An
Adventure Hunting in the Beautiful Hohe Tatra Mountains of North Eastern
Slovakia
Dr. Harold C. Lyon, Jr.
PART I:
The Hohe
Tatra Mountains remind me of the Alps – “new” rugged snow capped peaks
separating The Slovakian Republic from Poland.
It is hard to believe I’m here.
This year – my third one as a
Fulbright professor in Munich – was my first semi-retirement year – one of
surviving on a lean budget with no money for a European hunt ("Jagd")
as in the past ten years which brought me to my favorite European city to do
research and teach. But my neurologist
friend, Adolf Weindl introduced me to his Czech colleague, Roman Erben, whose
wife, Tania, and her family live in this beautiful, remote corner of what used
to be behind the “Iron Curtain” in Eastern Europe. When Roman offered me his apartment …free, I
was very interested, as I love exploring the old Eastern European
countries. But when he enriched the
offer a quantum jump by telling me Tania’s cousin, Igor, is a hunter – one
whose late father was a renown hunter in this region for Brown Bear, Red Stags,
Roe Deer, wild boar …and even wolves, I was ready to go!
In 1952 our
occupation of Germany was coming to an end and we began turning local
governance back to the Germans. I was
only 17 then and we lived in not yet recovered post WWII Germany with my
father, a US Army officer, my mother, and brother. That was the first year that Americans were
required to take the German hunting license examination – a grueling six hour
written exam covering all the game animals in Germany, their mating and life
cycles, habits, tracking, safety, hunting dogs, and most interesting to me, the
rich “Old World” hunting traditions. For
example, not unlike our native Americans, game is always honored in a variety of
ways including giving the “Lezte Bitzen” when a sprig of evergreen is inserted
in the animal´s mouth as a ceremonial last bite – a way of thanking the animal
for its life. After months of study, I
passed that exam (which now has a 60% failure rate) and now 50 years later, I
present that old document with my teenage photo on it, pay a renewal fee and
the German officials stamp it and “alles ist in Ordung!” I think we Americans have much to learn from
the Germans about hunting. It is my
intention with my German Jaeger friend, Peter Busch, to write a book about the
“Old World Hunting traditions” and this sharing is only one of a series of
experiences which, after my full retirement, will eventually appear in that
book. In 2002, I didn’t need a German
license, though I had it, but I did need my local license to hunt in Slovakia.
Saturday
morning Igor arrives punctually at my Munich faculty apartment at 7 AM and we
share a beautiful drive south east of Munich into an inspiring sunrise
traveling very fast on the autobahn with a panorama of Alpine peaks to our
south. We drive in Igor’s mini-van
through southern Bavaria, into Austria, past beautiful Salzburg (one hour from
Munich) to Vienna (3 hours) and into the Slovakian capitol of Bratislava (4
hours) where the autobahn becomes intermittent and two thirds of the route from
there is on smaller roads leading us another 4 hours deep into Slovakia. The
entire drive is about 9 hours from Munich (4 from Vienna) and we pass majestic
old castles on the hill tops mingled with ugly decaying factories and huge
cultivated fields which Igor explains are still “collective farms” from the
Soviet occupation. We see many lack
luster gray high rise economy apartments built by the Soviets to house the
local populace workforce. Now we see
also some evidence of new building and houses springing up in the
villages. But transition from Communism
to a capitalistic society takes generations rather then the promises of 10
years or so given to the people in so many newly free Eastern countries just
after the wall fell. No one really counted on how effectively four decades of
communism erodes peoples’ motivation and creativity.
Unemployment
in Slovakia still hovers above 20%. The
potential of new initiatives, like Igor’s, to start bringing tourists and their
money into this culturally rich region, is a worthy and promising endeavor.
Igor is an
incredibly intelligent, personable young man with a young wife and two little
girls to support who has created a reasonably effective business of buying used
cars in Munich and transporting them back to Slovakia to fix and then sell. He
is a member of a Jagd Verein – a club of hunters who are responsible for
managing over 7000 hectors of beautiful evergreen forest in this remote ski
resort area of Slovakia.
In Germany
hunting has become largely a rich man’s sport, except for the winter drive
hunts (“Druck Jagd”). But you need
connections and good fortune to be invited to one of these hunts. You also need
incredible discernment to correctly choose and shoot the free animals
(“Freigabe”) allowed in each hunt. At the beginning of the hunt, after all
hunters and drivers are assembled in military formation, the leader will
announce, for example, that today one may freely shoot wild boar (“Wildschwein”)
IF they are male and 1-1/2 years or younger; Red Stags (“Hirsch”) IF they have
10 point or less which are imperfect (“Class II B or C”), or Roe Deer (“Reh”)
if they are females or fawns …but this time of the year the Reh bucks have
already shed their antlers!
And the
game in a drive hunt is running full tilt, giving the hunter in his or her
stand, only seconds to make an important decision about whether or not to
shoot. Better NOT to shoot, than make the humiliating and costly mistake of
shooting an older boar which could cost you upwards of $2500 in Germany, or a
Reh buck without his antlers, which could cost $500, or even worse, a class 1A
Red Stag which could set you back $5000 or more! These drive hunts in winter are like the
fastest, but very real, video game! But
the festivity and traditions are an experience not to miss.
After the
hunt ends, all the animals are assembled on a huge bed of evergreen (“Strecke”)
with the highest trophy value animals in the front to the right and the hunters
assemble in formation behind the game. Each successful hunter is called up to
receive a sprig of evergreen dipped in blood (“Brucke”) which he or she will
proudly wear in the right side of the hat the rest of the day, signifying that
a trophy animal has been shot with good sportsmanship. Then we all stand at attention while the
Jaegers, with their hunting horns, play last call to the Hirsch, followed by
last call to the Boar and then last call to the Reh on down to the lower trophy
animals like the foxes and rabbits which may have been shot. After this, all
assemble in a local restaurant for more festivities such as singing, more
hunting horn playing and the King of the Hunt (“Jagd Koenig”) who has shot the
highest point trophies telling all assembled the story of how he came about to
shoot his, after which he is obliged to treat the entire assembly of hunters
and drivers to a toast of schnapps. I have shared some wonderful experiences
with my Jaeger hunting friend, Peter Busch, one of the most respected hunters I
have ever met as well as one who cherishes and works to preserve these old
traditions.
