When the fallow rut doesn’t go to plan

I had done all the physical scouting I could do. Mentally I’d run a checklist through possible target areas and ‘plan b’ should the wind not be right or the animals simply not cooperate. I’d also made a checklist of everything I needed for the upcoming trip. It’s about trying to keep it as simple as possible with just a tent/swag, gazebo and anything that can be put in a vehicle.

I got to the property and set up at my normal camp spot in the early afternoon: tent, gazebo, buggy and vehicle reversed up a side trail. My camp is three-quarters of the way up a gully head. This way I don’t scent up most of the lower country and I’m out of the predominate wind by being just one-quarter below the surrounding ridge lines. It also gives me quick access to most of the property or the neighbouring properties (where I also have permission) if the animals are thin on the ground.

After methodically getting my gear together for a hunt, I went for a slow wander down a track to the lower country to see what sign was about. I saw older rub saplings and then larger trees, spotting scrapes through the binoculars overlooking prime grazing country with long sightlines.

I checked the wind and hid in cover near a fresh scrape and rattled a pair of antlers I took from a buck a few years back. At first not much happened. I could however sense a build-up and felt like I was being watched from a distance. I then spied movement 600m across the cleared country. Two young spikers were making a beeline for me and my rattling.

I put on my face mask and limited my hand movements to only allow enough noise to keep these two fallow spikers interested. Sure enough they came to within 10m and started looking for the two fallow bucks they thought were fighting. I grabbed my camera out slowly and got some footage of these two inquisitive creatures before the wind changed and they spotted me. After about five minutes of them trying to work me out I shuffled my dead leg and they quickly got the hint and took off.

I got a little overconfident seeing animals so quickly, and calling two in. I started rattling again. After rattling for a while, I got impatient and had a look around. A bigger buck had snuck in below me around some of the blackberry bushes. He was solid and more mature than the earlier two deer. My heartrate increased as I cast my eyes over his headgear.

After sizing him up while he looked back and forth for the rattling intruder, I realised he was smaller than any other fallow buck I had shot. I took some happy snaps before he sensed something wasn’t right and trotted away to a nearby scrape and freshened it up.

The sun was starting to go down and with only 30 minutes of light left I stalked my way back towards a trail camera I had previously set, which eventually leads to the track back to camp. I uneventfully got to the trail camera and walked back in the dark to camp.

That night, while sitting in silence around the campfire, I hatched a plan of where to hunt in the morning. I was up well before daybreak. After breakfast I made my way downhill, glassing through my binoculars as I went. At this time of the morning, the birds had just started singing and every second tree stump required a longer look in case it was a big boar or a bedded deer.

No deer were seen, but I did hear some distant croaking, which raised my spirits. I headed in the general direction of the croaking, continuing to glass as I went. After 45 minutes of going downhill, sidling hills and uphill, I eventually made it to an internal fenced paddock. I spotted a lone doe 600m away, working her way to distant timbered country. Not long after watching her, another doe appeared and then another. I held there as the wind was in my favour and I had a decent vantage point.

The croaking began again. I saw a menil fallow buck with his harem of does. I sized him up in the binoculars but he wasn’t anything special. Due to the time of the morning and how far away he was, I passed up this low percentage chance and kept walking.

I knew if the wind stayed consistent and I worked into it, I’d have a chance at something closer along the way. It goes without saying, but persistence is the key. After about 30 minutes of not seeing any animals or fresh sign I decided to sit in some fallen timber overlooking a large stand of trees. I was on slightly higher ground than the paddocks around me and I’ve found the deer bed here because they feel safe with long sight lines.

I started rattling my antlers and bashing a nearby shrub to see if I could get a reaction. Within seconds I saw a couple of chocolate-coloured deer-shaped forms moving through the vegetation towards me. As they cleared the bush, I realised it was only a pair of inquisitive spikers. I kept going with the rattling to at least see how close they would come or if their big brother was possibly nearby.

With no further luck I kept going with the rattling. The spikers kept approaching: 50m… 20m… 10m. These two, although young and dumb, weren’t 100 per cent stupid. They kept moving their heads side to side to work out where the action was. Eventually they tired of the game and bolted after I felt the lightest of breeze changes on the back of my neck.

The rest of the day became uneventful deer-wise. Semi-disheartened, I cut some wood for the night’s fire and thought of how to improve my luck. I was starting to run out of hunting days and was tired from all the walking, averaging 10-20km per day, along with getting mentally drained. But I reminded myself that persistence pays.

