THE STAG OF THE ALPS
BY W. A. BAILLIE-GROHMAN
The red deer to be found on the Continent of Europe can, broadly
speaking, be divided into two families: those inhabiting the more or
less isolated forests on the great plains of Central and Northern
Europe, and those making the mountainous regions of South-Eastern
Europe, chiefly in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, their home. Whilst it
is not always easy to draw a topographical line of demarcation between
plains and mountains, this broad subdivision has a great deal to do
with the explanation of the fact that the mountain stag has, in the
course of the two or three last centuries, deteriorated less than has
the stag of the plains.
The retrogression of the latter has been much greater than is generally
supposed, and it is not till one has investigated the abundant evidence
placed at the disposal of those having the necessary opportunities
for research that the vast decrease in numbers and deterioration in
the size of the animal and of its proud trophy are brought home to
one. Months of interesting study are afforded by the perusal in German
archives of the shooting diaries of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, a period when, as is well known, the love for the noble art
of venery swayed the great territorial lords and potentates of Germany,
France and Austria to an all-absorbing degree of which it is difficult
to form a correct idea in these days of responsible government. Such
study of old diaries, kept as a rule with far greater punctilious care
and method than was bestowed upon the most important papers of state,
brings to light narratives of sport and details about the animals
themselves which make comparison with the puny forms, shrunken number,
and dwarfed antlers of to-day a matter of suggestive interest. To cite
only one instance: is it not startling to read that the Elector of
Saxony killed in forty-five years (1611 to 1656)--during which, we must
not forget, the Thirty Years’ War was ravaging Germany--no fewer than
47,239 head of red deer, of which 24,563 were stags? Amongst them there
were:
1 stag of thirty points
1 ” twenty-eight ”
1 ” twenty-six ”
3 ” twenty-four ”
9 ” twenty-two ”
24 ” twenty ”
131 ” eighteen ”
373 ” sixteen ”
1,192 ” fourteen ”
whilst as to weight the following figures tell their own story: the
heaviest stag (killed somewhat early in the season, August 17, 1646),
weighed 61 stone 11 lbs., fifty-nine stags exceeded 56 stone, 651
exceeded 48 stone, 2,679 exceeded 40 stone, and 4,139 exceeded 32
stone. It is interesting to compare with these figures the bag of the
descendant of the above potentate--i.e. the late Duke of Saxe-Coburg,
an equally keen sportsman, with opportunities, in comparison, much the
same as his great ancestor. He, as we find from compilations placed at
the writer’s disposal, killed in forty-nine years (1837 to 1886) 3,283
red deer, of which 2,316 were stags, and of these there were one of
24 points, two of 22, four of 20, eight of 18, and 164 of 16 and 14
points; whilst in respect to weight, the best forests of Germany did
not return a single stag equal to that of the lowest in the Elector
George’s list, i.e. 32 stone. If deterioration continues at the same
rate, the descendants of the Duke of Edinburgh, who has now succeeded
to the throne of this doughty race of Nimrods, will have to be
satisfied with stags of proportions akin to those of the dwarf deer of
other continents, which a strong man can hold out at arm’s length.
Such deterioration as the above has not occurred with the mountain
stag, for we find that in Northern Hungary and adjacent Bukowina giants
of the red deer species, ranging in weight from 35 to 40 stone (clean)
are obtainable to this day, while their heads, if not exhibiting such
an abnormally large number of tines as those to be found in the great
historical collections of antlers of the Continent, where heads up
to 66 points are to be seen, are nevertheless as heavy in the beam
and as wide spreading almost as the best which the sixteenth century
produced. Moreover, one must not forget when examining these famous old
collections that they represent a zeal in sport and, in most instances,
a lavishness almost incomprehensible in these modern utilitarian days;
a lavishness which in many instances wrecked the finances of the ruler
and of his country. History tells us that one enthusiast gave a full
battalion of his tallest grenadiers for a single pair of antlers two
centuries ago, while another offered a sum corresponding to 5,000_l._
for another famous head, and offered it, moreover, in vain. These are
two instances of what perhaps to our remote descendants may possibly
not seem a more extraordinary proceeding than the purchase of a few
square feet of painted canvas for fifteen times that sum.
If we search for the reason why the stag of the plains has lost so much
more ground than his brother from the hills, we come upon the same
factor which has worked so much havoc in Scotland, i.e. inbreeding.
The forests of Central and Northern Europe (often tracts of enormous
extent) were nevertheless much more isolated from other breeding
grounds than is the whole system of the South European Alps, where
nature has always provided fresh blood with far greater regularity than
could possibly be the case in detached forests.
