Twin Elements Podcast · Hunting Stories
Quality Over Quantity: My Personal Best Red Stag (14 Points)
Southeast Queensland and the Hunter Valley are chalk and cheese.
Up north, we were sifting through tens of stags each day.
Down here in New South Wales, James had spent a week straight scouting on one property and seen four red deer, total.
Yet, the kicker, the genetics on offer down here are arguably some of the best in the country!
Giving enough motivation, that after weeks of grinding through near silence, that patience and persistence eventually paid off in a way neither of us will ever forget.
In This Report
- Low Density, High Stakes
- The Half-Assed Moan That Changed Everything
- The Power Of A Hind Call
- A Bigger Story Than the Antlers
- James's Bonus Boar
Wildlife & Scenery
Low Density, High Stakes
The trade-off with this country is stark. Where Southeast Queensland gives you volume, the Hunter Valley demands you put in real miles for a shot at something special.
A immature, three year stag old down here (in NSW) compares favourably not only in overall length, but also points to that of a traditional, mature 4x4 or 6x6 up in Southeast Queensland. There in lies the difference in genetics between the two regions.
For us, it's a trade worth making.
For the opportunity at a true giant, we would rather walk one hundred kms in a week and see ten deer total. Compared to walking ten kilometers and seeing well over one hundred deer with poor genetics.
Called into less than 20 yards, well within bow range, this young red deer spiker with two points on each antler is passed up in search of something more mature.
With the scene and mentality set, lets jump into the hunt;
Earlier in the trip, one wet drizzly morning, we set up twenty metres off a fresh wallow. We let out a few hind calls and after some time, had a spiker walk in from downwind, closing in to about ten metres before we lost interest in him. He wasn't the one we were after today, but even as a young deer with his first set of antlers. Coming off this particular property, rather than a single spike, this spiker had two points up top!
Thats a frame and trait that you simply don't see on spikers in other regions.
Proof that the density-vs-genetics trade off comes into swing.
The Spiker Encounter
Later in the trip we had a heartbreaking near-miss with a stag we nicknamed Clubby — a limping, distinctive fourteen-pointer, easily the biggest red stag I'd personally ever laid eyes on in the wild. We got him hind-calling and moving toward a boundary fence, only for a mob of kangaroos to wind us mid-approach and blow the whole thing. In a place with this few animals, a blown stalk like that stings — there's no guarantee you'll ever see that particular animal again.
The Search Continues
That encounter set the tone for what followed: days of covering tens of kilometres, reading tracks and rubs around a dam for any sign a mature stag was even in the area, and coming home without so much as a roar to show for it.
The Half-Assed Moan That Changed Everything
Fast forward nearly ten days later. We had covered plenty of kilometers, found pockets of sign, even a few hinds and young stags.
This particular morning James and I were actually looping back around to the car through some new country. Having just struck out again, morale was low and it was more of a steady march, than a methodical stalk. Thats when we heard something that sounded almost exactly like a cow mooing. James stopped dead — After some deliberation, we both came to the same conclusion. There were no cows in that paddock! A few seconds later came the confirmation we were seeking, the most unenthusiastic excuse for a roar either of us had heard all rut/roar. But it was enough. We went straight into setup mode.
"A lone spiker nearby had given him just enough competition to get frustrated and sound off. It's exactly the argument James and I make constantly against shooting spikers during the rut."
Turns out, that same spiker from the wallow, the one that would have been easy to shoot at twenty meters, ended up being the reason we located what translated into the best red stag either of us had seen. We moved fast but carefully, cutting the distance on a cross wind. Eventually setting up against a stand of white poplar and ironbark that gave both of us — hunter and cameraman — a solid stand for concealment and a shared sightline should the stag commit to our calls. We'd learned enough from Clubby by this point to move deliberately rather than rush it.
The Power Of A Hind Call
I let out a few hind calls. He roared back immediately!
Closing the distance every time we called. Then a kangaroo startled in front of us, looking back towards the direction of the roars before it hopped through our view at a hundred metres. Magically, only moments later James spotted him — the stag cresting the ridge, moving with real purpose, and a spiker trailing just behind him.
It happened fast. Trying to assess his antlers and attributes for maturity.
Looking at his frame as he closed the gap, I had a gut feeling straight away that he was a shooter. But this wasn't my property, and James had put in weeks of scouting to secure it — so before drawing, I actually asked him for the all-clear. After what seemed like an eternity with the stag walking us dow, step by step, he finally gave it.
