Deer stalking lessons from two decades with a bow

Back in the day, I regarded bowhunting deer as maybe bordering on impossible but still a hunting challenge I could not resist. True, in 1998 when I first carried a bow into the Brisbane Valley ranges, success seemed a long way away.

Admittedly, I worked my butt off before taking that first red stag and now, after many years of bowhunting both red and fallow deer, I can confidently state that it’s not really much easier. But it can be done.

All that aside, the tactics and strategies I’ve learned could well be of real value to deer hunters of all persuasions. The point is that if these tactics have seen me get within arrow range of deer, they surely must assist both bow and rifle hunters.

Telling it as it is
Where I walk the hills in Queensland there’s very steep going and not many deer either. But an advantage comes with lots of little timbered gullies to quietly sneak around in. To move within 40m of totally free-range deer takes a lot more than sheer good luck and simply walking off into the wind. So, let’s look at a few things that can make it happen.

It’s a given that the rut is the time to at least locate stags and while it’s reassuring to hear the ranges ring with reds’ roars or the frog-like croaking of fallow stags, one of the first real issues comes about when a stag has scored some company. Yes, those does are a big, big, issue.

Prodded, herded and driven this way and that by the boss just to keep them together always makes them mighty cranky and highly alert. In any group there is always one relentless set of eyes watching or ears scanning for a sound. Nearly every failed stalk I’ve had was because a hind sounded the alarm with a nasty foot stamp or a resonant bark.

The ambush
So, yes, the rut is good. Stags are locatable, which makes assessing antlers far easier. And I’ve probably put the binoculars over enough stags to fill a double deck cattle truck during the two decades and more of hunting with the bow. But for me, the period just prior to the rut can be even better if the timing is right.

In the case of red deer, full-on roaring will often be precluded by a few grunts as early as a fortnight ahead of the main rut because, at this time, a lot of stags are walking around seriously searching for hinds.

Some copycat grunts mimicking a hind call, clashing of cast antlers or even whacks on a tree with a stick can often bring a stag in close enough to seriously elevate the hunter’s heart rate.

The clue is to ensure the right spot is chosen for this tactic. You see, a stag can pinpoint any noise with radar-like accuracy, so the plan is to select the ambush site extremely carefully. The idea is to coax the stag in without him realising there is actually no deer where the attractive sounds are coming from. And trust me, he sure will be looking intently to see what is going on.

Tucking into cover just over a ridge, or behind some really thick stuff, is the trick to bring him in so long as he’s coming downwind, but never when he has the breeze in his nostrils.

Use those ears
However, concealment is a two-edged sword. The hunter is not going to be seeing a lot either, so it comes down to remaining quite still and listening intently for any unusual noise – maybe rustling or cracking of twigs. Remember, deer are heavy animals and do not walk silently. Red stags tend to walk in, fallow sometimes run in, so being prepared is everything.

How long to wait? If I’m certain deer are in the area, I give it 20 minutes and if it’s a no-show I move to another location, chosen equally as well. Know this though: when this pays off and a stag comes in it’s a mighty big buzz to think you’ve just outsmarted the smart.

Cattle
When deer share habitat with cattle, they watch them relentlessly because anything drawing the attention of cattle is out of the usual, and likely has potential threat capability. Running cattle are the pits but even when one is just standing still and looking at the hunter it means – especially with reds – those deer will exit quick smart.

So, no matter how good the stag sounds or looks, if cattle are between the hunter and quarry, every one of those cattle must be quietly bypassed or it’s game over.

Outwitting their senses
Sense of smell, hearing and eyesight are what deer survive on so camouflage gear is essential, as is always slowly walking upwind as quietly as possible. With clothing, beware of UV brighteners in the washing machine – these products cause blue/white fluorescence which deer can easily see. Washing hunting clothing in a neutraliser from a gunshop is the clue but a useful alternative in a hunting camp is to wash clothing with bicarbonate of soda.

Love those windy days
A hunter moving slowly and with as much caution as possible can be assured that foliage waving about will make things several degrees easier. Deer home in on any new movement, so when things are being blown about it makes their task somewhat more difficult.

Wind gusts also help drown out footsteps so when I’m fortunate enough to be closing in, I try to move forward when a breeze is stirring things up a bit.

That’s all fine but if there’s no wind at the time it’s going to be so much harder to sneak close to a potential trophy to assess its worth. At such times it’s better to be a rifle hunter.

