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Readers are reminded that articles printed in this publication are the personal opinion of the writer and may differ from the official views of the Sambar Deer Management Foundation Inc.

The Chairman's Thoughts

This has been an interesting year with considerable and somewhat heated debate re the attempted cull operation in part of the Santoft Forest. The Foundation committee felt that we were in a no win situation, which proved to be the case for some individuals, but there were, we hope a majority, that understood the situation in which we found ourselves. That is to balance the rights of the forest owners to grow their crop with a minimum of damage while still preserving the herd and access to an area which represents a major percentage of the ballot land that we have available to hunters.

The excellent efforts of certain individuals who's efforts preceding the cull operation, including foliage sampling for mineral deficiencies, the purchasing and placement of feed and mineral blocks, was largely forgotten on the ballot night where rumors flew thick and fast. Suffice it to say, that Sambar are more than capable of looking after themselves when the cast iron mosquito comes into view.

The efforts of balloted hunters and their companion hunters were far more effective and we hope in part due to our "take the first animal you see" policy being drummed into them for the time they got their notification that they had won a ballot.

Last year the Foundation took on the services on Mathew Lark in his capacity as a consultant with specialist knowledge in the areas of scientific research and funding. This year he has further helped the Foundation in negotiations of the new contract with DOC. The new contract will allow the development of management tools, which we previously have been without. On behalf of the Foundation and I would like to thank him for his efforts on our behalf in the Wellington jungles.

As I write this the 2002 season looms and we are looking to ways to raise the profile of Sambar deer and the Foundation. As such we have produced Member and Foundation Supporter embroidered monograms. We are hoping to see these attached to favorite Swani's in the bush and on the streets. We have also produced a T-Shirt with the Foundation Logo front and back. Details of these are included in the center of this news letter. After all the Sambar is New Zealand's only protected deer species, so lets get the message out there.

Lastly I would first like to take the opportunity to thank all those individuals of the executive and committee and those who have given their time and efforts freely to the Foundation over the previous year. I also wish to thank the new faces on the committee and those people who could not attend meetings but have volunteered their time for fieldwork.

Neil Hammer
SDMF Chairman

FROM A MONITORS DAIRY

During the Sambar season Friday night is normally the quietest night of the week. I only spend about 3 hours on the phone, not the usual 5. Occasionally a hunter has traveled to his block on Friday and had a look around. He rings to get any last minute tips or has a question or two about what he has found. When the phone stops ringing you feel a sense of relief and hope the weekend will go smoothly. Saturday has a very rough plan and you know it will never pan out.

One morning Ian and I were cruising a back road, stopping occasionally to check a few private blocks with the binoculars, checking the vehicles parked up and if there was any activity we may be interested in. Arriving at the first ballot block we spotted a car parked by the cocky's gate - not in the car park. I jumped out to see if there was a hunter's tag on the dash board, which there was. I jumped back into the car which was still running. Ian was busy checking the registration number and hunter details when I hear "What the #(~?%". I look and he's looking over his shoulder. There behind us is a young stag trotting across the road and over the fence. I grabbed the camera, shot up the bank just in time to glimpse it disappearing into the gorse. Back at the car I asked Ian what was that all about and he replied that he just happened to look in the rear vision mirror and there looking at him was the Sambar. We guessed the hunter had spooked it and it was checking us out as it passed.

Looking at the tracks it left on the side of the road, it had walked up to within 6 feet of a car that had it's motor running, 2 doors open and 2 guys talking inside. It was also only 6 feet away from the hunter's car, isn't that cunning?! You wouldn't expect the deer you're hunting to come and check out your car while you are away.

Later that day we stopped at the same car again on the way back. There were 2 guys in it having a snooze. I poked my head out and asked if they had seen any deer and they said no. I looked at the ground and said "Look, you've had one looking in your window ". They both got out and were blown away to see fresh tracks so close to their car.

Damn Sambar. How's that for a new trick. What next!

The Sambar Hunter

Again the alarm clock rings at 4.20 a.m.. The sound of the dripping tea rings throughout the house. Slowly you ease out of your bedroom and look out the window to see nothing but darkness, eagerly awaiting the moment when an animals fate and a hunters destiny meet face to face.

The bitter cold bites at your hands as you take your rifle out of the rack. The clicking of the ammunition sounds like a symphony as you enter the rounds into the holder. Thoughts of wonder shoot through your mind while slipping into your camouflage. Could this be the day? You enter the pines with unrelenting excitement as the anticipation builds. Just how big will he be? You wait, Quietly.

The sun slowly begins to peek over the trees as the dew begins to glisten across the grass in the cutover. Softly, you hear some movement in the tree line. Is this it? The crackling and popping of leaves and twigs sounds off with the intensity of a freight train as visions of greatness appear in your mind. Slowly, he emerges from the forest with the signature of a king. It's enormous. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as if about to burst.

Slowly and quietly you move into position. You rest your rifle on the branch of a tree. The stag enters your crosshairs, and the uncontrollable breathing pours over you like an avalanche. The excitement is overwhelming as you prepare to shoot. Patiently, quietly, you wait. It is in this moment where everything else around you fades - your work, your bills, the phone calls - all gone. It is in this moment that your true identity comes forth. It is in this moment that you discover what is in the deep corners of your heart. It is in this moment that you begin to wonder if it can be done. the bitter cold is no match for the sweat that steadily rolls off your face and through your hands.

Your rifle bounces around as if having its own personal earthquake. Breathing heavier and heavier you await the perfect shot. You take one last breath as if emulating the pattern of the life that you now hold in your hands. Your last breath could be his last breath. You bear down and squeeze the trigger. As you look over the top of your gun, the booming thunder from your shot rings throughout as every ear in a 10 kilometre radius perks up with hound-dog intensity. Time stands still as you look at your target with eagle-eye precision.

A smile begins to form from ear to ear as you look to see that you have made the perfect kill. It is in this moment that the air rushes from your lungs with joyous celebration. It is in this moment that you know in your heart that you have what it takes to be a hunter. It is in these moments that friendships are fortified, relationships tightened and children are taught about the endless wonders of nature, along with the valuable lessons of patience and humility.

These times are not about the kill; they are about letting go of all that surrounds you. They are about bringing your life back to the basics and finding out what truly matters. Oh, yes. hunting is more than just the thrill of the kill.     Hunting is a way of life.

To a Sambar Stag

Kipling wrote of a Sambar belling
"Once, twice and again,"
And Kipling knew, without the telling
The lure of a stag's domain.

He knew the lonely nullahs lying
Deep in the forest's shade:
The maidans wide; the barbet's crying,
And the calls the langur made.

The jungle's silence, all pervading,
In the blazing heat of noon;
The dusky nightjar's serenading
Beneath a silver moon.
He read the tracks around the wallows,
Around the salt-licks and the pools-
Where the flashing, circling swallows,
And the green eyed mugger rules.

He knew the game-paths, rising steeply,
That Sambar love to tread,
To hillside thickets, shaded deeply-
A sambar's daytime bed.

Ah ! Sambar stag, my thoughts are dwelling
Upon your wild domain,
And I long once more to hear you belling
Once, twice and again !

B. G. G. 1950