First of all – happy Friday, friends! Second – WOW. I had no idea it had been so long since I told you about the third installment of our Patagonia red stag adventure. Seriously, where is the time going!? Where did we leave off? Ah yes, we were on the hunt for dad’s stag (which, don’t forget, has since been found).

The day after Dad shot his stag, we embarked on a chilly early morning hunt that allowed us to kill two birds with one stone – hunting the area where the gauchos thought his stag would be, and also able to keep an eye out for another big bull. We heard several roaring, but never saw one. That afternoon brought the same scenario – no stag, new or wounded. The next morning, we did see one adorable little fella who had been wallering nearby, but he remained solo and eventually meandered up the ridge and out of sight. Well, I guess he was as adorable as a 300 lb hoofed & antlered animal can be. I’ll take two, please.

Not that we were terribly disappointed in the lull in events, of course. Dad and I both had nice bulls on the ground but figured, hey – we might as well hunt since we are all the way down here, right? I mean, what if an enormous 8 x 8 bull stepped out and presented a perfect shot? We would’ve been kicking ourselves if we had never known.

That second to last afternoon was a real treat. For lunch, we went over to the home of the family who runs the lodge to have a traditional Asada – essentially a big outdoor barbecue – with all of the gauchos. On the menu that afternoon? An assortment of grilled meat including… You guessed it – my stag! Pretty cool, huh? Roaming the Andes on Sunday, and fueling our bodies for a hunt on Thursday. It doesn’t get much better than that! It was such a cool experience and I am so glad we got to enjoy my stag. That’s one heck of a lot of meat.

In an a rather odd scenario, we actually spotted a small bull on a neighboring property on the ride back to the lodge! Hidden in a grove of trees at the edge of a fenced horse pasture, this guy was just hanging out – willy-nilly no big deal, in the middle of the day. Totally unaware of the truck full of hunters passing by. That is, until I basically shouted WAIT STOP SLOW DOWN GO BACK GO BACK LOOK DID YOU SEE HIM?? I’m quite sure I almost caused a wreck, but we slowed, reversed, and everyone squinted through the trees.

Can you spot him? He waited long enough for me to climb out of the [still somewhat moving] truck window and snap a photo before galloping off into the brush.

And then, just like that, that was Friday. Our last day of hunting. While we were in Patagonia, it simultaneously felt like we had been there for a month, and also like we’d just arrived. Friday was probably the chilliest day we had, and we awoke to the familiar roar of the red stag just across the river from the lodge. After a (relatively) short hike, we arrived at our spot about an hour later, just before sunrise. Fog crept in like a stream bubbling between the mountains, and although it made for a beautiful scene, it didn’t help us on the hunting front.

We were eager to get back on the mountain that afternoon, and it’s a good thing I was all jacked up on adrenaline with the anticipation of our last hunt. That climb to our very last “blind?” Woof. I am honestly not sure I could do it again! We climbed essentially vertical, hand over hand, foot over foot, even having to use our knees and elbows and to make it up and around rock faces and slippery pine straw covered slopes. At one point, I turned around and looked at Dad (still not breathing as hard as I was – the man is a total anomaly), telling him that if anyone thinks I’ll be able to make it back down this “trail” in the dark, you WRONG, son. Just bring me a blanket and I’ll spend the night! [Thankfully, we hiked out on the other – much more forgiving – side of the mountain.]

After about an hour, just as we were reaching the ledge where we would hunt, we heard stag grunt in the not too distant woods through a small grove of trees. We were perched high on a little cliff – and when I say “little,” I mean not deep enough for me to sit while I was wearing my backpack – with a rock face going straight up above us and tapering off below, eventually curving outward into a deep valley. Dad got set up on a flat rock just below me.

Any shot we had would either be a close range at about 65 yards, (right in front of those close pines), or very far away, well, anywhere else you can see in the photo (a minimum of about 350 yards). So, we got settled and waited.

Sure enough, about 30 minutes into the hunt, a small bull and two cows appeared out of the brush.

Do you remember the scene in The Wizard of Oz when Dorothy has just landed in Munchkinland and she hears the munchkins giggling all around her but can’t see anyone? And then slowly, one by one, they start to appear out of the flower beds and plants and under bushes? That’s exactly what happened to us over the next 10 minutes. Minus the giggling, of course. Out of nowhere, a few more cows appeared. Then, another bull with a larger rack (see him in the top corner there?).

Before I knew it, we had 9 stag in front of us. NINE!

What! Craziness I tell you. Also – full disclaimer – when I say “in front of us,” I really mean like 500 yards away. Let’s zoom back out, shall we?

All that activity in that little white circle. NINE STAG! It was awesome to see them milling around, going in and out of the thick brush and climbing over rocks. A few times, the younger bull tried to chase a cow or two, but the bigger guy got all jealous and would quickly intervene so he could show off for ladies.

Eventually the smaller one took the hint, and meandered a little farther down the hill for a good ol’ fashioned waller. Just like a dog playing in the yard or the water. He. Was. Hilarious.

Totally made up for the previous slow hunts.

As the afternoon wore on, the whole group took off a few at a time, eventually over the ridges and out of sight. But don’t you worry – the fun wasn’t over yet!

As dusk neared, I just happened to glance to my right, across the nearest ridge and into an open area. I was just in time to catch a glimpse of horns and hind quarters sneaking into a huge thicket. I glassed the area for the next 20 minutes or so, but didn’t see anything else. Naturally, as soon as I turned my gaze, Dad saw another stag creeping into the same area. Two more! Finally, as dusk grew closer and it was closing in on the last bit of our hunt… EEEK! I wish I had photos of this stag, y’all. Without a doubt the biggest one we saw on the entire trip. Standing broadside to us was a massive body, super tall horns, and lots of points, next to another female stag. Except he didn’t look quite right. I threw up my binocs and quickly confirmed my suspicions. He only had 1 side of his rack! He was about 600 yards away, so it was hard to tell, but it looked like the missing side had been broken off near the base (probably from fighting while he was still in velvet & his horns were still a bit soft, according to the gauchos).

He was so big, we all paused momentarily and considered taking a shot. A Hail Mary of sorts. That would be a pretty sick European mount, right? But, taking such a long shot meant several things. A. Of course, I could miss and the point would be moot. B. I could wound him and… Well, we know that makes things difficult, to say the least. C. It was maybe 20 minutes before dark and, even if I dropped him dead, we’d still have to hike over to open area – down and up and down and back up again. Then get that big guy out of there. And, let’s be honest – I can’t imagine taking such a long shot with an unfamiliar gun (or my very own .308, for that matter) without practice. So, we packed up and hiked out.

What a way to end an already stellar trip! It was such a neat hunt, and only added to the crazy cool experience. I can’t say I ever expected to see 13 red stag on 1 single hunt.

Otis – you are without a doubt the coolest dad around, and I can’t thank you enough for such an incredible hunting experience. I’ll never tire of telling the multitude of tales! PS – Is your resting heart rate like 26?

Patagonia, I adore you.

 

In case you missed them – check out Part I, Part II, and Part III.