May 2013 Mansfield Sambar Hunt

[kombi1976]

I’ve been planning on doing a trip to the Mansfield area in Victoria this year since last July’s unsuccessful but enjoyable trip down there. I was, however, determined to hunt earlier in the year for a couple of reasons. The region is flooded with hunters in early June and we found that game was practically absent last year. Mrs Kombi is also due to birth to #6 in early July so I had to make sure I wasn’t going to be away too close to that. My mates had already organised to hunt in another place only a week later so that meant going by myself. It was a little unfortunate but I really wanted to go and try to get a sambar deer. So I organised a stack of things for work, took a week of long service leave, and headed south last Monday morning around 6:30am.
 
To be frank, as I was driving I began to be a little anxious about being the only one down there but meanwhile I had to grab a couple of things on the way. I stopped in at Elks Gun Shop at Albury and dropped an exorbitant $110 on a pair of Crooked Horn carbon shooting sticks, as I really needed a set. Then I drove around for ½ an hour trying to find the Dept. of Sustainability & Environment to renew my deer stalking licence, only to arrive and find out it did not run out until the end of 2013. Having sorted that all out I set out for the last leg into Victoria and to Mansfield. I was there by 2:30 and at the cabin by 3pm. I rang Ken Leatham from Mansfield to let him know and he said he’d see me at the cabin around 5pm.
 
When I arrived at the cabin I was surprised to find not 1 other hunter but 2. I presumed they were mates and I wanted to get out and stalk before sundown so I headed up the hill behind the cabin for a couple of hours in the bush in the hope of running into a sambar that first afternoon. I didn’t see anything aside of a couple of roos and a wallaby and returned to the cabin around 5:30 to see Ken, who owns and runs Mansfield Sambar Safaris, his offsider, Lyn, and another guide, Ben. The other 2 hunters turned out not to be friends or even acquaintances. Andrew was from Melbourne and Andre was from Sydney. So quite by accident there was an Andy, an Andrew and an Andre all hunting in the same week! Andrew had already taken a sambar spiker stag that morning so things were quite positive. Andre had spent the day in the hide called the Taj Mahal at the top end of the property across the road and he had not seen anything but in his own words, he felt less confident in his sense of direction and was happy to sit and see what turned up. As usual Ken said he and Lynn would be at the cabin around 5:30am the next morning and we’d be dropped off at the bottom the corner. That didn’t make a great deal of sense to me but give me landmarks and a direction and I can usually find my way out of most places.
 
Ken, Lyn and Ben left for home and Andrew and Andre and I began to chat about their experiences of the day and our guns and previous hunting experience. Andrew has a near new and gorgeous Steyr Mannlicher Classic 30-06 with a “hogs back” walnut stock, schnable fore end and a top spec Leica 1-10x42 scope with illuminated red dot. Andre had his nice new blued/walnut Zastava M98 in 9.3x62 with a Leupold 3-9x40. Both were using factory ammo, Andrew 180gr Rem Corelokt loads and Andre Prvi Partizan 286gr SPs. Andre had apparently put 30 of those loads through the Zastava off the bench when zeroing it and gone home with a shoulder made of jelly. I sympathised. Needless to say I didn’t feel inadequate with my Lite Stainless T3 9.3x62. It didn’t take long nor many tots of Glenfiddich before we all clicked and were happily chatting away like old mates.
 
I need at this point to say that I didn’t actually take much for dinners. I’d intended to either go into Mansfield for dinner some nights or buy things if I needed them. However, Andre had enough food to feed an army and Andrew had at least enough for a battalion so they happily fed me as well in the finest style. All of our dinners were collaborative. The only dinner I had in Mansfield was on Wednesday and I should’ve stayed and eaten with Andrew and Andre. The meal they cooked was much better than the one I paid $30 for. My contribution in the end was a packet ofPringles potato chips, a packet of rice crackers and a bottle ofMaker’s Mark, which admittedly went some way toward making amends. But we drank like princes and ate like kings and conversed on all topics throughout the week, politics and religion included. Andrew told us about his pig and dog hunting experiences and Andre regaled us with tales of his African hunt.
 
