A CONTRAST

Southland Times, Issue 21072, 2 May 1930, Page 9

A CONTRAST

AFTER MOOSE AND DEER

CANADA AND SOUTH WESTLAND.

MR. P. H. VICKERY’S EXPERIENCES.

Prom moose hunting in New Brunswick, Canada, to deer stalking in South Westland, New Zealand, seems a far cry, but those who obtain their sport at the end of a rifle travel far, and there are no doubt a good many sportsmen who have spent strenuous days in both these places. Included in the number is Mr. P. H. Vickery, of Invercargill, and yesterday he consented to give a Times reporter interesting accounts of his experiences both in Canada and in Westland, mainly with the object of showing the contrast between the sport in these two parts of the Empire. In South Westland. Mr. Vickery has only recently returned from a trip to South Westland, which is regarded by many as the finest deer country in the world. The deer there are true descendants of the Highland animals and some great heads are obtained.

It was 02 Sunday, March 23, that Mr, Vickery left Invercargill for Wanaka Hotel, Pembroke. On Monday morning he boarded tie launch for the 30-mile run up the lake and had an exhilarating trip as there was a strong wind blowing and a high sea running. From the head of the lake a trusty Royal Mail car took him to Makarora House ■beyond which there is no motor road. Mr. Vickery’s block was number three in South Westland, a block that had the reputation of being easy to work with the probability of big stags crossing the river plats to the sunny slopes of the hind country along the Bealey Range. To his good fortune in drawing this block was added his good fortune in securing Mr. Con Hodgkinson as guide. On the first morning at Makarora there was mist and snow on the mountain tops, but next morning was bright and sunny, so the party decided to set out. The horses were slow at the start, but warmed to their work, lor 30 miles through bush and over mountains the track led towards and over the Haast Pass. The scenery was indescribably beautiful and there was always “one more river to cross.” On arriving at the Burke Hut Mr. Vickery invested in a thoroughbred, a spirited ex-racehorse with good barrel but with legs somewhat unsound. It cost him only £4 and proved good buying though in crossing rivers his head had to be kept well up for fear he stumbled and shot his rider into the cold water. It was just dusk when they arrived at Castle Forbes and the stags were roaring lustily. Fully refreshed after a night in an open tent in the invigoiating mountain air the stalkers awoke to a typical bright West Coast morning, with snow-capped Alps in the distance calling to mind northern Italy, though that country lacks the evergreen bush.

The stalkers wandered about the Landsborough Valley looking over several stags, but the wind turned about at several points and spoilt the stalking of stags near the edge of the bush. On returning to camp about dusk they saw a likely-looking stag coming across the river from the Meh arlane Range. Con. Hodgkinson stood up and acted as decoy; the curiosity of the stag was aroused, and be came trotting towards them. He met his doom' and proved to be a 13 pointer, 414 inches long, 341 inches in width, with a 54 inch beam and 13 inch brows. Stags roared round the camp all night. One big roarer gave them visions of a huge head, so away they went before daylight to locate him. But the big roarers take no chances and move with their hinds into the dense bush, so the stalkers failed to sight the stag they had heard during the night. Many travelling stags were seen by Mr. Vickery as he wandered over river courses on his racehorse but Hereford cattle and Paradise-ducks often betrayed his presence. A trip down the Haast river rewarded him with another 13 pointer, 43 inches long, 33? inches spread, 5 inch beam, with even tynes of good length. But this was scarcely up to the expectations of the party, who knew how heavy Westland antlers could be.

For several days it rained as it can rain on the coast but the birds announced more fine weather. Bell-birds, tuis, pigeons, wrens, tom-tits and fantails were numerous. Higher up in the mountains the quaint little rock wrens were most amusing as they made their big hops over the rocks. Sparrow hawks and a hawk that looked a real falcon were also fairly numerous. On April 15 the stags in the valley were not roaring so much, so the stalkers made up their lightest outfits for a trip over the Bealey Range. The first night’s camp was well above the bush. When the moon came over the tops of the trees the scenery was glorious, but some invisible stags kept the "talkies” going until morning. The party looked over many stags as they hunted through the basins but although some .of the heads were fair they were not big enough. At 6000 feet up in perfect sunshine it proved very hot. Away in the north-east they could see Mount Cook and the glaciers while to the southwest Mount Aspiring stood out above billowy clouds. Fine photographs were Obtained of these two peaks. As they worked their way down next morning after a night on the top the stalkers came across stags which looked as if they had immense heads, but it was only the effect of the dence mist that was enveloping them. Next day the pack horses arrived and two days' going through the rugged country brought the stalkers back to Makarora.

