This is Andrew, whose home we're staying in, on and off, while here in Christchurch. Like a lot of Kiwi blokes he's a keen hunter, so I was really chuffed when he suggested we get together for a day on the hill up at Arthur's Pass. With his 'Vietnam' moustache (a temporary feature) I thought he really looked the part! The day up on Goat Hill turned out to be one of the best - for me a classic initiation into NZ chamois hunting. We left the road at 5.30am, and after a couple of hours of thrashing upwards to the bushline we emerged onto the rocky lower slopes of Goat Hill. Would it prove to be an appropriately named hill? I tagged along behind Andrew as we traversed around the long southern ridge stopping every so often to scan the ground ahead for unsuspecting chammy or deer. Nothing. Higher up Andrew sniffed the air and declared that the wind was now blowing in the wrong direction - the whiff of my unwashed body would now be reaching the nostrils of any beasts further up the hill. So we plodded up the ridgeline, disconsolate now, and consoling ourselves that we might bag the summit of the hill instead (1656m).
Scanning the hillsides for chammy.
Suddenly we spotted something on the ridge, maybe 800m ahead. Binos out - yes, a chammy, seemingly unconcerned by our presence. Now the stalk began... Andrew's mood changed: his eyes grew wide with youthful enthusiasm, nostrils flared, and he started pointing out chammy prints in the snow. A creature at one with his environment, he stealthily crept around the side of the ridge, pausing only to reprimand me for not crouching low enough or making sudden movements. We reached the point in the ridge where the chammy had been grazing, but there was no sign of its presence. More dejection - we continued up and along the narrow, rocky, scrambly ridge, Andrew out of sight in front. Suddenly "boom" - the sound of the rifle was surprisingly loud, making me jump out of my skin! Another report, then I staggered over the rise to see what had happened...
Andrew Hay - marksman...
This was what I saw. A grinning Andrew, happy because he'd just hit a moving target at 150 metres. It was a remarkable piece of marksmanship. The chammy had been running away across the scree and had just crossed the snow slope (lower left in photo) when Andrew took his shot. Very impressive shooting. I had a look through the telescopic sights and the target still looked very small!
Conducting the post-mortem.
The beast was a young female, very good tender eating apparently. Andrew quickly started on the butchering, taking the prized back steaks first then deboning the legs. We didn't take any kidneys or liver because of the way the chammy had been shot. There was a fair weight of meat filling Andrew's rucksack on the way back down the hill. As Andrew said, "I've three hungry boys to feed back home." For me, I'd never been so close to seeing an animal killed for meat before, apart from helping slaughter the occasional chicken in China. When I heard the shots and saw the lifeless body of an animal we'd watched happy in its mountain life only minutes before I must admit to feeling a little unsure of what had just happened. But I've been a meat-eater all my life, so I guess any doubts would have to be regarded as completely hypocritical! I've tasted Andrew's game stew previously and it's really very delicious.
Chamois (and deer) were, of course, introduced to NZ and are regarded as a pest whose numbers should be reduced to prevent ecological damage. Unlike Scotland, anyone can head off into the hills and forests to shoot - it's a popular activity.
Andrew, a confirmed meat eater, gets back to his primitive roots.
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