Looking back, James has said since, that he very nearly told me not to shoot, wanting to sit with the encounter a little longer — and I'm grateful he didn't say it out loud, because what came next turned out to be my most memorable moment of any roar.
As he closed to thirty, he let out a trademark, more guttural red stags roar that you would expect of such a beast. The type that represents a red stag of this calibre. Not only was he getting worked up for the would be hinds he was headed towards, so to was my heart rate increasing!
Then at twenty five metres, quartering toward us, I drew as his head passed behind a large tree. Once at full draw, the hardest part had been done, all that was left was to focus and settled the pin.
The moment felt calmer than I expected — potentially because of the run in earlier in the roar with my 6x6 QLD red stag.
Where the whole approach had been agonisingly slow. This calling situation was the complete opposite, with the stag cutting the distance with real intent. In hindsight, the fact that theres so few deer in this region, meaning so few females and would be mates. Potentially, the power of a hind call here meant more to a stag, and hence the hasty approach. Somehow that fast paced approach, paired with a strong, consitent breeze, made it easier to stay composed. I timed the release with a final hind call to pull him up virtually broadside. He was thin from a long rut, fighting with other stags, and i could see my landmarks perfectly. Floating over his shoulder, I squeezed off the shot and the arrow punched through his defences and into his heart.
Shot Sequence
He covered maybe thirty metres before going down — and just like in Queensland, I gave a few more hind calls right after the shot, hoping to keep him settled rather than let adrenaline carry him further. In the footage, you can actually see his ears pin back to that last call, stopping him in his tracks, before he goes down for good. The spiker that had unknowingly given him away wandered in moments later, clearly confused about where his rival had gone. Still keen however on the red hind (our calls) that should have been nearby!
A Bigger Story Than the Antlers
Lasting Impressions
When we walked up to him, the size difference from anything we'd handled before was obvious immediately. James and I estimate he was somewhere around four and a half to five and a half years old. In the context of red stags, he was just hitting his prime.
Certainly not the oldest class of stag, but still, by far the biggest stag either of us had personally seen. His antlers told their own story: a near-perfect seven-by-seven on one side, and on the other, a heavier frame with nearly every tine snapped clean off.
He carried the signature of a stag that had been in serious fights, likely with something even bigger and hopefully still roaming out there. Bruising across his hams when we butchered him only confirmed it. He had fought, and something likely even more impressive, even more mature had won.
Because we were close to the car and he was still in good condition, we made multiple trips and packed out almost the entire animal — both back legs, a front leg, all the neck meat, backstraps, tenderloins and of course, the skull.
Meat Retrieval and Butchering
We had backstrap and tenderloin in a stir-fry that same night, and it was some of the best eating either of us has had off a mature stag — proof, really, that hanging meat isn't the only path to a tender result if you carry enough nostalgia with you from the hunt.
Our father Nick flew in partway through this stretch, and getting to share the story, meat and celebration with him — after a month of hunting the roar between Queensland and home — made the whole thing land even better. James has already got 2026, next winter's scouting on his mind, chasing whatever stag was big enough to leave those scars behind.
James's Bonus Boar
With the reds sitting at such low density down here, James and I split our time across the properties we had access, also alternating days hunting / filming over those few weeks. Each covering ground the other hadn't searching for leads and new sign. On one of his own afternoons out — a proper mad dash with only an hour or so of light left — James was easing along a bench glassing the distant ridges when a pig emerged from a thicket of blackberries and boulders right in front of him. With its head down and partially obstructed we couldn't immediately pick whether it was a sow or a boar.
We were however, fairly close, so a quick stalk ensued and James closed the gap to around thirty metres. Within bow range, when the now apparent solid boar presented an ethical shot angle, a Day Six arrow tipped with a Kayuga pilot-cut broadhead was sent through the vitals. The boar erupted covering maybe seventy or eighty metres before going down, but the blood trail left behind it was heavy enough that, by James' own account, a blind man could have followed it. By the time we got to him it was last light. A headlamps on sort of photoshoot to summarise a quick, clean finish to what had been an otherwise slow, grinding stretch chasing reds.
Feral Pigs
Part of the allure of hunting in the mountains is the plethora of animals on offer.
You set out in pursuit of red stags, yet finish the day with a cracking boar!
Shop Our Prints
The Adventure Continues
Join the Twin Elements team as they head back into the Australian bush.
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This piece is adapted from Episode 19, "Red Roar Report," of the Twin Elements Podcast.
