Twin Elements Podcast · Hunting Stories
Red Deer Camp: A Calling Masterclass During The Roar
After a fantastic start to the 2025 red deer roar, James and I moved camp just over the hill to spend a couple more days chasing roaring red stags in Queensland's Brisbane Valley.
It was early April and the red stags were at full volume. Rutting hard and chasing their harem's of hinds.
The crew in camp differed to normal as we joined two friends and their young sons in tow. For us, this hunt was different, but in a better way than we could have anticipated. Rather than the intense bowhunting we're used to at this time of year, it was more focused on sharing our experience with the younger generation, teaching a couple of the adults a thing or two about calling red stags, and doing everything we could to finally get Steve on the board.
In This Report
- A Roaring (Red Stag) Welcome!
- Chasing A Boundary Fence Stag And The Loudest Calling We've Ever Done
- Calling One In for a First-Timer
- Taking an Eleven-Year-Old on His First Hunt With Us
- Camp Life: Backstrap, Heart, And Full Bellies
A Roaring (Red Stag) Welcome!
Red Deer Country
Without waisting any time, we raced up to the highest point on the property.
The afternoon light was dropping beyond the distant horizon, but we wanted to get an insight into where to start for the morning.
Positioned on a central vantage point with heaps of country spread out in front of us.
We glassed into the hidden nooks and gullies already sitting in shade.
These were exactly the kind of ground hinds and stags would favour as the light drops.
A couple of stags were roaring already, something that brought a smile to our faces.
That was our first afternoon on the property.
A beautiful sunset, roaring red stags seemingly everywhere, all of them waiting for the last shreds of daylight before easing out of their hidden gullies to sound off. We watch several different stags emerge and roar their heads off before we headed back to camp for an early night, determined to be back up on the ridge before first light.
The next morning delivers more of the same energy.
Stags roaring in the darkness beyond.
In the head torches the air looked thick, as if carrying moisture from a light shower.
But it wasn't until daylight came, that we realised we were in the heart of a thick bank of fog.
A couple of stags were roaring from very similar spots to the evening before, suggesting one genuine nucleus sitting at the head of the valley. We move toward it as the fog lifts enough to glass properly.
Although beautiful, the foggy start was a blessing and a curse.
We had missed our opportunity to locate the mature stag we were after.
Instead, all we could go off now was the echoes of roars in the thicker gullies.
Trying to spark something up, we sent out a location roar to see what, if anything, would answer. Almost immediately a reply.
A fair chunk of these days came down to what we call cold calling, essentially going in blind.
Hind calling or roaring into a gully or along a ridge line when no stag has already been located.
Giving a series of calls from a good ambush position and simply giving it time.
Our general rule of thumb is to find a bench, saddle or pinch point.
Settle in, rallying out our calls and giving it a solid thirty minutes before writing the spot off.
Most of the time, we find thats long enough for a nearby bedded stag to hear our calls.
In some cases, especially if that stags bedded down for the morning, he may need to hear a few rounds of calling, to get curious, and start moving to our location.
Most commonly, they come in silent, without us ever having laid eyes on him until he's in our laps.
If a stag does reply and responds to a call, then reading the small, subtle signs is integral.
A distant answering roar isn't just coincidence. That's a stag returning your calls.
Take it as a lead.
From a distant moan, a nearby stick breaks, antlers brush past a shrub and you're face to face with a red stag.
Just the same, a shift in the wind tells you to stop working a spot, cut your losses and move to the next gully.
On this particular day, it was now mid morning.
Positioned halfway up the next ridge the fog starts burning off properly, visibility opens up the higher we climb.
Below us, a stag can be heard roaring.
We setup and call back and forth with him for more than half an hour.
Several other deer slip in quietly to investigate the commotion in that time, but the stag himself refuses to leave the tight gully he's holed up in.
On estimate, he's only two hundred metres below.
Still answering every call.
Yet without him budging, it feels like opposite ends of the world.
Having given him time to come and him refusing, we make the decision to ease down toward him ourselves, rather than wait him out any longer.
Amongst The Roars
Chasing A Boundary Fence Stag And The Loudest Calling We've Ever Done
As it so commonly does, the mid morning period turns it on. Theres no mistake as to why we love to hunt this time. So often does it go from a lull to some of the best action you'll experience during the rut. When many other hunters are back in camp because "its too hot" or "the actioned died down". We walked straight into a nucleus of stags at the end of the valley. A hidden little basin holding at least six or seven stags all showing off and egging each other on. Sadly, nothing mature among them, all young, still growing into up and coming heads. There must be a hot hind somewhere on that hill, because they were running around, chasing each other around like mad, roaring constantly. Genuinely awesome theatre to witness, even without a shooter among them, so we keep moving.
