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Travelling abroad with a firearm is something many hunters think about, but few take lightly. For Rob, a driven game hunt in Portugal became the perfect opportunity to test the waters — combining tradition, challenge and unforgettable company in a landscape very different from his usual stalking grounds at home. What followed was a remarkable few days of red deer, wild boar, roaring conch shells and camaraderie that left a lasting impression.
Let’s find out more…
I work as a dive technician, repairing and maintaining deep-sea diving equipment for the oil and gas industry. The job has taken me all over the world — Africa, Brazil, Trinidad, Baku on the Caspian Sea, Spain — though most of my time has been spent in the North Sea.
But this trip would be different.
This would be my first time travelling abroad with a firearm.
I grew up shooting and hunting with my father. I spent many wet and windy days with the Air Cadets at Black Dog Rifle Range, north of Aberdeen. After a few years away from the sport, I returned to pheasant shooting and eventually bought my own stalking rifle — a beautiful Sauer 202 in .308, which I still own today. I also shoot a Sauer 202 in .375 H&H.
I have my own stalking ground and usually manage a couple of days each year on the hill for red stags. An African safari had always been on my bucket list. Around a year ago, I managed to purchase the .375 through Holts Auctioneers, via a now dearly departed friend, Ian Bonner — Holts’ Scottish agent and a man whose knowledge of all things shooting was second to none.
The idea of hunting abroad had been building for some time.
How the trip came about…
I’ve known Sergio Couto (Instagram @sercout) for several years. We first met at Sloans of Inverurie, where he worked before setting up his own outfitting business — now highly successful and featured multiple times on Fieldsports Britain.
Around the same time a good friend moved to Africa for work and went on a plains game safari in Namibia. The photos and stories he sent back were incredible. Then, almost as if timed perfectly, Sergio emailed me about driven game hunts in Portugal.
That was it. The die was cast.
Flights from Edinburgh to Lisbon were booked. Peli cases were purchased. Ammunition sorted. A few new bits of kit acquired.
Like most things in life, funds are often the limiting factor. So Portugal would be my test run for travelling internationally with firearms — at a slightly more affordable level than Africa.
The months passed quickly. My thoughts revolved around kit, ammunition choice, and practice.
I settled on Hornady 300-grain DGX Bonded, purchased from Sloans. Range sessions followed — shooting off sticks and freehand.
I must mention Paul Basford, who runs Line of Sight in Aberdeenshire, where you can shoot out to a mile. I prefer to get a little closer and “ping” steel plates.
I had hoped to practise on the running boar range at Eaton Hall near Manchester, but it wasn’t operational during my visit. That will have to be a future mission.
After New Year snowstorms and relentless rain, I was looking forward to some sun. I drove down to Edinburgh and stayed overnight at an airport hotel.
Up at 3am, bleary-eyed but excited.
The EasyJet staff were excellent — no drama whatsoever regarding the rifle. In departures I met four of the other lads heading out. A good group of men, and we’re already planning to go back next season.
The three-hour flight passed quickly. Entry into Portugal involved a bit of paperwork, though even the Norwegian contingent with European firearms passes found it no faster.
The drive to our accommodation began in driving rain — I must have brought the Aberdeenshire weather with me. Away from the main roads, the countryside was pleasant, though you could see signs of harder times in some areas.
The rooms were comfortable, the staff welcoming, and the food excellent.
First day – a baptism of fire
After a continental breakfast and an hour’s drive, we reached the hunting ground.
Pegs were drawn. I was last gun in the line.
The dogs and handlers moved into position. From a distance it sounded like hunting horns — later I learned they were blowing large conch shells. It was similar in style to a fox drive in the UK, but on a much larger scale.
The area must have covered hundreds of acres.
I caught sight of a red hind and follower briefly skylined but with no safe shot. My neighbouring gun mounted his rifle but held fire. I stayed ready.
Moments later, a red hind appeared.
Sixty metres. Freehand.
