The Roar of the Red Stag

 I’ve spent the last 4 hours slithering through pampa grass, rocky creek bottoms, and muddy game trails, inching my way closer just to see a fight; a clash of Titans that is often heard in this part of the world but rarely seen. It’s the time of “The Roar” in Patagonia Argentina, when mature Red Stags bristling with ivory tipped weapons sprouting from their skulls vie for the right to pass on their genes. The battlefield is a spring-fed meadow 50 meters wide, with the combatants pacing furiously on each side, roaring threats like angry lions; and I’m huddled in the middle with nothing more lethal in my hands than a Nikon camera.  

I’ve returned once again to Estancia Alicura in northern Patagonia to witness the events unfolding in front of me. Each year from about the middle of March until the first or second week of April, the stags leave their communing bachelor lifestyle in the high country and migrate to where the Hinds (females) are living a more rooted existence. If they have good graze, water, and sheltered valleys to raise their young, they stay put. This territorial nature of the hinds makes hunting stags during the roar a more promising venture, and for world-class destinations like Estancia Alicura, it also makes it possible to insure the genetic health of the herds through carefully managed hunting operations. Alicura covers an area close to 200,000 acres in total land mass, and contains hunting operations to an area of about 40,000 acres. Within that area, only about 30 stags are harvested each year. While most hunters are after trophy class stags, a portion of those taken are “management” stags that reflect lesser genetics and old or infirmed animals, which supports the health and development of the entire population. Every stag taken by a hunter is carefully measured and recorded using SCI standard forms, to help analyze the quality of animals living and reproducing within the boundaries of the estancia. 

From what I’ve witnessed during the past several days, and what I’m about to witness on the battlefield; this area is rich with genetically superior stags that are coming into their prime. My friend and guide at Alicura, Paco Rodriguez, has been patiently leading me on spot and stalk missions, and giving me a tour of different parts of the estancia’s hunting range. It seems that each new ridge and meadow we come to holds another group of hinds and at least one dominate stag with a few “satellite” stags circling in the wings. It’s a physically stressful time, as they spend three to four weeks almost completely consumed with fighting and defending their harem; and will lose significant body mass just before the winter cold sets in. I’m here in the late part of the Roar, and the evidence of warfare is everywhere. Stags young and old are starting to show signs of scarred bodies, broken tips, beams, and even entire sides of antlers smashed completely off. The more dominate mature animals show the least sign of wear, perhaps because their shear physical presence tends to lessen the number of actual confrontations. Mature stags have been known to kill younger satellite stags that are foolish enough to push them into a fight. But the fight unfolding in front of me now is between two dominant warriors. 

Each stag was attempting to control a small group of hinds on either side of this small grassy meadow. The hinds, in typically gregarious fashion, wanted to blend together in the middle of the meadow; it was a recipe for mayhem. Time and again, the stags would rush towards each other, cut between the hinds and herd them back to the sides; roaring insults at each other continuously. Their distraction allowed Paco and me to crawl closer into camera range; and when the threats turned to violence, we were only 60 meters from the action. It unfolded in a flash; appearing at first to be another false charge, but ending in a full frontal collision. It sounded like a car wreck.

They locked antlers, dropped their heads to try and get below the center of gravity of their opponent, and shoved each other back and forth in a flurry of dust and grass. Each stag dipped and slashed with sharp tines, trying to gouge and tear the flank of his enemy. And just as suddenly as it began, it ended; the loser breaking ranks and fleeing, and the victor roaring him away. Each stag slightly scarred, but uninjured, it was a perfect ending to nature’s method of selection. The most physically superior of the stags will go on to provide his offspring with the genetic traits to survive.

Paco and I sat back against an Alamo tree and high-fived our good fortune at being witness to such an extraordinary event; and I snapped a few more photos of the winner as he herded up his female companions.  

There are very few places in the world that you can see this drama unfold in person, and I sincerely thank the team at Estancia Alicura for making it possible. If you would like assistance in setting up your own adventure to Estancia Alicura, drop us a note at:

Send this article to your favorite Social Network page

Facebook Google Bookmarks Reddit Twitter Livejournal Newsvine Digg