Jono's First Samabar

Bondi State Forest There are some hunts you remember because of the animal, and others because of everything that happened before you finally pull the trigger. My first sambar was definitely the latter. We were camped in Bondi State Forest, hunting country where native timber, pine plantations and deep creek lines create almost perfect habitat for Sambar, and plenty of places for them to disappear.

There was no shortage of evidence that deer were around. The camp had already produced three sambar stags, so we knew we were in the right place. Knowing they’re there and actually putting yourself in front of one, though, are two very different things. I’d spent plenty of time looking at maps and trying to work out how the deer were using the country. One feature that kept standing out was the transition between the native timber and the pine plantation. There were thick gullies, creek lines and plenty of cover, so rather than simply covering kilometres, I started concentrating on likely movement corridors. Earlier in the hunt I’d already managed to bump a young deer, followed shortly afterwards by a hind that let me know exactly what she thought of my presence with that unmistakable sambar honk. Close, but not quite. Eventually I found a position that just felt right. It gave me a great view across an area of rolling, relatively short pines. About 260 metres below me was the creek line, while the edge of the native timber was roughly 60 metres away. From where I was sitting I could watch a large amount of country without having to move. It was exactly the sort of place where, if I was patient enough, a deer might eventually make a mistake. Of course, sitting still also gives you plenty of time to second-guess yourself. At one point I’d considered moving and sitting closer to another patch of cover. Not long afterwards, a hind appeared almost exactly where I’d been thinking about relocating. That was enough reassurance for me. Stay put. As the afternoon wore on, the light started to disappear and we entered that period every hunter knows, the last part of the day when seemingly empty country can suddenly come alive. Then, at about 5:50 pm, it happened. I caught movement amongst the short pines. A sambar. At the time I was convinced I was looking at a hind. After all the walking, glassing, studying country and wondering whether I’d chosen the right spot, suddenly there was a deer standing around 140 metres away. I settled behind the Benelli Lupo in 30-06, found the deer in the scope and took the shot. The response sounded good, and the deer disappeared down towards the gully. Everything in you wants to immediately get up and follow, particularly when it’s your first deer, but I’d been given some good advice by Paul Boag: after the shot, give the animal some time. So I waited. I radioed Pete and told him what had happened, and eventually we headed down to where I’d last seen the deer.

Anyone who has followed up a deer will know the mixture of excitement and doubt that runs through your head during those few minutes. You’re replaying the shot, questioning what you saw and looking for any indication that everything went the way you thought it had. We worked our way down into the gully. And there it was. The deer hadn’t gone far. The 30-06 had done its job, with the shot going through the heart. Then came the first surprise. The “hind” I’d been watching through the scope wasn’t a hind at all. It was a spiker. Until we walked up to him, I’d had absolutely no idea. There wasn’t much time to stand around admiring him, though. Shooting a sambar in the bottom of a gully creates a fairly obvious problem: you’ve now got a sambar in the bottom of a gully. With Mark and Pete helping, we got to work. I gutted him using a Gerber knife with interchangeable blades, which made the job surprisingly straightforward. The serrated blade in particular made short work of splitting the chest. Then came the hard part. Getting him out. Between the three of us we dragged him up and out of the gully. It was one of those jobs where you very quickly gain an appreciation for just how big and solid a sambar is , even a spiker.

By the time we finally had him out, the hunt felt properly complete. Looking back, what I enjoyed most was how everything came together. It wasn’t simply a case of walking through the forest and getting lucky. We’d seen deer, bumped deer, found sign and gradually started building a picture of how they were moving through the country. Eventually I found a spot where the terrain gave me an advantage and had enough confidence, and patience, to sit there and let the deer come to me. Then, at 5:50 that afternoon, it finally happened. A 140-metre shot with the 30-06, a heart shot, a recovery down in the gully and the discovery that my “hind” had mysteriously grown a couple of spikes by the time we reached him. And then, with Mark and Pete’s help, a memorable introduction to the other half of sambar hunting: getting the bloody thing back out. My first sambar. Definitely not my last.

Jono