This autumn, Mansfield's unusually dry conditions have made hunting unexpectedly easier. Now that the once-dense bushland has become bare, deer are moving into open fields in search of better grazing.
I was up before dawn, eager to make an early start for a perfect hunting day. I started climbing the hills and tracing the ridgelines, searching for the perfect vantage point to glass for deer. I had my eye on a nearby gully fed by natural springs, which I hoped would offer fresh grazing. As I drew closer, I felt the gully buzzing with activity with plenty of feed and does grazing on the fresh grass.
I settled in, binoculars in hand, watching a herd of fallow does, convinced that a buck had to be close. The anticipation was building, I had high hopes for a big one. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a buck appeared right next to me, no more than 50 meters away! I was stunned, I couldn’t believe he appeared right next to me after only five minutes. I steadied my hands as best I could, readied my rifle, and took the shot.
A direct hit! The buck sprang into the air and bolted downhill, then made one last powerful leap before disappearing from sight. I waited a few minutes, then cautiously made my way down the slippery, grassy slope (thankfully, wearing my new Zamberlan hunting boots). Soon enough, I found him lying in a clump of small bushes.
On closer inspection, I noticed something unusual, this buck had an amputated front foot, ending at the elbow. As I examined him, a mob of kangaroos came bolting towards me, followed by three wild dogs chasing them through the valley. I froze in disbelief as a red wild dog sprinted downhill, locked onto a kangaroo, before abruptly turning and disappearing back up the slope. It was too fast for me to even think about grabbing my gun.
I was thrilled with the day’s fallow rut hunt. Being out in nature, hiking those brutally steep hills and watching all the fallow and their rutting bucks reminds me why I do what I do.
Melanie McCullen: Australian hunter and photographer.
