WHITETAIL DEER
One morning started slower than 
most. A coffee turned into two, 
then three, before I finally headed 
out alone. A light drizzle hung in 
the air, ideal stalking conditions. 
The bush was quiet, damp 
underfoot, every step measured.
I hadn't gone far when movement 
caught my eye. A shape in the punga. 
Then it appeared, a deer, slipping 
through the bush. By chance, it 
paused, side-on, offering a small 
The paua are dinner-plate sized.
The crew relax at camp with fresh 
fish and paua on the menu each day.
Feature
68  FISHING IN GODZONE MAGAZINE

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