Footwear must be as silent as possible, with joggers or Dunlop Volleys always my personal choice. But if circumstances dictate this style of footwear is not possible for you, always go for the softest, most pliable footwear available. When stalking it’s vital to feel something likely to crack under your feet prior to the full weight of the foot, always placed down heel first, coming down and emitting an awful noise. With those tips in mind, let’s move on.

Bowhunting 2021’s stag
Early preparations saw game cameras set up strategically from mid-February. The country is a mix of fairly heavily timbered hills interspersed with gullies, with patches of scrub and lantana also prevalent. Because deer regularly use certain pads or trails, those thoughtfully placed game cameras will reveal just what’s going on in an area.

Camera checks in mid-March turned up interesting scenarios, with SD cards revealing a cat, a fox, even a small pig, plus five good stags and therein lies a story. When hunting there later, from first grunts to the roar proper, not one of the stags starring on the SD cards were again seen. Clearly, they were only passing through with agendas elsewhere. And most activity was nocturnal – as per usual.

Camp was set up on the creek a fortnight prior to Easter and it just rained and rained. However, some scouting around the nearby hills revealed an exciting degree of activity. The fresh scuff marks under fences, some serious wallowing in a couple of muddy puddles and a scattering of fresh rubbed trees all triggered the familiar feelings of excitement.

I’m not a dedicated trophy hunter – as the stalk is really the juice – so I happily pass up lesser stags, reaching for the camera to enjoy savouring the memories later. After several days I knew where a couple of groups of does were hanging out and was lucky enough to crawl, slither or slide through grass within camera range to record some goings-on. Great fun, but there were just spikers.

One for the old boy
Day six of the hunt was special. A damp, slightly overcast morning always suits rutting deer and there was an orchestra of roaring from several directions, with one deep-voiced stag close enough to warrant first attention.

It had all started at 3am and two hours later I was on the move upwards, planning to be looking for Mr Noisy on the adjacent ridge come daylight. The wind was near perfect and doggedly slogging up the incline with video camera on the belt and backpack loaded with a digital camera, water, knife and steel, plus tucker, and the Mathews bow in hand, I fleetingly wished I was a bit younger. But hey, hunting stags at 74 sure makes me feel privileged.

Cresting the hilltop, I stopped for a breather behind some flowering lantana and carefully surveyed the plateau ahead. So far, so good… just as I reached down to despatch a pesky meat ant from my leg, a loud guttural roar somewhere to the right drew my attention. That was close – mighty close. And then a movement.

Whipping up the 10×50 Leupolds, I saw three hinds run across the narrow plateau closely followed by a large stag – about 100m away – and in seconds they were down and into the valley on the left. As I cheerfully walked forward through the thigh-high wet grass in their direction, the stag began a roaring session with another stag off to the north-west somewhere. With the wind still friendly, I headed down towards the ruckus, easily picking up their distinctive trails through the damp grass.

A big tree, half-dead from a lightning strike, made a perfect place to jettison the backpack. Having once misplaced it in the excitement of a stalk, I always look for landmarks these days. With only negligible breeze, I eased slowly forward and down, relying on each roar to hide any clumsiness on my part and was soon glassing a 5×5 stag with those hawk-eyed hinds nearby.

At a ranged 63m distance, he was beyond my personal bow reach, but I nocked (loaded, basically) an arrow nonetheless because experience has shown scenarios can change quickly. Which was exactly what happened.

A spiker materialised from a lantana patch to the north and foolishly tried to cut a doe out of the group by running at them. Screaming with rage, the double-five wheeled and raced at the spiker, sending him bolting in my direction as he tried to stab him with an antler on the run.

In full flight the spiker passed me, maybe 10m away, but on seeing my indecisive shape, and then having a nose full of my scent, he reared up on his back legs – eyes wide as egg cups – came down hard and shot up and over the ridge, grunting furiously in alarm.

The grunts stopped the double-five in his tracks and he stood side-on just 28m away, looking upwards. Standing half behind a small tree I drew the bow and settled the sight pin just behind his front leg and touched the trigger release. On the arrow’s impact he half-jumped before falling down into a steep gully.

Reminiscing
In truth that stag was one of the easy ones, but I still savour the memories and enjoyed his venison. Eat a rutting stag? Certainly. Any deer I arrow is always eaten, never left as carrion.