Dale Furze
29-07-07, 10:17 PM
How does a good day get better, I was thinking to myself, as I sat upon a rocky outcrop bino's in hand, observing a young bumpy headed stag deciding where he was going to bed down for a while. Well it all started the day before, with a phone call to my mate Mick Kernagan.
"Hey Mick, how 'bout I grab Killer (Anthony Clarkson) by the scruff of the neck, drag him up to your joint and we'll go have a look for a moose?"
"What sorta moose?" I hear.
"Don't really care mate, 'lil spotty one or big brown one, the tackle is the same for both, we'll make the decision when we get there."
"Yeah, righto, come up 'round lunch, we'll go for an arvo walk, the rain should have gone by then."
The next day, after a forty five minute drive, it's me standing alone at Mick's back door banging on the woodwork. "What happened to Killer" was all I heard as the door swung open.
"Thats right G'day to you too! He's in Canberra with his missus."
"Too bad, he misses out. Seeing there's only the two of us, I'll take you up to a new spot I'm onto, it's really only suitable for two hunters so this should work out well."
Fifty minutes later I was sitting glassing a bedding Sambar. Good chance for a photo I thought. So, down with the bino's and out with the camera. Isn't it funny, you take your eye off something you've been looking at for ages, only for 30 seconds, then bingo! Gone! That would be right, he's bedded down in some thick stuff and I didn't get to see exactly where. I had an idea though, I stalked around the hill further to try an get a better vantage point. Another rocky outcrop was jutting into my backside as I sat, it didn't really matter initially, I was too intent on finding the missing Sambar. After 20 minutes of a numb backside and listening to the young stag snore, I thought bugger it, I can't see him but I can hear him, he must be within around 50 meters ( must have been sleeping on his back like I do when I snore)(and on your side and stomach - wifes input!). I set of with a cautious down hill stalk through the thick stuff. Forty five meters later, a misplaced foot and a rouge stick with a loud crack had the snoozing stag on his hooves going for his life straight down the hill. Ah well, another Sambar stalk goes down the shute, one of many before and more to come no doubt. I found his bed tucked against a rock shelf not more than 15 meters from where I was when he got up. Thems the breaks. Not a good stalk I thought.
The majority of the afternoon from then on was sneak around, sit down and glass the feeder gullies type repetition which is typical Sambar hunting in my world. I hadn't seen a deer since the first little fella, and being in a new area didn't really worry me until I 'put one up' while I was traveling from one feeder gully to another. It was during a controlled 'bash' through some thick stuff that a big fella took off from right in front of me. I didn't get to see it, but could tell from the front hoof prints that it was quite a heavy chested deer that I had put up, possibly a hind, hopefully a stag. It didn't matter, I was going to follow up the tracks anyway to see where they go and give me a better idea of travel paths in the area.
Since this area sees very little hunting pressure (Mick's the only hunter on this property) I went into stalk mode. When the tracks slowed into a light depression walk I switched on the 'you can't see me stealth stalk'. Fifteen minutes later this payed off when I noticed a stag to my left, not more than 20 meters away, intently looking in the other direction. Surely this isn't right I thought to myself, I've seen heaps of Sambar deer, all out of bow range apart from one other stag that I got a good shot into four years ago and lost through poor weather and very thick vegetation. This fellas going to run, they just don't stand still very long, with that thought in mind I glanced at the adjustable sight on my Darton Maverick, sight set at 25 meters, perfect, drew back the 28 inch CarbonTech 240 shaft tipped with a Satellite TNT Mag three blade broadhead, focused on the spot that would allow the arrow in to do the most damage, released my breath, then my release aid.
The arrow flew true over the short distance and disappeared into the stags body just in front of his right hind leg. The mighty animal took off down hill, ran through the bottom of the feeder gully and across the next little ridge, all in full sight of myself. As he disappeared across the ridge I heard the heavy crash of saplings and under brush and triumphantly punched the air 'cause I knew he was down. The shot could not have been any better. By this time the shadows had well and truly gone and it was getting dark. I marked the spot where I had taken the shot with flagging tape and also logged it into my GPS. Then, casually made my way three kilometers back to the pickup point Mick and I had arranged earlier. I don't know whether the euphoria or the darkness made the hills seem flat but I didn't feel much and the way back.