To-day by far the largest heads and heaviest stags are to be found in
the mountainous regions of Northern Hungary, where are situated many
great sporting estates of the Austrian aristocracy, which afford sport
such as is probably to be found nowhere else in the civilised world.
[Illustration: No. 1, No. 2, No. 3]
Confining himself to the bags of the last ten years or so, the writer
can give the following details. The heaviest stags of all are shot at
the famous Munkacs estate of Count Schoenborn, in the Carpathian Alps,
where stags with a clean weight of 40 stone 8 lbs. have been killed in
the last decade. Their heads are, however, so it is generally averred,
not better than those of stags in the adjacent Pilis Mountains and
other regions in the Carpathians. The accompanying sketch (No. 1) is
an accurate representation of the upper part of a pair of antlers
of a stag killed at Radauc in 1882 by Prince Rohan; they are of the
following very remarkable dimensions: length of right antler 49⁶⁄₁₀
ins., of left antler 48⁴⁄₁₀ ins. No. 2 sketch represents antlers of
a stag shot in the Pilis Mountains in 1884 by the present Duke of
Ratibor, the right antler measuring 49 ins., the left 50⁴⁄₁₀ ins.,
while the spread from tip to tip at widest point is 55⁹⁄₁₀ ins. This
is enormous. The remarkable expanse of the crown of a stag shot on the
Jolsva estates (Hungary) in 1884 by Prince Philipp of Saxe-Coburg Gotha
is shown in sketch No. 3, where the extreme distance between the two
most prominent tines forming the crown _a_ to _b_ tapes 20⁹⁄₁₀ ins.
Frequently, as everybody who has dipped into antler lore well knows,
the largest heads, so far as length and number of tines go, are not the
heaviest in weight; in fact, one might almost quote as a rule that the
heaviest heads are fourteen and sixteen tined ones, when the animal
has begun to set back. Thus neither No. 1, 2, nor 3 reaches, by 4 lbs.
or more, the weight of a 14-pointer killed by Prince Rohan in Radauc,
which, with the small fragment of skull-bone which is usually left
attached to the antlers, exceeds that of many a fair wapiti head--the
giant of the deer species--scaling an ounce or two over 31 lbs.
avoirdupois; whilst another 14-pointer, obtained by the late Austrian
Crown Prince, weighed little less. To find matches for these modern
antlers among old historical heads one has to search among the pick of
the old collections, and of these history does not always tell their
origin. Take, for example, two famous collections embracing between
seven and eight thousand heads, i.e. the historically most interesting
‘Sammlung,’ at the King of Saxony’s castle of Moritzburg, where, in one
of the many halls in which are hung these highly treasured trophies of
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the visitor can see 71 heads,
not one of which carries less than 24 points; and, secondly, Count
Arco’s numerically even finer collection at Munich. The pick of both
collections is in the first named--i.e. a head of the unrivalled spread
of 6 ft. 3⁶⁄₁₀ ins., and of the equally remarkable weight of 41½ lbs.
avoirdupois. The history of most of the lesser heads in this collection
is well known; not so unfortunately the origin of these monster
antlers. In spite of many weeks’ researches in the King’s private
library and in the Royal archives to which the writer obtained access,
it was impossible to trace its history further back than 1586, in which
year the head is enumerated in an inventory of the Elector Augustus’s
heirlooms, without mentioning whence it came.
Returning to modern times, it must, of course, be remembered that in
the localities producing the monster stags of to-day everything is in
their favour. In the oak forests on the lower slopes of the mountains
they find a mild climate and the best horn-producing food during the
winter months, while during the summer they make undisturbed raids upon
the rich agricultural valleys below, where they find the wherewithal
for many a stone of extra weight, the feudal sway exercised by the
great territorial magnates permitting the deer to trespass upon the
crops with impunity, and thus grow to be the lustiest of their race. In
the higher Central Alps, in Styria, Tyrol, and the Bavarian Highlands,
the stags are smaller and their antlers shorter and proportionately
less massive, being about the size of the best Scotch heads. In the
Alps the inclemencies of severe winters, lack of food as well as lack
of shelters, tell upon the growth of the whole race.
In other respects, however, the stag of the true Alps is a grander
beast than his lazier and sleeker brother to be found on the slopes
of the Carpathians. Scarcer, far harder to obtain, amid surroundings
not unsimilar to those which make chamois shooting such keen sport,
stalking the Alpine stag has for those who are fond of real mountain
sport more attractions than the pursuit of the larger and less wily
Hungarian stag.
