A HUNT TO REMEMBER

My brother Mark (Skiddy) was chomping at the bit to get himself a roaring stag there. This would be the first hunt we’d do together by ourselves. Skiddy picked me up at 3.30am and we set off with our trusty fur babies, Ruby and Buddy.

It took 1½ hours to drive and an hour’s walk up the creek before we got to the hunting ground. The plan was to get to the base of the centre ridge before daybreak.

We made good time zigzagging up the side creek and found the centre ridge. We de-layered, braced ourselves for the burn and got stuck into climbing the steep razorback ridge. We were pleased with our timing as the sun was just starting to peek over the opposite ridgeline.

Skiddy let out a roar and a few moments later, we had three stags replying. We grinned at each other. We pinpointed where they were and made a plan to try our luck with the closest stag. He was about 500m away on the ridge to our right. The wind was perfect – a slight breeze kissed our right cheeks as we continued up the ridge to a nice open