Mick picked me up and said that he had put a stalk in on a young stag around seventeen inches long an had two shots at a black and white mountain dog, missing both times (he's using my old recurve, didn't shoot straight for me either). I told him about my day and his eyes lit up. "We'll have a big day tomorrow, better get up here early, hang on you might as well stay at my joint tonight, you're not going to get any sleep anyway!"
Nah. I'll go home and come back at first light, if I'm not going to get any sleep, I might as well do it in my bed"
Well he was right. What a prick of a night. What made it worse was having to listen to the other half lightly snore, that's my job! The morning couldn't come quick enough I tell ya.
At first light Mick , his young bloke Bill and myself were standing next to my 'flagged' spot. Mick couldn't believe how close the shot was and asked if deer could get mixo'. I got the GPS out and we started to follow up his tracks, using the GPS as a metering device just to see how far he had traveled. We walked 140 meters and noticed where he had taken a tumble down the hill, there, sixteen meters further down he laid. Total traveled, 156 meters.
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/found.jpg
Mick was straight up with a hand shake. "Congrats mate, lets get some photos".
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/pose.jpg
Fifty odd photos later and it was time to cape and dress him out. Mick has to be one of the greatest mates on earth, being a slaughterman he was straight into the job and had it done in half the time it would have taken me, for this I am eternally grateful.
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/dress.jpg
After the dressing work was completed we opened him up to retrieve my arrow. It had done it's job exceptionally well, nicely slicing a three blade cut through the kidney and splitting the lungs through the middle, along the body ending up in the brisket. The Carbon Tech 240 was perfect, just screw on a new broadhead and shoot it again, they have awesome strength and next to no drag when shot into an animal.
Some more photos of me lumping the head and meat out and then it was back to Mick's for a coffee and to finish the capeing of the head, all by 10.30am.
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/carry.jpg
His antlers measured 22 3/8 inches on the left and 28 2/8 inches on the right and scored 154 6/8 D.P. This all took place three days before my 34th birthday, that's how you make a good day better. Thanks for possibly a once in a lifetime birthday present Mick, I will never forget it.
Dale Furze.
"Hey Mick, how 'bout I grab Killer (Anthony Clarkson) by the scruff of the neck, drag him up to your joint and we'll go have a look for a moose?"
"What sorta moose?" I hear.
"Don't really care mate, 'lil spotty one or big brown one, the tackle is the same for both, we'll make the decision when we get there."
"Yeah, righto, come up 'round lunch, we'll go for an arvo walk, the rain should have gone by then."
The next day, after a forty five minute drive, it's me standing alone at Mick's back door banging on the woodwork. "What happened to Killer" was all I heard as the door swung open.
"Thats right G'day to you too! He's in Canberra with his missus."
"Too bad, he misses out. Seeing there's only the two of us, I'll take you up to a new spot I'm onto, it's really only suitable for two hunters so this should work out well."
Fifty minutes later I was sitting glassing a bedding Sambar. Good chance for a photo I thought. So, down with the bino's and out with the camera. Isn't it funny, you take your eye off something you've been looking at for ages, only for 30 seconds, then bingo! Gone! That would be right, he's bedded down in some thick stuff and I didn't get to see exactly where. I had an idea though, I stalked around the hill further to try an get a better vantage point. Another rocky outcrop was jutting into my backside as I sat, it didn't really matter initially, I was too intent on finding the missing Sambar. After 20 minutes of a numb backside and listening to the young stag snore, I thought bugger it, I can't see him but I can hear him, he must be within around 50 meters ( must have been sleeping on his back like I do when I snore)(and on your side and stomach - wifes input!). I set of with a cautious down hill stalk through the thick stuff. Forty five meters later, a misplaced foot and a rouge stick with a loud crack had the snoozing stag on his hooves going for his life straight down the hill. Ah well, another Sambar stalk goes down the shute, one of many before and more to come no doubt. I found his bed tucked against a rock shelf not more than 15 meters from where I was when he got up. Thems the breaks. Not a good stalk I thought.