The next morning, I threw my pack on, grabbed my rifle and checked the wind. It was coming from the west; this was going to be okay for the area I previously spotted the distant fallow buck with his does. I walked to the area, and as I got closer the wind was carrying the sound of a fallow buck croaking, but I still couldn’t see him. The sound was coming from higher up the hillside, probably on one of the numerous benches obscuring my view.

I slowly broke from the cover of the bush, with my head on a swivel. It was now or never, as it was fruitless to remain in the timberline just hoping and wishing. Moving as slowly as possible while crouched down, I happened to come face to face with eight wallabies. My heartrate increased as I didn’t want the buck or does to know something was up.

Luckily for me I pushed the wallabies downhill and out of sight from any deer eyes. I kept crawling closer to the sound for about 35 minutes, swearing at any moment I would catch sight of the croaking buck. I’ve learnt fallow bucks croaking can be deceiving, you think they’re close when in fact they could be hundreds of metres away.

Eventually, I got eyes on a fallow doe. She kept looking uphill. Then a spiker appeared and started trotting away. The chocolate-coloured croaking buck was keeping the younger deer at bay. He had a hot doe pushed up into the timber that he was holding tight. It turned out it was the buck from the first afternoon that I had passed up. I observed his antics – he would be a good first head for one of my mates.

After half an hour of the wind playing nice, it gusted from behind me, and in less than a second, they were gone! I dropped downhill to see if anything else was about. I sat down against a huge corner strainer post and began rattling the antlers. Soon I could hear snorting and the sound of hooves getting closer and closer.

Then right behind me a 2-3-year-old fallow buck came flying by within 5m! I kept him worked up for a minute or two until he realised and smelt I was a human, not a real fallow buck.

My time away was ending the next morning. I had one afternoon hunting session left, so lined up going to another nearby property for a look with the farmer. At 3:30pm I drove my buggy up to his house and we made the short journey to another property.

After 15 minutes of walking, we came to a steep downhill track with a creek and some old fruit trees at the bottom – pig magnets. Close to the bottom of the track we spotted a black blob 200m away. Throwing up the binoculars, I saw a decent-sized boar, with a few smaller pigs around him.

I was in a bit of a mental dilemma because I really wanted to see what was about further along the property, but I also didn’t want to pass up a decent boar. Not firing a shot for a few days had made me a little nervous. The shot was a steep angle downhill at 200m.

For some stupid reason, I held slightly over the boar as he fed about unsuspecting. I fired and missed. Pigs flew out of the cover everywhere! We even noticed some black blobs running over 800m away. I was dirty on myself.

Of course I got a ribbing from the farmer. The next spot we stopped at was 25 minutes further along before a thick patch of blackberries with trees around it. I employed a sound caller off my phone, plus a modest speaker, of two boars fighting and a hot sow.

After a short while, a solid looking boar 500m away was coming directly towards us off a nearby hillside. Knock me over with a feather, this thing was working. The boar dropped down out of view in the many folds of dead ground in front of us. We lost sight of him for another few minutes before we could hear him chomping his jaws together. He was really worked up, but we couldn’t see him!

Then suddenly, he appeared 20m away, frothing at the mouth and constantly slapping his jaws. I slowly raised my rifle and dropped him. What a heart raising experience! He was a solid boar and completely covered in mud from wallowing.

The sun was starting to go down and light was fading, so we doubled our pace as we got walking again. There were a few ‘hotspots’ to check out before darkness fell. Getting up to a boundary fence, we followed it along towards a large hillside. We split up, 20m apart. The farmer started signalling a pig ahead of him. I had spotted another just inside the fence. I decided to go towards him, and I’m glad I did. Instead of taking a shot at a 40kg pig there was 70kg+ boar just standing in the grass, not fussed at all.

I fired and he dropped into the long grass. Walking up to the boar, we realised he was bigger than we thought and even had small hooks. We continued our walk in the fading light. Over a kilometre away through the binoculars, we could see large numbers of pigs on the neighbouring property contouring their way downhill to the flat country.

There was one last spot worth a try before the light ran out – a secluded dam where a heap of game and livestock trails all met. Just as we sat down, a feral cat was spotted walking away into blackberry shrubs. We made our way down towards it and started throwing in large rocks to spook it out for a shot. Nothing.

To our right, along a game trail, a dark blob was slowly walking along. It was another boar. We both ducked down and moved back from the rise in the track, giving us a good field of view. The boar walked straight towards me at 10m as my .270 rang out. Boom, straight between the eyes and he dropped on the spot. Another decent-sized boar was on the deck.

The day had finally ended, signalling the conclusion of my trip. No decent deer on the deck but some good memories and pigs taken. My odd deer rut was over.