I picked her up in the scope, squeezed the trigger, and she dropped instantly — cartwheeled, kicked, and then lay still.
My first hind.
My first driven animal.
After the drive, the game was marked and recovered to farm buildings where a superb lunch awaited. The animals were laid out for photographs and collection by a Spanish company. Game prices in Portugal are extremely low — around 90 cents per kilo was mentioned.
Back to the digs for a hot shower, a couple of beers, and dinner in front of the fire.
The ‘Monteria’ – a unique type of driven hunt
Day two was on another level.
Sixty-five to seventy guns, plus wives, girlfriends, children, beaters and dog handlers — around 200 people in total. Everyone was immaculately dressed, especially the ladies, who wouldn’t have looked out of place on a high-end British pheasant shoot.
The breakfast alone was vast.
We hunted an enormous tract of land with 300–400 dogs. These hunts are conducted once a year in each area to complete necessary culling in a single day before resting the ground.
The terrain was steep, thick with eucalyptus and scrub. At one point we had to push the pickup uphill in the mud.
Again, I was last out on a ridge line.
Shots rang out across the valley. A piglet trotted past me at ten feet, catching me completely off guard. I didn’t take the shot — the rocky ground made it unsafe.
Then I heard movement below.
A red stag burst from the scrub at around 40 metres.
One shot.
Down.
From the valley came the unmistakable chaos of wild boar and baying dogs. Later I learned a large boar had wounded one of the dogs before being shot. The dog received immediate first aid and was stitched up. These animals are valued highly — many even donate blood to veterinary clinics to offset medical costs.
We could hear that other guys were in the thick of it. After the drive was finished I marked my stag with one of the beaters, had a photo and walked out to the road and the others; 9 beasts and 13 for another Norwegian chap.
Back at base, a serious lunch was laid on. Donkeys were used to drag game to the roads before loading into pickups — something that reminded me of photos I’d taken of ponies used on a west coast stalking trip.
By the end of the day:
164 red deer, fallow and boar.
It was an astonishing sight.
I’d brought a couple of duty-free bottles from Edinburgh and handed out drams. The game layout was meticulously organised by Daniela Marques (instagram @Daniela_fmarques), who is building a strong reputation within the Portuguese hunting community.
Dinner followed. The staff were still working at 2am.
A day off – Portuguese style
An election day meant no shooting.
Instead, we visited a winery owned by an optometrist — testing before tasting, naturally. After lunch at a restaurant, we took a boat trip along the river.
Vultures circled overhead, riding thermals. I hadn’t realised mainland Europe still held such birds.
A winding road led us to a small castle above the river. Dinner there rounded off a thoroughly enjoyable day.
The final day…
The last morning started cold but ended in warm afternoon sun.
We were asked not to shoot “spikers,” as the Portuguese prefer to let them mature — different from the UK approach, where they’d likely be taken as cull animals.
I stood beside a river for much of the morning with nothing seen, though my neighbour accounted for two hinds.
The final drive took place in orchard-like ground.
A sounder of boar passed silently — astonishingly so. I fired quickly but missed. Moments later, heavy shooting erupted further up the line.
Then I heard low grumbling from the trees.
A small boar emerged.
Up came the rifle.
Down he went.
At the end of the drive, outfitter Tiago Ferreira — a former Special Forces soldier (Instagram @montariascomtradico) — commented it was a good shot. I’ll happily take that endorsement.
Nearby stood a curious stone structure shaped like a beehive — crawl inside, sit on a plank, and shoot through a small opening. A dry-stone doe box.
And that was it.
We travelled home early the next morning. Check-in was slightly unclear but went smoothly in the end. Edinburgh was straightforward, and soon enough I was driving back to normal life.
Every person on that trip was first-class company — Tim, Nigel, James, Roy, Martyn and Andy. It’s not just the hunting that makes these trips special; it’s the people you share them with.
Roll on the next adventure.
Find out more about hunting with Sercout Wild Harvest
www.sercoutwildharvest.com