In New Brunswick. “When I was wandering a few years ago through the United States,” said Mr Vickery in commencing his story of moose hunting experiences, “one of my fellow passengers interested me by saying he was 81 years of age and on his way to New Brunswick, Canada, for his annual hunting of moose, deer, and bear. My photos of deer stalking in New Zealand cemented our friendship, and as he saw I was keen to hunt moose and bear in their native country, he gave me the name of Harry Allen, hunter and guide of Penniac, New Brunswick. My letter to Harry Allen received a prompt reply, asking me to come at once. Taking the first train from Chicago to Fredericton, the capital city of New Brunswick, two nights and two days on the Canadian Pacific Railway landed me there in comfort. Harry was there to meet me, and first of all obtained my license to shoot. I was a non-resident so paid 50 dollars for the right to shoot one bull moose, two deer and as many bears as I could. Then came my outfit—the autumn there is bo cold and wet that I had to purchase high legged shoepacks with rubber soles; heavy tweed riding pants; thick woollen vest, mackinaw coat, and then go to the Drug Store for medical comforts. Yes, five dollars for a small bottle of Scotch. The Canadian Government control the sale of spirits and thereby help the State revenue. We motored that afternoon to Penniac, this being the last settlement before entering the. forest which covers eighteen million acres.

“Early next morning, having tested my rifle, a 40 x 72 Winchester repeater, my shooting proved good enough to hit a moose. The waggon being ready, we entered the woods. Waggon, horses, toter (as the driver is called here), were all native born and looked it—horses, pole, wheels, chains, and man on top of that rough box—springs, never—no luxuries. Later, I tried riding on it. Well, it tested my outfit, also my spring, for that seat seldom was in the same place. My guides, Wesley and Eali, native born of this sporting province, promised to be real good companions by campfire or trail. The tote road was just a track with big trees grow ing on it, but our toter took each swamp, tree stump or creek, without a troubled thought. The native bush was fairly open, for the maples, alders and willows had shed their leaves, also the various birch and tamarack trees, while, the large hemlock, cedars, spruce and balsam firs stood out lovely and green, It was evident that the lumbermen had ; been through these woods about sixty years ago, for the old giant tree stumps were here. “On reaching Clear Brook Camp, we rewarded our toter for his success in arriving with only the wagon, pole broken. Our packs and provisions were found to be jntact. The camps are' built of logs, with

moss pushed in between the spaces where they do not happen to fit. The cook’s camp had a cooking stove, while mine had a round stove to burn wood. Towards morning, your first thought was that stove. “Our first day’s hunting was to Bear Brook. My guide “called,” but bull moose was not responding to our imitation of madam cow. The calling is done through a birch bark horn, starting with a very fine cat call, rising and finishing like the ending of a stag roaring. It is given usually in three parts —first short, second long, third short—the bark horn is swung in a curve as the call is being given. A still frosty early morning or late evening is the ideal time for calling—the bull answers with a low grunt which seems to carry along the ground and, providing he does not scent you, he may appear. Plenty of Moose Tracks.

“The mating season for moose in Canada starts early in September while the hunting is not permitted before October 1; this gives the bulls an advantage against the professional hunter. It was then the fourteenth of October and we received just an occasional grunt but so far no appearance of Mr Moose. Our only chance now was to still hunt him. The fallen leaves, being dry, crackled under our feet despite our rubber soled shoepacks. We saw lots of tracks of moose, deer and bear and shot a tine fat deer which supplied fresh meat for the camp. The deer were similar to the Virginian and were known as ‘white tail.’ The stag has a neat head but nothing in comparison to our deer in New Zealand. When startled they bolt with their white tails flying high so you can see when you register a hit —the flag falls. We baited a bear trap with that portion of the deer not wanted at the camp. “At daylight next morning we visited the bear trap—possibly the bait was too fresh yet, for there was no bear. Taking the tote road for about two miles we saw a black object about one hundred yards away; a bull moose, but the wrong end showing—his head being behind a bunch of maple trees. As I was allowed to shoot but one bull moose he must, of course, have antlers and be of some size but before I could see this one’s freed he dashed off show, ing a fine spread of horn. My shot through the trees must have missed him. Then followed for several days sunshine, wind, rain in turn and then snow. Trudging along I thought of how that big moose was mine had I but shot him from the rear. The snow gave fresh interest to hunting—showing the tracks of fox, bobcat, porcupine,. bear, deer and moose. The wonder was we saw so few yet there were so many here. “At early morning over the frozen snow my guide Wes. called like the dear old cow moose and we "ot but a very faint and distant grunt of a faint-hearted bull. Trudging along over open country we found fresh tracks of two moose—one larger than the other—but parallel and about ten yards apart. My conclusion was that they were two bulls getting friendly again. It was ea— trailing them in the snow. Now they must have had a fight for the snow was scattered and tufts of hair were about. We followed the trail for two hours and then missed it. Tired, we boiled the billy. It was better for still hunting now that the snow was soft. We soon picked up the trail where it entered the hard wood ridge—the tracks were plain and fresh. Suddenly, we saw a big bull wheel and dash away. A quick shot was the only chance. The other bull appeared, and disappeared as quickly. “Following the trail we saw the red spots on the snow. Then we saw him stagger and fall. The bullet had got him in the shoulder. He measured 52? inches across the antlers, and weighed about 13001bs. Calling bull moose during the calling season is one story, but still hunting him is quite another—the snow helped us.”