Rain, roaring reds and a 53-yard shot

It seemed like a long time coming, as it does every year, but the South East Queensland red deer roar was upon us once again. With the prospect of a huge rain event looming during our allocated hunting dates, ‘camping out’ was about to offer its own challenges.

As we set up our camp in the middle of prime deer country, some deer had just started their rutting behaviour – a few stags with harems of hinds and the odd band of stags still hanging together.

On our first afternoon hunt, as Morgan and I sidled around the steep gully into the light breeze, the first vocal stag located was holding a horde of 14 hinds! Through our Leica Geovid binos, we could see that he was only a young 3×4, so was in no peril from us, as Morgan was set on nothing less than a 5×5, and my benchmark was a nice 6×6.

A little further along the range, we located a band of three stags, obviously not rutting yet – the smallest a young 2×2, along with a 3×4 and a miniscule 5×5. At 120yds, we had locked eyes on each other at the same moment, so there was no chance of getting any closer. As usual, Morgan was hunting with his 70lb Hoyt bow, so we were well outside effective bow range, and the 5×5 was a little on the small side for his liking.

That evening, amid the constant drizzle and showers, we were joined in camp by our old mate Greg. I love hunting in damp conditions, but the precipitation was unrelenting, making it difficult to keep anything dry.

With pre-hunt advice of the impending wet weather, I once again left my beautiful blued/timber Ruger No. 1 .30-06 at home in the safe. Thank the Lord for stainless/synthetic rifles, as my old Ruger paddle stock .270 once again saved the day. Tape the barrel and don the bikini scope covers, and it doesn’t mind going for a swim!

Just before first light the next morning, we headed out toward multiple stags roaring on the plateau. Morgan and I were to the north and Greg to the south. We had stalked in on an average 5×4 holding three hinds, and a big 3×3 with two girls, when we heard a shot off to the south and wondered if Greg had scored.

The rest of the morning saw us checking out several other young stags until they stopped roaring and we returned to camp. Greg was already back and told us of an unsuccessful shot taken at a big 5×4 that had contacted brush, deflecting the shot.

Later that afternoon, a roar from over the ridge caught our attention and, with the drizzle and light breeze in our favour, Morgan and I carefully headed toward it. As we closed the gap on him, Morgan took the lead and nocked an arrow, while I hung back a little to lessen the noise factor.

Using the long grass and a stand of bushy saplings for cover, Morgan approached the edge of the ridge until he heard the stag roar and saw antler tips in the foliage. The stag was standing perfectly side-on at 35yds; however, his vitals were obscured by a sapling.

As Morgan drew his bow, waiting for the stag to clear the tree, his movement was spotted by a sentry hind who immediately ran, taking four others and the stag with her downhill to safety.

“That was your 6×6 dad, he’s a beauty,’’ said Morgan, as we pondered our next move.

We didn’t have to wait long before a vocal stag on the opposite side of the valley was seen chasing hinds across the open face. At over 600yds, we studied him through our binos and concluded he was a nice 5×5 and well worth a stalk.

As it was too late in the day to start a stalk of that distance, we watched his romantic antics until last light, with him to be our objective first thing in the morning.

We awoke early to the persistent drizzle and light fog in the valleys and, before the sun had risen, we traversed the creek in the valley. It took some effort to climb 30m up the almost vertical muddy creek bank, through the lantana, to the open face where the 5×5 stag was the previous evening.

Two hinds and a lone spiker were going about their business while we used a light breeze to our favour and ascended the lightly timbered edge of the open face. As we approached the top, another group of hinds were also busily feeding, but no stag. We’d hunted to the boundary of the property but were simply unable to locate him.

On a break, wondering where he might have gone, I looked back to the top of the ridge where we’d started from – over 700yds away. My attention was drawn to a large dark animal. The binos revealed it to be a solid red stag boasting a set of antlers with at least 10 points.

He was with a couple of hinds, but they entered a stand of eucalypt saplings and did not emerge. Betting that they had bedded down, we made our way back across the creek and up the escarpment, downwind of his position.

Morgan took the lead with an arrow nocked on the Hoyt as he tip-toed into the eucalypts where, again at about 30yds, he saw the antler tips of the big boy who was bedded down. But again, as he drew the bow, he was busted by one of his hinds and the mob erupted downhill from the eucalypts to the safety of the scrub below.

“That was your 12-pointer again Dad,” said Morgan.

Ah well, maybe tomorrow.

The afternoon hunt located a couple of younger stags holding smaller groups of hinds, but nothing of trophy quality.

Rising before dawn the next morning, the drizzling rain persisted and there were no stags roaring close to camp. However, several could be heard far off on the eastern side of the property.

“Looks like a long walk this morning,” I said, as we headed off on a steep downhill walk, another creek crossing and a slippery climb to the top of the next escarpment. We were only one ridge from the property boundary when we finally located one of the roaring stags.

He was a respectable 5×5 without any hinds, but still in the company of a big spiker and was going to town roaring in an open grassy basin. By midmorning, the stag had laid down in the long grass, while continuing to roar.

Morgan’s hunting time was coming to an end due to work the following morning, so he was determined to make the most of this opportunity. I stayed well back to halve the noise factor while Morgan inched forward toward the stag, covering about 300yds in three hours, using the long grass and a few saplings as cover.

The spiker mostly kept his head down feeding and, at one point, the stag went to sleep, laying his head on the ground. Morgan made the most of the situation and was able to cover a considerable amount of ground before the stag woke up.

Being under a flight path was also useful, with the jet engine noise assisting in masking the sound of Morgan’s footsteps.

At 53yds, Morgan ranged the stag with his Geovids and determined that he was close enough – now just having to wait for his target to stand.

He didn’t have to wait long before the big fellow stood up to stretch and give a roar. Morgan was already waiting with an arrow nocked and, from a kneeling position, pulled back the bow, taking aim at the stag’s vitals.

Seconds later, the stag turned slightly, offering a perfect side-on shot. The arrow flew true, striking exactly where Morgan had aimed, causing the stag to jump before running over the ridge, taking the spiker with him.

I caught up with Morgan and we walked only a short distance before noticing the stag in the long grass, piled up by a small tree. We caped him out and recovered the broadhead and about 10″ of arrow, which were still in the stag’s lungs.

After a three-hour stalk and a 53yd bow shot, Morgan had made a perfectly humane, one-shot kill on a worthy trophy. A just reward for doing everything right – and maybe having just a little bit of luck on his side.