Not long after, we're chasing a new stag responding from across the valley. We drop down and come up the far side, hoping a hind call is tempting enough to draw him in. Looking at maps, were mindful that from where his roars are coming from, it sounds as though he's sitting right on the boundary fence. Thats the trouble with hunting small parcels of land in south east Queensland. Each gully can feel bigger than what it actually is on a map. Confirming things on On X we had approached our barrier every hunter eventually runs into; the boundary fence itself. Rather than continue towards it the last couple hundred meters, we pulled up in the last stand of decent timber and attempted the impossible. "What if we could call the stags off the neighbours and onto our land that we could hunt?" Whilst boundary fences are fixed, the deer are wild and roam across all these properties. The stag once again roared below us, as if to coax us into the plan. Setting up, we called for forty five minutes. Not continuously, but every now and then, we would let out an array of hind calls. Followed by nothing. Patiently waiting, heads on a swivel, until we called again. We were painting the picture that an in season hind had settled into a stand of cover and was talking to her fawn, other hinds or even a nearby rival stag.
That's when we spot the first player. A young three by three arrives without any prior vocalisations. So often the case the young stags do this, they come from the periphery, silent, so as not to draw the mature stags attention, trying to steal one of his hinds. We had plenty of opportunity to shoot him as he walked into sub twenty yards, but for today, he's not what we were chasing. This kind of hunting is genuinely a numbers game. Working through plenty of young stags to eventually find a mature one. Playing endless cat and mouse along the way. After another few bouts of calling, we finally draw a bigger stag in. From his trajectory, theres no doubt that he's come from the neighbours place. To this point, the wind had played the game. However with a few clouds over head, the thermals transitioning. Predictably, with a stag on the approach, they become iffy and a shred of human scent must've travelled down hill towards the stag and filled his nostrils. Lucky for us, he wasn't the mature stag we were after, so no harm done. Another cool encounter from a morning full of them.
Before we could pack our bags, we heard a sick break behind us. Thats when the morning gave us one of the more memorable encounters of the whole trip. While we had been working the "neighbours stag", another young four by four came in completely silent from behind us and walked to within two metres. Close enough, James said, that he could see the whites of its eyes and nostrils flaring as it caught his scent downwind. It did an almost balletic spin and cleared nine feet in one bound getting out of there. Encounters like that are the reason you keep your head on a swivel even when you think you know exactly where the action is.
By the end of that foray of calls we'd laid eyes on twelve or thirteen different stags in a single morning. A great reminder of just how much action Southeast Queensland offers, even without a shooter among them.
On this particular morning, we had been joined by one of the dads whom we shared camp with. Upon reflection, discussing the morning and breaking down the takeaways, it was a good reminder of just how loud calling really needs to be at range. Having an extra hunter along isn't something we do much of these days, most of our hunting is done with our father Nick or a couple of close mates, so a fresh set of ears picked up on things we'd stopped noticing ourselves. One thing he said stuck with me: he hadn't realised how loud we actually call. His own hind calls, from a hundred metres out, would barely carry beyond that distance. Whereas in comparison, when James and I are trying to pull a stag in from eight hundred metres, we're cupping our hands and going as loud as we possibly can, because at that range, projection matters more than subtlety.
Trading The Bow For The Camera
Calling One In for a First-Timer
That afternoon's session, and the bow gets packed away in favour of the camera. Steve, whose property this is, is yet to take his first red stag with a bow. After finding that whole nucleus of younger stags congregating throughout the morning, we head back out determined to give him a shot at it.
We climb hard, ridge after ridge, back toward where we'd seen them earlier, and a stag responds just 200 metres out. It didn't take long and we were amongst deer. Whether receptive to our calls or already moving through the gully, we could see two hinds, a stag and a few yearlings.
We make a plan and I peel off with the long lens to set up and call while Steve and James get into position downwind. Twice, the stag looks like he's committing. It nearly goes sideways when two yearlings come in first, chirping around directly in front of James and the hunter. I read the situation as best as I could from a distance. Without any visible hand signals, it was all guesswork. I stopped calling the moment I judged those yearlings were close enough that bringing them any further towards our position, would actually be detrimental. More likely result in us being winded than coaxing the stag into range. It worked. By pausing on the calling, the yearlings came in and stopped within thirty metres of the boys below.
After half an hour within range of the yearlings, with the stag and hind edging closer through the dog wood, finally the opportunity presents. As the yearlings become disinterested in the prior hind calls, they retreat slightly. Seeing their movement, the stag finally approaches, closing to somewhere between fifty and sixty metres. Unable to see whatever he'd expected on our side of the hill, and retrieving his way ward yearlings, he swings away instead directing his mob down the hill. We throw everything at trying to pull him back, but he settles beyond the ridge at eighty metres, thrashing a poor tree so hard he'd have looked like a ten foot tall stag from the damage alone.
It was a mighty frustrating way for the afternoon to end, but still an awesome one. We got genuinely close, but were beaten by the fading light, and that's hunting. Steve's first stag with the bow will have to wait…
5 x 5 Success
Taking an Eleven-Year-Old on His First Hunt With Us
Earlier in the week, one of the dads asked if his son could come out with us.
I'll be the first to admit I was a little nervous.
It's one thing managing yourself on the mountain.
Taking into account your preparation for the day.
Things such as food, water, even stocks on toilet paper.
Its another thing entirely to be responsible for someone else's child on top of that!
Although, as often the case, it turned out that we had nothing at all to worry about.
We wont be naming the young hunter, however, this eleven year old had already been out plenty of times with his father.
