SWAMP GHOST
Axis porcinus hog deer
2021 was a year like no other for those seeking the adventure of hunting hog deer in Australia. Historically, you battled to find public land where duck hunters were absent. That first gunpowder burn of duck opening would send the deer underground, vanishing like smoke from the end of a shotgun barrel. Because of COVID the year prior, both duck and hog deer seasons were cancelled, coupled with this year’s duck season being pushed back a month, it made for a very unique situation in April.
My first foré into hog deer hunting occurred well over a decade ago. Those early years were lean to say the least. The deer seen were nocturnal, leading to the belief that they were ghosts. Regular early starts saw the stand occupied before dawn and just as your eyes started to make out shapes in the brush, shotguns break the silence. That pre-dawn optimism disappears faster than the deer do. Looking back on these attempts, the least you could say is, I was out there trying! Clearly not enough attention was paid to the details that mattered back then.
Excitement started to bubble when the two tags arrived in the mail. The tags signified an opportunity like no other. They provide a regular hunter the ability to legally hunt for a wild, free range hog deer on a State Game Reserve. There aren’t many, if any, places in the world where this prospect is provided to you. While holding the tags a feeling of gratitude flooded in, how lucky are we to be able to do something like this.
While in the planning phase of the hunt, memories of a patch where a couple of friends had seen deer over a decade ago kept infiltrating my thoughts. This was going to be the spot to explore. When arriving for a pre-season scout mission, fresh rubs and older tracks were noticed. A trail camera was set up in hope of capturing deer during legal light.
Surprisingly, the first night had action. Waking to the first few images the camera had sent was pretty darn exciting. Over the next few weeks there were a few sporadic day time encounters which made patterning the deer extremely difficult.
The month of April rolled around and I found myself on a solo mission, testing my knowledge, in hope of just seeing one of these little swamp ghosts. Three full days of hunting were in front of me before the plan was to bring my children back to deer camp the following week. Success was going to be difficult with the young ones so these initial days needed to count.
The plan was to still hunt or bush stalk, with the right wind, through the area searching for fresh evidence of deer activity. Once some sign had been found the strategy was to sit off it and hope the deer would emerge from the thick tea tree throughout legal hunting hours. There was so much sign, I’d never seen anything remotely close to it on previous expeditions. Finding sign was far more addictive than sitting and waiting. Thoughts of what sign was around the corner were overwhelming. This caused a continuous search, possibly at the detriment of laying eyes on an actual deer. From all accounts hog deer are timid little deer. Hunters often say once disturbed the deer will quickly change their habits and your chances will diminish.
The kangaroos here were spooky. Their eyes were sharp and they would often blow out from vast distances while stalking on foot. This occurrence was hampering opportunities at spot and stalk but there was a requirement to gather an intimate knowledge of the hunting area to find a decent spot to sit with the kids.
The first morning was foggy and still, which had anticipation high but by mid-morning there were no deer sightings. By lunchtime the temperatures were pushing mid to high 20s and walking in the knee high costal grass became an exercise of extreme caution. The last thing anyone wants is to experience the adrenalin of a snake sighting. The afternoon was spent slowly walking along likely cover with the intention of crossing paths with feeding deer. As darkness descended, thoughts turned to the next morning’s efforts.
On the second full day of hunting, a decision was made to sit and wait near where the trail camera was set up. After all, that is what everyone does when hunting hog deer so it must work. By 10am a fire was lit for warmth. The wind was ice and stiff all day. The sky was overcast and rain was brewing in the distance. As darkness descended only a mob of roos and a family of moorhen were seen for the entire day. It was the most mentally draining day ever experienced in the bush. In hindsight the realisation of the poor conditions not favouring that spot should’ve sunk in but stubbornness got the better of me and I stayed anyway. Maybe the lessons from previous attempts at hunting these little deer didn’t sink in after all. On the walk back to the swag the wind had completely stopped once the sun was gone. It was the strangest thing considering it didn’t let up all day and was forecast to be the same the next day. I fell asleep with the wonder of what was to come tomorrow to change my fortune.
Slumber that night was deep and what felt like short, the type of sleep that recharges your body and mind without feeling like you’ve been asleep at all. Waking earlier than the alarm, I jumped out of bed and contemplated making a coffee as first light arrived. Instead, the Tikka was slung and a very slow walk ensued. Heading towards a clearing that had no sign of deer during previous investigations had me wondering what to do for the day. The certainty that there wasn’t going to be deer in that spot was strong but the decision was made to wait until sunrise, glass the clearing, then head back to camp for the coffee before slugging it out in the wind for the sit and wait game.