STALKING THE ALPINE STAG
The home of the Hungarian and of the Alpine stag differs very
materially from that of the Scotch deer. The more or less treeless
‘forest’ of Scotland is replaced in the first named locality by superb
woods of deciduous as well as of coniferous trees; in the latter by
dense pine, fir, and larch woods. These are forests which do not belie
their name, and their owners are never forced to kill off stags in
order to save a few precious trees, an unpleasant alternative by no
means unknown to Scotch lairds.
To the presence of these forests must be ascribed the entirely
different mode of stalking pursued in Austria from that known to the
Scotch deerstalker. The view over great expanses of open hill land,
which is the most typical incident of Scotch sport, is practically
unknown on the Continent. In consequence of this, stalking can
only take place at a season of the year when the stag betrays his
whereabouts by the call or roar he emits at rutting time.
The rutting season of the Alpine stag varies triflingly, but as a
rule it may be said to begin about September 25, and to end on or
about October 10 or 15. Prior to that time, from the moment when the
stag’s antlers are clear of velvet, he is literally unapproachable
in the dense thickets he loves to frequent at this period. Though
necessarily a high feeder at this season, during which he has to lay
up a goodly stock of fat for the exciting and exhausting times of the
rut, he nevertheless comes out to feed only at night-time, and he hears
as well as scents danger afar. So suspicious is he that, as an old
proverb says, ‘he flies from his own shadow.’ To stalk him under such
conditions in a densely timbered country is, of course, hopeless; so
that his chase during August and the first half of September can only
be successfully achieved by driving the forest with beaters (dogs,
except for tracking wounded game, being of course very much out of
place), and this driving is considered but poor sport by those who have
an opportunity of killing the same animal by stalking a few weeks later.
In this stalking, the call of the stag plays a principal part.
Unmelodious as is this hoarse challenge for the virile championship of
the herd, it is a glorious sound to the ear of the sportsman. Whether
heard in timber-line regions of the Alps, or in the tangled depth of
German or Hungarian forests, or in the elevated uplands of the Rocky
Mountains, it has about it as true a ring of sport as the first music
from the pack in covert.
In stalking the Alpine stag during the ‘Brunft,’ as the Austrians
call the rutting time, in forests that are strictly preserved, the
assistance of keepers saves much time which otherwise would have to
be expended by the sportsman in discovering the favourite locality
frequented by the stags. Stags when the instincts of the season are
full upon them are ‘up and doing’ all night, and the concert made by
four or five (and often many more) brave warriors within earshot lasts
all night, only to die away as darkness is replaced by daylight.
On clear nights, favoured by a bright full moon (other conditions being
equally propitious), it is possible for a skilful stalker to get up to
within a score of yards of a calling stag, close enough to fire with a
good chance of hitting the beast. A smooth-bore, to which one is well
accustomed, firing a spherical 13-bore ball, is for such occasions
preferable to a rifle with its fine sights, and as a rule less perfect
‘fit’ for such hazarding. To a novice unaccustomed to this kind of
midnight sport a few practice shots at a dummy should precede actual
trial, for distances on such occasions are sadly deceptive, and it
is remarkable how much of beautiful Nature there is to be hit in the
immediate vicinity of one’s would-be prey.
Ordinarily the sportsman does not begin the stalk (during the rut)
till just before the break of day. He has to be on the spot at the
first signs of dawn, and therefore it is very advisable to pass the
night as close to the scene of the stalk as possible. In most preserves
small log huts of the most primitive kind are built expressly for
this purpose high up on the mountains close to timber-line, and if
possible close to some prominent point of rocks or shoulder of the
mountain whence the slopes below on both sides can be, as the Germans
say, ‘overheard.’ What glorious solos, duets, and trios can the lucky
stalker not hear on such occasions, when nought but those weird sounds
breaks the great solemn silence of night on the elevated Alpine
timber-line regions! And how eagerly does one’s ear follow those sounds
as they draw nearer or grow fainter, as the champions, bent on war and
love, roam hither and thither on the great pine-clad slope lying in
solemn silence at the feet of the midnight watcher!
The rutting stag, ardent with virile passion, is singularly heedless
of danger at this season, and were it not for the hinds, who at this
period appear to redouble their vigilance, he would be comparatively
easy to stalk. In nine out of every ten unsuccessful stalks it is safe
to say the failure is attributable to the watchfulness of the hinds,
an experience which, it is perhaps needless to say, is by no means
confined to the red deer of Europe.