He had been exposed to and helped butcher animals, and had the confidence to tell us when he was hungry, thirsty, or tired. Which, credit to him, was almost never.
During our morning with the young hunter, we headed to a part of the property not yet explored.
Instantly, we were amongst deer.
Spikers, hinds, yearlings and a stag.
Probably the best we had seen over the trip, the only trouble was getting to within range with the three of us.
James with the bow, myself with the camera and the young hunter in tow.
As we had done all week, we navigated the wind and got in as close as possible to his hinds before letting out our own calls.
Finally he comes after close to an hour of back and forth calls.
A neat, symmetrical, five by five emerges.
After all the setup, watching him work the thick stuff below the ridge.
Travelling back and forth, flirting with coming into bow range.
What seemed to change things, was the fact that in a moment of confusion, the stag lost his hinds.
A spiker which had been orbiting his harem, darted through scattering the girls in all directions.
We timed our hind calls and capitalised on the moment.
We've been playing cat and mouse with this animal for the better part of half an hour, when he finally commits.
"He must have been smelling for those hinds, because he came in nose down, walking the game trail and checking the ground."
Once he does commit, the wait for a perfect shot is worth every second.
He roars numerous times within bow range, but whether due to the topography or vegetation, theres no shot on offer.
As he continues to close, a hind call directs him in the right direction.
Thirty meters, twenty meters, fifteen, James draws back the bow.
For two minutes James remains at full draw as the stag lets out a roar at point blank range, front on.
Moving few meters, in and out of the brush before stopping at a sapling and clashing his antlers.
Each thrash of the tree, James muscles ache as he waits at full draw.
A desperate hind call at ten meters is risky, but as intended it peels the stag from the tree and one step closer.
Aiming for the point on the shoulder, James squeezes the shot off.
Its textbook placement.
A loud crack as the arrow strikes the stag in the magic triangle (between the elbow, humerus bone, shoulder and spine of the scapula).
He doesn't go far, maybe sixty or seventy metres before tumbling and crashing into the creek below. Such an awesome hunt to close out the week and a genuine game of patience rewarded.
Walking up to the stag with the young hunter, we practised blood trailing, although we already knew where the stag lay.
He was still in decent condition too, with plenty of meat to take back to camp and put to good use.
"When he got home, the highlight he told his mum and sisters about wasn't the hunting or the roaring stags. It was the bacon and egg breakfast on the mountain."
Kids remember what actually matters to them, and it reminded both James and I a lot of what our own dad gave us growing up. We kept the hunt short and sharp, only a morning, no more.
Because as fun as it is, kids tire much faster than we do. As a result its easier for them to stop enjoying it long before they'd ever admit it. I really respected that his dad knew exactly when to call it and send the boys home before the trip started fading on them.
A Letter From the Camp
Dear Ayden & James,
I am writing this letter to show my appreciation and thanks to you both.
I loved how you took the time and effort to take me on my most memorable hunt yet.
It was an incredible experience and I enjoyed watching and seeing behind the scenes of how you make the incredible videos my parents and I love watching.
I found it inspired me to work hard to achieve my goals and do what I like best.
Dad and I have been at work cleaning the nice 5x5 red stag skull that is going up on my bedroom wall along with a framed photo of us. I look forward to the future and doing a hunt in NSW with you guys.
I hope in the future we can do many more great experiences with you both.
I look forward to seeing you guys.
Thanks for teaching and inspiring me.
Many thanks,
- An 11 year old
Camp Life: Backstrap, Heart, And Full Bellies
Kill kit out;
That includes gear such as game bags, the outdoor edge knife, a steel, and we get to work on the spot. One genuine benefit of modern gear.
Rather than the three odd kilometre walk back to camp. We sent a message out from the Garmin inReach, and the rest of the crew was able to meet us around five hundred meters away where the closest pickup point was located.
A quick push of the button, drive from camp and everyone's legs were saved for the days ahead.
We got the stag packed out and back to camp inside a couple of hours.
With the extra time u our sleeve, we cooked backstrap, tenderloin, and heart straight up on the camp chef hotplate with nothing but salt and pepper.
Heart, cooked fresh, has this almost calamari like texture with a flavour that pulls you straight into steak territory, and watching the boys (young and old) dive into heart wraps for the first time, then go home and tell their family about it, said everything about why we do this.
Cooking Back at Camp
If I'm being honest, the animal itself wasn't really the headline of the past few days. It was the camp atmosphere, sharing a butchering lesson with an eager young hunter, getting Steve close to a stage after generously hosting us, cooking with people who'd opened their ground to us despite the extra gear and the "can you keep it down, we're filming" requests that come with what we do.
That kind of hospitality isn't small, and James and I don't take it for granted.
Next stop: back to New South Wales, where the red deer roar continues.
The hunt shifts from quantity of stags to quality, and, spoiler, an arrow finds its mark on a personal best stag.
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The Adventure Continues
Join the Twin Elements team as they head back into the Australian bush.
Want the full story behind this episode? Listen to the podcast or watch on YouTube.
This piece is adapted from Episode 18, "Red Deer Camp Part 2," of the Twin Elements Podcast.
