It was finally the April holidays and we were going down to the south-east, and hopefully catch the tail end of the fallow rut.

As soon as it was available to book, Dad and I got online and locked in a week of hunting.

I was so excited because I had never been hunting in the rut and I had never heard a buck croak.

The morning after we arrived at the property we’d be hunting at, we were up at 4.30 am, which I thought was unnecessarily early, until I realised it was so we could enter the scrub before it was bright daylight. Arriving at the edge of the scrub we pinned the track, so we knew where we had to get out before walking into the sound of bucks croaking.

Following the croak of one of the bucks, we knew it was the same one because it was fully croaking, and it almost seemed more like grunting.

Going one step at a time, trying not to make a lot of noise, we kept an eye out for wet leaves on the ground as they would be a lot quieter than walking on the dry leaves. It sounded like we got super close to the buck but it started to walk away, we noticed him following two does out immediately after we heard the buck's antlers rustle along the leaves and branches.

My excitement was brimming when, soon after using his caller to put out some doe calls and a croak, Dad told me to look over my left shoulder. Sure enough there was a buck standing there looking at us. Unfortunately for us the buck saw us before we properly saw him. We decided to sit down and wait to see if that same buck would come back.

We sat there for 40 minutes, every now and then putting a doe call out when suddenly there was another buck standing not more than 25 metres away, and he hadn’t spotted us. Watching it walk away, Dad and I discussed whether or not it was a cull buck.

In the end I was right (it was a cull buck) and Dad deliberated taking the poor quality out of the herd, but we both felt confident the first buck was going to return and so let the cull buck go.  After what seemed like another hour and with no further luck, we knew the hunt was over, and worked our way out of the scrub back to the car.

We had breakfast and lunch and talked with the others back at the hut before trying our luck in a different paddock for the afternoon. This paddock didn’t have scrub but did have a few more deer in sight. We saw a group of five does within a small bunch of trees, in a Mallee knob.

They kept going over the hill and back into sight. Dad and I knew we didn’t have much chance with these does as they would spot us quickly as we too were hiding behind a hill. Crawling up closer to the tip of the hill I watched the deer through my binoculars. Not seeing much else we headed back to the hut, calling it an early night so we would be well rested for the hunt the next morning.

The next morning, we headed out a bit later as we knew the track we were taking in and exactly where we wanted to go. We started walking in, battling through thick scrub, as we made our way to a clearing and looked around. Following the croak of a few more bucks not ready for the rut to be ending, we ended up seeing a buck and a doe. Dad pulled out the hand croaker and made a few calls, but the buck looked around and ran away, clearly not wanting to fight anymore.

Croaking at close range really does stir you, making the whole experience a bit surreal. 

Walking around to the spot we had been at the morning before there was no sign of deer around, but as we walked out we were faced with even thicker scrub than we encountered coming in. I thought the scrub we had been through earlier in the morning was bad and then we came across this scrub. In it for half-an-hour we kept up a good fight until we made it out to the track. We were glad that piece of scrub was over. I think I learnt the lesson not to follow the direct track the GPS gives you as there are sometimes clearer tracks.

That afternoon, after enjoying a rest and some lunch back at camp, we planned where we might see some does and fawns for me to harvest my 'compulsories'.  As part of what the ADA South-East Branch does to enjoy the privilege of hunting on the properties we have agreements with, we ensure we control deer numbers.  In controlling numbers, it is important that everyone in the hunting program harvest a doe and fawn at first. Dad already had harvested his on previous hunts and now it was my time to do so.

Picking the right location, a potential fawn unfortunately saw me sitting up before we saw it.  Although the fawn could not truly identify us as a threat, it knew something was not right and so did not leave itself out in the open.

The next morning, we knew it was going to be raining hard and Dad said I could sleep in which I took full advantage of.

That afternoon Dad took me to a spot where we could set up, seeing three pop holes under the fence line.  We had viewed the pop holes along the fence on our walk out to see which were most active with recent deer tracks, and that was how we decided on the best position.

Sure enough, another hour or so of waiting and out came six deer.  Dad said not to shoot the first one as it was a button buck, a male yearling.  I watched carefully and picked out the two fawns, deciding whichever one presented for a clean shot first would be the one I would harvest. 

It seemed like an eternity, and finally the second fawn to come out presented broadside, enabling a heart-lung shot.  I shot true at 170 yards, using my .308 with Atomic A29 155Gn projectiles.  They certainly do perform well.  After we field dressed the deer, we carried it to the track to retrieve later on, return it to camp and hang it in the meat safe.

It is important to use as much of the deer as possible, respecting it and its life.  I agree with Dad on this, and we certainly enjoy all the deer we harvest.  I enjoy the steaks Dad butchers from deer more than the best steaks Dad buys from the shop.

Wednesday morning was another early start, but luckily only 5.15 am as we were not walking that far.  I suggested we go back to the same spot as the previous night and Dad agreed, so we set up just as daylight was breaking, keeping an eye out for deer coming back from the open fields to the scrub.  We waited close to an hour before we saw three fawns coming back in.  

Positioning myself in the prone position behind the Browning X-bolt .308 resting on its Bi-pod I rested the crosshairs on the fore-end of the deer, covering the heart lungs.  I gently squeezed the trigger and the 155Gn A29 projectile hit exactly where I aimed at 175 yards.  It was a good clean one-shot kill, which is important to ensure no suffering.  We again field dressed and returned the deer to the meat safe back at camp.

After breakfast, our good friend Patrick drove into camp.  Dad offered him a cup of tea, but Patrick said we had more important matters to attend to, locating a Mallee fowl nest and fencing it off for protection from wandering deer.  Excited because I had seen two Mallee fowl scratching around camp, and had heard that they have pretty cool nests, we drove off to the edge of a large scrub block.

Navigating between not just the GPS tracker but, as Patrick pointed out to us, picking out the line between the whippy Mallee and the stringybark. As we were weaving through the stringybark we knew we eventually had to go through the whippy Mallee, so we battled it and finally got through to a sandy patch and sure enough there it was.

At first, I thought it was a mountain of sand before realising it was a Mallee fowl nest, something I was seeing for the first time. Patrick explained how Mallee fowl heat the nest and cool it down in preparation for laying and protecting their eggs later in the year. I was amazed.

After we put up a fence to stop the deer from going on top of the Mallee fowl nest, we heard the croak of some bucks still going. Following the croak sneaking through the bush we followed behind Patrick and copied his technique, stalking the buck and weaved in and out of the whippy Mallee and the stringybark.

My excitement was building as we got to an opening and saw a huge rutting stand. Spotting recent prints, we knew the buck had either spotted us, walked away or chased a doe back in. Deciding to head back out we made sure to follow the stringybark.

That afternoon, we went out but unfortunately couldn’t find any traces of those bucks.

We decided that night, as things had certainly wound up for this year's rut, that we would dress our deer in the morning, pack the fridge and head home a day early.

What an awesome trip, and I hope we can get into the rut a bit earlier next year because I am hooked.

Contributed by Alexis Halman.