Standing motionless for 20 minutes in the dark before sunrise with my thoughts, anticipation at its highest, waiting for enough light to get the binoculars out of their harness. All hunters know this time of day well, it’s familiar to us. The time when the air is freshest, the birds are just starting to chirp, the first magpie lets out a call followed by a kookaburra in the distance. The bush comes to life with the rising of the sun. The hope is like nothing else.
In that grey, pre-dawn light I picked up two kangaroos feeding in just over waist high coastal grass. Only visible when they stood completely up scanning for danger. While peering eagerly through the binoculars, slowly turning my shoulders left, thinking that if the roos could be seen so should a deer. When the glass hit the edge between some reeds and thick tea tree, a ripping set of antlers reflecting back white, almost glowing, made my heart skip. My eyes must’ve been playing tricks on me. It couldn’t be. After a few seconds a gorgeous hog deer stag could be made out, its body masked by some tussock and in just as many seconds more, like a ghost, he vanished into the tea tree.
Now was a good time to cut some distance and get into a decent shooting position for if he came out to feed again, moving toward a clump of tea tree thicket to mask my approach from the kangaroos spotted earlier. Bent over, chest to the ground, eyes peeking through the tall grass seed buds, looking at the two kangaroos I was trying to avoid. My movement was concealed below the grass line as the trees masked the roos, turning toward the tea tree, I froze. Not six feet in front of me was a kangaroo, standing upright, on full alert, staring. Once the realisation set in that what was in front of him wasn’t something it was fond of, he exploded to the left at a rate of knots. At this stage the grass had come alive with kangaroos going in every direction. I’d just blown it, a chance at a good stag was gone.
From hunched, slowly raising to standing, watching intently the kangaroo that had foiled my plan bounding away. In all the commotion of moving animals there was a solitary shape that looked awfully like a hog deer feeding in the clearing. The stag looked up from feeding, gazing at the kangaroos jumping past him. He put his head back down to the ground, took three quick steps to the left and started feeding again. Instinctively the rifle was shouldered, scope to one eye, the stag located. The immediate realisation that he wasn’t the big boy seen earlier, but I wanted to take this beautiful stag as my first.
As the stag was distracted feeding, I edged a further ten meters to a single tree to use as a steady rest. It felt like time was running out on this opportunity although in reality ten maybe fifteen seconds had passed since bumping the kangaroo. As the cross hairs settled on the shoulder the shot was squeezed off. The silence of the dawn air was broken by the crack of gun powder. The first of this variety heard while being there. The projectile flew true and the stag dropped immediately. I fell to the ground, on my knees, overcome with elation. I couldn’t believe my luck, hog deer hunting is not meant to happen like that and that stag shouldn’t have hung around but he did and I couldn’t be happier. It’s not a happiness for taking a life but happiness for being in the bush, on public land which is owned by everyone, privileged to have lived this moment, blessed to have had the opportunity, grateful for this animal’s life.
In the moments after the shot I stood admiring the stag. His slightly spotted hide, his worn down right antler, the white hair under his tail, he was perfect. Thoughts of how cool this little deer specie is and how unique this experience is for a hunter came to the forefront of mind. Chasing what seems to be a ghost in mosquito infested swamps, you see the sign but never what leaves it. It is an experience to be cherished forever and hopefully one to be fortunate enough to undertake many times for years to come.
There are legalities that must be followed after harvesting a hog deer. The correct sex tag needs to be fitted to the rear leg and you need to check the entire carcass in to an official for scientific research purposes. They take measurements of weight, antler beam lengths and diameter of pedicle, body girth and length from tip of the nose to tail. They also remove the bottom jaw for the purpose of aging the harvested animals. Successful hunters are helping researchers gather important data on the hog deer populations in Australia and I felt privileged to be a small part of it.
After check in, the stag was caped and broken down into manageable portions that would fit in the Engle. Upon returning home, I hugged the family and spent a day prepping for deer camp with the kids.
The next five days saw us battling the wind but never laying eyes on a deer. The best chance in the weather was on the last morning but unfortunately my hind tag was never filled. I wasn’t disappointed for not filling the tag but it would’ve been nice to see a deer with the kids. A neat little caste was found which will serve as a memento from our excursion to the swamplands. Thoughts have now turned to next April when I can chase swamp ghosts again!
