Stalking diary: an unguided bowhunting trip for Iberian red deer in Portugal

September is here, and with it our busy time of year has arrived – but next week I’m off on holiday. I know that it probably seems counterintuitive, but I don’t go on holiday to sit in the sun, get a tan or see the sights. Rather, I go abroad to hunt with my bow. Bowhunting is not lawful here, which is why the bow only comes out abroad.

I’ll be returning to Portugal to pursue Iberian red deer, wild boar or fallow with the potential for foxes and mongooses, too. That seems like a long list, but the likelihood of getting one of those animals on the ground is slim. That’s not because of a lack of game – the area we go to has an abundance of wildlife in all its forms. The challenge is in getting close enough to wild game to take a shot with a bow, and that’s why I love it. With bowhunting a shot is not guaranteed. The enjoyment is in the trying, the stalking and the challenge of outwitting an animal in its element.

Last year’s trip, and two stags at full draw

I went last year and I wasn’t successful. To be fair to myself, I barely even tried. The day I was leaving for Portugal I received a phone call from my dad to tell me he’d found my granddad’s body – he had died in a very unexpected way, and it just ripped the rug out from under me. I continued with my trip to Portugal anyway, as my dad was adamant that, in his words, “there’s no point in you sitting around, drinking tea and being miserable with the rest of us”. But I spent the trip just looking at the deer and processing my grief. I was numb, but the location certainly helped.

Sitting in the warmth, surrounded by birds and beasties I’d never seen before, I found that having a Spanish imperial eagle grace me with its presence, or a praying mantis land on my knee, was a surprising comfort when handling pain.

Even in my lacklustre attempt, however, I did find myself at full draw twice on stags. I just didn’t loose my arrow because they were less-than-perfect shots and fleeting opportunities. That’s the thing with bowhunting: you need both empathy and discipline to do it – if you lack either, don’t pick up a bow. I had a split second to make the call on both of those stags and I decided not to bother with either.

Had I been more with it, more alert, less tired, I might have. The chance was better on the second one, but at the end of the day I’m not desperate to kill one. I’d rather have 100 “I was close there” moments than one “I wish I hadn’t done that”.

Why a professional stalker goes bowhunting

The reason I go bowhunting is to test myself. I kill deer near enough every day with my rifle; it’s my full-time job. I’m not trying to sound cocky, but after 10 years in the industry I’ve become pretty proficient behind the trigger. Distance, wind, the position of the animal – things that would have made me hesitate when I started out – barely bother me at all now. But competence kills challenge, and it is challenge that forces growth.

Bowhunting strips it all back; it levels the playing field and it humbles you – and I cannot wait for this year’s trip. The hunting is unguided; we book with Sergio Couto of Sercout Wild Harvest. Sergio shows us the boundaries, provides us with maps and then sets us loose to try our luck.

Last year, though I didn’t try very hard, I learned a lot about how differently these deer behave from the way ours do. I came to understand the terrain and I found out how poorly suited my gear was for such hot weather. I will return this year with that knowledge, lighter clothes and a determination to make up for last year’s lack of effort. I reckon it will make for one hell of an interesting trip.

Charlie Blance is a stalker, fishing gillie and conservationist working across Scotland.