The majority of the afternoon from then on was sneak around, sit down and glass the feeder gullies type repetition which is typical Sambar hunting in my world. I hadn't seen a deer since the first little fella, and being in a new area didn't really worry me until I 'put one up' while I was traveling from one feeder gully to another. It was during a controlled 'bash' through some thick stuff that a big fella took off from right in front of me. I didn't get to see it, but could tell from the front hoof prints that it was quite a heavy chested deer that I had put up, possibly a hind, hopefully a stag. It didn't matter, I was going to follow up the tracks anyway to see where they go and give me a better idea of travel paths in the area.
Since this area sees very little hunting pressure (Mick's the only hunter on this property) I went into stalk mode. When the tracks slowed into a light depression walk I switched on the 'you can't see me stealth stalk'. Fifteen minutes later this payed off when I noticed a stag to my left, not more than 20 meters away, intently looking in the other direction. Surely this isn't right I thought to myself, I've seen heaps of Sambar deer, all out of bow range apart from one other stag that I got a good shot into four years ago and lost through poor weather and very thick vegetation. This fellas going to run, they just don't stand still very long, with that thought in mind I glanced at the adjustable sight on my Darton Maverick, sight set at 25 meters, perfect, drew back the 28 inch CarbonTech 240 shaft tipped with a Satellite TNT Mag three blade broadhead, focused on the spot that would allow the arrow in to do the most damage, released my breath, then my release aid.
The arrow flew true over the short distance and disappeared into the stags body just in front of his right hind leg. The mighty animal took off down hill, ran through the bottom of the feeder gully and across the next little ridge, all in full sight of myself. As he disappeared across the ridge I heard the heavy crash of saplings and under brush and triumphantly punched the air 'cause I knew he was down. The shot could not have been any better. By this time the shadows had well and truly gone and it was getting dark. I marked the spot where I had taken the shot with flagging tape and also logged it into my GPS. Then, casually made my way three kilometers back to the pickup point Mick and I had arranged earlier. I don't know whether the euphoria or the darkness made the hills seem flat but I didn't feel much and the way back.
Mick picked me up and said that he had put a stalk in on a young stag around seventeen inches long an had two shots at a black and white mountain dog, missing both times (he's using my old recurve, didn't shoot straight for me either). I told him about my day and his eyes lit up. "We'll have a big day tomorrow, better get up here early, hang on you might as well stay at my joint tonight, you're not going to get any sleep anyway!"
Nah. I'll go home and come back at first light, if I'm not going to get any sleep, I might as well do it in my bed"
Well he was right. What a prick of a night. What made it worse was having to listen to the other half lightly snore, that's my job! The morning couldn't come quick enough I tell ya.
At first light Mick , his young bloke Bill and myself were standing next to my 'flagged' spot. Mick couldn't believe how close the shot was and asked if deer could get mixo'. I got the GPS out and we started to follow up his tracks, using the GPS as a metering device just to see how far he had traveled. We walked 140 meters and noticed where he had taken a tumble down the hill, there, sixteen meters further down he laid. Total traveled, 156 meters.
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/found.jpg
Mick was straight up with a hand shake. "Congrats mate, lets get some photos".
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/pose.jpg
Fifty odd photos later and it was time to cape and dress him out. Mick has to be one of the greatest mates on earth, being a slaughterman he was straight into the job and had it done in half the time it would have taken me, for this I am eternally grateful.
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/dress.jpg
After the dressing work was completed we opened him up to retrieve my arrow. It had done it's job exceptionally well, nicely slicing a three blade cut through the kidney and splitting the lungs through the middle, along the body ending up in the brisket. The Carbon Tech 240 was perfect, just screw on a new broadhead and shoot it again, they have awesome strength and next to no drag when shot into an animal.
Some more photos of me lumping the head and meat out and then it was back to Mick's for a coffee and to finish the capeing of the head, all by 10.30am.
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c105/DAZOOL/carry.jpg
His antlers measured 22 3/8 inches on the left and 28 2/8 inches on the right and scored 154 6/8 D.P. This all took place three days before my 34th birthday, that's how you make a good day better. Thanks for possibly a once in a lifetime birthday present Mick, I will never forget it.
Dale Furze.