I invited
my two sons to join me in Germany south of Berlin for a memorable hunt last
year for Red Stag, Fallow Deer and Boar, which will be the subject of another
article. Most of all I wanted them to
experience these old traditions.
But this
hunt with Igor Kollega is one of the few undiscovered hunting bargains to be
found in Europe. Igor charges $100 (mainly gasoline) to pick you up in Munich
or Vienna in his up-to-date micro bus and drive you al the way to the hunting
grounds, in the Hohe Tatra, near the resort town of Smokovec, about $30/night
for a comfortable Pension with breakfast, or as we did on this trip, $20/night
for his club’s rustic hunting cabin (“Jagd Hutte”) in the forest where, in
winter, one must pack in food and hunting gear and cook on a wood stove.
The real
undiscovered secret is that here in Slovakia the trophy costs are a fraction of
what I have found in Germany, Europe, or even in the Western US or Canada. One can shoot a large male wild boar
(“Keiler”) for about $200-$400, depending on size; a once in a life time “Class
1A Capital” 14+point Red Stag costs about $2500 or a very large and respectable,
but imperfect, “Class IIB” 12-14 point Red Stag for as low as $600.
The tree
stand (“Hochsitz”) I am in (when we were not stalking in the mountains) is only
slightly less grand than those I have used in Germany, but compared to U.S.
standards, it is pure luxury with a carpeted room perched securely on stilts
which has 4 glass shooting windows affording a view in all directions.
On this
trip from Munich I am a guest and we arrive on Saturday afternoon to a warm
welcome in the ski resort town of Smokivice where Igor’s wife, Monika, and his
children who have not seen him in three weeks, greet us. For this first night I am comfortably
situated in my artist friend, Roman and his wife, Tania’s, comfortable
apartment only a half block away from Igor, with a spectacular view of the Hohe
Tatra Mountains and tastefully decorated with Roman’s inspirational art. Roman was awarded the European Kafka Prize
for poetry and art in 2000. I love the
Czech and Slovakian people who seem to possess an artistic and spiritual
strength beyond so many other cultures.
The next
morning (Sunday) I am invited to attend church with Igor – an inspirational
experience in a beautiful 300-year-old wooden and log church almost in the
shadows of the Hohe Tatra.
After
church we head north. There is snow here
in February and the bears are in hibernation, but they are plentiful here in
the fall hunting season. Additionally, the Red Stag season is closed, but I
look forward to hunting them anyway…with my Sony digital camcorder. What I am able to shoot is wild boar and
wolves. What I want to shoot is, at least as challenging as shooting a 14 point
Elk in Montana, or a 250 pound White Tail buck in New Hampshire, something one
might, with lots of luck and skill, do once in a life time. I am after a 6-7
year old “Keiler” – a big tusked boar, a wily game trophy for which this area
is known. These old boar have a keen
sense of hearing, smell and intuition as least as good as a bear or a White
Tail.
I have
mixed feelings about shooting a wolf, which is considered a real trophy here. But Igor tells me there are many here and
that they need to be harvested as they are capable, running in packs, of
killing many other big game – especially in the deep snow where they are able
to remain on top while their quarry sink in.
But I will
wait for a shot at a big enough boar, hopefully, to have the entire head
mounted which I can eventually ship back home to mount on my New Hampshire
summer cottage, Lake Winnipesaukee wall, next to my Chamois mount, which is
another story for later. I have always
been an optimist!
Given the
September 11 Terrorist disaster, for the first year of my annual pilgrimages to
Germany, I have not brought my German-made 30-06 Mauser rifle with me. But this is not a problem, as Igor will
furnish a weapon, eliminating the vast paperwork and bureaucracy of passing
through borders with a weapon, a process, which has increased in complexity
manyfold since September 11. This
afternoon, after church we go to test fire Igor’s 30-06 – a good thing as it
was over 40 clicks off zero! And now we
are driving north toward the Polish border and our hunting grounds. Our plan is
to buy food and pack in for 5 days of roughing it in the snow bound
mountain-hunting cabin. One of my German
hunting friends tells me that there is no hunting left in the world except in
North America, Canada, or Alaska where
one can survive in wilderness rather than shooting a specific animal in a
“zoo-like” setting. I get his point, but he has never hunting here in
Slovakia. No Americans have either. I am the first.
If you want
to book this Old World hunting experience of a lifetime, you could fly into
Munich or, better still, into Vienna.
Either leave your wife there to enjoy that great city, or bring her with
you. Igor will meet you and take you in
his car 5 hours to the Hohe Tatra. Though, you can hunt wild boar or wolves in
January –February, by far the most exciting hunting time in Slovakia is
September when the Red Stags are bugling (“Barumpft Zeit”). A Capital 12-18 point Hirsch is just a bit smaller
than our western Wapiti Elk, and if you shoot one here, the trophy fee is much
less than in Germany, depending on the class and weight of the trophy -- about
half of what one would pay in the more economically developed and discovered
areas of Germany, Hungary, and Poland.
By the way, in Europe, game shot, other than the trophy, heart, and
liver, does not belong to the hunter.
Most is sold by the Jaeger to restaurants and hotels, which brings in
money for the expenses of the hunting club.
Trophy
preparation fees here are significantly lower as well compared to U.S.
costs. For example, a Red Stag antler
and bleached European skull mount on a beautiful hand carved plaque, prepared
by the guides in Igor’s club would be about $50! Mounting a boar’s entire head or a wolf pelt
with head is about $200 plus shipping.
If you have
interest in planning such a bargain European hunt, email me at the address at
the end of this article or you can contact Igor directly, (if you speak German
or Slovakian!) at these phone numbers shown there: ___________________
Perhaps
your biggest barrier (not mine as I speak German) is the language one, since
Igor speaks excellent German but little English. He is planning to have a
translator available in the future as well as a series of cards in English
which will make it clear to you, when hunting, the local rules of this
wonderful game.
