Review: The New Zealand Wilderness Hunter

Over the course of this blog I've been in email correspondence with a few readers and ever so often these connections result in something new and unexpected.

A good few years ago I conversed with a chap on the far side of the world, one thing led to another and we kind of lost touch. A couple of weeks ago I was reminded of our mutual interest in WDM Bell and sent him an email update. He wrote back and in passing mentioned that he'd made it into print. I was intrigued enough to order a copy of one of his books. It was with a little trepidation that I turned the first page; anyone can write a witty insightful email, turning out a whole book of it asks a little more of the author, as I've found in my many stop-start attempts.

Phew. He smashed it.

Dear readers; Hunter philosophers, shooters, wild-foodists, and fans of adventure writing. I bring you James Passmore's  The New Zealand Wilderness Hunter.

While we undoubtedly live in a golden age of ammunition we just as certainly don't live in the golden age of writing about hunting. In print, Stephen Rinella, Steve Bodio, and John Gierach aside, most of it is so 'me too', the same tired tropes about 'tradition', 'passion' and the sickly sentimentalism of 'family'. The ex banker who found happiness in the wisdom of his fishing ghillie, the ballsy chick who hunts private estates, the smug hipster visiting his hillbilly relatives, yet another pastiche of Capstick or Hemmingway. Yawn.
Online things are even worse; lacking the discipline of a editors stern scalpel, a hideous 'style' has developed. As moron apes lackwit, and every passing mouth-breather positions himself as an 'expert'. All re-telling the work of the one before, each bad facsimile a little less distinct.
On the far side of the world the Kiwi literary hunting tradition has no greater proponent than Barry Crump, yarn spinner extraordinaire, often described to me as 'the Kiwi's Kiwi, how we'd like to see ourselves'. Crump churned 'em out too, selling a million books into a home market of four million people. Even if his books didn't quite come free with every box of ammo, I'm told Crump's tales of life as a deer culler can be found in almost every home with a rifle, and set the expectation of kiwi hunters for generations to come.

James Passmore's book walks a very different path over the same ground and is all the better for it. There are lots of books that attempt to capture the reverence that exposure to the fecund majesty of the woods brings, I couldn't put this one down. The tales are told in a modest insightful way, JP has obviously spent a hooj amount of time afield, has nothing to prove, but presents a series of observations, often prompted by small errors that lead to larger consequences. I got the impression of someone who'd done a lot, and incorporated each and every insight into an evolved best practice. Cautious and thoughtful as he intwines the emotional and philosophical landscapes with the misty hills and hollows of the unforgiving wilderness of the south island. JP brings us something different in  hunting writing;  some deer are just for the pot, sometimes its a trophy he's after, always it's to immerse himself in the wilderness. The stories are told with equal verve, some of his biggest tales end with the smallest deer. He conjures an unspoken reverence for wild places.

The book wouldn't be from NZ if it didn't also capture some of the eccentricity of his fellow countrymen.

'The old men rose up out of the glacier-fed river, pale and wrinkled, carrying trim Day-Glo coloured packs, and picked their way through the clearing over the tussock grass and bracken. They were both stark naked except for their boots. Dangling from their packs were coils of expensive climbing ropes.
They walked shamelessly up to the hut. I was sitting outside holding a tin cup of tea and watching the late afternoon light over the mountain range; sombre and purple. It was the middle of a pre-roar trip in March, and it was still warm. They both greeted me matter of factly. "Is this a public hut or a private one?" one of them asked.
I regarded the elderly naked climbers for a moment, and then replied honestly.
"It's a public hut" I said " But we do have a dress code".'

More soon
Your pal
SBW

PS Amazon list his other book but not this one, I ordered mine from the publisher and it arrived within a week. halcyonpublishing.co.nz

PPS I cannot recommend Barry Crump's 'A Good Keen Man'  1960 highly enough, a great tale well told.

Unboxing Review: The Bush Buck Big Four

Well well well all those nice things I've been saying about New Zealand must has brought me some good Kiwi-Karma. Very good Kiwi-Karma. Toby from Bush Buck got in touch about his Big Four jacket. and was kind enough to send one for testing.

The saga of the search for that holy grail of jackets; Lightweight and Cheap and Durable and Quiet and Waterproof has long preoccupied me, and has never been truly achieved. I've fallen in and out of love with Ventile, its wonderfull stuff but its not as waterproof as its champions would have you believe, I've owned and loved some really nice wool hunting jackets from the US and NZ, but the lack of water resistance, its  ability to absorb 1.5 times its dry weight in water, and a series of unprovoked Moth attacks left me ready to explore synthetics.

