Nick, Os and the roar of red stags
Chris Redlich on his link to an Aussie legend
I miss that sense of blissful normality when reading old articles in 1970s-era Australian Outdoors magazine, that sense of trust in society towards the shooting fraternity as evidenced by the number of ads for self-loading rifles. Although born in the mid ’70s, I believe I witnessed the tail-end of ‘old school’ times during the 1980s and early ’90s and it’s a time I wish was still real.
A trip down memory lane was inspired by the passing a few months ago of Nick Harvey, a man widely regarded as Australia’s most revered gun writer. I never knew Nick or met him personally but have been reading his articles for decades with great interest and shared affection. His knowledge of all things firearms, including hunting and reloading, was second to none.
I own two of Nick’s reloading manuals, the last one bought just before his passing, while an earlier edition proved the mainstay of reference for many custom loads including my favourite .284 Winchester. For almost 20 years I’d no idea my regular deer-hunting pad was also one of his, a property which provided rich material and inspiration for many of his stories and a place that gives me the same, which brings me to the connection.
I recall over a beer one night after just completing the first leg of an adventure ride, being introduced to a fella called Os Blacker. At the time I was relatively new to deer hunting and was interested to learn he owned a bush property which held a small population of red deer. As they say ‘one thing led to another’ and the conversation turned to all things deer, so following an invitation extended by Os to hunt on his property, an orientation weekend was arranged.
With mutual friend Dave we packed the dirt bikes and headed for the property. I must admit I found the twists and turns a little unnerving at first and wondered if I’d ever remember how to get there on my own. With our mountain top objective looming before us, we climbed out of the eucalypt woodlands and deeper into the realms of ‘Yowie’ country. The sight of Os there to greet us by a roaring campfire was a welcome one as my concerns of Dave luring me to a big ‘hairy man’s lair’ disappeared.
I guess my imagination was working overtime, though if I was to paint a picture of this property you could imagine what the place looked like. Not to be confused with the belching of a Yowie however, the strange noises coming from the forest would prove to be my first experience of a roaring red stag. Hear it once and your ears prick with bewildering concern, hear it twice and your hooked. Purely by coincidence we were there during the annual Roar and as I’d previously only hunted fallow deer, I was now intrigued by those forest-dwelling reds.
Os spent the following day taking me around the block to highlight the various trails and what they connected to. His old V8 Range Rover climbed the hills with ease, though the terrain is not to be underestimated with low-range gear selection a necessity rather than an option.
Wildlife poses an ever-present danger and I’m sure most travelling hunters would’ve had a close call with a roo or two crossing their headlights, though I’m not so sure too many can say a snake appeared from the dashboard while tackling a hill climb! I couldn’t stop myself from taking a photo of our visitor before it disappeared from where it came and, needless to say, I sat nervously cross-legged all the way back to camp, while Os remained confident we weren’t to the serpent’s taste.
As each year rolled into the next, apart from a lengthy period of time away on deployment I haven’t missed a Roar since. Os’ place doesn’t favour those who don’t put in the hard yards and it took me five years before I managed to land a beautiful meat deer, then another three to take my first double-six trophy. Ensuing years would see more milestone hunting ‘firsts’ for our children Rachel and Carl through hard work and patience, as while jagging the Roar can be frustrating at times, bagging a trophy is way more challenging.
My golden years on that property were from 2013 to 2019. During that spell my timings for the Roar were spot-on, so much so that as I lay in my swag at night, I couldn’t decide whether it was hunter’s anxiety or the sound of those stags that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. For whatever reason, maybe a mixture of drought and bushfires, recent years have been challenging to get the Roar right.
Despite their long-standing bond, it wasn’t until years later Os told me of his close friendship with Nick Harvey. There was almost 20 years’ age difference between them, yet they shared a common interest in the bush and all things hunting. On learning this and after my own experiences, I often wondered how Nick had tackled that ‘basin’ property.
That was until Os sent me copies of Australian Outdoors magazines from 1970 and ’71 and, as it turned out, Nick had documented his frustration within those pages, lamenting the sporadic stag behaviour. He also recorded his disappointment of missing a shot on a monster stag, the likes of which he’d never find on that property again. He wrote with understandable emotion: “Obviously I’d missed him and the experience depressed me for days.”
For hunters with access to grassy lowlands good luck to you but, as challenging as it is, the Os property and it’s rugged isolation has me hooked. Trophy potential isn’t always pretty yet, as Nick wrote, trophy worthiness isn’t always about appearances, more the experience. We rarely have the chance to spend long spells accessing trophy quality there and, if a stag bursts from cover, a decision to shoot is usually split-second.
The 2019 season was the exception when a stag close to camp stopped long enough for my son Carl and I to enjoy glassing, then eventually decide he’d be a better head to chase the following year. Funnily enough and to my surprise, that same stag didn’t escape the end of Nick’s barrel just weeks later, something I discovered after Os shared a photo of them with the last trophy he’d take from the place. Nearing 90 years of age at the time, Nick’s level of fitness in tackling those overgrown hills left me impressed and with a goal to aspire to.
As Nick had enjoyed for five decades, the wily mountain deer of Os’ Yowie country have provided my family and I with untold rewards including knowledge, fitness, trophies, magnificent views and countless classic yarns.
On reflection, Australian deer-hunting stories written by legends including Nick Harvey, Peter Bourke, Bob Penfold, Col Allison and our own John Dunn, fuelled my early desires to hunt deer and fostered a lifelong passion. Nick’s written works covered all the bases a fledgling hunter needed to ‘go bush’. Photos of his trophies sparked aspirations of bigger things and through a lot of hard work and saving, my dreams have led me to trophy adventures both here and overseas.
I’m blessed to have met Os all those years ago, a man I now regard as a close friend and, as with all the more ‘mature’ blokes in my life, he’s been a wealth of knowledge. In an age where social media threatens to constantly distract us, along with that comes the fear of eroding essential ‘human’ interaction. If I’m allowed impart my own two-cents worth I’d say: “Read an old story or pick up the phone, have a yarn and you might just learn a thing or two.”
- Dedicated to Nick Harvey (1931-2024)