Uhunt Mag Information

• Posted By : UHUNT APP - Jesse Farr
• Posted On : Feb 02, 2020
• Views : 1977
• Likes : 9
• Category : DEER HUNTING » STORIES
• Description : Last time I was there, he had mooned me with his big ginger backside as he ran up a ridge.

Overview

• BY BRETT CONIBEAR
  
  “No work today,” was the call from the boss. We had been rendering a large commercial building, and the rain had put a halt to all the work. Ian and I looked at each other and shrugged, “well, we may as well be hunting” we said, before deciding to head off. Ian introduced me to hunting over 13 years ago. In the early days, I would constantly tease him, how hard could it be to shoot a cow-sized animal in the bush? I was quickly proven wrong. After countless hunting trips, the elusive Sambar proved to be a great and worthy opponent. I had shot many Deer over the years, but those large Sambar Stags don’t survive on their size alone. They are surprisingly intelligent and elusive. On the way to the hunting area, I said: “Ian, it’s a Stag day today.” He just shook his head. I say it every time we go hunting. The plan was to practice our long range hunting on some Fallow Deer because in just 4 weeks we would be going to New Zealand for Tahr and the Alpine hunting would require long-range shots. As we came onto the property, we glassed a mob of Fallow Deer grazing on the bush line about 900 yards away. Moving in closer, we set up on a dam bank and began ranging them. 
  
  The set up took less than 30 seconds, then we were ready.  Dial-up. Earmuffs. Check the wind. Choose an animal. 3… 2… 1… Boom. The animals were on the ground, and we could begin the knife work. At this stage, we decided to go in separate directions. Ian has his favorite gully, and I had my sweet spot on another farm about 50 minutes away. I have had a camera set up in this spot for over two years and had watched a nice stag grow in and out of velvet on numerous occasions. Last time I was there, he had mooned me with his big ginger backside as he ran up a ridge. How hard can it be to shoot something the size of a Cow in the bush? I decided I needed to change tactics and came from the top of the gully down on him. The drizzly hanging rain was perfect. Our favorite weather in the bush. Not so much when mowing lawns or rendering a building. The noise of the rain helped to conceal my footsteps (I’ll admit, I’m not the quietest in the bush). As I came over the ridge, I could see the majority of the gully, pristine patches of grass and juicy clumps of blackberries. The perfect establishment for a deer to dine. 
  
  
  
  And what do you know, there he was, over at table 7, wondering who could be so rude as to disrupt his meal. I can only describe it as one of those moments where time seems to have been stretched out. We were both eyeballing each other, and as I raised my Sako 75 my scope was filled with an indelible portrait of a magnificent stag. It honestly took my breath away, and I only wish I could have captured it on camera to share with others. Instead, it lives in my memory, and it is one I replay countless times. The crosshairs settled on his neck. I took a slow breath and squeezed the trigger. No struggle. No blood trail. Not even a cry.
  
  He simply fell where he stood. I have read the stories about how a hunter has a strange sense of loss and sadness after the battle is over, and I have always struggled to sympathize with it. Only now, as I walked up to the stag, did I understand what they really meant. Simply an animal the size of a Cow walking through the bush. How hard could it be? I had been preparing for this moment for 13 years and following this one animal for 3. 
  
  
  
  I had walked countless hours through gullies and ridges, checking wallows and preaching trees. All for this moment. Right here. Right now. At this stage, it was starting to get dark, so I figured it would be best to get Ian and come back in the morning. I had never caped out an animal, and I definitely didn’t want to mess this one up. We got back to the farmhouse where we were staying, and I showed Ian and the farmer some photos, telling them all about the hunt. Thankfully it was a freezing night, so there was no chance for the meat spoiling. This Stag was destined for sausages. The next morning when we arrived back at the site, I could hear wild Dogs howling in the distance. My heart sunk. I could just imagine them feasting on the magnificent Stag all night. Thankfully when we came out from the trees, we saw he was untouched. 
  
  We finished cutting up the animal while the Dogs continued to howl. Once we were finished, we decided it was worth trying to get a wild Dog too. The Victorian Government was paying a $100 bounty, and we could do with some petrol money. We found a good position, Ian began to howl, and in just 10 minutes, a big yellow Dog appeared on the ridge. I called the range, 193 yards, and Ian squeezed the trigger. The petrol money was in the kitty. Now I would love to be able to tell you that it is like this every time we go hunting. But it’s not. For some reason, this was one of those ‘purple patches’ where everything worked out just right. It was a day that we will never forget and one that I think in the next 10 years of hunting, we would struggle to repeat.
  After all… How hard could it be?