As longterm readers may remember I did try to commission some alterations to a coat I really like, just a few tweeks to my own recipe - a service offered on the companies website, but was thwarted by the brand's angry proprietor. Twice. LINK 

The last coat I spent my heard-earned on that I've been really pleased with is the Hill Smock by NomadUK. Its a kind of thick fleece Kameez with taped seams - literally outdoor pyjamas. I would wholeheartedly recommend them.  Quiet, Lightweight, Durable (so far) and Waterproof. Cheap never came into it.

Meanwhile down under; New Zealand's hunters have developed their own hunting traditions and clothing to match the climatic conditions. no wooden capes and lederhosen for them, I guess their river fording's are a little deeper than Scotland as they've shortened Breeks (aka Plus Four's - as in four inches bellow the knee) to, well , shorts really and its the home of the hunters smock. I really like the smock concept, they keep the elements at bay in a way waist length jackets can't match. Toby sent me some pictures of his design and he's got most of the things I want a smock/coat to have.

Toby calls his jacket The Big Four. I'd assumed the big four were NZ's famously changeable seasons, but they turn out to to be Fishing, Bird Shooting, Deer Stalking and Pig hunting. My interest was piqued. A coat that will cover all bases, from super active to sedentary is quite a big ask, so I was keen to give it a go.

Fishing; in my experience usually takes place sitting on damp pebbles being lashed by wind and sprayed by surf. The minimum you can expect to get away with is damp buttocks. The longer cut of the Big4 would come into its own.
Bird Shooting; It's a well worn fact that I'm a complete lummox with a shotgun, from a design perspective as swing is the name of the game, any jacket for bird shooting must give a lot of freedom across the shoulders - bodes well for archery and beachcasting.
For Deer Stalking quiet and windproof will be appreciated- first you're sneaking, then you're sitting, sometimes for a long time.
Pigsticking; looks like beating only more so, you've got to follow the dogs wherever they take you, penetrating the briars and brambles. Any jacket that will survive that kind of punishment is tough.

First Impressions:

Long enough to sit on.
The hood is more than a nod to fashion, its cut to give cover without compromising peripheral vision, has a wire in the rim which despite being a fairly old idea is still missing from some hoods.

Its made in the same way as a US airforce issue jacket I've got somewhere, the layers of material are bonded together and then the seams are welded. I think its fair to say it will not leak.

Neoprene cuffs under storm cuffs, these really work for me. Toby has designed the cuff with a slight dart, which stops the inner edge of the cuff from snagging. Me Likee.

Pit-Zips - these are the first thing I'd add to my wish list, when you're active but its pissing down you'll not want to undo the front zip but you do need to regulate your temperature, pit zips are the way to go.

At first sight I thought the chest/binocular pockets looked a little small, but they're actually big enough for my Eden 8x42's (still blown away by these binos 3 years later, best affordable glass by miles)

I'm not a believer in drain holes on packs and rucksacks, but on a jacket that will be worn fording streams they come into their own.

So far I'm very happy with the BigFour, and in a surprising turn up of events both the Ex Mrs SBW and the Evil Elfa have commented favourably on how much smarter I look than usual, which has I suppose been an unintended consequence, but in a good way for a change! I'm not due to get out of town for the next few weekends so so a full foul-weather test will have to wait.

Toby's new website has gone live bushbuckoutdoors.com

More soon
Your pal
SBW

New Zealand - World's Best Hunting Destination?

Representing for NZ Clay TallStories - YouTuber, Balladeer, and Pig Hunter.

Life on the south island of New Zealand has been in my thoughts lately, it sounds amazing.  

regular readers will know that BoB [brother of bushwacker] lives there. He and I are close enough that we speak once or twice every eighteen months wether we need to or not. Being on the other side of the world it's winter there now so in the long dark evenings BoB is available to take calls, and we're all caught up for the year or so. His life sounds good to me.

At the same time Clay TallStories has started to post on Reddit's Hunting Sub and I've been watching a few of his videos. These chaps hunt pigs like men. Really. To hear many european and american pig hunters talk you'd think these beasts were prehistoric in their ferocity and anything less than .375 H&H was suicide. Kiwi's hunt them with a knife and some dogs. They wear shorts too, 'Shorty Shorts' they call 'em. But more of that later.

Here Clay responds to a critical message he received on Youtube, the dude's a total gent. and a credit to us all.

