By Neil McCormick

After hunting fallow deer in Tasmania for forty years, Terry a friend from New South Wales, invited me over to the mainland for a hunt on a property he had access to during April. I had never had the opportunity to hunt fallow deer during the rut as our Tasmanian season finishes in late March or early April so it would be a whole new experience hunting my favourite species of Australian deer. The trip was made even better when two good hunting mates, Kerry and Rod agreed to come with me.

We met Terry on April 7 and were immediately impressed with the property – it had well-developed pasture surrounded by steep forested hills and was ideal habitat for fallow deer. The hut on the property was very well appointed and we could see we were in for a week of hunting on a great place, with a comfortable camp and good mates; it didn't really get any better. When we arrived we were delighted to find that Terry had shot a very nice 23 point buck that scored 221 Douglas points just the morning before; his best fallow buck to date. Terry and his son Mehdi were seeing plenty of deer so things were looking promising.

That evening we spread out to cover as much of the property as we could in the hope of finding mature bucks. We all saw deer including bucks, but none were good enough that we wanted to spend time hunting them. We had a great first night in the hut, enjoying a few drinks and catching up with hunting stories from the past few years.

We all headed off in the dark next morning, again going to different areas. I approached a paddock that bordered some thick forest and could immediately hear several bucks croaking. I crept over a small rise and could see about twenty deer with at least two good looking bucks running about trying to keep small groups of does together. One of these bucks seemed to be keeping his does in a small hollow about three hundred metres from me and I couldn't approach any closer without revealing myself to the other deer out in the open. I elected to back off and do a circuit down and through some open woodland and approach a small rise that would put me downwind and within 100 metres of the animals.

Like all good plans, this was working very well until a shot rang out further down the valley and all of the deer promptly cleared the flat.

I walked back down to where I knew Terry and Mehdi were hunting and came across them looking for a buck Mehdi had shot at. He had not shot a deer before and admitted his heart was doing 100 beats a second and he was pumped full of adrenalin when he took the shot. After a search for any sign of a hit and a check where the deer had escaped under a fence, it became obvious that he had missed. I could see Mehdi was unhappy about that and told him that it happened to all hunters; the only ones who never missed were liars! I also pointed out that if he didn't get a rush of adrenalin and get the heart beat up when he was taking a shot at a buck, it was time to give the game away.

Terry and Mehdi headed back to the camp while I decided to look in the direction the deer I had seen ran. My intention was to look for a spot where I could sit that evening and hopefully catch the buck coming back out on to the paddock. As I wandered along the bush edge looking for crossing points, a buck started croaking vigorously just a few hundred metres up the bank from me in the bush. I decided that I might try and sneak in closer for a look to see what he looked like, but I knew that with a group of does around him and several younger bucks circling, my chances of getting close were not too high.

In the bush I could see up to 50 metres ahead, so I walked very slowly, stopped frequently and had my binoculars up most of the time trying to spy deer through the mosaic of stems and bushes. I spotted something out of place soon after I started and a close look revealed a spiker laying down sleeping after a hard night trying to steal the master buck's girls. I managed to sneak around him and kept moving towards the still croaking buck. Soon I was within 100 metres of the buck but still couldn't see animals.

I finally spotted several does feeding and occasionally looking towards a thicker patch of bush that obviously held the croaking buck. I suspect that I then put up a roo to my left because suddenly all of the does were peering intently in that direction. They then turned and ran away from me up the hill. The next croak was from much further away and I realised that my hunt was now over.

I walked into the small clearing that the does had been feeding in and was looking at the fresh sign and rubs everywhere when I suddenly heard deer running towards me from behind. I spun around to see two does being herded towards me by a nice looking buck. Obviously when the does ran, the buck had set out to round them up and get them back together. The buck stopped a mere ten paces from me, staring as I fidgeted with the rifle over my shoulder while trying hard to not make sudden movements. We were now in a Mexican stand-off!

As I got the rifle off my shoulder, the buck decided he had seen enough and turned and sprinted away. His pace through the trees told me he wasn't going to stop so I let out a loud, sharp doe call. He immediately slid to a stop and stared back at me from about 60 metres away. I leaned around a tree to see him standing looking back and took an off-hand shot at his shoulder through some light cover. With that, he turned and bounded away and I could hear him crashing through the bush for a short while.

I learnt many years ago that my best next move was to do nothing! I stood quietly for a few minutes listening for any sound and contemplating my shot. I wasn't entirely comfortable shooting through the scrub, but I had a clear view and providing I hadn't hit any unseen heavier branches, hoped that my shot had been true.

I marked the spot that I had shot from with toilet paper, very easy to see in the bush from distance, and then walked down to where I thought the buck had been standing. That spot didn't seem right, so I went back to the toilet paper. This time I tried to follow his running prints to where I had taken the shot at him but quickly realised that there were running marks everywhere, and picking his prints from the others was impossible. So it was back to the toilet paper yet again and this time, with rifle up, I looked through the scope until I found the sight picture I remembered when I pulled the trigger. Another 60 metre walk put me on a good deer trail that was heading in the right direction. I marked this spot and then proceeded with head down looking for blood.

I had only gone fifteen metres when I picked up the first blood and I knew I had a dead deer, I just had to find it! The blood trail stayed on the deer track and after a short distance took a sudden right angle turn down to a small running creek. The blood trail then ran out so I was confident the buck had crossed the creek. There were three trails emerging from the creek opposite me and I hoped there would be sign on one of these.

I crossed the creek and walked for ten metres along each of the trails but found no blood. This was confusing as the bush between the trails was thick and showed no sign of a deer crashing through it. As I turned to go back to where the last blood was, I caught a glimpse of something light coloured in the water under the tea tree. Closer inspection revealed the dead buck. I waded in and dragged the buck to the bank.

The buck had eighteen strong tines, scored 220 Douglas points and had a very nice light coloured cape with large white spots, a variation we rarely see in Tasmania. Again we celebrated that night with a few quiet drinks and planned for more success over the rest of the week.

Eventually, Mehdi shot his first fallow buck, a very nice animal with twenty points and Rod shot his first fallow buck since 2002, a very old buck with great character. All up, my first New South Wales fallow deer hunt was great fun with a good bunch of guys and we have decided to make it an annual event. Hunting croaking bucks is a new experience for me and I thoroughly enjoyed it!