After the covid year that never was, I was itching to get another crack at the Cressbrook Valley stags. My nephew had postponed his 2020 wedding for 12 months, so we were headed for SE Queensland in the first week of March anyway, but it would be a bit early for the red deer roar. I stopped short of asking the bride to postpone for another fortnight or so to fit in with my hunting plans! Nevertheless I was hoping for an early cold snap to get things moving, but unfortunately the warm weather persisted and the allotted week arrived too soon. As it was I ended up with only 3 days on my own while the good wife attended to other pressing family commitments.

Having driven up the evening before, dawn on the first morning saw me heading up the divide in misty rain, but the hills had been silent all night with not a single stag roaring. As I made my way slowly along a ridgeline a couple of hours later, I spotted movement on the opposite face and a good stag came into view. He was about 500 metres away across a steep lantana-choked ravine, with patchy rain drifting through, so I sat on a log to watch him for a while.

Unfortunately he seemed unable to get comfortable in the rain and did the gradual fade-away into the lantana below. I quickly realized that there were two other stags higher up the slope, one still in velvet but the other a respectable 4x4 with a very plump profile when he turned end-on. There was plenty of grass in the hills and that stag was fat as butter!

Righto, we need a plan!

The ravine was pretty-much non-negotiable from a stalking perspective, but there was a spur running off my ridge a few hundred metres back, so I waited for a rain-scud to come through and hurried back to see if it would place me close enough for a realistic chance. I soon found an opening that gave me an unrestricted view of the opposite face. Sitting at the base of a tree with elbows on knees and the back of my forward hand well-supported, I spent about another 15 minutes or so trying to talk myself into making the shot.

Eventually the rain cleared and the stag was standing side-on looking absolutely magnificent, so without further thought I held about 2 inches above the top his shoulders and squeezed the trigger. Not sure what I was expecting, but I clearly recall absolute astonishment as the stag went down as if pole-axed!

He kicked a few times on the ground, and then I watched in awe as he began to slide down the steep slope. Twice he hung up for a few seconds, then continued downwards into a narrow side-gully where I lost sight of him. A clatter of rocks followed, then silence. It would be more than half an hour, some of it spent trying to shelter from a particularly heavy downpour, before I eventually negotiated the ravine and climbed up the wet slippery hillside to his precarious position.

This is where he eventually hung up, antlers stuck in the wet ground!

After sliding some 35 metres he had come to rest on a small ledge in the steep gully, and I couldn't risk rolling him for the photo or he would certainly have slid a further 50 metres or more down the gully, likely taking me with him. Had to set up the camera with him lying on his back!

Removing the meat was rather difficult too, but eventually I was loaded up with both rumps and both back-straps plus the head, slipping and sliding on the wet grass and clay while contouring the steep hills to get back to the divide. Without doubt the most dangerous carry-out I've ever done! Absolutely smashed me!
Amazing just how good that venison tasted!
...and absolutely stoked to bag a hard-antler stag on my first morning, before the roar even got started.

Furthermore, I do believe that's the longest shot I've ever made on game in my entire life! The bullet was a 150gr Sierra Pro-Hunter driven at modest velocity, so the 14 or 15 inches of drop to centre of shoulder would put the distance a good bit over 300 metres.

Just ordered a range-finder on ebay!