The Hunting Collective - My First Stag - A Bow Hunting Story By Jack McGrath

Slowly, I made my way across and found myself in 50-yard range. I hadn’t practiced shooting at this range, so I put the rangefinder down and crept forward. But all eyes were on me; the hinds knew something was up, and I was pinned. I couldn’t move. 

All of a sudden, a satellite spooked behind me. I hadn’t even realised he had come up behind me; I must have moved, alerting him to what was going on. This stag ran around trying to fight the big fella with all the hinds, and again, another spiker joined in right behind me. I found myself in the middle of a showdown. Hinds were 5m away from me, stags were fighting, and spikers were running around tormenting the stags. I couldn’t move. 

This lasted about 20 minutes and by the end of it, the stag decided it was unsafe and headed for the hills. I wanted to flank around the side of the hill and intersect him, but any move I made resulted in a hinds barking at me. While the stag widened the gap between us, I climbed back down the creek bed and up the hill. 

Even though I thought I was quick, the herd was quicker and was now a couple of hundred metres further up the mountain. I sat at the top of this hill just practicing my roars and calls, deciding whether I was going to continue trekking further into the bush or just call it a day and pack up to head home.

I picked up my phone, panting and speechless.

(My brand new rangefinder lay in the dirt, forgotten about.)

Unsure what to do next, I followed where he went and found him twenty metres from where I shot him. Clueless, I did everything I wasn't meant to do. I went up to him, wanting to put him out of his misery and put another arrow in. I soon realised I just needed to back off and let him have his last peaceful breaths. I sat there stunned and with mixed emotions. I was so excited, but also really sad that I’d ended this majestic, intelligent animal’s life. But I knew I had to start getting to work. 

I was thirsty, tired, and it was hot; I knew the meat had to be harvested quickly. I had no idea what I was doing; I’d only seen someone do this once. I started at the head. It was gruesome and exhausting; my knife was clearly not sharp enough and the skin of the stag was so thick.

After a good twenty minutes, I’d gotten the head and started at the legs. Leaving the skin on, I realised the legs and backstrap were the only real cuts I had seen harvested before, and worst of all, I had no backpack. I’d have to come back later. With one hand I slung the leg over my shoulder, then I hung my bow from the hoof, and with the other hand, held the head. I was fatigued and needed to get back to my car for water. 

I began the trek down the hill. Climbing down an extremely steep creek bed, I nearly rolled my ankle, dropped the head, and had to swap hands. The walk back was long and silent. I was so proud but at the same time disappointed, disappointed I wasn’t prepared and had to leave meat behind, disappointed that I ended that animal’s life. I was disturbed that I had imitated another deer and tricked this stag into coming to me. These were all emotions I didn’t realise came with hunting.

• Always be prepared, even when expectations are low – anything can happen.
• Practice your calls. Calling is all about telling a story and making it as realistic as possible.
• Patience – sometimes waiting is more powerful than continuously calling.
• Don’t shoot a running animal (especially bow hunting) - it worked for me this time, but that was lucky.
• Let the deer have its final breath in peace – just because it is still breathing doesn’t necessarily mean it requires a second shot.
• Learn to butcher before you try to kill.
• Bring a backpack to pack all the meat out.
• Carry water and safety gear.

I had a leg and a backstrap in the fridge. I’d done my best in the field to keep the hair off the meat, every hunter I’d spoken to said that’s one of the main things that makes wild venison gamey. I let the leg marinate in Worcestershire sauce for around four days. I’d read you can go up to five, and the salt and vinegar in Worcestershire break down tough muscle fibres and pull out some of the iron-heavy blood, making it more tender and less gamey. For a leg, which is a hard-working muscle better suited to slow cooks and curries, it made sense. 

If I had my time again I’d probably use the backstrap for this recipe, it’s more tender to begin with and holds up better to a hot, fast cook. But the leg worked. It came out more tender than I was expecting.

It was one of the better meals I’ve cooked. Not because it was technically impressive, it wasn’t but because I knew exactly where that meat had come from. I’d carried it out of the bush on my shoulder. Sharing it with people who hadn’t been there, watching them eat it and not know the half of what it took, it felt like something worth holding onto.

The recipe I used was adapted from Grandma Eiko’s Karaage Recipe in the Noob Spearo cookbook. The original is built for flathead, but the method translates well to venison. Below is the modified recipe that I used.

Karaage Venison (adapted from Grandma Eiko’s Karaage, Noob Spearo Cookbook, Page 120.) Serves 2-3

Ingredients:

• 500g venison (preferably backstrap but I used leg), cut into 3cm chunks
• Worcestershire sauce (enough to cover the meat)
• ½ cup rice wine vinegar
• ¼ cup mirin
• ½ cup light soy sauce
• Thumb-sized chunk of ginger, finely grated
• Handful of fresh coriander, chopped
• 1.5 cups potato starch
• 3-4 cups vegetable oil (for frying)
• Kewpie mayonnaise
• Lemon, cut into wedges
• Steamed rice, to serve

Instructions:

1. Worcestershire soak first - 4 to 5 days in the fridge. This is your tenderising/gamey-flavour-reduction step. The vinegar and salt penetrate deep into the tough leg muscle and break it down. This is especially important for leg (less so for backstrap which is already tender).
2. Pat meat dry after the Worcestershire soak.
3. Cut your venison into 3cm chunks, removing sinew.
4. Karaage marinade - 30 to 60 minutes: Mix ½ cup rice wine vinegar, ¼ cup mirin, ½ cup light soy sauce, a thumb-sized chunk of ginger finely grated, and a handful of chopped coriander. Cut the venison into 3cm chunks, removing sinew, and marinate for 30–60 minutes. No longer - you want flavour on the surface, not the meat breaking down further.
5. Cook: Remove pieces from the marinade and dry on paper towel. Dust each piece in potato starch. Heat oil in a heavy-bottomed pot. Fry in small batches. Don’t touch it once it’s in. Turn once, and pull when deep golden and crispy. Drain on a rack. Serve over rice with fresh salad, lemon wedges and mayo or sauce of your choice.

I didn’t know why I hunted before this trip. I couldn’t have told you. I just knew I wanted to try. But I can now tell you.

It’s something I wish everyone could experience, it puts you back on the ground, reconnects you to the land. Two days in the bush and your senses completely rewire, making you hypersensitive to your surroundings, every snapped twig, every shift in the wind, every shadow moving in your peripheral vision. Your brain enters a mode you didn’t know you had. 

Tactical. Present. Instinctual.

It’s something that doesn’t get drawn out of you by a screen, a deadline or a lecture theatre.

Now every time I walk past the meat section at the supermarket, it lands differently. Vacuum-sealed, labelled, portioned - no suggestion at all that it was once an animal with a life. This stag had lived wild. He’d roared in a valley, fought other males for hinds, he’d moved freely across a mountain not just constrained to a barn or paddock. An animal died to feed me. That’s not abstract anymore. I know exactly what it costs.

(And yes, I did lose my new rangefinder).