Hunting
here is an aerobic workout…several times per day! I follow, one foot exactly in Vojteck’s so as
to minimize “crunch” noise in the frozen snow. Every ten steps or so, Vojteck
sinks in to his knees. I try to avoid
stepping in those holes. There is an art to walking on top of the snow, and
when you succeed, you save considerable energy.
Instead of rolling my feet from heal to toe, I watch as Vojtech steps
lightly and flat-footed to maximize the area supporting his feet. And try to
keep both feet on the ground at the same time to distribute your weight. No wonder the wolf is king and top of the
food chain here. The wolves run on top
while the Hirsch, Reh, boar and red deer sink in, slowing and draining their
energy. The only animal the wolf does
not prey on here is the brown bear, but in winter they are hibernating, so the
world reigns. Vojtech shows me the 14 point antlers of a giant Red Stag the
wolves have killed. And last August, Vojtech’s friend was leaped upon and badly
mauled by a big brown bear while hunting. He had no round of ammunition in his
rifle while the bear struggled with him. He jammed the rifle barrel into the 700-pound
creature’s mouth, which somehow frightened the bear enough for him to escape
and run for his life. The man spent the
next hour, bloody and in fear, searching for his 10-year-old son who was also
hunting in the area. He spent 3 weeks in
a hospital recovering. This happened
only a short distance from the cabin we are in. More recently a bear tore off a
local man’s arm and the same year attacked and killed an elderly women.
Vojtech
stalks through the forest with considerably more speed than I still hunt. He acts like a man who is hunting…but also is
being hunted. Hearing the wolves somewhere out there on the mountain, howling
at the moon, brings out an atavistic survival instinct. When I get up to visit the outhouse at night
and hear something in the woods, I am on full alert!
Our first
day of hunting is Sunday evening. We
drive to the small, rustic village of Velka Lesna where Vojtech lives. Upon entering his home, it reminds me of
those Easter eggs where all inside is so much grander than the shell. After meeting his wife, Jarmila, and his
three young daughters, he takes me to his trophy room. I am amazed at the
largest Red stag antlers I have ever seen!
(5 feet across between main branch tines). And though only 12 points,
the main branches are bigger round than my arms! He tells me it is small
compared to many living in his forest. I would settle for this trophy
anytime. He later explains that to get
enough money to complete his house, he has, sadly, sold many of his best
trophies to guests, who pay dearly for such racks
This is an
incredibly poor, but happy culture. It
is a joy to observe such happy children playing with one another and very
affectionate parents taking time to play with and teach their children which
they patiently do.
A huge
mounted Eagle with an 8 foot wingspan hovers over the room, beautifully mounted
by Vojtech’s friend, Daniel, who we later meet. This past October, Vojtech was
on snowshoes in the snow. He came upon
two large male Eagles, which had killed an adult Reh, buck (which weighs about
60 pounds!) One of the Eagles buzzed
Vojtech as he approached their kill.
Suddenly the other swooped down and attacked him, sinking its talons
into his thigh, knocking him down and beating him with its huge wings. He grabbed the Eagle by the neck with both
hands, not daring to let go for fear of being struck in the face by the bird’s
beak. For 15 minutes he choked the big bird while it held onto his leg and beat
him with its wings, until he finally choked it to death. He tells me it is not unusual for an Eagle to
attack a person here. A woman from the
village was attacked while walking in the forest and the Eagle kept its talons
in her head until her screams were heard by a woodsman who beat it off her
bloody head.
Day one:
The first
evening, we move our gear into the rustic hunting lodge, which contains a
bunkroom with a huge stove-oven with curved dome constructed by Vojtech. We feed the already glowing coals with
stacked wood from outside – fruits of Vojtech’s labors. We quickly dress into hunting gear and head
up the steep hill with Vojtech leading Igor and me…. like a mountain goat. And
up, up and up we continue through deep snow, trying in vain to walk on
top. I am breathing hard and I am one,
who at age 66 normally takes a little too much pride in trying to out-hike my
sons.
As I walk,
I wonder why I always try to prove myself
physically? I have been competing physically all my life, it seems. Time to relax and accept that these two men,
who are half my age, are in much better physical shape than I. Why do I still
take pride in dragging my son’s and friends’ deer out of the north woods? Am I trying to complete some old karma? At
West Point one of my few claims to fame was being first man in my class in
physical education, by setting new records for the obstacle course, maxing the
physical combat proficiency test, and earning my “A” in track. Time to give it up!
Not since
Army Ranger school in 1958 have I experienced this…stepping in footsteps before
me in the dark. But after a mile of
upward climbing in the dark, it reminds me of being on patrol in the mountains.
They hunt at night in moonlight here…. and unlike most Americans, they have the
optics for it: huge light gathering binoculars and riflescopes, which can
easily distinguish a young from an old boar.
We arrive,
soaked with sweat, to a huge tree stand with ladder leading to a large room
surrounded on four sides with openable windows, only one of which we open to my
consternation. “How will we shoot a boar approaching from the other three
directions?” I ask. “We will open the
window very quietly,” Igor explains in German.
“We don’t want the animals to hear your coughing.” I have a terrible cough and am taking
everything I can, “chain-sucking” Ricolas.
We sit in
the cozy tree stand until 10 PM, me wondering how I will ever distinguish my
large boar from a not-so-big one in the dark…even with Igor´s great light
gathering scope.
Down we
trek for 45 minutes to our now cozy cabin …and Igor prepares a light supper of
homemade würst, home smoked ham, cheese, bread, all washed down by good
Slovakian beer and after dinner shots of Jaegermeister --"to help you
sleep well," says Igor -- toasting the hunt and our new friendship. I need
no help to sleep and climb into my bunk listening to the crackling fire and
thinking of a big 500 pound boar with huge tusks.
Day 2:
The alarm
begins the day at 5 AM and we dress and eat a quick breakfast of leftovers from
last night and climb to the Susuki 4X4, which Igor bought for $100 in Munich
and will sell Friday for $400 to a fellow hunter. I have ridden with wild
drivers before and have somewhat unsavory reputation as a driver in my own
family. But Igor is wild! He seems to be always accelerating -- even on ice and
through the narrow village streets where children and the elderly scatter like
flies to give him room. He looks over at me with a grin, as I grip the support
bar on the dash with all my strength. "I could go faster," he says,
"if only the horn worked!" Reminds me of the Stephen Wright joke
about the mechanic who says, "I couldn’t fix your brakes…so I made the
horn louder." In spite of his speed on the small logging trails and
villages, he is actually a good driver on the bigger roads and autobahn.
