Hunting: Pride of the South

Proud young hunters line up to enter their catch. Photo / Geoff Thomas

They start young in Canterbury. And we are not talking about chasing a rugby ball, although they start that pretty early too. We are talking about getting out into the hills and into the bush with a rifle, or a pack of pig dogs and a knife.

Some of the young hunters struggled to hold their possums and hares as they lined up to weigh in their catch at the annual Mid-Canterbury hunt in Ashburton, but the smiles on their faces said it all.

"Grandpa held the light and I shot a possum and two hares," said one proud 9-year-old.

The quarry was carefully weighed then hung up for display, joining dozens of rabbits, hares, possums, ducks and geese.

Over in the adult's section the bag was even more impressive. Each animal was weighed, and the antlers on huge red stags and buck fallow deer were measured and scored. Tahr, chamois, wallabies and wild boar were all weighed and the horns assessed.

Hunters stood around grasping cans of the local brew, swapping stories and comparing bags. Locations are jealously guarded and the competition is fierce. Like many similar events, the big prizemoney goes to the average-weight boar, which discourages cheating. People have been known to feed a big boar in advance to gain the top weight; and even in Ashburton the heaviest pig pulled the scales down to 70kg. But the average-weight prize of $1000 went to a 49kg boar, down a little on previous years where it hovered at 53kg.

The rain had made hunting hard over the three days of the contest and entries were down. But there were hundreds of hunters and even more onlookers.

Vehicles lined the streets, some with trailers loaded with animals, others with critters tied to the roof.

One Toyota Landcruiser VX had a black boar in the back. "It's my farm wagon," said the high-country station owner, Harold Inch. "I can throw hay bales in the back, the dog sits on the back seat and the deer goes on the bonnet. An elk bashed in the side once," he said, rubbing a panel. "So I got a crowbar and straightened 'er up."

He has another of the same model which he uses "for going to town".

In the halcyon days of high-country farming Harold would buy a new Landcruiser every year. "I would drive it straight down to the Rakaia River where we go salmon fishing and crash through the scrub and thorn bushes, scratching the hell out of the paintwork on both sides and when she had good pinstripes she was ready to go.

"I didn't have to worry about where I took her after that. Can't afford a new one every year, now."

While judges evaluated the entries, the races attracted a large crowd. The 7- to 9-year-olds and the next year up raced round an obstacle course with hares on their backs. The 10 to 12 age group carried small pigs as their passengers, and a few fell at the first hurdle, a bale of hay.

The blokes and women hunters had to put a 39kg pig on their back, and when they staggered over the finish line the times varied from over a minute to 41 seconds.

Then Hamish Taylor hefted the pig on to his back. This strong young man, he worked as shepherd and knew the tricks, had removed his boots and was running in socks. He burst down the track and disappeared around the corner where the course included stepping across tyres and leaping hay bales.

In no time he was racing back to hurdle the last bale and then he dived, sliding in the mud and the pig crossed the line.

"Twenty-nine seconds," called the timekeeper. Nobody was going to get close to that.

There is another hunt at Coalgate, an hour out of Christchurch, next week; and another one out of Dunedin. Then there are the ones at Tokoroa, Rotorua and throughout the North Island. Some target a pig, a stag and a trout; or a pig, a duck and a hapuku.

But they all celebrate the outdoor traditions which are strongly welded into our heritage. These are the sort of events that a lot of city kids would love to be involved in, and it wouldn't do them any harm either.