelve years, colonisers from that herd had drifted on to the property he guides on, mixed with the odd escapee, and with careful culling were beginning to produce trophies rarely matched in this part of the country. The runholder, an avid fallow deer lover is managing the herd in a way the government should take lessons from.

           This property is now able to offer eight trophy hunts a year to clients. They are strictly limited, so it is essential to book early. Meat hunts are available at any time. The terrain on which this herd lives is open; matagouri covered hills and gullies, devoid of trees or bush, but offering perfect habitat for this deer species. The area can appear deer-less at midday, but at dawn or dusk, deer pop out everywhere. My hunt was an August affair, and my guide was the first to admit it wasn't the best time to be hunting a buck. Fallow bucks can be one of the hardest trophies to secure, unless you learn their habits, and hunt them when they are off their guard. To the novice, a guide is invaluable.

A brief pattern synopsis is as follows. From late August to February, the bucks disappear, becoming solitary, and elusive, licking their battle wounds, putting on lost condition, losing, and regrowing antler. The does stay on the home range.

          In February/March, the bucks mysteriously re-appear on the home block, grouping up together, and essentially sorting out the hierarchal pecking order prior to the rut. They are at their most spectacular now, fat, glossy, and vibrant. As the rutting urge grows, it is every bloke for himself, and friendships become battles. Each throws caution to the wind, and engages in strenuous croaking, and patrolling. This year it had peaked in the month of April. They join the does, and mob up for a couple of months. By June/July they have left the does and are in bachelor groups at either end of the block, and soon after disappear once more.

          My hunt started fine and warm, but after an hour or two of light, the breeze became a strong, gusty Norwest. Deer hate wind, and things got just that little bit harder. The first two gullies had no animals, and though sign was evident there was nothing out in the open. The next gully saw us surprise a doe and fawn, giving me the opportunity for a quick photo before they sprinted into a thick patch of matagouri. Long periods were spent glassing the faces, but it was becoming clear that the bucks would be holed up in sheltered spots. We decided to think like a buck, and went into one of the thickest, matagouri gullies of all. Tough on the legs, but not as windy as standing on the ridges.

          A few weeks earlier my guide had seen three bucks near here, and because they were near a hostile farmer's green feed decided to give them a fright to scare them in the opposite direction. Aiming his .223 above the largest animal's antlers he had fired a round, and sent them scurrying up the ridge. There was a remote chance other bucks may have replaced them. We stalked slowly along until we reached a level spot elevated above the streambed. Like he had done a thousand times already that day, my guide glassed the opposite face, but this time a wink indicated success. How he had spotted this buck I have no idea. Amongst the matagouri on the other side he had identified a few centimetres of stick as actually being antler. That was all that was visible. We watched for ten minutes, and finally the animal turned towards us exposing a trophy rack. One quick peek was all he had, then he lay down again. All on his own, he was snuggled in tight.

          We crept back the way we had come, crossed the creek and edged towards his position. The Norwest was strong in our faces, and this animal was already mentally in the back of the truck. Then it happened. A brief wind gust swirling his way, before resuming its steady westerly direction. I convinced myself he was too sleepy to have noticed, but when we crested the last ridge his bed was empty. No frenzied exit, just a quiet withdrawal when the man scent puffed his way. We never saw him again.

          We continued down the valley, but it was becoming clear that it might just be one of those days. Flopping down, high up on the last ridge, I was unprepared for my guide's whisper. "There's one-just stepped out of that matagouri thicket. Looks good."

Gazing where the finger pointed, I saw a mature buck staring back at us at about 220 metres. Though not as good as the first buck, he was a fine trophy.        He was not sure what we were, because of our prone position, but it was clear he would not tolerate us moving. There was only one option and that was to try a long shot. Luckily my scope is a variable, so screwing it up to 9 power; I rested the .243 across my pack, sighted on the top of his spine, waited for a lull in the wind, then fired. That broke the stalemate in spectacular fashion. He dropped with impact, and then disappeared into the thicket he had moments before stepped out of. His downward progress was clumsy, and could be followed by the waving bushes, until finally silence.

We had seen him collapse, so a handshake of success was next in order. He had nearly stumbled right to the bottom of the thicket so we dragged him down on to the valley floor. The bullet had dropped about a hand width, but still taken him cleanly in the lower chest.

He had good width, 15 points, and excellent palmation but two things grabbed your attention first. The first was that he was one eyed, an empty socket indicating the ferocity with which they fight. His head was scrapped and scarred, and there was a deep gouge on his side. The second was the bullet hole clean through the top tine of the right antler. Obviously, my guides deterrent shot of a few weeks earlier had gone closer than he thought. For me it gave the trophy character. It had been a tough hunt, but in the end a little bit of luck went our way. By the standards of the bucks shot earlier in the season, this was a representative animal, which may be why he was hiding out from the really big boys. His body had sustained fearful punishment.

