Even now, when it seems that everything has been discovered, and every place worth shooting has been shot, or closed to shooting, the world still offers hunters new territories to explore. Consider Serbia. The country is likely to call to mind some of the 20th century’s most disquieting conflicts, but Serbia is teeming with game, the likes of which many sportsmen have never seen, much less experienced, in their lifetimes.
In a recent mid-August hunt, my son Lee and I hunted wild quail (that is not a typo. Serbia’s quail are completely wild), turtle dove and roebuck, which is to European hunters what white tail is to American hunters. My boy was going to be in Serbia to play for the U.S. Team in the World Championship of a chess-like game called War Hammer. It did not take much for me to figure how we could meet up and do some hunting on new terra firma. We managed to join a line of Serbian nimrods. Tamara, our Serbian representative, lent me her pride and joy to shoot - a beautiful little Fausti 16 bore side-by-side that brought back vivid memories of the first shotgun I ever purchased with my own money: a single barrel Winchester 16-gauge model 37. Lord, I really thought I had arrived.
Serbia’s quail (coturnix coturnix) migrate from the Ukraine and Russia through Serbia, Romania, and Hungary. The final destination is North Africa. The birds in Russia near 2,000,000 breeding pairs, the Ukraine 150,000, Romania 200,000 and so on and so on. Needless to say quail are on the rise in Eastern Europe. The two breeding cycles of Africa and Europe are producing sustainable hunting population over almost their entire range. From Russia in the north, Greece in the east, Portugal and Ireland in the west to Africa in the south, this is a hardy game bird, one that Queen Jane Seymour, wife of Henry VIII, developed an insatiable craving for in 1537. Perhaps your craving will start in fields of Serbia?
Let me tell you, coturnix coturnix is a smart game bird. He is hard to see. He prefers to rather creep away along the ground rather than to burst into the air and fly away. Often the only indication that birds are about is the distinctive “wet my lips” repetitive song of the male. When you are in the fields at first light, the song of the quail is the sign to be ready.
After meeting the three other members of the line and introducing myself to some fine German shorthairs (my...
favorite, thank you) and Tamara’s black lab, we straightened our line and moved slowly into the first field. As we began, the dogs were working unusually close to their handlers. Just as I was processing this thought, a single bullet took off directly in front of me, flying rather low (by American standards) and straight away. I never even had the chance to lift my shotgun. The gun on the right neatly dropped him.
I never even had the chance to lift my shotgun
The dogs continued to stay close as another pair went up a bit farther out. I swung to the movement dropping one as the other made good his escape. Now, I was getting into the game, and understanding how the dogs work and how the quail respond to the pressures in their fields. The Serbian quail flies mostly straight away from the guns and sticks just above the contours of the land. You really have to focus to see this little rocket make his attempted getaway. This is a small bird streaked brown and white with a white eye stripe. The males have a white chin, as well. The quail is a migratory bird with rather long wings that help him fly like the wind. Although the bird is only seven to eight inches long and weights just three to four-and-a-half ounces, the Serbian quail is an explosive flyer. When the bird explodes into the sky, I promise that your heart will stop just for a moment every time. Even though we were shooting during the beginning of the migration, we were watching mostly ones, pairs, and trios getting up. During late August and early September, the migration is nearing its peak. During that time you will see coveys of 10 to 30 birds taking flight all at once. It is a sight like no other, and one that must be shared. This coming September, the Beretta Gallery will organize groups to venture further into this new wonderland. Until you actually see the coveys rise, you cannot believe how many quail were in each field. We worked each field at a comfortable pace, taking dozens of wild quail. I know my boys down in Georgia and South Carolina will just have to add this quail hunting to their bucket list. As a matter of fact, any real wild bird aficionado will not want to miss out on this new hunting Mecca (as brother Mike Yardley said Serbia is one of the world’s best-kept secrets.) Our line was comprised of 20 gauges, 16s, and a 12 as well. I would say a 20 or 28 gauge is the perfect...
medicine for these little babies. Of course, there is opportunity for big game hunting, too.
You really have to be ready to squeeze the trigger as roebucks tend to come in rather fast to either sound.
The roebuck rut coincides with the quail migration. I have hunted roebuck all over Europe, but never get tired finding one more place to stalk the smallest native of the Cervidae family found on the continent. The little deer are a key big game trophy, and many European hunters follow them across the continent. During the rut, the bucks respond to calls made of roe horn. There are two sounds that make the boys come running, one is the call of a female looking for a date, the other call is a fawn looking for its mom. You really have to be ready to squeeze the trigger as roebucks tend to come in rather fast to either sound. I managed two nice bucks in between my quail adventures with the help of Toni Torok, my partner, who is a champion caller.
Another afternoon, I also joined a line going out to shoot dove. I had a little over an hour before heading out to hunt quail. It was hot. I was using a borrowed Russian shotgun (excuse numbers 132 and 133), but I managed to take my share. Serbian dove are not to be confused with Argentina, but the outing into the sunflowers was worth it. Toni told me that on a perfect day that Serbia’s turtle dove hunting is fast and furious.
Serbian dove are not to be confused with Argentina, but the outing into the sunflowers was worth it.
Before Lee and I headed back to Novi Sad for the next leg of quail and roebuck hunting, I had scouted more quail fields, lodges, and big game hunting areas. Driven wild boar and stag seem to be what I will be bringing clients for.
I must say the Serbs are very friendly people. Tamara, my Serbian host, took me to the blessing of the wheat in her hometown of Ada. The townspeople arrive in horse-drawn carriages to an old farm. Many people are dressed traditionally and a priest comes to bless the harvest. If I did nothing else during my trip, this ceremony justified the travel. In Novi Sad, I stayed at the Leopold I hotel in a high fortress overlooking the Danube River. While there I mentioned that this would be a super place to house our hunters, to which Tamara answered that the quail hunting...
is also phenomenal near Serbia’s second largest city.
They know about Eastern Europe’s many well-known political troubles, but few people know that those troubles coincided with a golden age of game management.
I must confess that I am always surprised how little most Americans know about Eastern European hunting (something I hope to correct in my upcoming book “Hunting across the Danube” due out this September from Skyhorse Publishing.) They know about Eastern Europe’s many well-known political troubles, but few people know that those troubles coincided with a golden age of game management. I have made it my mission to change that perception, and to bring true hunters to places that most think only exist in the old hunting books of yesteryear. Whether it was hunting new areas in the Sudan, or being the first American allowed to hunt in the Timisoara region of Romania after the demise of one Nicolae Ceausescu, I never get tired of sharing “secrets” like this with real hunters.
As I write these words I am sitting at a table overlooking the Danube, enjoying fine Serbian cuisine and watching a blazing sunset. It just doesn’t get better than this.
It just doesn’t get better than this.
In the morning my son Lee and I are off to Romania to meet up with Toni to try our luck at the same quarry in a different country but that my friends is another story.