I’d been putting in for the Victorian hog deer ballots for a couple of years and, honestly, never thought much about it. I’d pay the entry and forget about it not long after. This year was no different.
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One random night after work, I got a message saying, “You’re the luckiest bastard going around.”
I just thought, “what’s this bloke on about?” and ignored it.
Not long after, a mate sent me a video of my name being read out in the ballot. That’s when it hit me. I’d actually been drawn for Period 1, Snake Island. I ran straight into Dad’s room and said, “Dad, I’ve been picked for Snake Island.”
Before I even finished, he replied, “Well, I’m coming - you’ll need my boat.”
Once the excitement wore off, reality kicked in. I had a hunt to prepare for. The planning quickly took over: deciding where I wanted to hunt, organising scouting trips to the island, and building a rickshaw ladder stand. I got onto the boys in our group early and told them I was keen on Cow Swamp. To my surprise, nobody else wanted it. That felt like a massive win, considering all the stories you hear about people sharing areas or hunters walking through your ground.
The truth was I knew absolutely nothing about Snake Island or hog deer. I rang and messaged just about everyone I knew who had hunted them before. Looking back, that was probably the best thing I did. I learnt more from those conversations than anything else. I also listened to podcasts and watched hours of videos trying to understand how hog deer behaved.
I ended up building a rickshaw stand after seeing how effective they could be. In hindsight, for Cow Swamp, it was probably unnecessary; I eventually spent most of my time sitting up a tree. If anyone hunts Cow, that’s honestly where I’d recommend sitting. You can see everything you need to from that tree.
We made a couple of scouting trips to the island before the season, and I’d strongly recommend doing it if you can. Nothing you read or watch prepares you for actually seeing Snake Island in person. After finding a good campsite and a safe place to anchor the boat, we started exploring.
We quickly realised there were plenty of deer around, but they were unbelievably hard to spot in the thick cover. I reckon we spooked more than 20 deer just walking through the bush. Then we reached Cow Swamp.
We were stunned. Two quality stags were out feeding in the open, and as we moved further in, more deer kept appearing. That was the moment I knew I’d likely get an opportunity if I hunted it right. I set a couple of trail cameras to see exactly what was living there. When we came back a few weeks later, both cards were full. After sorting through more than 800 photos, I settled on two stags. I made a promise to myself that if either of them stepped out during the hunt, I wouldn’t hesitate. One was a crazy-looking 8-pointer. The other was a stag with perfect 14-inch antlers.
Perfect 14-inch antlers.
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The week of the hunt came around fast. The weather forecast for the crossing wasn’t ideal - strong 45 km/h westerlies. Sitting in the pre-hunt meeting, you could see whitecaps rolling across the water outside. We decided to go anyway, travelling over with another boat carrying Peter Frost and his mate Garrick Cameron. Having two boats made it safer, but we still got absolutely soaked on the way across. We set up camp, dried off, cooked dinner and tried to relax, but the nerves were definitely there that night.
I woke at 4.45 am and walked into Cow Swamp under darkness. I climbed into my tree and waited. The conditions were close to perfect: a light southerly and the sky just starting to brighten. As the light came up, deer started appearing. Then more. Then more again. At one point, I had six stags out in front of me. The problem was you can’t shoot until 8 am on the first morning. As soon as the sun rose fully, they disappeared - every single one. I sat there questioning everything. Had they smelt me? Heard me? Known something wasn’t right? For hours, I saw nothing.
Around midday, a couple of hinds walked out, followed by one of the stags I’d seen on my camera. My confidence came straight back. About 15 minutes later, another deer appeared in the far opening. I couldn’t get a clear look from the tree, so I climbed down and made a move. I crept to roughly 30 metres, slowly lifted my head above the tussocks and there he was, the stag with the perfect 14-inch antlers from my trail camera. I didn’t hesitate. I chambered a round, settled the crosshairs and squeezed the trigger. He dropped on the spot. Walking up to him was surreal. The closer I got, the better he looked. He was exactly the deer I’d hoped for.
The next morning, I went back into Cow to try and fill my hind tag. I worried the previous day’s shot might have shut the area down, but again I walked in to more than 20 deer. I selected the closest hind, took a clean shot, dressed her and got her back to the boat and onto ice. We had planned to stay the entire week, but within a couple of days we were heading home with two fantastic deer.
A massive thank you to the GMA and everyone who makes the hunt happen each year. It’s an incredible opportunity and an experience I won’t forget.
