Public Interest Journalism Fund reporter Guy Williams looks at what could be behind the trend and what is being done to combat it.
Pursuing a poacher on a farm near Lindis Pass last year left hunting guide Chris McCarthy with a broken ankle and thousands of dollars out of pocket.
Mr McCarthy was guiding a client on Forest Range Station on April 5 when he spotted Otis Feehan-Price through binoculars.
While apprehending the intruder, he was injured as he tumbled down a steep mountainside.
In the six months it took for his ankle to heal, he missed the peak hunting season, had to hire other guides to take his place and could not guide overseas like he had done previously.
The Hawea Hunting Safaris owner and Professional Hunting Guides Association vice-president said that for someone who had spent 15 years developing relationships with landowners to build his business, the episode was "gut-wrenching".
A subsequent search of Feehan-Price’s social media account revealed a photo of him posing with a mature trophy stag from an earlier illegal hunt on the station.
Adding insult to his injury, that financial opportunity cost was not fully compensated for at Feehan-Price’s sentencing in the Christchurch District Court in September, he said.
Of the $22,000 reparation he asked for, he was awarded only $6000 on the basis the defendant could not afford to pay more.
He has yet to receive a cent.
The penalties for unlawful hunting were "woeful" and failing to deter offenders, he said.
Police bring unlawful hunting charges under the Wild Animal Control Act, a conviction carrying a maximum sentence of two years’ prison and a $100,000 fine.
Firearms, knives, dogs, GPS units and vehicles can be seized.
There were 39 convictions for unlawful hunting in Southland and Otago courts in the five years to June last year.
From his experience, rural police officers were doing a good job of responding to unlawful hunting, given their manpower and resources, but victims were being "let down in the courtroom".
"If people knew they were going to be fined $50,000, or locked up, poaching would stop overnight."
From what he was hearing from other members of his association, unlawful hunting appeared to be "on the rise" in the South.
It puzzled him because there were more wild deer than ever in the southern region, and plenty of opportunities to hunt with a permit on conservation land, or on private property with permission.
Poachers appeared to be people who were too lazy to build relationships with landowners, he said.
Down on the farm
Poaching in Otago and Southland usually involves night-time trespassing on private property, typically farms and forestry plantations.
Offenders often force open gates to allow vehicle access, but also shoot from public and forestry roadsides.
Late-night gunfire or dubiously parked vehicles in remote locations raise the suspicions of rural residents, while tyre tracks, open gates and the remains of butchered animals offer more stark evidence.
A Federated Farmers survey in 2021, to which 1200 members responded, found of all farmers affected by crime, nearly a half had suffered from poaching, wild deer being the most common target.
The Matakanui Station owner said most of the activity went undetected.
"Unless you catch people at the time, you’re very limited as to what you can do."
Poaching not only posed a safety risk for farmers, their families and staff, but also those hunting legitimately on their properties.
It was particularly disruptive during lambing or calving, night-time poaching causing the deaths of vulnerable newborn animals.
He had caught poachers on his property three times in the past 15 years, all of whom were successfully prosecuted.
At a time when food costs were rising sharply, he reckoned many were after cheap meat.
"Most farmers will let people go hunting on their farms if you go and ask them, but you need to build up a relationship with them."
Police on the front line
Sergeant Chris Parsons, of Balclutha, said the number of offenders convicted of the activity was a "tiny fraction" of those actually doing it.
"It’s a very hard thing to police. Unless you’re in the right place at the right time, the chances of catching people are very slim."
Police relied on receiving information from the public, even if that information — a vehicle’s number plate for example — seemed insignificant in itself, Sgt Parsons said.
"One little thing, to us, may help with a bigger thing."
Search warrants could be obtained if enough circumstantial evidence was gathered.
Rural police officers joined forces for anti-poaching operations once or twice a year, patrolling farm or forestry areas and known trouble spots.
Security or trail cameras were useful, but landowners could not put them everywhere, so in most cases poachers had to be caught in the act, he said.
"It’s a needle in a haystack."
Constable Allan Lynch, of Middlemarch, said low-cost meat was undoubtedly a motivating factor for many poachers, particularly when the cost of living was rising.
"It’s causing the numbers to go up — it seems to be a never-ending battle at the moment."
However, some appeared to have a compulsion to go hunting as often as possible, and took shortcuts to do so.
His message to them was simple: get a hunting permit or permission from the landowner, or risk losing their firearms licence and all the expensive trappings of their hobby — firearms, thermal imaging and dog-tracking devices, even their vehicle.
"They’re playing Russian roulette, because there’s a lot to lose."
