Any member of the Australian Deer Association I've spoken to or messaged asking questions or for advice — and there's been a few — have all been more than happy to impart their knowledge. And better yet, they all want to know how you went with it after using it.
The great man Don McDonald is just one of these characters, and I was lucky enough to be invited on a trip to the Strathbogies by him, where he was fortunate to have access to some private land bordering a state forest.
A good mate, Mitch Pike, who I had met on a previous ADA branch hunt, and Paul and Jack Rabbidge, two of Don’s good mates, would be joining us.
When I arrived, I could see the boys on the verandah having a yak about what I could only hope was the huge amount of deer they'd already seen. I parked up next to Mitch’s car and joined the lads.
Jack and Paul had come up a day earlier and wasted no time in regaling us with stories of their day's activities and the number of fallow deer they had seen. Paul had hunted the spot before so he kindly gave Mitch and me the rundown of the area.
Both of us excited at the prospect of seeing some deer, we kitted up and went for a walk to have a look around. The wind was kind to us, but we only managed to see a handful of kangaroos, some wallabies and a very inquisitive wombat.
Not long after we'd returned from our walk, while enjoying a cold beer on the verandah, we noticed Don’s car driving up to the hut.
The rest of the night was spent talking about plans for the following day and stories of recent hunts. I had a good chat with Paul who is incredibly knowledgeable regarding firearms and optics which, for a relatively inexperienced hunter and firearm owner like me was incredibly valuable and informative. With a plan in place we arranged a 4.30 am wake-up and hit the hay.
After a good night's sleep, when the morning alarm went off we were up and at 'em, eager for a day's hunting. Paul had hurt his knee the previous day so elected to stay back for the morning to rest. Beginning south to north we chose three large hills to hunt, planning to drive to the furthest one, and walk up and traverse the saddles between them in a fanned out manner. As we crested the first hill it was decided Mitch would take the western side, I would take the eastern side and Don and Jack would go up the middle. Not long after we had set off, Mitch came over the radio saying he had already spotted a pig but wasn’t in a position to get a shot. A good start!
As I continued along the eastern side I came across large patches of ti-tree with some fresh pig sign. Shortly after, Don came on the radio and said he was going to come further my way and we would meet up. Jack had pushed forward from Don so the plan was to spread further apart. After meeting up with Don we both pushed harder east and after what only seemed like 10 steps . . . HONK! From what only could have been 30 m away a sambar hind had busted us and took off like a racehorse through the scrub. Definitely something that got the blood pumping!
We both continued sidling down the hill; we were well spread out but I could still just make out the blaze orange of Don’s hat. I got to a point where I sat atop a gully and the wind was blowing into my face. Having recently discovered thermals, I was trying to use those to the best of my ability. I sat and waited, glassing around me, scanning for movement. Retrieving a snack from my pack I noticed a funny-looking stick nearby. It turned out to be a fallow castie, which was enough for me to call the weekend a success!
Still glassing a short while later, the light noise of the wind and the occasional kookaburra cackle was broken by the crack of a shot ringing out from atop the third hill. Jack had perched himself on top of a rocky face and managed to get a good shot on a fallow doe. Congratulations echoed over the radio and plans to meet up at the site of his deer were made. I had quite a hike in front of me to get up to the top of the second hill then traverse across the saddle to the third.
Twenty painful minutes later, I was five litres short on sweat and working my way towards Jack and Mitch. Don was close but not yet there. Another loud crack split the air, followed by another. Don had got two good shots on a large pig! Moments later I heard some scurrying and multiple branches breaking when a pig, obviously wanting to get out of Dodge and as far away from dead-eye Don McDonald as possible, ran 20m in front of me. I chambered a round and shot once, then followed up again. Unfortunately, my shot placement had been poor so I followed up with a third to quickly dispatch the pig.
I was absolutely elated taking my first pig and couldn’t wait to tell the boys. Once again congratulations echoed out over the radio and we decided to meet at Jack's deer as Don’s pig wasn’t very far, then we would go back to mine after. I caught up with the guys as they got to the other pig and we decided to carry (drag) it to Jack’s deer. Being 6’2 and about as good on my feet as a newborn giraffe definitely presented some difficulties as we attempted to transport of Don’s boar, each holding a leg, as we negotiated it down a narrow game trail, but we managed to get the job done relatively unscathed.
Jack wanted to take his deer back down to the hut as it was, so it was quickly gutted to help cool the meat down and he fashioned a rig to allow him to transport it to where he and Paul would process it.
That left Don, Mitch and I the task of processing Don’s boar.
