Tales from the Dense,
the High and the Wild
South Island Arrival
After 33 hours in the air, the wheels finally touch down on New Zealand’s South Island. Since crossing the coastline, we’ve flown over green hills that rise gently toward the mountains. To the left, Mount Cook glows white against a clear blue sky. Touchdown in Queenstown and our adventure begins. For my friend Franz and me, it’s a dream come true: bow and rifle, deer and wallaby, South to North – a full month of hunting and discovery.
Southbound – Rainforest and Arrows
Two hours ago, we left the car behind and hiked into the rainforest. The first days had been devoted to bowhunting red deer, perfectly timed with the beginning of the rut. The stags were roaring, the valleys echoing with challenge calls, and several times we were close – almost close enough. But only almost.
After five long days with no success, we decided to switch places. A local sheep farmer, who generously offered us his shearer’s hut and permission to cross his land, had told us about an untouched valley behind his property. Somewhere deep in that forest, he’d heard a “roar concert” just days before.
The Shadow in the Green
We began stalking together, but two hunters made too much noise. Franz stayed near the forest edge with the rifle, and I continued alone, the bow in my hand. Perhaps I’d push a deer toward him. The light faded as I slipped deeper between ferns and mossy trunks. A dark shadow moved ahead – solid, low, and heavy. Not a deer. A wild pig. It followed a narrow game trail that would bring it fifteen yards in front of me. As it passed behind a fern, I drew smoothly and settled the sight on the shoulder. The release broke cleanly; the arrow flashed, and a bright trace lit the air before it struck with the unmistakable crack of bone.
The pig ran forward, then stopped, turning to face me directly. For a moment we stared at each other – man and boar in the gathering dark. Then it snorted and vanished into the forest.
Following the Track
Heart racing, I managed to get a weak phone signal and reached Franz. It took time before we found each other. The signal vanished under the heavy canopy, and only the flickering beams of our headlamps reunited us.
The arrow lay on the ground, covered in blood. Using my Leica Calonox View thermal camera, we followed the faint trail through the dense bush until a glowing shape appeared ahead. The boar lay dead: massive, rough-coated, with bristles like armor and canines curling outward. The farmer helped us haul it out with his ATV. “A real Captain Cooker,” he said – descendants of the pigs Captain Cook brought on his ship "Endeavour" in 1769. Almost 100 kilos of living history.
