Turkey has always been one of those mysterious places to me. I had never been to the Middle East, nor had I been to a predominantly Muslim country. I have to admit I was
a little nervous. I was going to be hunting with my dad’s good friend, Kaan Karakaya, owner of Shikar Safaris. At least knowing whom I was going to be hunting with gave
me some sense of comfort. I was arriving into Turkey a week or so before my hunt was set to start because I was coming from another European hunt, so I didn’t see the point
in going home in between.
When I arrived in Istanbul, I was greeted by a man that I had never met. But, he assured
me that I was to get on another flight to Antalya in order to meet “Mr. Kaan.” When I
arrived, I was collected by yet another person that I had never met, but this time he
greeted me with an out stretched cell phone with the comforting voice of my dad’s good
friend Kaan on the receiver. I was so tired by this point that I checked into my hotel without
even looking around and went straight to sleep knowing that I only had to be up for brunch
with Kaan the next morning. When I opened my eyes the following morning, I found myself
in paradise.
Antalya is a beach city on the southern coast of Turkey. It is a famous vacation spot for
Europeans, and I felt silly for never having heard of it. My hotel room faced the ocean
and between the lush greens of the hotel grounds and the vibrant blues of the
Mediterranean Sea, I was shocked by how pretty it was. The hotel was amazing, far
above what might be considered a five star hotel in Los Angeles. I hurried to get ready
and rushed down stairs to meet Kaan for brunch. We ate at a restaurant right at the
edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. Kaan informed me that I had a few days to relax in
this city while he waited for another hunting client to arrive, and then we would move to
another area when the hunt was set to begin.
I decided to make the most of my time in this beautiful beach city, and I asked Kaan if I
could take a scuba diving lesson. I had always wanted to get certified, but had never
taken the time to do it. Kaan had a friend that ran a scuba shop, and I spent the next
couple of days getting certified. I could not have chosen a better place to do my
certification. In most places in the US we have to do weeks of training in the bottom of a
pool, but here I took my first lesson in Mediterranean Sea surrounded by fish and small
squid...
of all different shapes and colors.
At breakfast Kaan had neglected to mention the name of the hunter that he had coming in.
It wasn’t until that evening that I realized that I actually knew him! One of my favorite
parts about hunting internationally is running into friends in different countries or
hunting camps. Larry Higgins was hunting a red stag with Kaan as well and had arrived
while I was out playing in the ocean. Larry and his wife have been good friends since I
first started hunting, and he does a lot of work with Safari Club International, so we see
each other quite a bit during the convention season. I was very happy to see him, and he
kindly invited me to come along on his hunt. Now I was excited! I still had a week to kill
before my cameraman arrived, and I could start my hunt. This was going to give me a
head start on learning about the area and checking out the animals.
Antalya is a beach city on the southern coast of Turkey.
Larry was hunting only a few hours from the hotel that we had originally checked in to in
a place called Sandikli, but the area was dramatically different! This was much farther
inland from the coast and no longer a tourist destination. We checked in to a new hotel that was
Nice, but not as grandiose as the first, and I was instantly aware that I was the only
female with my head not covered and absolutely the only one in camouflage. We drove
into the mountains the following morning to start the hunt, and I was amazed at how
beautiful the area was. It was thick with green trees and brush, and the stags were right
in the middle of their rut and roaring all around us.
The local mountain guide had fashioned
himself a sort of stag call made from
a PVC pipe and did a great impression of a
stag roar whenever we reached the top of a
ridge. The answers to the roar would come
from every direction! This was a completely
open free range area, and yet there were
stags all around us. We could stand on the
top of a hill and roar and the stags would
come to the top of all the surrounding
ridges to answer back. We could glass up
to five or six stags at a time on all different
mountain ridges. Larry had a very distinct idea of the type of stag that he was looking for,
and after some time, we started to see stags that got him excited. Larry took a great big
stag on the fourth day, and we parted ways. He headed back...
to the airport in Antalya,
and we headed on to the western coast of Turkey to another beautiful beach city called
Bodrum.
We had a few days remaining before they would be ready to start my hunt, and Kaan
was keen to do some spear fishing and visit with some of his friends that lived in this
resort town. Bodrum is famous for its rich history, famous castles, and its relaxed
beach energy. Almost year around this city is filled with British and European tourists, so
most everyone speaks English, and it is very welcoming and laid back. I was happy to
be in a place that I felt comfortable wearing shorts again because it was still late
September and very hot during the day.
One of my best friends lives in Italy, and
Kaan kindly invited her to come join us for the last few days before my hunt was set to
start. We had a blast! Armed with my new scuba license, we did open water reef dives
and got to dive with massive seven hundred pound yellow fin tuna! We went
parasailing, jet skiing, and rafting until it was time to say goodbye to my friend and get
down to business.
