Bruce asked me to post this story for him hence my handle up top.Nitro please include in the DVD comp eh?

A hunter’s dreams fulfilled Bruce Wellington

Every hunter I have had the pleasure of knowing has always aspired to achieve a day out hunting where everything just falls into place the way you wish it would.

A day where all the early mornings, all the sleepless nights and endless man-hours in the field finally pay off.

I’m sorry to say I have yet to have one, but this came close.

This is the story of the day I finally shot my first Sambar stag. Of the day where I, and my ever-faithful mutt Thor finally achieved success on one of Australia’s premiere game animals.

I first started dreaming of hunting deer when I was still at school. I used to fade off while sitting I class thinking of hunting and fishing. As a young boy I grew more proficient in the use of firearms and in the art of hunting. I still remember the hours spent bunny busting with the .22 thrown over the shoulder walking the hills, these are some of my finest childhood memories.

As I progressed through each stage of my life, I gained knowledge and experience in all aspects of life including hunting. There had always been, and I now feel there always will be a driving force behind my hunting, the elusive Sambar deer.

Years had gone by with countless hours spent in the field, and I had still not turned up a Stag, I had tracked down a few does and spikers, but the majestic stag had always eluded me.

A concerted effort at the start of the year 2003 saw me and my Weimarner pup Thor, spending a lot more time away in the field. Always looking for and learning about the animal of my hunting desire.

The culmination of my efforts had me focussing on a large patch of forest where I knew there were a few deer, although with the pressure of logging and civilisation creeping in they are very thin on the ground, and extremely wary.

Months were spent searching for signs of activity or of habitation. Every time I returned home knackered and happy, but empty handed. There was always something in the back of my mind that just kept willing me going back for more. It was the print that might have been, a branch that was slightly scared even a mud scrape on a tree that may have been caused by a deer, I really was obsessed.

It was another one of those non-descript days when I kissed the better half goodbye as I dropped her off at work. Thor and I were heading off for the afternoon on yet another wander though the bush in search of more sign.

I parked my beat up Holden Ute and started to gather my gear for the afternoon of aimless wandering around the bush. I released Thor from the back and he jumped out and did his usual thing of marking every tree in a 100-metre radius. He was no more switched on than usual, just another walk in the bush with his boss.

I consulted my well worn and smudged map and found the gully system I had decided to focus my attention on for this afternoon, set the bearings on my compass and grabbed the stainless Ruger, in 7mm Remington Magnum. I had bought this rifle recently with the sole purpose of naming it the “Deer rifle” much to the better half’s horror.

With all preparations done, I loaded my rifle and headed off into the wild and overgrown bush. Thor was doing his best to scare everything in a one kilometre radius, running through the bush like a cat with a cracker up it’s arse, the amount of noise created by that animal is amazing.

After about two hours into the aimless wander with nothing so much as a piece off poo, Thor started to switch on, which is highly unusual to say the least. His nose went to the ground and he was chattering with nervous energy, something I had not seen in him since I had taken him out fox chasing. A little further in to the gully I started to see more trails that I thought looked like roo trails, but the spoor told me different!

I started to find scrapes on trees at about the right height, not the full on rubs that I have seen else where, but, just enough to cause me to haul the dog in and slow the stalk speed down a bit. After a check of the creek in the gully bed, a small but well used wallow was found hiding underneath copious amounts of fern growth. The wallow had well used dirty water in it, so I figured that it had been used within about 12 hours.

At about this time Thor had gone from being annoying to switched on enough to start pulling and using his nose, although I was still considering gagging him to shut the chattering up!

A quick check of the well-used map confirmed that this gully system had four feeder creeks at this stage all moving into a gully running along a wooded valley floor with moderately steep inclines both sides. I slowed the pace right down to barely a walk creeping through the forest trying not to make a sound, unlike the dog!

Thor’s behaviour had changed dramatically, he was now pulling me gently into the headers across creek lines nose down bum up, I figured he has a better nose than me so I followed him, all the while checking all around for more sign, or more to the point, what had caused it!

As I approached the crest between the second and third creek line Thor slipped his collar and ran full pelt down the valley floor. I thought about calling him back but I figured he might have something, so I let him go and waited for the sounds of a bail up or chase. I slowly moved up and over the crest watching the dog scarper along the valley nose down.

I positioned myself in behind some thick fern growth and waited for something to be flushed by the ruckus caused by the dog. I brought my rifle up and had a look around the crests and gullies all around me.

I had finished scanning the gullies and was moving up the crests either side when I scoped a lump of brown on the ridge two across, it couldn’t be surely. A closer look confirmed it wasn’t a log; it was in fact a deer! Only I couldn’t make out if it was a doe or stag, as the head was obscured. Stealthily on my haunches I moved around until I could get a better view, but the deer had obviously seen and heard the dog! It had moved also, getting ready for a hasty departure no doubt.

I waited with my rifle poised and safety off, all efforts concentrating in keeping the crosshairs of the six power Bushnell planted fast on the deer’s boiler room, slowly the head came up into view as the deer got ready for his grand exit. I could hardly contain myself when two evenly matched antlers came into view, a big beautiful graceful head swivelled in the afternoon sun, scenting the air sensing that something in his kingdom was not all as it should be.

This was what I had worked so hard for, the long hours spent away in the field, the endless hours spent aimlessly waking the forest. It all came down to this moment.

I slowly applied my finger to the trigger as I stared at my trophy on the ridgeline a 100 meters distant. As I gradually applied pressure I felt it break like a glass rod at the prescribed 2 ½ pounds, I felt the solid punch in the shoulder as the boom resounded in my ears, the rifle attempted to fly up under heavy recoil but I kept the scope planted on the stag, watching for the fall of my shot. I willed the 175-grain Remington core-lokt projectile to fly straight. The shot was true, a small cloud of dust came off and hung in the air just behind the shoulder, I watched in animated disbelief as the animal collapsed on the spot.

Thor the silly bastard had now rejoined me after bounding up the valley, wildly looking for the entire world to see what I had shot at. I jumped up from my shooting position and crossed the creek lines in what must have been a world record time. I Ran over the crest to spot where I thought he had dropped, a feeling of dread flowed through me, had he got up and ran off? Surely not as it was a solid hit.

Looking around I saw Thor attempting to drag a bloody great deer to me, unfortunately his retrieval skills were more than his strength so it was not moving! I called him off and walked over to where he had fallen. A truer shot had not been needed. With the projectile sitting just under the skin on the far side, the bullet had expended all it’s energy moving through. The great animal had been dead on his feet.

I surveyed my first Sambar Stag, I felt like yelling to world but gave up on the idea soon after, as I realised the dog would think I am a bigger idiot than he was. Six points and damn near symmetrical, twenty-one and twenty-two inches long and twenty-two across the beams. No way near the biggest rack around but was I happy, no way bloody ecstatic is more like it. When I stoped shaking and taking a few photos, I caped my trophy out and butchered as much of him as I could.

Walking out with my trophy over my shoulders I don’t remember how long it took, or if indeed my feet touched the ground. I found a place near a track I could get to easily and left my trophy to go and collect the Ute. An hour later I was driving back into civilisation with the biggest grin on my face. A quick trip to my hunting partners house was thrown in for good measure, as he had refused to come out walking again.

My first stag is being mounted and will take pride of place in “my” room after I finish building our new house. Now I have another problem, you remember the wallow that had been used? Well the stag I took had no mud on him.

Where’s my “Deer rifle”? C’mon dog lets go walkies!