With the exception of a few days at the height of the rut, stags
only ‘call’ or ‘roar’ at night-time, and during the early hours of
the morning. Not every rutting season affords the same chances for
sport. What in the sportsman’s eyes is a good season is marked by
its briefness, say ten days, and by a corresponding intensity of its
peculiarities. In such seasons, the stag that roars one night at
a certain place will, if not disturbed, make himself heard in the
same locality the next night. In bad seasons, usually on account of
unseasonably warm or wet weather, the stags roam further afield, and
‘roar’ far less regularly, the impelling instincts being apparently
less violently aroused. In such cases they will continue the rut fully
ten days longer, but far more intermittently than in the former.
The favourite rutting-places, or ‘Brunftplätze,’ of the Alpine stag do
not appear, so far as surroundings are concerned, to be subject to any
particular rule. They are generally well up on the mountains, not far
from timber-line, and ordinarily on clearings or park-like openings
of a marshy character, such as often are to be found on the small
watersheds separating the head-waters of two glens.
Finally, to speak about the sport itself, it is safe to say that
next to chamois stalking it is the keenest sport obtainable on the
Continent. Being less uncertain and less riskful, for there is no
climbing about it, it is more attractive to the ordinary sportsman, and
it leaves perhaps quite as pleasurable memories in the minds of even
the most ardent of Nimrods.
Given a fairly well-stocked forest in one of the picturesque regions of
Styria, Salzburg, or Tyrol; given clear, frosty, autumn weather, and
as your host a fair representative of the truly hospitable and truly
sport-loving Austrians, no more delightful last week of September or
first week of October can be passed than in the log huts dotted here
and there near well-known favourite ‘Brunftplätze’ on the uppermost
outskirts of the vast pine forests of the Austrian Alps.
Starting out from your hut, which has given you a welcome night’s
shelter, an hour or so before dawn, accompanied if you are a novice
by a keeper, you pursue your way silently and noiselessly towards the
spot where your quarry has been betraying his presence by lusty notes.
Only practised ears can tell exactly where that spot is, for there is
nothing more deceptive than the roar of a stag. At one time it seems
scarce a quarter of a mile off, two or three minutes later it will
sound thrice that distance away, caused by the stag sending forth his
challenge in the opposite direction. Moreover, the sound itself, with
its deep guttural notes, is by no means always of the same strength.
By the time you have reached the vicinity of the deer, the rays of the
rising sun are tipping with a rosy tinge the high snow-clad peaks which
form your horizon overhead, and the time when ‘shooting light’ will
enable you to finger your trigger is near at hand. If the clearing on
which the deer are disporting themselves--as yet only faintly outlined
forms--is a large one, you will have more difficulty in getting close
to your quarry than if it happens to be merely a glade or park-like
opening in the forest.
Now every moment is valuable, for as dawn gives way to broad daylight,
the deer are sure to return to the denser forest, where pursuit is
infinitely more difficult. If the clearing happens to be an old
windfall, or marks the pathway of an avalanche which has laid low the
great pines and arves, fallen trunks scattered here and there, or
little thickets of young saplings, usually afford means of approach. If
you are hardy, and do not mind brushing the rime off the frost-laden
grass with your bare feet, your heavy iron-shod boots will about this
time be slipped off and the last part of the stalk be performed without
them, the best of all precautions against striking stones, or, what is
even more treacherously dangerous, treading upon twigs, which snap
with an alarming noise. Possibly you may have whispered to you hints
similar to the one a keen old keeper once hissed into the ear of an
august but inexperienced sportsman, who, in plain view of a fine stag,
gaped aghast at the idea of baring his feet to the sharp rocks and
frost-coated ground: ‘Don’t be afraid, Highness, of hurting the stones,
or crushing the grass; up here God grows a goodly crop of ’em, but he
doesn’t make any too many stags such as stands yonder.’[11]
And when finally, with palpitating heart, every fibre in your body
set, you have approached your noble quarry, surrounded as you must
ever remember he is by keenly watchful members of his harem, brace
yourself by a supreme effort for a steady aim; a good stag is worthy of
your very best effort. And if you are a true sportsman, and not merely
a slayer, stay for a brief moment or two before you end that life,
the finger pressing the trigger. The call of a distant foe has just
struck the ear of the gallant champion, and with virile impetuosity he
steps forth from the circle of graceful hinds to hoarsely answer the
challenge to mortal combat. His head is thrust well forward, his shaggy
neck distended to twice the natural size, his antlers of noble sweep
are thrown well back, one of his forefeet is angrily pawing the ground,
whilst his hot breath issues from his nostrils and open mouth upon the
frosty air like so much steam; it is a picture which you will never
forget.