Once settled in we geared up and split into two teams - Ben and Clint, and Shannon and I. We were glassing the first afternoon at opposite ends of the property. Shannon and I only spotted red deer hinds, pigs and goats. Clint and Ben spotted hinds accompanied by a big stag; he was roaring about a kilometre from them. Although it was late in the afternoon Ben went for it but close encounters with pigs slowed him down. By the time he got through them a howling wind and squally rain had hit and the deer had headed for cover. Ben got within 400 metres of the deer before losing shooting light that ended the stalk.
The next morning, we woke an hour and half before shooting light and were greeted with freezing temperatures, high winds and squally showers. They weren’t good hunting conditions but we all headed out regardless. We hunted solo and although we spotted plenty of game that day none was up to scratch.
On Saturday morning we rose in the dark to fine weather and with a light wind. We could hear red deer roaring and fallow deer croaking off in the distance but it was very spasmodic.
Clint and Shannon headed across the creek and up towards the head of the valley. Ben and I hunted low, glassing the tops and any patches of timber. We spotted a mob of red deer feeding out of a sorghum crop on the neighbour’s place. We identified at least one and possibly two shooters amongst them. They dropped into a dry creek bed and were heading towards our property. As they neared the boundary fence a shot rang out nearby and they all went on high alert. Thirty seconds later there was a second shot and the deer scattered and took off. Ben and I watched them disappear over a ridgeline and out of bounds.
That afternoon I elected to hunt a couple of gullies no one had been in as yet. To get the wind right I would have a long walk in full sun, so Shannon volunteered to drive me some of the way. Having never hunted this area before I found that the first fence that I had to get through was electrified so a change of plan was needed. I hunted up the fence line following the ridge, stopping in the sparse shade to glass. During one of the rest stops near the head of the gully I heard a roar and zeroed in a couple of red deer hinds on the opposite face and then a larger, really dark deer with his head hidden. When this animal moved into the open 300 metres away, I confirmed he was a good stag. There was a very steep gully between us and if I committed to getting closer I would lose sight of him. The swirling wind was also an issue. I decided to leave him rather than risk blowing the hunt and pushing him off our property.
Heading back to camp I formulated a plan. As my old mate Noel used to say “Before you can shoot the game, first you must locate the game”; I was halfway there!
Clint, Ben and Shannon got back from their afternoon hunt after dark and Clint got a great fire going. We sat around it listening to stags roaring up on the ridges and discussing our hunting strategies for the morning.
On Sunday morning I left camp half an hour before shooting light. The moon showed the way and I only used my headlamp at gates to reduce the chance of making any clanking sounds that might alert the stag to my presence. Slowly climbing, I spotted a light-coloured fallow deer doe, then saw fresh pig scat on the game trail and heard a roar off in the east. It sounded over the ridgeline, so I continued hunting higher just inside the scrub line. I heard a shot from where Shannon was hunting and hoped he had connected. I kept climbing and glassing in the direction of the roar. I heard another roar and through a gap in trees spotted the stag from yesterday – 700 metres away in the open surrounded by nothing but tussock grass. I sent a quick text to Ben “I’m on the big stag from yesterday” then turned my phone off and put it in my backpack.
The wind was steady and in my face. I had two small shrubs for cover for the first 100 metres then nothing but tussock. I only moved when the stag had his head down feeding, freezing as soon as his head started to lift. I lost track of time; my focus was on closing the gap without being detected.
When I was 200 metres from the stag he feed into a depression and disappeared from view. I moved fast, zig-zagging between feeding ’roos so their departure didn’t spook the deer. It was going to be an offhand shot, my least favourite, so I wanted to be close.
Approaching the concealed stag from below, I spotted him through the tussock grass still feeding. I needed to get 5 metres higher to open up a clear shot. I dropped to one knee then quietly dropped my pack and checked my rifle and scope. Still crouching, I picked my next eight steps, before moving forward. Slowly rising I saw the stag still feeding. I shouldered my rifle and got him in the crosshairs. I felt the wind tickle the back of my neck. The stag tensed and looked straight at me as I squeezed off the 7mm-08. He dropped at the shot but required a second shot to finish the job. I sat and reflected; I couldn’t believe it. I had my biggest red deer stag on the deck, free range, fair chase and unguided. I even removed and carried the head off the hill myself, I thought it wasn’t a bad effort for an old bloke.
Earlier that morning Ben, Clint and Shannon had driven out in the dark to each of their selected areas. On a hunch Shannon headed to a high spot he had been hunting where he could see into a big basin. Over the last few days he had been hunting this area and had seen mobs of hinds and lesser stags and was hoping a big stag would show up. He parked short of where his sit-and-glass position was and walked in, his path illuminated by the setting moon.
As the light strengthened, pigs appeared but no deer. Shannon then heard a roar and replied with a roar of his own and got an immediate response. Waiting a couple of minutes, Shannon roared again and the stag charged in from the ridge across the basin. At 200 metres Shannon roared again to stop the stag which obliged and he took the shot with his .270. The stag dropped on the spot - a big, old animal with 6x5 antlers.
The rest of the day kept us busy recovering and processing venison then skinning and boiling out both heads. Clint drove up fairly close to my stag which made the recovery a much easier task.
That evening Ben fly camped for the last night and Clint and Shannon scouted to try to find something for him but without success. I was knackered from the day’s activity so stayed in camp tidying up and having a few celebratory beers.
The last morning Clint and I went out for short hunts while Shannon opted for a well-deserved sleep in. We didn’t find any shooter stags but did spot a number that had potential for next year and Clint enjoyed roaring in a stag with 3x3 antlers to 50m.
As we headed home, we were already planning next year’s hunt to coincide with the roar.
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