12 Magic Points For Erin

By Erin

I shot my stag before the Roar. He was exactly what I wanted, so other than hunting with my English mate, Harry, I planned nothing except renovation work on the house.

Easter Sunday rolled around, and I got a phone call from my mate, Russell. He wanted to go hunting and find a stag for his missus, Erin. Erin is a very keen and able hunter but fairly new to the sport. I’ve been lucky enough to share the moments of all her first animals—her first deer (a fallow yearling), first red deer, first pig... and I was there with Russ to pick her up when she stumbled out of the scrub after an evening solo hunting—the night she shot her first bit of antler, a fallow buck.

Before this Roar, she hadn’t shot a red stag, and by god, was she amping to give it a go. So I figured my weekend plans could quite easily change… I was getting bored of gardening!

“Rightyo.” So I left my lawn unsown and headed for the place of deer with Russ and Erin.

We found ourselves roaring at a scrubby face that held at least four stags, but nothing wanted to show itself until right on dark. A young eight-point stag braved the open country for only a few moments—just long enough to see that he wasn’t big enough for Erin.

We left the deer to it and went home empty-handed… but keen as mustard to get back in there! We had to wait a whole week, but we were back amongst the deer on the following Saturday afternoon.

I agreed to take Erin into the thick stuff and try to roar up a stag for her—up close and personal—while Russ headed off in another direction to look at some clearings where we’d seen deer before.

Nearing the top of the hill, the deer sign started getting a bit thicker on the ground, so we pulled up for a few quiet moments before I let out a roar.

“There!” said Erin.

I knew she hadn’t seen the deer; instead, she was pointing in the direction of the ridge where a stag was roaring his nut off. We’d really started something by announcing our presence, and I could tell Erin was chomping at the bit to head up there.

I hadn’t thought about it when I roared and got a hell of a surprise when an angry, solid stag appeared—obviously wondering who dared come into his territory and challenge him.

“Shoot that!” I said to Erin as I trained my camera onto him.

“What, the spiker?” Erin asked.

“No! THE STAG,” I replied.

The stag came closer, and perfectly on cue, he turned side on as Erin closed the bolt, took aim, and let him have the full force of the .30-06.

The stag reared, hit in the chest but behind the shoulder. I watched in horror as he took off and headed straight for the bush. It was getting dark, so I instantly knew we wouldn’t be finding him that evening.

The next morning, Russ and Erin headed off in search of Erin’s stag. I couldn’t make it early as I had hungry sheep to tend to, so they replaced me with their pup, Oggie.

After searching fruitlessly for several hours, the pup was let to lead the way, and after only a wee while, it found some blood. Russ and Erin then let the pup lead them down onto a huge game trail… and that’s where the stag was found, dead as a doornail.

The first I got to see of it was when they turned up on my doorstep. He was huge, bigger than I’d thought he would be… and 12 points.

Here’s Erin holding him on my deck (note the now-sown lawn in the background). She’s scratched up, covered in blood… but well chuffed. Good girl!

What a cool Roar… another momentous adventure to relive over and over throughout our lives.