We drive up
an old logging road in the snow, park the car and our next ascent begins. About
a mile from the car, a herd of Red Deer – a nice stag with 5 hinds -- crosses
the trail ahead of us, scampering up the steep mountain. We look back and the
car is an "ant" far below us. Every trip out with these guys is an
aerobic adventure! We make a big circle and head back to the car, seeing fresh
boar and deer tracks and droppings every where. The next day, we learn from a
friend of Vojtech´s that he saw a large group of 6 large "Keilers"
just where we saw the Red deer! We were a day early.
We return
home to Vojtech´s village for coffee and homemade goodies, followed by a few
slugs of homemade schnapps. You will have to get used to "schlupping"
down schnapps every time you meet someone, go into a new home, or eat with
people. This is an institution here! There is a secret to surviving, however,
which the natives well know. It is to chug it down in one gulp. Otherwise, the
40-60% alcohol will enter the mucous membranes of your tongue and mouth, if you
politely sip it, and you will feel its effects. But if you down it immediately
into your stomach, it will be diluted with food, drink and stomach acids and
you will survive.
After
lunch, Vojtech wants me to meet his taxidermist-angler friend, Daniel. We drive
through small picturesque villages, going back 100 years in time. An old man
driving his horse and cart down the road, sits on top of a wagon filled with
cow manure. We pass beautiful mountains, fast running trout streams, to another
small village. Inside these humble dwellings everything is clean and neat and
very well appointed with homemade carved wooden doors, beamed ceilings, and
much evidence of care and pride. Daniel’s is a virtual zoo of stuffed local
animals and fish. Lynx, boar, bear, Red Stags, Reh and huge trout and
"Hoochen" -- a salmon family fish from the local waters which can be
3-4 feet long, weighing up to 70 pounds. From the kitchen his young wife (with
new 2-week-old baby) is cooking fresh caught brown trout and Hoochen filets for
our lunch. What a delicious feast! These people might be called
"poor" financially, but they are rich in family values and lifestyle.
Their children are held affectionately and loved. They all ask about my family.
They want to take me fishing for these huge Hoochen if I can come back in fall.
I see videos of Daniel catching these monsters in the nearby river.
I first ran
into this mystery fish in Austria, when I created a lovely tradition of
traveling an hour south of Munich to Gmund, a beautiful lake town not far from
Salzburg to the Traun River where I stayed in a forest hotel where Hemingway
stayed and fished. My first time there, 7 years ago, I was privileged to be
guided fly fishing for rainbow, brown trout and Grayling by the 85-year old
guide who also guided Hemmingway -- a wise and gentle man who could cast a fly
even better than my brother, Bob. While fishing beneath a waterfall, I saw a
huge shape materialize from the depths of the pool and deliberately inhale my
muddler minnow. I set the hook and was fast to a huge fish, which eventually I
landed, released and learned from my guide that I had caught a Hoochen. This
fish inhabits the larger rivers of Europe, such as the Danube, but in search of
food, it often migrates up into tributaries and smaller streams. My Hoochen was just under 3 feet in length, a
monster for such a small stream, though not nearly as large as these I am
seeing in Slovakia. When we left the stream that evening we joined other
anglers in a special restaurant which caters to fly fishermen only, who don’t
eat until later, when the last hatch is over, and my guide announced to the
assembled friends that on my first Austrian angling venture, I had caught a
Hoochen, a piece of information which was met with considerable discussion and
mixed feelings by those who had been angling without success for one for some
time. They berated us for releasing him, as they were certain he would devour
all the trout in this small stream. The next morning the great chef at our
forest hotel prepared gourmet style, a large grayling I had caught and saved as
my birthday fish. It was delicious!
Later I am
brought to Vojtech´s brother’s home in the village, who is a woodworker,
creating in his workshop windows and doors from local lumber -- quality wooden
fixtures I would love to have in my home. Again and again, more schnapps and
toasts, food, and sincere eagerness to meet their first American guest
hunter. Sometimes in a low income region
one will encounter enthusiasm to befriend an outsider, who the people,
understandably view as possibly offering the opportunity for financial
exploitation. The genuiness and
sincerity among these Slovakian people from these villages is qualitatively
different. They are truly interested in learning what an American is like and
proudly want to share the richness of their culture with no strings
attached. I like these people!
This
evening we will hunt with Igor´s friend, Peter in his Ravier in another village
nestled up against the mountains. We arrive a bit late that afternoon and are
immediately off to the mountain. I am
given for this hunt an old beautifully ingraved 16 gauge double with external
hammerlocks. They tell me that where I
will be, on a boar escape route, the shooting will be fast and up close. Peter’s son has a hunting dog on a leash and
will drive the creek beds toward the three of us. I am positioned in a creek bed with a well
used game trail 30 meters ahead of me and am told to wait very still and to
keep alert for boar or foxes using this escape route. I am ready!
Two Reh and a fox appear, making their get-away. But I am waiting for a large Keiler and do
not shoot.
The short
drive ends and we are sent with Peter’s son to skirt the edge of the mountain
where the meadow meets the forest in hopes of stalking up on a boar. We see one Reh and then Peter and Vojtech
meet us 2 miles from where we began, taking us back to Peter’s home to see his
incredible trophies, drink beer and more schnapps, cheese, wurst, and hearty
fellowship. After this respite, in the
afternoon we head out again…with me wondering how I will climb…or shoot
straight after all this! And my doubts
are almost confirmed as we begin our evening mountain ascent. Up, up, and up we climb again…And it lasts at
least a mile in the darkness of the late afternoon forest. I try to stay in Peter’s footsteps, Ranger
style, to reduce the crunch noise. Peter sits Igor and I down by a wooden
feeder station ("Futterplatz") to watch a snow covered meadow in the
fast fading light and he continues on, telling us he will phone us on his cell
phone, if he finds boar ahead on the mountain trail. Twenty minutes later, the cell phone in
Igor´s pocket vibrates and Peter tells us to head up the train quietly. "There are boar in a meadow!"
