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The one that got away - Pureora edition
Most of you probably have a ‘one that got away’ story. Here’s a story of a stag that got the better of me. It’s a long read, but hopefully this one resonates with a few hunters who have missed out on their stag of a lifetime!
Last year’s roar was a good one for me. I shot a nice old bush stag (in my intro post), and had a number of days of good roaring action. On a perfect sunny day late in the roar I headed in to one of my favourite hunting spots. After getting to where I planned on hunting, I checked the wind and dived off down into some nice north facing country. I let out a roar, but it was met with silence. I started sidling, giving a roar every fifteen minutes or so. Still, all was quiet. At this point, I decided to put my roaring horn away and just go into full stalk mode, as I generally do if the stags aren’t being vocal. I stalked through some really nice bush and found some fresh scrapes, but hadn’t seen a stag or even a hind for that matter.
Towards the afternoon I pushed back up onto an area of flat, fairly featureless country that I’ve had some good success hunting in the spring. I’d decided if I saw a nice meat animal I’d take it, and was stalking along slowly, when I saw a brown shape well up ahead of me. I crouched down and squinted at the shape, trying to figure out what I was looking at. I wound my scope up to its maximum magnification, 9x. Looking through the scope, I realised what I was looking at was just a dead ponga frond. As I lowered my rifle, I heard a twig snap off to my left, and looked over to see a young stag pushing his way through some pepperwood. He was about 20 metres away and slowly making his way towards me, nibbling at leaves that he was picking up off the ground. I had a decision to make. He was a very young animal and sported an even 6 point head. I very nearly decided to harvest him, but looking at him I thought he may turn into a reasonable stag, and resolved to leave him for another day. Content with my decision, I shuffled into a more comfortable position and watched him intently. Watching a deer in its natural environment, unaware of your presence, is one of the best shows on Earth in my opinion. He made his way towards me, fossicking around on the ground for edible leaves, but every so often he would look up and back over his shoulder. He was about 10 metres away from me when he put his head up and tensed up. The wind was favourable and I was dead still, so I was puzzled as to how I had alerted him. However, he obviously sensed something was up. At that precise moment, what I can only describe as the loudest, most beastly, grunty roar erupted about 40 metres away, from behind the patch of pepperwood that the young stag had just come from! As soon as the roar shattered the silence, the young stag shot off at full gallop. It was so close I could have reached out and touched it as it ran past me. As it bolted, it had the look of a dog that had just been given an all-time bollocking. It clearly did not want to be in the presence of the stag that had just announced its boss status. My focus shifted to the as yet unseen stag and as so often is the case when hunting, I was shocked at how after such a quiet day, things were suddenly now “all on”. I pushed over to a log that I thought would provide me with some cover. I could hear the stag smashing around in thick scrub ahead of me to my left, but I still couldn’t see him. I cupped my hands over my mouth and gave my best impression of what I thought the young stag that bolted would have sounded like. Basically, I gave the weakest roar I could muster - “uerrrghhhhhhh”. At this, the stag stopped what he was doing, and came crashing in from left to right. He burst briefly into sight about 15 metres up ahead of me, and went in behind some mingimingi and pepperwood. I could see he was a massive bodied stag, and his head looked good too. He let out another fierce roar and started violently thrashing the mingimingi. He was mostly obscured, but I could see his antlers. They looked heavy, long, wide and darkly stained. I thought he was possibly only a 10 pointer, but even so, this was a good bush stag. I got ready to take a shot, the log I was in behind was lying at an angle along my right side and made for an awkward rest for a shot. I slowly stood up to get a better vantage point, and could now see his head as he continued in his efforts to obliterate the scrub for all it was worth. He had a very dark coloured, shaggy neck and head, with two light eye patches around his eyes. There was just too much scrub between us to take a shot, so I decided to give another roar, and get ready. I took a few steps to my left, so I had a clear line of fire in the direction I thought he would approach. I was now confident that this was the master stag, so I gave a slightly more threatening roar this time - “UUURRGGGgggghhhhhhh”. At this, the stag almost immediately threw his head back and started pushing through the scrub towards me. I knelt down and put my rifle to my shoulder, he was coming in. There was a low ponga between me and him about 10 metres in front of me, and I knew once he pushed through that he’d be right in front of me and I’d have a clear shot. This was by far the biggest stag I’d encountered in the bush, and I’d be lying if I said at that moment, I wasn’t completely packing it. The stag had pushed through the scrub and was now marching towards me, I could see his legs under the ponga fronds. As he pushed his head under the ponga, I looked through the scope to take aim. The whole sight was a blur of brown, I couldn’t make out any features to aim for. I then realised I hadn’t dialled my scope back to 3x magnification, and it was still on 9x! Nevermind, the stag was still standing there, with its head through the ponga fronds, frozen in place, looking right at me. I stole a quick glance at him, then focused back through the scope. I lined the crosshairs up on a blurry patch of fur - an area I thought was roughly between his shoulders in the middle of his chest, and squeezed the trigger. Nothing. I squeezed harder. Nothing. I squeezed to the point where I thought I might snap the trigger off. Nothing. The safety was on, what an idiot. The stag was still standing there, but the cogs were surely turning, and it wouldn’t be long before he figured out this was not an optimal situation for him to be in. I reached up and gingerly pushed the safety forward with my thumb. The safety released with a barely audible, metallic *click*. It was a sound that the stag picked up immediately, and it was not a sound that anything in the forest should ever make. The game was up, he turned on his rear quarters and lunged back the way he came. I ran forward to get a better view past the ponga and mewed at him as he took off in full flight. When he heard my mew, he slammed on his anchors and, very briefly, looked back at me from about 50 metres. I could only see part of his head and neck through a narrow gap in the bush, and I wasn’t willing to take such a marginal shot. But that last look of him turning and momentarily looking back at me, is seared into my memory. The forest settled around me and it was silent once more. I stood there with my heart still racing. It was such an awesome encounter, but I was absolutely gutted.