Gentleman pig hunters and far flung brothers aside. Here are a few of the reason's I want to go to NZ

Staggering Fishing: on the fly and from a kite.
BoB has few failings, most of them of the Hunting and Fishing kind, despite living within walking distance of some worldclass trout fishing he doesn't even own a rod. For shame. To illustrate the point he and some pals were climbing a rock face that overlooks a trout river, at the end of the session he's climbed down and was brewing up and packing his kit when a fly guy rocks up with a fish as long as Bob's arm saying 'you blokes must be hungry after all that'. I would have eaten it as sashimi, BoB cooked it over the brew-fire. He's a nice lad but he's not perfect.
Another form of fishing that I've long been fascinated by is Kite Fishing. this is an ancient art, one the cunning Kiwi's have perfected with a few modern innovations. Using the motor from an electric wheelchair as your winch, and Spectra for your line, its possible to fish out to two kilometres  offshore [about 1.2 miles in the old money]. When i found out that there was a type of fishing I didn't have copious amounts of gear for i immediately set out to rectify the situation, Just as I was about to click the buy now button it occurred to me I'd better check the weather patterns - on-shore winds all year round in the south of England. Bah! Thwarted!

Simple Firearms Laws.
They licence the individual not the tool. Logical huh? Gun can't fire itself. As a traveling sport you can download the licence application, print it off, rock up at the airport with your licence from home, your rifle, the form and $15 [last time I looked] and they issue on the spot.
A while back BoB was doing some demolition work and needed some explosives, he popped down to his local police station to sort out the paperwork. Told the cop on the front desk what he wanted to do and what he needed for the job.
Cop: "No worries mate we'll just tack an explosives ticket onto yer rifle ticket"
BoB: "I don't have one"
Cop: "Why not?"

Bow Hunting:
Growing more popular by the week, you'll see why when you look at the NewZealand Bowhunting Society's record book HERE  all taken on public land - regs are strait forward  and as usual farm permissions more forthcoming than with firearms.

All hunt-able species are invasive. Yep even those Himalayan Thar are a pest you can shoot for free on public land!

BoB has been shooting a little with some pals from work so he needs a rifle, - a left-handed rifle - should he start with a pre-loved Blaser R93 or should he get an AR15 with extra upper's in .308 and .22LR? While we're at it what's the  Best Scope for AR15 rifles?

I've been in touch with a very interesting fella regarding testing his range of outdoor clobber, which may really be that holy grail of outdoor clothes - light, durable, AND affordable. More news on that when the postie knocks on the door. In the meantime I have to start saving for that plane ticket.

More soon
SBW

New Zealand Earthquake and Mrs BoB

I don't know if you've seen this mornings news but an earthquake has hit New Zealand's south island.
Power is out, sanitation is out, the domestic gas supply is unsafe, water is out, and at least 65 people are reported dead, hundreds are trapped and the city is in turmoil. BoB (Brother of bushwacker) lives pretty close to the epicentre in the south islands capital Christchurch.  BoB, Mrs BoB and the small BoB's are safe.

I just wanted to tell you how proud of Mrs BoB I am, she was right in the middle of the city and being properly trained in First Aid was one of the first people on the scene and rescued several people from one of the crushed buses.

On a lighter note MoB (our mum) called to tell me that BoB was already in the garden setting up a trap to collect rainwater and I quote

"He's like Ray feckin' Mears that brother"

Thanks for reading
SBW
PS If you'd like to leave a message for them in the comments - I'm sure they'd be delighted to hear from you - just sayin' 'sall.

Come In Mrs BoB - Your Audience Awaits

Exiting news from the south island. Mrs BoB will be writing a guest post in which she'll interview her brother, Outdoorsman, Wildfowler, Pig Hunter, and Spear Fisherman. I've met the man in question, but before he started hunting. So I'm really looking forward to hearing all about how he got started, what the bars to entry are in NZ, how firearms licenses work there, what he's bagged. Of course it wouldn't be The Suburban Bushwacker if we didn't learn what gear he uses and what gear he would use if money were no object. I can't wait. 

If you're curious too, please leave comments telling Mrs BoB 

A: how much you want to hear what she has to say

B: To get on with it!

Hint Hint

SBW

Swagmas Pt2 - Sheepishness From NewZealand

Well played MoB (mother of Bushwacker). Bad form BoB (brother of Bushwacker).

Just when I'd said BoB would never let you down, this happened, or rather didn't happen. 

Bad BoB.

MoB, fearing that it would be cold up north (a fear that has proved well founded) ordered me a

Phoenix Zip Thru by Icebreaker of New Zealand in early December. Think of an old school 70's tracksuit top in Wool. Merino Wool.