In the near
darkness, we can only see when we are out of the woods in the clear snow
covered meadows. Ten minutes down the trail, Peter meets us and we follow him,
one quiet small step at a time. A few hundred meters ahead, as we round a bend
in the trail, we begin crawling on hands and knees in the snow 50 meters more
to a log pile. Peter directs me with my
inadequate binoculars toward two dark shapes on the edge of the snow covered
meadow 100 meters to our left. Two
boar! He holds up left hand, our
pre-arranged signal that the left one is largest. "Shot!" he
whispers.
I take off
the safety, set the trigger and put my scope cross hairs on the dark shape’s
center of mass. He looks large to me…but
in the darkness, I am uncertain if it is the boar I seek. I am read to shot…but
look again at Peter. Peter puts his hand
on my rifle, just as the two boar sense us and run off into the forest. "Zu klein…" he says. "To
small. 3-4 years old…." This seems
like another test to see if I will settle for a lessor trophy, not as a trick,
but in my host’s eagerness to not have me go home empty-handed. They know I want a trophy boar…and after the
test to see if I will settle for a smaller one, he finally makes the decision
for me not to shoot, knowing that I am not experienced enough in this darkness
to make the decision myself. But for the
bright snow, no accurate shot would be possible, as the moon is not yet
risen. We trek back 1.5 miles in the
darkness. Ranger training again. When we
get back, after another round of schnapps and more snacks at Peter’s, we drive
back to the village, climb back up to our camp, exhausted and ready for sleep.
Day 3:
Early in
the morning, we do another 2-mile stalk in the mountains -- once again, a more
than adequate aerobic workout for this 66-year-old! Everywhere there is an abundance of sign --
huge red deer tracks, droppings, and boar tracks which have widely separated
dew claws at the back of the track, some of which are even larger than the
biggest red stag tracks. And there are many torn up areas where boar have
rooted in the snow for food. We climb steep buffs in very thick cover where
there is always sign. But no sightings
except for 3 red deer which we jump ahead of us. We head back to the village and Vojtech´s
for a hot lunch and shower. His wife
fixes a wonderful soup and chicken fricassee with rice and lots of hot
tea. I’m still taking cough drops by the
dozen. Each time I finish one, the cough
begins again, worried that I will cough at the exact wrong moment when my
trophy appears.
That
afternoon we head deeply into the mountain again. On our way up, Vojtech is excited. He stops and shows me a fresh red hind leg
bone surrounded by huge wolf tracks, bigger than any large dog tracks I have
ever seen. Later we find more bones --
evidence that the wolf is king here. We
finally reach a high "hochsitz" overlooking large fields where the
boar have torn up the grass under the snow, seeking food. Huge tracks are everywhere…. We wait two
hours after darkness. I see a small
shape 100 meters away moving along the wood line. Vojtech glasses it and whispers, "Lynx.
Shoot!" Just as I raise my rifle, it scampers into the woods. The slightest noise -- even from high up in a
stand is enough to spook these highly tuned and alert animals.
PART II: DAY 4
We subsist
here, not in luxury of accommodations…but with a good shelter, a working stove,
and food. Every day we split wood and
stack it beside Vojtech’s huge handmade stove, our only source of heat during
cold nights. We gather buckets of water
from the spring. And we eat our cold breakfasts and suppers in candlelight. And
the fellowship and sharing – even with men I have only known for a few days –
in this primitive place is bonding.
Vojtech and
I are up at 5 AM, eating a bite of cheese and sausage, and climbing again to a
“hochsitz” half way up the mountain. Vojtech explains that he’d like to put out
winter food (“Futter”) for the game, a common practice in Europe, but it is
both too inaccessible up here in the mountain and too costly for him or his
hunting club which has few paying guests. Also such feeding sites become easy
ambush sites for hungry wolves here.
I learn
from Igor that the unemployment rate here in these northern Slovakian villages
is about 50% in winter! In summer there
is more work and the wives and children who are old enough also find work as
forest workers, cutting and gathering wood for the lumber company. The average annual income for a family in
this village is $3,000/year! And, yet,
these are very happy people. They love
and care for their children, families, and neighbors and no one goes hungry.
Every home has its own chickens for eggs and meat, a goat or two for cheese,
maybe they share with a neighbor a cow for milk, and a pig for meat. They grow their own vegetables and gather
wild mushrooms and other eatables from the forest in spring and summer. And in
this hunter’s household, there is always wild game to dine upon and share with
family and friends.
After an
hour in our “hochsitz” Vojtech tells me we will stalk in the mountain for
boar. We begin our descent up a
60-degree slope, practically on hands and knees, pulling ourselves up by small
trees and branches. Today’s aerobic workout begins … and goes on, and on, and
on with hardly a break to catch my breath! I have not tested my heart and lungs
to this degree since dragging a deer several miles from a mountain in New
Hampshire last fall… and that was only a mile.
We climb and climb and when I think I can no longer climb, Vojtech is
off again. Thank God for my good though old climbing legs… but I wonder about
my heart being pushed so much farther than it has in the past three
decades. But it comes through for me. Suddenly we jump three Red Deer hinds that
scamper up the mountain ahead of us like large goats.
Finally we
reach a summit, with me wondering if a boar will be my reward. But Vojtech
looks at me with pride, as if to say, “Your reward is that we just climbed 1000
meters higher in the last two hours!”
Another reason this reminds me of Ranger training 44 years ago: just
when I think I will have a well-deserved break, or that we have completed our
climb for the day, we are off again. Up,
up, up! At Ranger School, after a 20
mile all night patrol, we return to base camp and clean our weapons, sit down
and exhausted without sleep to a double ration breakfast, and we are
interrupted in the midst of eating, before sleep, with the word that the enemy
situation has changed and that we are to prepare to receive operations orders
for combat patrols immediately. Is this
another test? Or am I only making it
one? Igor tells me about the 56-year-old German hunter guest – his only German
guest – who stopped a third of the way up this mountain and could go no
farther. Vojtech feared he’d die of a heart attack on the mountain and carried
him piggyback down to the jeep and took him to a local nurse. That was the end
of his hunting. The Germans are used to
comfortable luxury hunts. Dr. Gregor
Laakmann, one of my German hunting buddies, says, “There is no more real
hunting in Germany. It is like a zoo
where one tells you which animal to shoot and how much it will cost. The only
real hunting left is in the North American or Canadian wilderness where man
goes against game in a survival setting.”
