The deer scene in New Zealand has changed considerably since I used to see the stags, self-segregated after the May belling, in herds of sometimes more than a hundred in the tussocky valleys behind the Lindis Pass. In a book on the hunting of what is curiously called ‘big game’ ex-professional deer culler Philip Holden reports that the biggest congregation he has seen numbered fifteen. While his mélange of loosely linked reminiscences conveys impressions of the wild terrain, the elusive quarry, the excitements of hunting and the fascination of the kill, it also indicates a growing disillusionment with the process of turning beauty into dead meat.