My hunt was to take place in the mountains outside of Ankara. This was another inland
city where I carefully avoided wearing shorts and still felt strange being the only one
with my head uncovered. Kaan had other clients coming in, so we got his “A team” as
we named them. Cenk and Celal were our new guides. They were so friendly and kind
that we instantly felt at ease. With all the other activities we had found to do, the hunt
had gotten pushed back so we were now left with only a few days to get my stag. The
area we were hunting was slightly harder than the area I had accompanied Larry on his
hunt. There was less cover, fewer deer, and higher mountains to climb, but the stags
that we saw looked very nice. The guys asked me what kind of deer I was looking for,
and I told them the truth. I really didn’t care about the points; I wanted a nice, old stag
with a lot of character that would be a good representative of the area.
The European stag is not classically known as a giant stag. The stags in New Zealand
are usually far bigger, but the...
European stags are from the original blood line that is
native to the area and are as free range as you can get! By the third day things were
getting stressful. We had seen deer every day, but getting close to them was another
story. We were nearing the end of the rut, and the stag were not answering our calls like
they had a couple weeks before, I was nervous that I was going to have to go home
empty handed.
Frustrated we got up and quickly figured out a plan B
TThe last day, we got up to the top of a mountain very early in the morning- long before
sun rise and carefully laid down on our bellies overlooking a big valley and waited for
the sun to slowly creep over the hills. We thought this would be a perfect plan since we
had seen deer in this valley before. But of course, as Murphy’s law would ensure, just at
sunrise, a farmer’s dog went playfully running and barking through a field chasin~g the
deer away. Frustrated, we got up and quickly figured out a plan B. We climbed down the
mountain, jumped in the trucks, and high tailed it to another area that had not been
disturbed. We ran up the side of a hill, racing against the sun to get in place before the
deer would be passing through the area and our morning chances would be blown.
We set up on top of a rounded hill and waited, but this time the deer had apparently not
gotten with the program because nothing showed up. It was getting hot quickly and by
eleven it was far too hot for the deer to be moving around, so we headed back for lunch.
The car ride was silent. We were all thinking the worst, and none of us wanted to say it,
but this was it, down to the wire. On that afternoon we did not nap like we would have
Normally. Everyone was too nervous. So we set back out to go hunting earlier than we
would have on other days.
That afternoon we had a single goal- to get me a stag. We were not going to call or wait or
anything like that, we were on a spot and stalk mission. We drove to the top of ridges, Glassed,
and when we didn’t find anything, we drove to the next. Finally we spotted a couple of stag on
an adjacent ridge and decided to give them a try. These stags were roaring at each other from
opposite ridges, and the noise they were making gave us enough cover to sneak up
close. Cenk spoke better English then Celal, but Celal was the man with a plan when it came to
picking the right...
deer. Cenk translated as Celal judged the stags. We were losing light quickly,
and it was a mad dash to get close enough to take a shot. We lost sight of the stag as it went
over a ridge, and we rushed to close the distance then hurried down the side of a hill, slipping
and sliding as we went, Cenk and Celal froze.
Standing on an outcrop a little over 200 yards away was a stag with my name on him. He was
slowly working his way from left to right toward the tip of the outcropped ridge. We got situated
on a comfortable rock. The stag did not see us, and he was weaving his way in and out of the
large trees on his way to the edge.
We lost sight of the stag as it went over a ridge
When the stag stopped I asked the guys if I could take him,
and they gave me the go ahead. I took my shot, and the stag dropped out of sight down the
opposite side of the ridge. We took off running not knowing if the shot was good or not and
fearing the worst in the fading daylight. We reached the spot where the stag had been standing,
and we saw blood which was the first good sign, but the hill was very steep on the other side.
We slowly started making our way down, and when I was just about in a panic that he was gone
forever, I heard one of the guys yell from about 10 yards to my right, so I dashed over there as
best I could in the rolling rocks.
When I got to where the guy stood, there was my stag lying stone dead and a perfect path
leading from where I shot to where he lay covered in dirt. He had rolled down the mountain, and
that is why we only saw him drop out of sight. He was a nice twelve point stag, but my favorite
part about him was that he was a very old guy; he was around eight years old and had
completely worn down most of his teeth. This was the perfect time to take this deer, and I
couldn’t be happier with my Anatolian red stag from Turkey. Sadly, we had to leave the
following day, but we had a great celebration at dinner, and I said goodbye to all my new
friends. As hard as it was to leave Turkey I know I will go back someday soon, and I’m looking
forward to it.