He is right about Germany, but he has never hunted here in Slovakia.
We come
back down to the village for our mid-day meal – our only hot one – in Vojtech’s
comfortable home where his wife, Jarmila, prepares wonderful food – a great homemade
soup every day followed by pork and potatoes or Horescha, a well known
Slovakian dish of special dumplings with chopped smoked bacon on top. And we down it always with excellent
Slovakian beer followed by tea sweetened with home gathered honey and sweet
cakes.
In that
afternoon climb, we jump a herd of six Red Stags led by a huge 14-point
twelve-year-old “Capital” Hirsch. This
time of the year, the males herd up together as do the females with the smaller
spike stags.
I am
beginning to see why Igor told me that winter is not the best time to hunt
here. In winter the crusty snow makes it difficult to move quietly. The stag and “Roe deer season is closed. Bear are hibernating and one can only shoot
wild boar or wolves – and these two wily animals are the most difficult of all
to hunt – especially in the snow and cold, cruel winter. Having wolves as
predators keeps all the other game on high alert status. One can also shoot lynxes or foxes but who
comes all the way to Slovakia to shoot a fox?
And having made it very clear, to the disappointment of my new guide
friends who want to see me shoot something, that I will pass up everything in
my quest to shoot a large wild boar, my quest – and theirs – is even more
difficult. Though I’ve had the cross
hairs on one, he was not the trophy animal I seek.
This
afternoon my luck will change when we hunt with Peter, several villages away in
the same area where we saw the earlier boar.
Peter insists we chug schnapps before we leave for the hunt, drinking to
America and Slovakia. How is that
affecting my aerobic conditioning? As we
begin a 70% slope, I am wondering if Peter is also testing Vojtech in some kind
of competition! No breaks for these two
… or me as I lag 10 meters behind. Finally a mile up from our starting point,
they stop and I am thinking, “Great! A chance to catch my breath.” Suddenly,
they both whirl around up ahead of me, “Keiler!” I see a flash of shaggy
black-gray to their left and with freight train speed and abandon, the biggest
wild boar I have ever seen is charging down hill only 10 meters to my
left! I un-sling the rifle, groping for
the unfamiliar safety, try to get him in my scope, but in seconds my
opportunity has passed and he is running fast below me to the right and now out
of my field of sight. Peter and Vojtech scamper off to the right shouting for
me to follow, but I am too far behind them to see the giant “Keiler” stop for a
few seconds 60 meters below and I miss that second chance of a life time,
having already missed the first a few seconds before. They are perplexed and frustrated. No diplomatic niceties from these honest men.
“Why didn’t
you shoot? One only sees such a huge
boar like that once in a life time!” Vojtech insists he could have shot twice –
a real commentary on this awkward American who now feels his Country’s
reputation is at stake. Useless for me to try to explain that I could not find
him in this unfamiliar scope. I think,
“I might have shot him from the hip, only aiming the rifle in his direction he
was so big and so close.” But I know better.
And my words only sound hollow when I say, “Better not to shoot, then to
shoot badly.” I am wondering if this is
really true – especially on a fast running boar in a situation like this, or in
one of the German drive hunts when the game is running full tilt, and one must
make a quick decision about whether the animal is an allowable one or not. I have shot most of my 50 or so deer when not
running. I almost always wait for the animal to stop, or walk, or whistle or do
a turkey call to spook them into halting and looking toward me while I
hopefully have a moment to get off a well aimed killing shot. But I have
friends who bag game on the run. These are mostly my buddies like Mario or
Phil, who are always on the move, covering 4-5 miles of north woods mountains
in a day. When a deer jumps, they are
hopeful of getting off a fast but lucky fatal shot. And I have regretted not shooting a fast
running Keiler before when hunting in a drive hunt in Germany with my friend,
Peter Busch. Should one jump into the
fray and take the chance shot? Teddy Roosevelt would have.
My only
criticism of my new Slovakian friends’ hunting technique is that they do not
stop to listen and look often or long enough for my tastes… or my aerobic level
of condition! They tell me that this
boar is well over 200 kilos or 500 pounds and had huge “Gold Medallion” sized
tusks. We surprised him in his afternoon
bed on the mountain side, catching him off guard…but only for a few vulnerable
seconds. He was the trophy of a lifetime, not only I, but also every hunter,
including them, has dreamed about. I have missed the chance of a lifetime. But
they console me – only slightly – by helping me rationalize that it is just too
difficult to hunt in winter and that if I come back in summer or fall, that
they give me 100% chance of bagging a big Keiler, though maybe not one as large
as this one. I should come in the last two weeks of September for the Red Stag
rutting season and, after I shoot a nice stag, which they “guarantee….” I will
get my boar then. I assure them that I want to return and will, if I can afford
it. I cannot shoot the “Capital” stag they say is awaiting me here in the fall,
because as a poor "academician," I cannot afford the $2500 trophy fee
such a 12-14 year old gold, silver, or bronze medal stag costs here…even if it
is only a quarter of what one must pay in Germany. A large Keiler will cost me about $250 –
again a fraction of what it would cost in Germany. They also suggest that I return
in November or early December for one of the 5-6 drive hunts they have then,
where a trophy Keiler will cost nothing, though a large stag will still fetch a
fee.
As we
continue on up leaving only a bit of my disappointment over the big boar
behind, I am thinking mixed thoughts. “The reputation of this ‘great American
white hunter’ is fast dwindling….” Why is it that both my brother, Robert, and
I have grown up thinking we are always being tested? Our father, a successful,
charming Army Colonel, was not competitive or a demanding taskmaster. I always felt my “determination that would
not be denied” came internally instead of from external pressure. I think of Robert, whose writings have often
appeared in outdoor publications, and I recall him writing vulnerably about his
fears of shooting “Class 4 rapids” on the DeChutes River in Oregon, while
guiding Steelhead fly fishing trips. We
are molded into the complex creatures we have become by a combination of rich experiences
and some mysterious genes. Robert writes well, in his own unique style, more
about the vulnerable feelings and fears within his outdoor men, than about the
fish they catch or the game they shoot. And my books also have that vulnerable
thread, but in a quite different manner from his. We come from the same mold…but different
things took from different experiences and environments.