I really should address the cabin itself. I failed to last time and grossly failed to properly describe the whole vibe of the place. For those Aussie members here who did Cub and Boy Scouts as a kid the cabin looks like every scout hall you ever visited in the 80s……with the addition of deer heads, photos, magazines and gun racks. The fire place is massive with several different methods and apparatus for grilling, roasting, frying and boiling food over or in the fire. It’s surrounded by armchairs to make the most of the warmth. Andrew is a proper pyro and stacked the fireplace continually so we could’ve almost got a tan most nights! There’s no mains power, just 12 volt strip LED lights which are superb and a low powered fridge, a full size gas stove and 2 bunk rooms with a no frills bathroom sporting the hottest non-mains shower I’ve ever had. There’s no TV or cell phone reception so if you took enough food you could happily stay isolated and unreachable for ages. It’s like stepping back in time really. Heck, there’s still ashtrays in it and people are free to smoke inside. It’s as far from a conventional outfit as you can get. Basically it’s perfect. And Ken fits into it like a glove. He’s allergic to computers, uses a digital camera but has no idea how to get the pics off it, he’s always got a cigarette in his mouth (more on that later) drinks tea continually, light beer often and cask port in the evenings, and he has a wealth of tales about hunting and farming all sorts of stock and breeding deer. His approach to guns and gun care is also, well, pragmatic. He’s among the most laid back people I’ve ever met. I could write a page on the rest of the crew too but they deserve some anonymity. Needless to say they’re an amazing bunch of hunters, hunt almost every day of the year, have amazing knowledge of hunting lots of species and keen senses of humour.
 

The huge fireplace with mounts around and tons of trophy pics above it
 

A shot of the kitchen and sink (Andrew's hiding there reading a deer magazine by the fire).
 

One of the quirky ornaments in the cabin.....a deer hoof gun rack holding Andrew's Steyr Mannlicher Classic 30-06.
 
Anyhow, we were off to bed relatively early and 5am came around quickly. Ken and Lyn arrived at about 5:30 and we all had a cup of tea and something to eat until there was enough light and we drove down toward the weir of Lake Eildon and Andrew & I were dropped off along with Lyn so we could work our way back along the ridge to the cabin. Andre was spending another day in the hide so Lyn was working his way down around the other side of the hill to try and push deer toward the hide. Just to clarify, Lyn is in his late 70s and a total machine in the bush. He’d scaled the entire hill in 10 mins the day before because Andrew’s radio couldn’t reach Ken when he’d shot the spiker and needed the truck to pick him up. Lyn was carrying a blued/walnut Blaser 30-06, a tiny bag and a determined expression as he disappeared rapidly and silently in the opposite direction to us. Andrew is also pretty fit so he headed up the hill and was out of sight quickly. I moved up the slope slowly and took my time and then worked back toward the cabin. But it was very hard terrain, very steep, crunchy under foot and there was blackberries and fallen logs everywhere so I made little ground.
 

A view from the hill with the overcast skies.
 
The cloudy skies eventually gave way to showers so soon I was thoroughly damp if not drenched and though not lost, certainly misplaced. The road was to my left but I was unsure how far along and was thrown by the pine plantation which suddenly appeared. So I dropped down to the road and tried to radio the cabin…..only to find my radio battery was dead. I managed to find someone burning scrap timber and ask how far from the correct track I was and I was soon off in the right direction but it was a hard re-introduction to stalking. I finally got back around 2:30pm footsore, damp and aching. I also found out my radio battery wasn’t flat. That was embarrassing. Andrew, swifter, fitter and more knowledgeable of the area, had scaled the hill quickly, worked across the ridge and hunted through the pines and the next scrub area returning around 10:30. Having his knowledge wouldn’t have got me back at a similar time but probably closer to midday with less fatigue. Ken had been trying to call me and was concerned but decided, based on last year’s experience, I’d probably be ok.
Nonetheless, I was philosophical about it, got changed, dried my gear and after some lunch headed to a hide called the Tank to see if anything would turn up there at last light. It’s a very comfortable, made from an old water tank, and has camo netting and an armchair inside so I spent the last couple of hours of the day watching a wallow in an open area.
 

The vista shown by the window in The Tank, the road leading down from the right and the wallow in the background on the left.
 

Yours truly leaning inside The Tank with the T3.
 
Nothing appeared but it was my first day hunting so I was happy enough. Plenty of food, Pure Blonde beer and Glenfiddich flowed that evening so I went to bed cheerful. I also played the guitar I’d taken. I think it was appreciated.
 
The Wednesday morning Ken arrived at 5:30 and I asked for an easier hunt so I could recover from the marathon the day before. He said that was fine and had Ben(a guide) place Andre and I up the face of the hill across the road while Lyn, Camo (another guide) and Andrew tried to flush some deer across to us. The move worked but unfortunately they didn’t come low enough to come near me. Ben, another 100yds uphill from me saw 2 hinds but Andre and I saw nothing.
 

