South America 2003

 World Record White Fallow Deer and Red Stag in Argentina

While Shopping for my next worldly adventure, (booked in summer of 2003), Cy from Cabelas Outdoor Adventures, pointed me to a family owned and run hunting ranch near Santa Rosa Argentina. Primarily attracting Red Stag hunters from the US and Canada, this huge ranch also has a number of exotic species from across the globe. Stag are a near cousin to the North American Elk.


Except for the red color, distinctive roar and top crowning of their antler configuration they are European elk. Argentina is not the home of the world largest (New Zealand is) but they do product the next largest stag on the plant. As for seasonal timing, remember the southern hemisphere is directly opposite in seasons to the northern. Therefore, summertime in the US is wintertime in the South America.

You may be asking, why then is there a photo of a White Fallow Deer in this blog? Good question. Let’s start with the trip and I’ll get to that soon enough. The commute from hell started back in Chicago where I caught a flight to Miami where most airlines pool passengers who then catch an over night (14 hour) flight to Buenos Aires. This capital city is as modern as any in the US. But as you venture not too far away into the countryside, you become quickly aware of the vastness of the Argentine rural La Pampa region. My next hop was a local commuter flight from Buenos Aires to Santa Rosa in central Argentina (a flight I still have the ticket for), except the agent coolly told me at the counter that they had decided not to fly today. What a wake up call. I am certainly not in Kansas anymore toto! My only alternative was to take a seat on a rented bus. The kind that shuttles people from the terminal to their rental car. OK get this, after 20 hours of travel we are now going to spend another 11 hours in a bus. What else could I do, so off I go. After 31 hours, in the same clothes and ready to sleep standing up I arrive 1am local time. The only saving grace is that staff had waited up for me and greeted me with a long stem glass of Champaign and a smile. What a classy way of saying welcome. These people are the world’s greatest hosts.

With the first morning set aside for the hunters to get acquainted and sight in their rifles, after a few shots this unlikely crew representing the US, Canada and Germany seemed anxious to get started. Thankfully, a fellow American was kind enough to come bang on my door as I slept hard trying to shake off the cloud that came with yesterdays commute. In the dark of my arrival the night before, my room was a 8x10 set of walls, two cots, a ceiling fan, window (minus the screen) bathed in the glow of a 40 watt lamp. There were more bugs in my room that outside when I first engaged the light. I was so tired I just moved as many away from my cot as possible and turned in for the night. Sometime around 2am a wasp must have gotten confused and flew into my room and collided with the wall next to my cot. Upon colliding with the wall, it fell on the cot behind me just in time for me to roll over and get an unanticipated wake up call in the back. It must have been as surprised as I was. My boot left it temporarily affixed to the wall where I found it when the lights came on. It stayed there throughout my visit as a message to all the other insects who would attempt a similar mistake. I did take notice of a strange set of wires that seemed to appear out of the wall near the window. More on that later.

It was a non typical winter morning as I hustled to get dressed as the other hunters were already done with breakfast and were gathered around measuring each other up as they sighted in their rifles. As I made it out the door of my bug hut, I noted that the temperature must be well into the 90’s. I was sure glad I brought some of my hot weather clothing from my Africa hunt. They had recommended I bring long johns and gloves in the paperwork. Who were they trying to kid. This was as steamy hot as any late July day in Chicago. Very non typical, is what I was told as I flopped down in the prone position, extended the legs on my Harris bi-pod attached to my Marlin MR-7 in 30-06. Three shots later, I was done. Zero confirmed, I was ready for anything.

The guides were a real mixed bag of people. Not like the 20 something’s that I was used to in rugged terrain hunts in the US and Canada. These were men from what looked like all walks of life. Young, middle aged and older guys with the look of years of experience. My guide was a late 20’s gent with no understanding of English what-so-ever. We made the best of smiles and hand gestures through out the days ahead. We both seem to speak the language of hunting. Its funny looking back, the language issue didn’t have much impact at all. We were driven out to a likely starting spot in a well worn ranch pickup. Its age would have drawn interest if driven down the street in a US city. Here it was just so much transportation. As the dust cloud from our ride faded out of sight, it was time for us to begin our search for the one stag that would be my trophy.

La Pampa Argentina is much like the open spaces of west Texas. Rolling hills and miles of scrub. Fields of star thistle were always a reminder to pay attention to where you’re walking. These star shaped flowers on top of a long stalk are like needles that easily pass through light cotton field pants, jeans or other unshielded clothing. I came to the conclusion that there wasn’t much in this region that didn’t protect itself with barbs or stingers. Walking, spotting and resting made up most of the 10 hour days. Evening came after a long day in the heat. Many stag were spotted; few were of trophy quality the first few days. Finally, after several days and in fading light, a dominant herd bull with a half dozen cows jumped a field fence just ahead of us. These stag have no issues navigating across vast tracks of land. Between his roar and the heavy well developed head gear, I gave a signal to my guide that this was the one. He gave me the universal thumbs up and into shooting mode I went. Resting the rifle on a fence post, the stag never even knew we were there. One shot at 150 yards dropped this great monarch right where he stood. The cows moved off quickly away from the shot. Most likely joining up with another bull within a few days. With 4 of us participating, we loaded the bull into the back of the truck. Off to the skinning shed he goes.

The next day, three of us hunters were taken to a remote boat launch and took a ride to a private island which was the home of a wealthy couple. Their home was exceptional including staff and a built in pool. The main room was huge with a large stone fireplace and a table that easily sat a dozen people comfortably. A short stalk and quick shot brought down a nice Black Buck Antelope. Raised on this island and originally imported from India, these black, tan and white fleet footed fawn size antelope are highly prized for their meat and trophy quality. Upon our return to the hunting camp, I was free for the next few days since I filled all of my tags.
With time on my hands, I decided to try and talk the hunting manager into selling me an additional tag to help fill the rest of my time. He recommended fallow deer since they had not been hunted much and the population in the area was good. We started out the next day on a long ride to a secluded area that held these shy animals. On a high overlook we were able to scan a large portion of the countryside including a stadium sized field of belt high grass. In that grass were two sets of fallow deer antlers. One, significantly larger than the other. My guild became noticeably excited and motioned at the field. Following the road, we drove for about a mile or so to put us down wind of the field. We exited the truck and started overland towards the deer. I knew exactly what we were up to. Nearing the clearing the guide bumped a tree and flushed several birds from its branches. This was just the break I was looking for since the deer were still bedded in the grass. Both stood and looked in our direction. It was obvious what needed to happen next. Before the guide could say anything, I had already knelt and put the cross hairs on the larger of the two deer’s shoulder. At 100 yards this was over before it started. Upon reaching the downed deer. The guide really become excited and started reporting our position back to base camp. An hour later, a truck arrived with two men. Both set to work measuring and taking photos. This deer was to be the largest White Fallow to be harvested in South America in the past 14 years. As they say in hunting, its better to be lucky than good.