Finishing The Year On A High

By Glenda Anderson

On Saturday, October 29, 2022, my husband Ross and I headed up to our East Gippsland High Country property for the night to check stock and mow lawns. Given we were only doing a quick trip I decided there probably wasn’t enough time for a hunt, so I wasn’t going to take my rifle. Hubby encouraged me to take it and so we packed it anyway.

Before heading to bed that night, I decided that I would go for a quick hunt the following morning since the weather forecast was looking good. I prepared all my gear for a quick departure. The alarm went off at 5.15am, but when I woke it was foggy up in the hills. I decided to wait 20 minutes to see if it would lift. It took until nearly 6am before it finally did.

Grabbing my rifle and backpack, I headed off. The morning was fresh and a light northerly breeze followed the river’s course down the valley. I planned to walk north, keeping the wind in my favour, to a spot where I could do some glassing.

I checked my watch as I crossed the road in to our top paddock: 6.08am. A quick glass up into the small gully and across the south hill paddock above our dam revealed nothing. I clipped the magazine into my rifle and, as quietly as I could, loaded a round, bolt down, safety on. Another quick scan up the gully and hill again revealed nothing.

I stepped out from the cover of trees and began to cut across the paddock to climb up the north hill. I cast my gaze back over the south hill as I proceeded, then over my right shoulder to an area behind me that was obscured by trees just moments before. I froze ... OMG! Standing in a small clearing, fully broadside and 200m away, was a big dark-bodied animal. I couldn’t make out any antlers in the dull morning light and with the background that the animal was standing against. I slowly raised my binoculars and locked eyes with a big stag! He was just standing there watching me.

I was standing out in an open paddock. With no tripod and nothing to rest against, my heart began to beat a little harder and my mouth suddenly went dry with nerves and the realisation that if I wanted to take this animal, I was going to have to take the shot off my knee. Oh, I wanted!

I was thinking “just stay there, just stay there, just stay there,” as I simultaneously lowered my binoculars and earmuffs. I slowly sank to the ground as I dialled my scope up, never once taking my eyes off the stag.

I sat with my left knee bent in front of me. Taking a rest on my knee, I quickly located the stag in my scope. He was still standing broadside, watching as though unfazed. I flicked the safety off, took a few seconds to calm myself, trained the crosshairs steadily on his chest, then squeezed off a round. Immediately reloading by feel, I kept my head on the rifle to maintain a visual on him.

The stag jumped, spun around and limp-trotted uphill 25 metres - he looked in trouble. Feeling confident and comfortable with the shot placement, I waited and watched. He stopped clear of any obstruction and fully broadside. I was contemplating sending another round when I saw him wobble, buckle, then fold to the ground and roll out of sight.

In that moment, disbelief, relief and excitement all hit me at once. “Woohoo, oh yeah!” (That’s not quite what I said, it was more like “bleep, bleep, bleepity, bleep!” Ha ha!). I knew instantly that I had just put my biggest stag to date on the deck.

With the safety on, I made my way up to where I’d last seen him. I slowly crested the rise and saw he had come to rest only a few metres from where he’d dropped. I felt a flush of tranquilising relief at the sight and uttered a few more “bleepity bleeps”.

I grabbed my UHF and radioed hubby, who was still in bed, to tell him my news. He didn’t believe me initially but he was soon making his way up the hill to see for himself, and to act as photographer and to assist with recovery.

While I waited for Ross to arrive, I took a few moments to take it all in. I’m not ashamed to say I find it quite an emotionally complex experience. Just sitting there touching him, being with him and appreciating him was quite humbling. I’m wholeheartedly both grateful and respectful of the life I had just taken.

A single round from my Tikka .30’06, running Norma 180gr plastic points did the job at 200m with a lung shot. When I got up that morning, I certainly did not expect to be back at camp within the hour with a magnificent stag. Thanks for packing my rifle, Ross!

We were fortunate that the stag dropped where we could recover him whole and only 400m from where I’d climbed out of bed that morning. A PB, an impressive stag and a freezer full of meat. Plus, the heart, don’t forget the heart!

Initially we estimated his antlers to be about 71cm (28 inches) long, but a tape measure stretched both to 76cm (30 inches) with a width of 78.75cm (31 inches).