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By Owen Plair
As a lifelong outdoorsman, I’ve always had a deep respect for wild places and the animals that call them home. But nothing prepared me for what I experienced in La Pampa, Argentina on my first red stag and black buck hunt during the peak of the rut in late March.
It was the kind of trip that doesn’t just live in your memory—it takes root in your bones. I could write a short book on this trip but going to save you time with a short story.
From the moment I touched down, I could feel the energy of this place. Vast rolling hills, thick brush country, and an atmosphere that felt like it hadn’t changed in a hundred years. The air was cool and dry, with the kind of silence that makes every sound in the wild ring louder. I’d heard about the roar of a red stag, but hearing it in person during the first week of the rut, that’s something else entirely.
During the first morning, we left camp before dawn, moving through the terrain in the dark as the horizon started to glow. That’s when I heard it—my first red stag roar. Deep, raw, and primal. It echoed through the brush like thunder, and in that moment, I was hooked. You don’t just hear a red stag—you feel it in your chest. This is the feeling we all live for as hunters.
My guide for the week was Roberto who was a 16-year veteran stalking the woods of La Pampa. He spoke just enough English to help me learn, listen, and get a feeling for the hunt, and stalk. What I learned on this trip was that spot and stalk hunting red stag in the brush of La Pampa is not easy and reminded me of turkey hunting in South Carolina. As a retired guide myself, I was extremely excited to be with Roberto because I could tell from the start, he was passionate, serious, and extremely driven to make my trip a success. He knew every ridge, draw, and thicket like the back of his hand. What else could you ask for in a place you know nothing about?
We hunted hard for 2 days, around 4 hours in the morning, and 4 hours in the evening when the stag were the most active. Day 2 brought some rain which held us back but also cooled the temperature down to around 50 degrees. This cool down ignited the rut in a way I could never have imagined. We started day 3 with 2 roaring stags deep in the brush. We stalked, listened, stalked, listened for about half a mile, inching closer by every step. All of a sudden, we hear a shot in the distance and instantly I felt it might have ruined our chances at getting within range of the two stag we were stalking.
We eased up a little on the stalk thinking it might have been over and then all of a sudden, the woods came alive. The two stag starting fighting and we were so close you could feel them crash their racks together as they were showing dominance during the rut. They started roaring again and the hunt was back on. We walked fast and swift through the brush knowing they were at a disadvantage and distracted now as we got within 300 or so yards. The wind was perfect. We dropped into a stalk—slow, methodical, crawling through the brush and using every bit of terrain to stay hidden. My heart was racing as I was desperately trying to keep my breathing smooth and calm which felt impossible in the moment.
Roberto stopped and froze. He slowly moved his hand in a gesture for me to slowly walk-up to him. You could feel my heart throbbing in the wet, sandy soil. At 200 yards, I looked through my binoculars and saw my first red stag facing away from us in a small gap through the trees. Seeing this amazing animal in the wild was like nothing I had seen before. I settled behind the sticks, calmed my breathing, and had the stag in my scope. Roberto made a quite roar and the stag took one step to the right giving me the opportunity to take him. In that split second I almost doubted myself in taking such a long shot on sticks, but my instinct kicked in as a hunter. I took one last breath and pulled the trigger with confidence. The stag dropped. Just like that, I had my first red stag on the ground. But more than that, I had my first real encounter with the wildness of Argentina.
I instantly felt a feeling that I had not felt before. My mind and body went to another universe as I yelled for joy hugging and thanking Roberto. We walked up to the stag, I kneeled down with my hand on his enormous back, closed my eyes, and said a prayer. My eyes opened and I stood up with a big yell of excitement. My dream of a red stag had become a reality and I was emersed in the true wild of La Pampa, Argentina. The stag was a beautiful old specimen around 7-8 years old. Which is what you want, taking an old one from the herd. It had a huge head, neck, and beautiful mass on his antlers. My heart and soul were full, I accomplished one of my dreams.
After a few days of soaking in the moment, I set my sights on another iconic Argentine species: the Black Buck. Sleek, fast, and sharp as ever, these antelope don’t make it easy. We took around a 1-hour truck drive through the rocky roads of La Pampa to an area that I was not expecting. As we left the thick brush the land started to open, and we were in a sea of grass, hills, and open range. I was shocked to see the land change so much within an hour drive and I realized the day ahead was going to be special.
We started the day walking up giant hills and glassing for herds of Black Buck. This was also a new style of hunting for me and I was instantly hooked. A lot of the herds would hang out around watering holes that were full of wildlife including cows, mara, black buck, ducks, flamingo, ostrich, and all sorts of other native wildlife. We had some great success early and Francisco took a beautiful 4 curled Black Buck on his first stock. I had an opportunity shortly after and missed my shot going over the buck. Something about being able to watch the black buck for so long through my scope got me. I was devasted and humbled all in the same split second of failure. I realized this is not an easy hunt or shot at a long distance on sticks but kept my mind positive, and was more than ready for the next opportunity. It wasn’t easy getting my confidence back up but somehow, I did.
We spotted a bachelor group moving through an open pasture around 600 yards away, and with the wind in our face, we started the long crawl. Closing the distance took patience. At just over 200 yards, one mature buck stepped broadside and held for a brief second—just enough. Roberto put the sticks up and I had the Black Buck in my scope. I was fatigued from the stalk with sweat coming down my forehead and taking breaths like I had just ran a mile from trekking up and down the rolling hills. I slowed my breaths and told myself this is my last opportunity as the sun started to go down and I need to make it count. On the 3rd deep breath, I settled in and felt the same feelings I had with the stag, I was confident and ready. I took the shot and watched him go down. My first Black Buck, a beautiful 3 curled buck with great mass, and big bodied. I walked up to the buck and said another prayer thanking God for helping get through the adversity of the day and allowing me to experience yet another incredible Argentina hunt. Two incredible species in one trip. And both hunts were completely different in style and intensity, which made it all so rewarding.
What really stood out on this trip—aside from the hunting—was the experience the lodge provided. The lodge was incredible. Every meal was authentic and delicious (the asado alone is worth the flight). All of our meals included the game we were hunting and was prepared in ways I never imagined. Evenings were spent around the fire, glass of Malbec in hand, trading stories with the guides and other hunters. Life in Argentina hit me different. I had a sense of relaxation along with the reality of being in the true wild of another country I had only 6 days to take in. I felt it was a place I could spend 6 weeks and still want more.
There’s a camaraderie that comes with a place like this. It’s not just a hunt—it’s a full-on experience. The land, the animals, the people—it all comes together in a way that’s hard to describe unless you’ve lived it.
Looking back, it’s hard to pick a single highlight. Was it the first roar echoing through the hills? The moment I laid eyes on that massive stag? Or maybe it was just sitting quietly, watching a group of hinds move through the brush, listening to nature at full volume.
One thing’s for sure—my first hunt in Argentina won’t be my last. And if you’re ever dreaming about chasing the roar during the rut, La Pampa is the place to do it. Contact us today and we will be happy to set you up with one of the best hunts in the world. At Rivers & Glen we only book with outfitters who we know will not only share an incredible experience with you, but will make it a new part of your life story. This new chapter in my life will be one that lives with me forever.
If you’re interested in experiencing this hunt for yourself, contact us today!
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