This season is now as good as over, and for hunters wanting a Mr Big next year, then this is the time to book a hunt, while your unknowing trophy chews his grass in solitary splendour high in some matagouri basin.     

A Guide to Game Bird Hunting in New Zealand  

          New Zealand has a strong gamebird-hunting ethic. The first European settlers wanted an egalitarian society, and a big part of that was leaving the privileged system of hunting behind in England. The new pioneers wanted the aristocrat's sport, but didn't want the aristocrats to be the only people to enjoy it. They brought out the birds, and left the bluebloods behind. Unlike big game which lost its protection in the 1930s, game-birds are strictly protected by law, and twelve Fish and Game Councils control the season within each region of the country. Duck hunting is a big part of rural New Zealand and the opening weekend in May is observed by hundreds of hunters. Every waterway has a hopeful group of hunters staring skyward.

            The landscape is a mixture of wetland, pasture and upland cover so has provided a home for a wide range of desirable hunting species. The three licensed duck species are grey, mallard and shoveller. There is one shelduck, the highly desirable paradise duck; there is the king of gamebirds, the Canada goose, and there is the stately black swan. A native bird, the pukeko (similar to a coot) is also on the license. In the upland environment there is pheasant and Californian quail, while Chukar, brown quail, and red legged partridge are present in small populations. Birds not on the gamebird license, but hunted, are Merriam turkeys, feral white geese, peahen, and rock pigeons.

            For the overseas hunter, the birds with good populations are mallard ducks, paradise ducks, Canada geese, turkey, pheasant, and Californian quail, while the other species are essentially bonus birds. To shoot here, a visitor must have a hunting license, which is the same price for both the local and international hunter. A full season license costs about US$30 and cheaper weekly or daily licenses are also available. A license allows a hunter to shoot anywhere in New Zealand. Semi automatic shotguns are allowed with steel shot just starting to replace lead shot. Regulations differ slightly from province to province, but the waterfowl season is essentially May to the end of June, the upland season May to late August, and paradise duck and Canada geese have special seasons, such as the magical February/ March one that occurs in South Canterbury. A mixed bag may allow up to 25 birds a day.

The gamebird species in New Zealand belong to the nation, so farmers or guides cannot charge people to kill birds. This rule also applies to trout and salmon. This has created a grey area, as visitors have little chance of finding good hunting opportunities without skilled assistance. The compromise, has been twofold. Firstly, the creation of hunting preserves for clients, and secondly, guides hiring their expertise for the duration of a visit. In the first situation, the client pays for the experience provided, and in the latter situation he pays a daily guiding fee to be transported, and helped in the hunting of gamebirds.

            One example of the former is a large pheasant preserve. Thousands of flight reared pheasants, and hundreds of red legged partridges are released into the preserve, and booked hunters hunt them throughout the hunting season. This provides a huntable resource year after year. Wild populations of pheasant have never done particularly well in New Zealand on their own and could not otherwise sustain heavy harvesting. Another property which offers something similar is in the North Island. Released pheasant and Bobwhite Quail are hunted using English Pointers. 

Some big game estates also have gamebirds within the property which are available for clients to hunt.  Preserves only operate for upland birds, so waterfowl, and pasture clients need to hire the services of an independent guide. In most cases the guide is an outfitter, who helps the client achieve success. He has acquired access to bird populations, provides transport, food and accommodation, provides the hunting equipment, and decoys the birds in. The access issue is particularly important when hunters are seeking birds like the paradise duck, and Canada goose. Limit bags in the case of paradise ducks are 15 birds, per hunter, per day.

            The paradise duck is a great bird for overseas hunters as in February/March the young birds are in large flocks and concentrated in grain regions which makes them particularly susceptible to decoys. Recently while shooting paradise ducks clients could see mobs of tahr above them.    One farm owner/guide who offers a mixed hunt for clients has on his property a large population of wild turkeys. The region also has paradise duck, mallard, black swan, Canada geese and California quail.

            One observation I did notice this season was interesting. A large number of visiting bird hunters also took big game animals during their visit. This is in part due to the fact that the shooting and hunting season overlap, and in part that bird shooting guides are also hunting guides and can put clients on to some amazing trophies.

Gamebird hunting techniques are usually suited to the habits of the bird being targeted. Waterfowl usually involve hides (called maimais here) or jump shooting, while upland shooting usually involves flushing birds from cover. In preserves, there is the occasional driven shoot.