- Expert Guided Hunts in Europe
- Specializing in Macedonia & the Balkans
- Custom Planning, No Guesswork
Hunt Europe the Right Way — The Old Way
From high peaks to deep forest, we guide true hunters to game worth chasing.
Europe’s got stories in its soil — and every hunt should add to them. But for outsiders, the path ain’t always clear. That’s where we come in. We cut through the mess, connect you with honest ground, real game, and men who know the land like their own blood. We start in Macedonia — where the chamois dance on the cliffs and the boar root deep in oak and shadow. You bring the will, we’ll bring the way. No shortcuts. No soft beds. Just real hunting, like it’s meant to be.
Macedonia
Where the wild boar digs and the chamois climbs, Macedonia waits. Steep ridges, thick forest, old trails. This is hunting with soul. Follow the mountain—she will test you.
Balkans
From the black pines of Montenegro to the oak valleys of Serbia, the Balkans hold wildness like a secret. Each border hides a beast, each trail a story. Come walk the ancient ground.
Chamois (Divokoza)
She lives where the eagle flies—high, cold, unforgiving. The chamois won’t wait. You climb, you sweat, you earn the sight. One shot, if the mountain allows.
Red Stag (Jelen)
He roars at dawn, proud and defiant. The red stag—majestic, cunning, born of mist and mountain. Hunt him not for glory, but for honor.
Wild, Untouched, and Trophy-Rich
Where ancient trails meet untamed game, the mountain gives only to those who earn it.
In the heart of the Balkans lies Macedonia — my homeland, and one of Europe’s last wild hunting frontiers. Here you chase true legends: the Balkan chamois high on Pelister’s ridges, red stag deep in Mavrovo’s beech forests, and wild boar that move like ghosts through the oak valleys. Come late summer to early winter — that’s when the stags roar and the boars test your nerve. Spring offers the chamois, when snow still guards the peaks but the trails open for those with strong legs and steady hearts.
Why hunt here? Simple. Our trophies grow slow and strong, with little pressure and no fences. You’ll walk where few outsiders have, breathe pine and smoke from village fires, and feel the land in your bones. Skopje or Thessaloniki airports bring you close — but the real journey starts when the pavement ends. This isn’t just another hunt. It’s tradition, earned with sweat and shared with rakija. Few know this place. Fewer still have hunted it.
You could be one of them.
Ready for the Real Hunt?
You’ve seen the land. You’ve felt the pull. Now stop waiting.
Whether it’s stag in the Carpathians, boar in the Balkans, or chamois above the clouds—your hunt starts with a message.
I’ll answer. Not an office, not a salesman. Me—Tony.
Let’s plan your story.