Thread: The first sign of madness...

They say the first sign of madness is repeating the same thing over and over, yet expecting different results. That would have made both Gibo and myself certifiably mad on Saturday morning. We had got amongst no less than three stags, all to have them shut up on us or wind us. While there was no shortage of action, we felt it was still early and the stags weren’t really going for it. Then we bumped into ‘Rowdy”. Rowdy was roaring his his mud-covered balls off in the head of a gully just before midday. He was replying heartily to our roars, and we formulated a plan to head him off at the top, keeping downwind of him. Within 100 metres of his estimated position he stopped roaring. We arrived at the top of the ridge where a nice little pad was found, but no stag, no noise, no fresh sign. Twenty minutes of sitting and listening and lo and behold, Rowdy opens up again, this time at the top of the other side of the watershed. The Dynamic Duo scuttle down the side of the ridge, through the roughest kind of creek, and end up on a knoll. Again, Rowdy keeps his distance. We sit and wait, and a yearling spiker comes into check out or moans. Circling us with little “bluh” spiker calls. Big future that little guy, not even a year old and rarking up the big boys!

We sat there in the midday sun nearly dozing off, thinking it over. If what you are doing isn’t working, stop doing it! Clearly our roars were pushing him off. A new approach was implemented. When he roars, we are going to close the gap as quickly as possible, and ninja up on him in the final distance, not roaring at all. We dropped back down into the shitty creek, and attempted to get back out the other side. I swear in the 1980’s Gibo was actually Sonic the Hedgehog, time and time again I watching him curl up in a ball and blast underneath blackberry and bush lawyer I could only dream of fitting under. Reaching the top of the next ridge, we hit some nice open country with good visibility, and we stealthed along for half an hour or so, following the source of the roaring.

The noise took us up into the head of the next watershed. Right in to a filthy, muddy stag den, with a massive wallow, thrashed saplings, and fresh sign everywhere. We cut around the head of the gut, and back into the wind on the other side. Gibo was up front, with myself the tail gunner. As he reached around the other side of a small knoll, I watched a hind watching Gibo from 15 metres. Where there’s girls there’s boys! Being a good girl she didn’t bark at us and we moved on after she ducked off the ridge. Suddenly Rowdy lets rip! He is still on the side we have just left, we have over shot him but possibly placed ourselves in a better position to shoot him. Just then, I see the hind leaving up the other side of the watershed. I softly whistle at Gibo to stop, and he looks back as a second hind follows the first.

Low and behold, with a shove of the hind, another stag appears, moving his girls along the track. I quickly look at his tops, he has three on top which is the rule around here, and I drop him with a standing lung shot. Gibo directs me to the site of his crash landing at the bottom of a swampy gut, and the rest is history. A small 12, certainly not my biggest stag to date but still a 12, and easily the most symmetrical, and very much the prettiest. A bone out job and a long trip back to camp for a Waikato or two. Two pleased but tired hunters.



It’s funny, before I left that morning I had asked the ‘game gods’ for two stags. Gibo just laughed but when we got back that night I asked for the second one. Gibo laughed again and said he would be happy with anything, to which I replied “no, bigger than mine!” How right I was!

I will let Gibo tell day two, To be continued…

BLUH!!!!.......................BLUH!!!!!!

Sounds like an exciting hunt.
You should have treated yourselves to something better than a waikato....

It balances out dehy meals just nicely. One blocks me up, one cleans me out!

Awesome ...

Day two....how do we replicate that!?
We needed to come up with a plan that kept us clear of the ground covered the precious day. With that in mind we headed down to the big river and traced that north to cover some quick ground. Plenty of sign on the flats but it was unlikely we would catch a stag out here during the day so some elevation was needed. The lack of roars on this day was beginning to play on our minds. We had a few moans but they seemed far off and were not all that encouraging.

We made our way up and onto a predominant ridgeline and keep pushing forward, roaring into the guts and headwaters to our right which is where the wind was coming from. Still quiet.......
We come upon a likely looking gut and proceeded to give it a roar. While listening we heard a twig snap in a gut to our left. This was not the greatest location for a deer to be if we wanted to remain un noticed as the wind was coming across our front. Jim produced his best spiker imitation 'BLUH!"

We retreated a few metres and tucked in behind some large trees. A few grunts ensued from this nasty looking gut so we were on high alert as to who made them. A few more minutes past and we could hear movement from the gut as the animal came closer and then backed off several times grunting away and obviously displeased we were in his proximity. We had thoughts it may have been a young stag until he gave us a deep guttural moan. Not a roar so to speak but it did lift the spirits some what. I by now was getting a bit twitchy as all I could see was a wall of shitty stuff. "We'll wait this one out' was the call.

More minutes passed, any change in position from either party would have resulted in our two day stench being picked up so we sat tight.

After what felt like an eternity we picked up some movement up on the opposite face straight above the gut. I caught a glimpse and couldn't help but turn to Jim and say' fuckin big!'. I then tried to get a clear sight picture of him but he was obscured by trees and bushes. He performed a small circle up on the face and on his accent I had his arse and back in sight. Jim took the opportunity and timed a wee 'BLUH!" to perfection. The stag turned broadside and his fat chest and neck came through a gap in the trees. I let the 308 sing and the 168 VLD had him sitting on his arse on the spot!! Hell yeah!!!

My first stag in the roar and to say I'm am pleased is an understatement.

Big thanks to Jim for the trip and the knowledge shared. I have a feeling this may take me a while to beat, if I ever do Nice solid 11 BLUH!!!!

Good stuff chaps

Bloody fantastic guys. You can put the rifles down now for the rest of the roar and leave us some

Yep

Good stuff fellas..well done

You will remember that hunt for a while!

Cheers

Dino

Bloody good stags men hope I have luck you you guys.

What the pictures don't show is how heavy timbered Gibos' stag is. Even above the Bez tine he is way past thumb and forefinger territory

We'll done boys! Impressive.

Well done fellas

Brilliant guys, two great write ups.......Gibo.....great 'girth' my man.......Pointer..... that is a full on symmetrical head as you say......well done lads

Great stuff.
Bet you can't wait to get out there again.
Cool photos too.