Vojtech and
I sit now in darkness, overlooking a snow covered mountain meadow –the same one
where we found the smaller boar two nights earlier. Peter has gone on a mile or
so farther to our west and will drive his way back to us through the forest
hoping to drive a boar to us. They often hunt at night in Europe – even without
moonlight when the white snow enables one to shoot at center mass of a boar. But their optics are superior to ours –
designed to gather light through large diameter lens scopes and heavy
binoculars, which we daytime only hunters would not want to carry. Two red deer pass us silently – on alert from
the west. Peter must be heading our way.
But it all seems anticlimactic compared to the huge boar I have already
successfully snapshot 100 times in the past hour … in my mind’s eye.
The trip
back down the steep mountain in the darkness, on ice covered game trails, is
memorable. Peter is also part “Gamsbuck”.
The descent is very steep. And we
are in almost total darkness, half-skiing, half falling down narrow ice trails
with 30 foot drop offs to either side.
Somehow we make it in one piece.
We drive to the pub at the nearby ski resort and we warm ourselves with
hot mulled wine, drinking toasts to the huge boar… who Peter insists is always
somewhere on that mountain, all alone.
He believes him to be 7-9 years old, a real survivor who has inspired
tales here for some years. I was lucky
to see him within shooting range.
That night
in the cabin, after a cold supper of wurst, cheese, bread and beer, while we
are discussing the boar, we hear a terrifying bellowing noise outside the
cabin! It is the “Barumpf”—the bugling of a Hirsch. We open the door and there
are three grinning friends of Vojtech who have climbed the snowy mountain to
share a bottle of schnapps they have packed in.
One is the angler, Peter, who has the huge Hoochen mounts where we feasted
on Brown Trout, two days earlier. They insist on my giving a wild turkey
calling demonstration, which takes little encouragement on my part. They tell
me the story of how every spring, Vojtech demonstrates to the villagers how he
can catch trout in the stream with his bare hands! It is true.
He wades in slowly and comes up behind the trout in their lies and has
even caught two at the same time, one in each hand. The man is part otter! I can hardly believe how a man can catch a
fish as fast as a trout with his hands.
These men and I share a wonderful comradeship. They may be poor in money terms, but they are
rich in more important ways. I fall
asleep in my bunk after chugging too many schnapps and dream of the giant boar
… of shooting from the hip and rolling him over on the mountainside.
DAY 5:
We are up
before light again without breakfast and up the mountain to the tree stand
watching the day dawn. Fresh tracks are
every where but nothing comes to us. I am now wondering if I might shoot a
wolf, seeing the remains of three big Red Deer, brought down and consumed by
wolves, who separate a weaker animal from the herd and then run it down in the
snow to make the kill. This gives me a somewhat different perspective than I
had from reading Harley Mowat’s “Cry of the Wolf”—tales of living with wolves,
while studying the theory that they really survive on a diet of 80-90% mice,
rather than on deer, elk, moose or caribou, as their reputation holds. I had
been impressed by these wolf studies and by the nobleness of this wildest
beast, but when I tell Vojtech that I read that wolves live largely on mice, he
laughs. “Would you live on mice, when you could eat deer?” In the last few days
here, I have seen, first hand, evidence of wolves’ ability to bring down strong
animals 5-6 times their size. They have to be both more intelligent and fierce
to accomplish this. What will happen to our vulnerable New Hampshire White Tail
Deer, and other wild life, when this most efficient year round predator joins
the other one – man – in hunting deer? Wolves are now being gradually
re-introduced back into New England from Canada.
We return
to Vojtech’s home in the village for coffee and goodies, and then are off again
for our next climb, to the opposite side of the valley of the little village of
Velka Lesna. He tells me that the Red
Deer and boar like to bed down and feed on the sunny side of the mountain. We jump several more herds of Red Deer – have
seen over 20 so far –and two of the small Roe Deer, who are fast. As we climb,
the entire mountainside is torn up with boar rootings and we see two frozen mud
bathing sites where the boars wallow. We descend about noon and enjoy a
wonderful lunch made by Jarmila of a great wild mushroom soup, pig’s knuckles,
and the best home made, sweet, potato salad I have ever tasted, all washed down
by Slovakian beer. That evening after a short nap, we climb again, jumping red
deer on our way, and sit two hours on stumps over looking a snow covered meadow
filled with a growth of young fir trees. As darkness approaches, we hear them
moving off to our right through the thick firtrees – a heard of boar, I am
told, passing through to night feeding grounds. As hard as I try, I cannot
“think” a large Keiler out of the forest and into the snow-covered meadow and
my cross hairs. We return to the hut in darkness, get a fire going, and light
the candles. Vojtech’s hunting club member, Peter Smlen, who is a close hunting
companion, will hike in tonight and spend the night with us. Vojtech has
already taken me to his home in the village to show me Peter’s giant Red Stag
“Gold Medal” Red Stag trophy, the grandest, heaviest one I have ever seen.
Peter and his wife and five children live down the road in the same village.
Peter has a reputation of having shot – on the run – 15 large Keiler – a man
from whom I can learn! Also he will provide for us tonight, I am told, an
important part of a Slovakian hunt which I have not yet experienced – the folk
songs and ballads of the Jaeger. We have about given up hope when at 9:30 PM a
knock at the door signals Peter’s arrival.
His car has broken down in the snow, but like most of his rural country
mates, he has repaired it …this time with a piece of wire, and has hiked from
below with his accordion on his back.