I thought about that stag a lot in the coming weeks. I returned on multiple occasions to the same spot, in the hope I’d run into him again. On one such occasion I bumped a group of hinds that I suspect could have been with him. But I didn’t see him again. I did, however, find some of his scrapes and rubs. And more importantly, I found his wallow. I’d never used game cameras before, but I decided that before the next roar, I was going to set a camera up on his wallow. As it was late in the roar when I saw him, I figured the chances were pretty good he wouldn’t be shot this year and would return to the same area next year.
Fast forward a year. In March of this year I went into the area and set up a couple of game cameras in his territory. One on his main wallow and another on a well-used game trail. On the 30th of March I went in and checked the cameras. I inspected the camera on the main wallow first. It was awesome to see the activity caught on film. I had footage of multiple deer in and around the wallows, pigs coming and going, and even a pigeon having a splash around. However, so far, no big stag.
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I checked the camera on the game trail next. At around 7am on the 22nd of March, I had footage of what looked to be a pretty reasonable stag coming only half into frame, then spooking at something and crashing off. Below is a very blurry freeze frame of him, with half of his head in view showing 5 points (look in the far right of the frame). It looked to me like he would be a decent 10 point stag. It was hard to tell, but I thought those white eye patches looked familiar. Maybe, just maybe, this was him. It was exciting to think that I may have another chance at him in the coming weeks. I continued down the game trail and found some very fresh, stinky scrapes, and some well-used rubs. There was definitely a stag in residence, but from that blurry half frame I still wasn’t 100% sure it was him.
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I saw a couple of deer on that initial trip, but because I thought maybe my target stag was back in the area, my sights were set on him. I was going to pass up any other stag. I returned again on the 8th of April, which is usually around the peak of the roar in this area. All was quiet in the morning, but as I reached the main wallow and checked the game camera, I couldn’t believe it. There he was, the day before on the 7th, roaring his head off. A dark, shaggy neck and head with white eye patches. Heavy timber on top. Just a real solid bush stag. I had no doubt now, and sitting under a totara reviewing the footage on my phone, my hair on the back of my neck stood on end. It was awesome to see him again, even if only on film. Below are some stills of the video I watched that morning. This is the stag I had so comically stuffed up my chance of shooting last year.
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Unfortunately, this story doesn’t end with a photo of these antlers hanging on my wall. I guess it wouldn’t be a ‘one that got away story’ if that were that case. I did spend about 7 days in his territory searching high and low for him this roar. I saw plenty of hinds and stags, but I never did see him. I’m pretty sure I found where he was holding his hinds, down in a nice north-facing gully with lots of feed and plenty of exit routes. Hey, perhaps one of you caught up with him, in which case, good for you and I’d love to hear the story! Overall, it was a very unusual and quiet red roar for me this year. Although I had footage of this big stag roaring well on the 7th, I only had one day of hunting when the stags were roaring really well, which was ANZAC day funnily enough. I got in on one stag going bananas on a slip face that day, but I couldn’t get him to come out of cover and when the wind changed that put an end to that. If the big stag is still hanging around next year I’ll have another crack at him, otherwise I’ll happily say I had my chance. At the end of the day when I look back on any of my most exciting, memorable hunting experiences, the best part isn’t the animal lying on the deck. It’s those 5, 10 or 30 minutes before pulling the trigger, they are the moments that really stay with me. They’re the moments that will keep me going back into the hills again and again and again.
