HLM – Chapter 143 The Arrival of the Deer Herd

Buying the Marauder turned out to be a wise decision. Just like Bowen had said, the vehicle’s uphill capabilities were outstanding—it could climb the bumpy mountain road all the way to the castle halfway up the slope.

But the Marauder was also quite intimidating. The crane couple had just flown up to the castle gates when they saw the beast of a vehicle charging their way. Startled, they squawked loudly and flapped away in a panic…

Zhuang Ding dashed out to investigate. Tilting its head, it examined the Marauder curiously. Charlie, the one driving, pressed the horn with a wicked grin. A loud blast rang out, startling the dog so much that it finally opened its mouth and let out a bark.

Only when Wang Bo stepped out of the vehicle did the Tibetan mastiff settle down. After it stopped barking, it trotted up to the armored car and peed on the tire—staking its claim over the new arrival.

With a new piece of equipment added to the ranch, Wang Bo figured it was time to celebrate. Besides, ever since the cowboys arrived, he hadn’t thrown a party. So he took this opportunity to plan a feast for everyone.

The cowboys were barbecue masters. There was no need for Bowen to step in. Beebe and his five brothers slaughtered a sheep and a few wild chickens, cleaned them up, and got to grilling.

As usual, Wang Bo sat halfway up the mountain outside the gate, sipping beer and looking out over his domain with great satisfaction.

Money really does buy happiness!

Construction was ongoing in the nearby town. The tertiary roads were finally completed, and Porter began replacing the construction crews with teams building residential homes. At the designated residential site, utility poles had started going up, successfully bringing electricity to the area.

New Zealand’s utility poles were quite distinctive. Unlike China’s concrete poles, they were made of charcoal wood—tree trunks burned into charcoal and then repurposed as poles.

Wang Bo recalled seeing similar poles back in his hometown, though those were relics from the 1950s and ’60s and already rare in his childhood.

A chilly mountain wind blew in—it was already late autumn and early winter. In New Zealand, winter runs from June to August. However, the winters here were mild, with average temperatures between 8 and 10°C. For someone like Wang Bo who had lived in Beijing for four years, this was nothing.

The vegetation, more sensitive to temperature and seasons than people, had started to respond. Most wild grasses and trees had yellowing, withering leaves. Even the once-lush pastures were beginning to lose their vibrant green.

Nothing can defy the power of nature, nor can anything resist the flow of time.

Wang Bo opened the sand table to check on the ranch. Snow-white flocks of sheep were scattered across the grasslands, slowly moving about. Their wool had grown thick and fine.

The Simmental cattle had become more unified than ever. Previously, the cattle would be scattered around like the sheep were now. But today was different—they were all gathered together. Bulls, cows, and calves were neatly arranged, quietly grazing.

Leading the herd at the front was the “Bull King,” head held high, chest puffed out, as if conducting a formal inspection. Whenever a conflict broke out among the bulls, it would charge over and separate them with its mighty horns.

Seeing this, Wang Bo perked up. Clearly, the “Beast Heart” was a powerful artifact—it had turned the Bull King into a proper cattle herder.

Just as the Bull King broke up a scuffle between two bulls, it noticed a group of a dozen calves skipping away. Raising its head, it let out a commanding bellow—like a stern elder reprimanding mischievous juniors.

The calves, hearing the call, shook their heads and reluctantly trotted back. But they kept looking over their shoulders as though something had caught their eye.

What were the calves looking at? Wang Bo zoomed in on the ranch map and spotted a beautiful herd of deer near the cattle, grazing cautiously at the pasture’s edge.

There were about twenty of them, mostly adults. Their antlers branched like small trees. Their coats were blackish-yellow on the back and white on the belly, with a dark stripe running along their spine and vivid white spots all over—spotted deer, also known as sika deer.

Wang Bo’s eyes lit up. This was a rare sight. He’d never seen sika deer on his ranch before—they must’ve recently arrived, a new species!

He knew that in China, sika deer were classified as a top-level protected species. But in New Zealand, a country known for its wildlife protection, deer were surprisingly not protected. In fact, deer farming was highly developed here. Many ranches raised not only cattle and sheep, but also deer.

Originally, New Zealand had no native deer. They were introduced by British settlers in 1847, including species like red deer and wapiti.

These deer were initially imported for the nobility to hunt for sport. However, due to the favorable climate, abundant forage, and lack of predators, the deer population exploded.

Too much of anything is bad—this applied to New Zealand too. By the 1930s, the wild deer population had soared to 7–8 million, severely damaging local vegetation.

After WWII, the government began culling deer, even using helicopters to hunt them down—a practice that remains legal to this day.

But deer are useful animals—they provide meat, antlers, hides, and more. Over time, New Zealand developed a formal deer farming industry.

Wang Bo had looked into New Zealand’s agricultural and livestock industries when planning his ranch. As of last year, New Zealand had 1.6 million farmed deer, generating NZD 4 billion annually, making deer one of the three livestock kings, just behind cattle and sheep.

He had considered raising deer, but most deer farms were located on the North Island. The South Island, especially in his area near Ocean City, had almost none—so he didn’t introduce any deer stock.

But now, by sheer luck, a wild herd had wandered onto his ranch. This was a stroke of good fortune.

What made it even better was that the new arrivals weren’t the more common species like red deer, moose, reindeer, or white-tailed deer. They were the rare sika deer!

After arriving, the sika herd acted quite timid. They snuck around eating grass and bolted in panic when discovered by the calves. That was why the calves had run off—they were chasing the deer.

The Bull King called the little ones back, and the startled deer gradually calmed down. Hesitantly, they returned to the pasture and resumed grazing.

Since none of the ranch animals were aggressive, the deer soon realized there was no danger. Feeling safe, they decided to stay, gradually moving deeper into the ranch, where the grass was more lush.

Charlie hollered that food was ready. Zhuang Ding leapt to its feet, ears twitching, tongue lolling as it licked its lips—ready for mealtime.

Wang Bo entered the castle. In the inner courtyard, the cowboys were grilling meat, drinking beer, and chatting merrily. The atmosphere was lively. Charlie, Kobe, and the rest were getting along splendidly with the newcomers.

The massive cowboy, Cousins, handed Wang Bo a beer and shouted, “Boss, cheers!”

Wang Bo laughed heartily, “There’s wine tonight, so we drink tonight! Boys, cheers—bottoms up!”