Being a practical person by nature, MoB thought it could travel economy in combined shipping. Being nearly crimbo and expecting/hoping for a gift from her far-flung son, she had it delivered to BoBs house on New Zealand's south island, where it stayed. Bad BoB

Finally BoB has gotten his butt in gear and shipped it - half a world in seven days - BoBs sofa to the post office took nearly seven weeks. Baad BoB.

In October 2008, Icebreaker launched its pioneering traceability program in Europe called "Baacode." The system enables customers to follow their garments through every step of the production process, beginning on the New Zealand South Island sheep stations where the merino is grown and extending throughout its entire supply chain. Icebreaker is one of less than a handful of consumer companies now offering product traceability.

Yeah BoB that's TRACEABILITY.

SBW

Knots And Brolly

BoB was in town over the weekend and was appalled to hear how bad a job I've been making of learning to knot my own purse nets for Ferreting. Ever the gentleman he limited his disappointment to a weary sigh, and offered to set me on the road. As James had first said "just one knot, tied lots of times". With BoB's patient guidance I'm finally getting the hang of it. I would have a picture to show you by know if it weren't for a curious incident that took place. The Garden umbrella BoB is pointing at in the picture came tumbling over the garden fence and missed braining me by about six inches. Much to BoB's amusement. By the time we'd finished laughing about that the oven was beeping and it was time for me to make the gravy and get dinner on the table. Such is suburban life.

Your pal
The Bushwacker.

From BoB

Just got this tip from BoB, Wired magazine has a poll to see what readers reckon should be in a survival kit. There are some pretty silly things on the list and you can add your own suggestions. Remember folks your vote counts!
Thanks for reading
SBW

Hunting Kiwis

The Kiwi hunting culture has been in my thoughts lately, (better buy a bigger couch BoB), partially prompted by the aforementioned writings of Mr Crump, and by the copy of NZ Outdoor Hunting our mum brought back from a recent visit to see BoB, Mrs BoB and the Princess E (AKA the Littlest BoBster).

There’s an adage in bushcraft that ‘there’s no such thing as bad weather – just inappropriate clothing’ reports seem to suggest that these words may if fact form part of the New Zealand constitution. As they say on the south island ‘if you can’t see the top of the mountain it’s raining, if you can see the top of the mountain it’s about to rain’.

If ever there was a country generously endowed with mountains it’s NZ, they have their own Alps where Sir Edmund Hilary trained for his successful attempt on Everest. If you’ve seen The Lord of the Rings you’ll have a good idea of what the place looks like. If you’ve seen the ads currently running on UK TV you’ll know why I’m so keen. Viewed at a distance of half a world away the place seems to have a romance the suburban bush just lacks - I go fishing across town by scooter; they go fishing across mountains by helicopter. The hills they hover over are alive, not with the sound of music, but with the thunderous hooves of Red Stags and Elk. It’s so alive with them that the Rut is called ‘The Roar’ and the Kiwi’s have their own collective noun for deer – ‘a mob’.
There are other linguistic differences ‘Alright mate’ is a greeting not a proposition, and all utterances sound like questions, with rising intonation at the end of the sentence. BoB has enthusiastically taken on this linguistic tic, much to the amusement of his family and friends. Despite being a native daughter of New Zealand Mrs BoB speaks perfectly normally.

To read about it the place sounds like a nation founded by hunters, the Maori people brought pigs with them during their invasion and colonisation of the islands, and so did the British. These creatures have re-wilded themselves in the bush and grow to some pretty impressive sizes. Deer, Elk, Hare, Turkey, Pheasant and Mountain Goats have all been introduced and with no other predators are putting unsustainable pressure on the environment. So once again the ‘culinary solution’ must be deployed to save the environment! Yummy!

The contrast to life in the city was brought home to me when I saw that NZ Outdoor Hunting had published some pictures from the memory stick of a camera that was found in the back country, secure in the knowledge that someone would recognise the guy in the pictures and organise its return to him. Are these the nicest people in the world?
Maybe the old joke isn’t so much a joke as an advertisement

What do you call a polite Australian?
A New Zealander!

