I had the challenge of taking an old mate for a hunt on Tuesday, this was to be his first deer hunt and for him it was a feeler for the sport that i love so much so no pressure.
He had contacted me a few weeks ago asking to come on a hunt and he was very keen to try to shoot his first with his fathers Bruno Fox .222, this had me worried as it is at the bottom end of what i consider to be a suitable caliber for reds so would need some good stalking skills and excellent shot placement! I ran with the idea but on the day prior to the hunt we both agreed that since this was a freezer filler for him that i would shoot the first deer to get the meat on the ground and then and only if there was a suitable shot available he would have a crack at one.
The day of the hunt arrives and i rise at 3.30am have breakfast and slip out the back door trying not to wake the kids, straight to Gore and pick Frankie up and then off to the wallet drainer to fill the truck and bike up, bloody price of fuel is a joke, must get that fuel card of the boss otherwise known as the old man.
On the way in to Spot X i spy 2 stags on the hill in some farm land that i can access to but we decide to keep moving as the land owner may still be in his fart sack and i dont want to disturb him. Not much further up the road and we spy 2 yearlings frolicking around on the grass beside the river and they quickly disappear into the bush when they notice the truck slowing down, by now we are thinking its gonna be a great day for hunting even though it is raining and foggy.
We make spot X at 7am and start glassing the clearings below but nothing is seen, we move on and still nothing in fact i cant see anything in the entire valley which has me slightly nervous. Through the fog and rain we carry on up the valley me secretly hoping that this trip isnt going to be a flop, over hills through scrub and clearing after clearing the result is always the same, nothing there. After awhile we sit for a bite to eat and keep an eye on some low scrub and clearings, my hopes are slowly fading for my mate to score his first deer but we wont find them at home so we continue up the ridge. Just then as i poke my head around some scrub to check out the bush line bingo a deer stands in the mist feeding on the dewy grass under his feet, i slip back and let Frankie know we are in business i get my rangefinder out and range it at around 300m, with him having the up hill advantage and us with a fairly clean ridge to climb we decide that the .300wsm can do the walking for us.
A quick dash up and over to a small ledge gives me a great shooting platform and a bit of cover to stay concealed from the stag which allows me time to set the scope to 2.5 moa and get a good rest, set i place the cross hairs on his front leg and squeeze of a round but i know it is low straight away and watch the stag bolt down the hill out of site. Up the hill we move and find the spot he came down, hes wounded as we find some blood and a big skid mark. We track him down the hill and see him slip over yet another knob out of site we follow but he has allot of scrub to get into and the dog is scenting other trails from some beds we find on the way down, not helpful! After half an hour walking through the scrub trying to find some more blood or a foot print something that would lead us to this animal so we can finish the job we started, after a quick chat we decide to head back up the hill to where we shot it and retrace our steps or his as it is in this case, on the way up we keep scanning the area just in case he is looking out from the scrub for us then all of a sudden as if out of nowhere i spy in front of us a tan round familiar lump on the ground its our stag he has finally given in to his fatal wound.
On close inspection of the animal i find that both ears have holes in them and his front leg is deformed, broken and re healed with a kink in it, this young stag has jumped a fence at some stage of his life and it almost cost him when he done it but im glad he had as he was the only deer we seen in the valley.
Kink in the front leg.
Cheers
Mal.
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