I hadn’t butchered a pig before. I actually had very little experience butchering in general, but being the legend he is, Don allowed Mitch and I to attempt to butcher his pig while he instructed us on the best way to do it. It blew me away how thick the skin of the pig was, almost as if it was wrapped in Kevlar.
Once we had Don’s boar under control and he was seeing to his pack, I took the route back to my pig while Mitch went around the hill the opposite way to me.
My pig was significantly smaller than Don’s and didn’t take as long to process; I had pretty much everything wrapped and packed by the time Don got to my location. Before Don could finish asking me how I went, another loud crack split the air! Mitch had managed a perfectly placed shot on a sambar hind roughly 300 m from where we were. It was an amazing moment and we were all bewildered at the success we had had that morning.
Quickly hiking up to Mitch, we congratulated him on a job well done and took some happy snaps. There was going to be plenty of meat for everyone. Mitch filled us in on the details of his hunt and told us how he was honked by another sambar hind as he approached the one he had shot. Jack, like an absolute spartan, made the trek back up to help us with the carry out. It was quite a ways back to the hut, but all downhill. On the walk back down I spotted another fallow deer break out on the opposing face of the gully we were walking down. I couldn’t believe how many animals we were seeing.
The afternoon was spent relaxing, recharging, butchering and boning out meat. Paul very kindly helped me with my pig, doing it much more efficiently than I could ever hope to.
That night we had dinner at a nearby pub, followed by a couple of beers and a well earned sleep.
Jack and Paul had to leave early on the Sunday so they went to a spot we had sussed out the night before, a good place that wouldn’t put too much pressure on Paul’s knee. We said our goodbyes in the morning and Mitch, Don and I started our trek north to another property Don had access to (the owner of which we had seen at the pub the night before) to get to the state forest. Hiking down a fence line, glassing the fringe as we went in the hopes a deer may be out feeding, we walked past the farm house and through a number of gates before coming to a large hill we had to climb to get to the other side where Don had previously seen some good-sized fallow bucks.
As we walked towards the hill in question we noticed some kangaroos hopping along the tree line. One in particular was quite a bit brighter in colour than the others and hopping differently, which made me think “could it be?”. When I looked at it through my binos it was confirmed to be a young fallow spiker. “Deer! Deer!” Was all I could barely stutter in my excitement as the boys took to their binos to spot the animal. They both confirmed it was a deer, and I was relieved to know I wasn’t the boy that cried wolf.
I heard Don tell me to take a shot at it, which was all the encouragement I needed. There was a fence post some metres to my left that I used as a rest. The deer hadn’t seen or scented us as it kept traversing along the tree line, not in a hurry by any means, but not stopping to offer a good shot.
Not being the most experienced marksman and after making a pretty average shot the day before, I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.
It trotted along for quite some time, then Don let out a deer call he had strapped to his pack, which stopped the deer long enough for me to rest the crosshairs on his shoulder, try to steady my breathing and squeeze the trigger (I had also missed a shot on a deer with Don previously, so was feeling pressure from that!). The young buck reared and I could tell it was a hit which Mitch confirmed through his binos. I chambered another round and shot again which also found its mark; the deer travelled about 10 m down the hill before expiring.
Goosebumps from head to toe, I could barely speak, overwhelmed with excitement. I couldn’t believe that on the same weekend I would be fortunate enough to harvest not only my first pig but also my first deer! I thanked Don and Mitch for their help and guidance, caught my breath and made the trip over to the deer. He was a beautiful white and tan fallow, certainly no monster buck but an incredibly important and special deer to me.
After a few more photos to mark the momentous occasion, we then processed the animal, loaded up the pack and made the trek back to the hut.
Deciding we had more than enough meat and unsure if our legs would be able to carry us up and over the hill and back, we called it a day.
I boned out the fallow legs from the morning using the tips and techniques Paul had shown me the day before, then we had some lunch, packed up, tidied up the hut and decided to head off.
On our way out we stopped and had a chat to the landowner, thanking him for having us for a fantastic weekend. Mitch and I thanked Don profusely for inviting us on probably the best hunting trip we will ever have, and went our separate ways home.
I spent the drive reflecting on the weekend and thinking of what meals I would make for friends and family with the meat I had been fortunate enough to obtain.
I count myself incredibly lucky, fortunate and thankful to have a mate and hunting mentor like Don.
I and another mate — who has now moved interstate — met Don at an ADA branch hunt about a year-and-a-half ago. He immediately took us under his wing, answering any questions we had and giving us advice we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere else, as neither of us come from hunting families or have any hunting background.
For an inexperienced hunter like myself, the ADA and the people in it have been amazing.
Contributed by James Van Bloemendaal
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