The view across the hill from my spot on Wednesday morning.
 
We were back at the cabin by 8:30 so I elected to spend the rest of the morning at the Taj Mahal to see if some deer would come along the trails it overlooks.
 

A view out the sliding glass doors of the Taj to the other side of the ravine.
 

A view down to the game trails leading up from the valley.
 
Andre sat in another hide half way down the hill and Andrew headed away from the cabin across the hill and into the pines at the end of Ken’s land. He spooked a hind and fawn that morning and was hoping he’d pushed them toward Andre and I but neither of us saw anything.
 
I stalked back to the cabin along the road around 1:30, had a little lunch and then set out across the hill face next to the cabin at 3pm intending to sweep around and see if anything was there. Coming back toward the cabin at 4:30 I spooked a hind which crossed the road and I followed it into the timber, not far down the hill from the Tank. Unfortunately I also spooked a wallaby and it seemed to run ahead of me the entire way, as if the dry leaves bracken on the ground were not enough. I reached at track leading down from the Tank and decided to sit for a little while at last light. Not 10 minutes later Andre appeared coming back from the hide. His afternoon had been uneventful and we were both ready for a drink and some dinner.
 
Ken was at the cabin and after some discussion his suggestion to try shooting some fallow was declared a good idea. He said he’d line up the access for us to do so. Fallow are particularly problematic in certain areas around Mansfield where they eat people’s fruit trees, olive trees and gardens and generally make a nuisance of themselves so the owners are delighted for someone to come and flatten a couple.
 
Thursday morning dawned sometime after Ken arrived and we headed out hoping the fog would not interfere with our hunt. About ½ an hour’s drive from the cabin Ken brought us to a property and the fallow were easily visible. Lyn was dropped off at the gate and told to flush the fallow across when Ken let him know on the radio. Andre was dropped off along the road near a fence where deer often fled through and Ken drove to a point a little further down where he, Andrew and I got out and headed down a game trail. Andrew stopped at a fence line and Ken and I proceeded further down and stopped at a huge fallen log overlooking a gully and game trail which led across a paddock and through a fence into the scrub.
“This’ll do as a good rest for your shot and I’ll be your spotter,” he said before pulling out his UHF and telling Lyn to “Flush ‘em out round the house.”
At this point I was half crouched behind the log in an uncomfortable spot. Ken, meanwhile, was standing straight up looking across the gully and the gap in the trees. His little dog Rat was darting about in front of us and he called it back to us where it seemed disinclined to stay. At that point he pulled out a cigarette, lit up took a drag and breathed out.
“Mmmm, the wind’s not right.”
That had to be the statement of the century! Rat doesn’t bark but I’d felt the wind on my neck all the way down to the log and the combination of dog, wood smoke infused clothing, human and cigarettes should’ve been the spell of doom on us. I had a round up the spout and the rifle cocked but I was beginning to wonder if I’d shoot anything that morning.
“Now, the roos’ll come first then the deer follow them,” Ken said quietly, ”Keep your head down and don’t move. Then when the deer stop take your shot. Doesn’t matter what it is. A stag would be nice but they’ve just come out of the rut so the meat would taste like s#!t.”
Sure enough the kangaroos fled across the slop and hopped up through the gully past us. Then, a few moments later a fallow doe and fawn came trotting nervously out of the gully. Ken was still standing upright but they didn’t see him and headed for the fence which seemed a little too hard for them.
Ken was saying “Wait for them to stop, wait for them to stop,” and I had the crosshairs on the doe’s shoulder ready to fire but she ducked below the rise so I quickly switched to the fawn, now 80yds away.
Not a second later they stopped and I squeezed the shot away. But the fawn didn’t drop. I’d been concerned all hunt that the T3 was shooting 4” high instead of the 2” I’d zeroed. The fawn and another 2 deer disappeared and a huge herd fled across a field about 200yds away. Ken wasn’t perturbed. Clearly his view standing was better and he said “We just got a fawn, ” to Lyn.
With the herd gone we left the log and walked down the hill to where I’d shot the fawn. To my tremendous relief in the grass at the bottom lay the fawn. It had run 5 metres and the 270gr Speer Semi Spitzer had penetrated completely, leaving at 2” blood trail from the spot it was hit to where it lay. It just goes to show that while the rules apply in most situations local knowledge and experience has no equal and Ken's in unparalleled.
Ken gutted it on the spot and then we carried it 50yds to where Lyn arrived with the 4wd. It was declared to be great eating and very healthy. Lyn told us he no sooner approached the house but the deer had stuck their heads round the corner and were looking at him. Neither Andrew or Andre had managed to nail one but there was general satisfaction and I was pleased to be heading home with something, even if my afternoon of hunting that day yielded no sambar.
 