Will these crudely drawn stereotypes prove to be true?
Stay tuned.
Your pal
SBW

Photo credit

Crumpy’s A Good Keen Man

A few years ago I was managing a frustrating sales team, and had foolishly taken to bringing my pain home with me at the end of the day. One Saturday morning I was moaning about the lack of enthusiasm my guys were showing for selling lacklustre advertising opportunities to disinterested regional small businesses when Bushwacker Jnr. treated me to a dose of the wisdom and clarity that a five year old has, and the rest of us would be wise to relearn. ‘’Daddy if you don’t like your guys, you should get different guys’’. Ahh! from the mouths of babes and sucklings! Talking a good fight at interview and actually having what it takes to treat daily success and failure as being part of a larger process, excepting the limitations of the terrain, and to making do with the kit available is quite another. The endless search for talent continues, if only there was a foolproof way to find a good keen man…

I’ve been away travelling with work for the last few weeks so apart from (unsuccessfully) hunting road kill from the car window I’ve not had the opportunity to do anything even remotely blog worthy, apart from catching up on some reading. Mrs BoB has long been telling me how much I’d love the work of Kiwi legend Barry ‘crumpy’ Crump(1935-1996) and was kind enough to send me a compendium of his works. How right she was. Crump has a sparse writing style (big type - not many words on the page) and manages to sound as though he’s sitting next to you by the crackling camp fire. He undoubtedly would have made great company.

I want to make Crump the patron saint of making do with crap kit. This was the age of canvas tents that weighed more that a suburban dad after a big lunch, waterproofs that weren’t, boots that were ‘half way to worn out before they were worn in’, and help that was more trouble than it was worth. At the time of writing his first book ‘A Good Keen Man’ he was a youthful deer culler on New Zealand’s south island during the early fifties, when deer numbers reached such epidemic proportions that the government had to send guys armed with war surplus 303’s (iron sights – no scopes) out into the back country to dramatically thin out their numbers before they ate the vegetation down to the rock.

Support and training were merge to say the least;
‘Do you know how to bake bread in a camp oven?’
‘Three rounds per skin you bring in, after that you pay for them yourself’.
As for leadership while actually doing the job it was,
‘I’ll be along to see how you’re doing in a couple of months, weather permitting’.

Before hunting could commence Crump and who ever he was working with at the time would have to cut their way through the bush to get to ground they were going to hunt that season. So it was only after a few weeks limbering up with a little ‘light’ forestry that the actual work they were paid for could begin.
Leaving camp before dawn and returning in the dark often with only his dogs for intelligent company, enduring the south islands notoriously changeable weather and rough terrain. The job would certainly be a tough and lonely endeavour, so it’s not surprising that the deer cullers of this period have an almost mythical place in Kiwi hunting lore. This was hunting on a scale, and in a style, that is almost unimaginable today. All deer were fair game and once there was enough meat for the table, only skins were brought back to camp as proof of kills. I’ve never met anyone who has got twenty deer in a year, Crump and his more effective co workers were getting twenty in a day. Each. A different kind of conservation effort to what we’d practice today, but without it New Zealand would now be bare rock.
The way he tells it, from his first season Crumpy was something of an asset to his manager, by the time he’d been in the job a couple of seasons he was shooting so many deer that he burned through a rifle barrel in a season!

As usual top performers must be kept on their toes so despite his Herculean (or should that be Sisyphean?) efforts he wasn’t allowed to rest on his laurels. When he put his reports in he was expecting some modest recognition of his efforts only to be told ‘you could have done a bit better if only you’d put a bit more effort it’. Same old same old!

His boss was the kind of shameless huckster that would have been at home in any of the sales offices I’ve worked in; always trying to get more numbers out of young Crumpy, and issuing empty, yet beguiling, promises of help on the way (if only he could ‘get the *&^@:$% numbers up’ in the meantime). The ‘help’ promised would occasionally be waiting for him when he returned to camp at night. Fresh faced and ill equipped both between the ears and in the rucksack.

Legs: “The only wood legs brought into the camp was on the butt of his rifle”

Wilmer: That evening, while I baked a couple of loaves of bread, Wilmer proved beyond all dispute, by brilliant deduction, that queen Victoria was perverted, that one of his own ancestors wrote under the name Shakespeare, that Winston Churchill was an impostor, and that the present birth-rate in Indo-China would make the world so top-heavy that in ten years it would start to wobble and eventually spin in a north-east by south-west direction. I believed all this and finally went to sleep with my head reeling from all the startling bits of information that had been poured into my unaccustomed ears ………[ I’m not going to spoil this bit for you - its hilarious] ………….If this was one of Jim’s good keen men I was going to ask him for a woman next time.

A succession of these ner-do-wells, dreamers and egotists rock up at his camp, only to find that they don’t really have what it takes to be a poor lonesome deer culler a long way from home after all. Any complaints about the time he’d wasted on their basic training would of course be met with further promises of having found just the guy to replace the last bloke, ‘totally different story - you’ll like him, he’s a good keen man’. Hilarious!!

Thanks for reading
Your pal
The Bushwacker.