We open and
down more schnapps, I demonstrate Turkey calls, and then the most memorable
(other than the huge boar) part of this Slovakian hunting trip magically
unfolds for us in the glow of candlelight. Peter is an incredibly talented
musician and folk singer, singing with great passion and joy. These songs are a
special part of their hunting camaraderie – with sad songs, like for me
tonight, about the hunter who missed his trophy and with joyful songs about
each of the animals who share these forests and courage with those who are
honored to hunt them. The evening is magical, emotional, and one I will never
forget. Peter makes more music with his
single accordion, strong melodious voice, then a band of ten. And to my delight, Vojtech joins him in
melodious harmony, knowing all the words from past hunting experiences. Igor and I join in too, after many schnapps,
surprising myself at my ability to sing in another unknown language. But this singing comes more from the heart
than the head. We sing through the night
until all our candles have burned out…and we keep on singing in total darkness
until the wee hours and no schnapps remains. I learned that night that Peter
had just found that his job at the railroad had ended that day. Here he was, father of 5 and wife with no
support…yet such a giving spirit! We
shared a brotherhood, which knows no boundaries – a band of hunters who love
our game and one another. I want my sons
to experience this incredible bonding and I vow to come back to Slovakia for a
fall hunt with them and other friends. Never in America or Germany have I ever
experienced such an incredible feeling of brotherhood! This undiscovered part of the former East is
a jewel yet to be discovered – one rich in tradition and rare hunting and
angling opportunities.
The hunting
club of Igor and Vojtech has an interesting incentive plan for candidacy for
full membership. They earn points for such contributions as building a
hochsitz, planting food for the game, and bringing in guests to help provide
much needed revenue. Full members may
hunt and keep their trophies and meat, if they wish, with no fees. But as always throughout Europe, the “excess
game plan” comes before trophy shooting for the members. This means they must harvest a certain number
each season of the weaker animals, before shooting trophies, to keep the
population at optimal level.
If you want
such a bargain hunt, I recommend you not go in late December through April,
when I first went, when the hunting is so limited and difficult during cruel
winters, unless you crave aerobic adventure more than great hunting. But if you
can schedule a week or so from mid September until early October (when the Red
Stags are bugling) or from mid October until early December (when the mountain
drive hunts take place), you will have a wonderful experience! And it will cost you far less than most
European or U.S. western guided hunts.
My week in February cost less than $500 (I had no plane costs since I
was already in Munich). I paid for 5 days of renting the Hunting cabin at
$15/night, 5 days of guiding at $25/day, and $100 for gas for Igor to take me
to and from Munich (less from Vienna), and an additional $200 for food, drink
and gifts for the families. Of course
you must add to that your plane fare to Vienna (or Munich) which in September one
can get from Austrian or other airlines for about $500. I didn’t get my trophy, but you can feel
confident if you go during prime time that you will. And a very large boar will
cost you a trophy fee (which goes to the hunting club) of about $250, plus
preparation costs, if you want a full head mount. If you want just the tusks handsomely mounted
on a plague, your guide will do it at very low cost. If you want a medal class Red Stag, be
prepared to pay from $2500 for the largest you might imagine, to $500 for a
heavy, but less than perfect trophy. If
you are lucky enough to see a wolf and shoot one, you will pay about $250
trophy fee plus costs for tanning and preserving the pelt and head as a wall
mount. You may also shoot a brown bear,
but it will cost more than a large Red Stag.
Bringing
your own rifle, though a real advantage, if you can do it, is now very complex
– especially since September 11, 2001. I
would recommend you use Igor’s excellent 30-06, after sighting it in, as I did. But keep the trigger “on set” as you stalk,
and practice swinging it more than I did, taking the safety on and off, so as
not to miss the opportunity I did! Though it is always more difficult using a
rifle you are not familiar with, than using your own, it is probably the best
option, at least for awhile. The three
friends have other weapons available as well.
Your
biggest barrier will be the language one unless you speak German, as do I. Igor is excellent at German and is fast
learning English. He is a warm, thoughtful,
and very considerate host who will translate and provide all you need. He is also developing a series of cards in
English to help communicate about essentials with English speaking guests. He
has a Dominican monk friend, Thomas Janciar, who speaks excellent English, who
is studying for the priesthood who is also a hunter, who might be able to
accompany you.
There are
also many other recreational opportunities for the adventurer including
fabulous trout or exotic Hoochen fishing in the streams and rivers which these
guides know well. There is a scenic
rafting trip on the nearby Danajic River followed by folk music and a ram roast
on a spit from May 1st to end of October. (The boats and rafts are handmade by
Vojtech’s brother, a talented wood-maker in the village.)
A word
about safety: though you may hear rumors about the Mafia or traveling in the
Eastern European countries, with Igor and his friends, you will have no need
for worry. The dangers – like in any
developing country – are in the big cities, or if traveling by train, for
example, from Prague to Slovakia. Though I would take care for my valuables in
any country, and I would be reluctant to travel as tourist in the Ukraine, I
have no security worries in Slovakia with good people like Igor Kollega and his
hunting friends.
Just where
in the world is this area? Check out the
map. The area is in the mountainous
resort area of Northern and Eastern Slovakia near the Polish border, known as
the Hohe Tatra Mountains. The largest
towns are the resort towns of Smokovec, about 12 kms from Poprad (which also
has a small non-commercial airport.) This is 300 kms from the Slovakian capitol
of Bratislava, just across the border from Vienna, Austria. The small village where you will stay and
hunt is Velka Lesna in the northernmost part of the Spis region. You will not
find it on your map!
You may
contact me by email (Halclyon@yahoo.com)
or by phone (603-520-1214 from May-October to learn more about this rare and as
yet, undiscovered, opportunity. I love
talking about it! Or if you speak German
or Slovakian, you can contact Igor directly and make your arrangements with
him. He will take care of all details
including picking you and your party up either in Vienna or Munich and taking
you to the hunting site, and being there for you to make sure all needs are
met. Igor spends part time in Munich
where he can be reached on his cell phone at: 011-49-0171/9425829. When he is home
in Slovakia he can be reached on another cell phone: 001-421/905607311. You can also call Igor´s monk friend, Thomas
Janciar, who speaks good English to make arrangements on his cell phone:
0117421 110907 595052.
Do yourself
a favor you will never forget. Go
hunting with Igor and his comrades in Northern Slovakia for the experience of a
lifetime!
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