The fawn close to where she fell......note the spot on the ground in the top right where the 270gr punched through her.
 
We were back at the cabin by 8:30 and Ken hung the deer outside the cabin to drain out.
 

And back at the cabin ready for skinning.
 
After a cuppa Ken skinned the fawn quickly and expertly. He promised to take it home, hang it in his cool room and break it into legs, chops and shanks. Unfortunately the 9.3mm had absolutely smashed the forequarters and bruised the meat past usefulness but the rest was fine.
 

The angled entry wound under the skin......
 

And the massive exit wound.
 
Ken and Lyn headed off, Andre headed up the Taj to see if deer would make their way past it and Andrew and I had a cuppa and something to eat. I resolved to use my last day hunting to see if I couldn’t bag a sambar as well. In Andrew’s words that would be “an awesome day”. I was going to try and flush deer with him toward Andre in the afternoon but instead I set out around 10:30am, scaled the hill behind the cabin and worked across the summit before descending and stalking back across the soft ground along the creek to the cabin. Unfortunately the ground was dry and noisy on top of the hill and a mob of kangaroos were in front of me the entire way and they would not go down the other side despite constant efforts to flank them.
 

Seated near the top waiting to see if the roos would move away.
 

The vista south to Lake Eildon and Macs Cove.
 

An echidna seen on my descent.
 
I finally descended to the pines on the other side and then slipped back into the forest along the bottom. It was soft there and possible to be almost silent. I soon realised that there had to be a sambar in amongst the bracken. I paused frequently and heard movements that were different from birds, kangaroos or wallabies. I slipped finally across to a piece of ground overlooking a soft patch right on the creek and there was something tense but I couldn’t place it. I’m not even sure I moved and then suddenly a sambar hind leapt away up a game trail through the brush. My rifle was up to my shoulder and my bead followed the sounds through the brush but no spaces revealed it as it fled. She must’ve been watching me as I stood looking down but sambar colouring and shape is the perfect disguise in the half light of the sub-tropical rainforests so I my inexperienced eye didn’t spot her. I stalked slowly back in the hope of seeing her somewhere else along the creek but she was either well hidden or gone. I was a little bummed but philosophical. I had stalked close enough to actually be within 30yds of a sambar and given 1 space in the bracken it would’ve been a dead sambar. It took me 3 attempts to get my first fallow so I’m satisfied that my sambar abilities have improved.
 
Upon my return neither Andrew or Andre had had any success which was a little sad for Andre as he was heading for home the next morning like myself. Andrew was hunting on Friday morning and had decided to try for a fallow stag having taken a sambar spiker. So we had another fine meal and Ken promised to drop the meat in the next morning when he arrived to pick up Andrew for fallow hunting.
 
I was up early once again and Andrew headed off to seek a fallow stag while Andre and I packed up. As it happened Andrew, Ken, Camo and Lyn arrived back with a modest but nice fallow buck. The meat was useless as it was horribly rank from the rut but the rack was solid and Andrew was very pleased. So after some congratulations and final photos I set off for home.
 
It took me most of the day to drive the 600 or so kilometres. I was quite tired and I also stopped into Elks in Albury and picked up some old stock Speer Hot Cor 160gr Mag Tips for a great price. I’m not sure they’ll suit my 7mm-08 for most game but they will be good for my 7x57 Turk build when it’s done or as a sambar bullet should I wish to take either 7mm after them. I finally rolled into home at 5:30pm.
 
I’ll be honest. I’m a little disappointed I didn’t nail a sambar. That was the reason I went. But Andre and Andrew and I have become firm friends and we’re already planning future hunts. I won’t go into details but a couple in particular look awesome. It could’ve been quite a lonely trip and instead it was tons of fun. I’m also a LOT fitter and my confidence in my 9.3x62 is fully renewed. And if nothing else I still have a lot of fallow venison in the freezer. Friends are already hitting me up for some

[Drew Jaeger]

Great report and photos Kombi. From all accounts it was a great hunt meeting new friends.  The more time spent in the field will increase the chance of success with a good Stag with the 9.3x62mm or 7mm-08.
 
It is most unfortunate that particular area gets flogged from June to September.