The ultimate mixed-bag hunt

When I started my hunting endeavours, oh so many years ago, the main targets were hares and ducks for the table, and the odd kangaroo or wallaby for dog meat. However, it wasn’t long before my deer hunting uncle caught my attention. He hunted mostly for meat to feed the family, but also for those big trophy antlers during the rut.

Back in the late 1960s, deer hunting was quite a mystical pastime, with those in the know vehemently protecting their access to good deer country. Pigs were around in good numbers, but it required a full-blown safari ‘out west’ to have a crack. Goats were also available, but we usually had to travel even further afield to have a go at them.

Today, there are far more hunting opportunities available due to the proliferation of introduced animals in general, and since the gun buyback in 1996. The average country person likely no longer keeps a rifle and ammunition in the vehicle, so now ferals aren’t ‘shot on site’ as they once were. 

There’s no doubt that pigs, deer and goats can now be found in areas that they never inhabited previously, and their numbers appear to be on the increase. Aussie hunters have never had it so good, with excellent opportunities available to hunt all three. My boys and I have certainly made the most of every opportunity, with rifle and bow, to hunt boars, bucks and billies along with other species on our South East Queensland hunting property. When the stars aligned, we all got together for a hunt.

Frank, Macen and Morgan are all dyed in the wool bowhunters. They will rifle hunt on the odd occasion, but given the opportunity, it’s string and stick for them. The first morning saw Macen and Frank hunting the eastern boundary of the property, on the granite ridges that are home to all manner of animals. Hunting into the wind, it wasn’t long before Macen noticed movement in the grass ahead, a black sow going about her business, snuffling through the leaf litter. 

To move as quietly as possible, Macen removed his boots, and using what cover was available, closed the distance on the sow to 15yds. Holding the Hoyt 70lb at full draw, he waited for her to turn side on before releasing it. The sow jumped as the arrow entered just behind her right shoulder before piling up to a perfect double lung shot. 

That afternoon, Frank and Bill headed off to the top of the hill behind camp for a recce. They hadn’t quite reached the top when they caught the unmistakable scent of goats and stopped to listen and glass into the scrub. No more than 80yds ahead, goats could be heard and seen moving about feeding. As Bill stayed back, Frank moved forward with an arrow knocked on the string. The mob of eight goats were engrossed with their feeding and making enough noise to assist Frank with his stalk. The breeze was right and a quick check with the binoculars revealed two billies in the mob, and as luck would have it, the biggest was the closest animal to Frank.

Two minutes later, at 20yds, Frank came to full draw on his Hoyt as the billy chewed on some leaves and his arrow then hit the big fellow square through the lungs. At this time, the second billy came trotting up to see what all the fuss was about and copped an arrow through the vitals for his trouble. A rare double with the bow!

At this point, Bill left Frank to take the horns from both billies and headed down the hill into the breeze to check out an open area where pigs are regularly encountered. Bill was carrying his Marlin .30-30 and slowly stalking around the edge of a semi-open grassed area when a medium-sized boar erupted from under nearby scrub. Bill shouldered the Marlin, expecting the boar to continue his line out into the long grass, when it started to circle, heading back towards him. Bill dropped the boar a mere 10yds from where he stood. Upon reflection, Bill suspected that the boar had been sleeping when he startled it and came back to see what he was. 

Next morning saw me and Morgan hunting a favourite spot in the company of Molly, our brown labrador. Morgan had his Hoyt bow in hand, and I was carrying my Ruger No.1 in .30-06. As we slowly hunted into the light breeze, Molly’s body language changed and she locked into a solid point. I checked with my Leicas but couldn’t see anything through the light bush. I signalled Molly to sit and stay, which she did, as I inched forward and glassed again. Not more than 80yds ahead were two fallow spikers feeding and with no opportunity of getting any closer for Morgan’s bow, it was my turn for a shot. I quickly set up my shooting sticks and as the spiker on the right offered a clear shot, I launched a 150gr Winchester Power Point into his vitals and secured venison for the freezer.

We only had to drag him 400yds to the track, but as we approached the track, Molly again went on point. We didn’t expect to see anything else after my shot but, as I looked up, there was a black sow with a few piglets busily feeding nearby. It was bad luck for pigs and bowhunters as the breeze swirled and she got our scent. The distance of 60yds was too far for a bow shot so I again did the honours and gave her the good news with the .06 before she could get away.

The following morning, Morgan, Molly and I headed back to some creek flats not far from where I had taken the doe and sow the evening before. It was Morgan’s turn for a stalk, so we headed stealthily into the light breeze, stopping often to glass the bush. We’d only been hunting 20 minutes when Molly’s body language changed, and Morgan caught movement through the bush 100yds ahead. A black fallow buck was mooching along, minding his own business. Morgan went further into stealth mode as he closed the distance on the buck. However, as happens on many bowhunts, the opportunity for a shot never eventuated, even though Morgan eventually got to within 30yds, which in itself is a triumph.   

Later that afternoon the same trio headed to the other side of the property, where we regularly see goats. They camp on top of a rocky mountain that is extremely hard to hunt on but by mid-morning they invariably head down to the open, flatter country where they graze for the day. They then head back up the mountain late in the afternoon.

Keeping the breeze in our faces, it wasn’t long before we could hear the unmistakable sound of goats playing and feeding. We agreed that Morgan’s best chance of a shot with his bow would be to ambush the mob as they headed back up the mountain to bed down. The hard part was anticipating which route they would take and getting into a position that would offer a bow shot. 

We observed their movements for a short time before heading to a spot where we thought they might head up the mountain. We watched and waited but as the shadows lengthened, it was obvious that the goats had a better route to the top and were passing by just out of bow range. The goats eventually moved into the thicker timber and started their ascent, with Morgan following the mob as quietly as possible. Soon they were no longer feeding but moving with purpose towards their bedding area. As the light faded, it was obvious we weren’t going to catch up to them, let alone get a clear bow shot. Even in the absence of a kill, it had still been an enjoyable hunt. 

What a great couple of days for all, dog included, as it’s not often that we all get together for quality time away hunting. With some pork and venison for the freezer and two of sets of horns along with shared learning experiences, we were already looking forward to the next trip.