Balkans Hunting
Balkans Hunting Package
Real Hunt. Old Land. Deep Blood.
You want wild? Come to the Balkans, my friend. This land still breathes like it did a hundred years ago. Mountains sharp as broken bone, forests thick with stories, and animals that don’t care who you are unless you hunt with heart.
With me, you chase game the old way. Balkan chamois on cliff-edge rock. Mouflon over broken stone. Red stag roaring like war through the autumn woods. Boar that charge when cornered. Roe deer flicking through the morning mist.
What you hunt in the Balkans
Balkan Chamois – High up where the wind whistles and the rocks don’t forgive. You earn every step, and the trophy? Worth your soul.
Mouflon – Wild rams, proud and wary. They live where only goats and ghosts dare.
Red Stag – The king. Autumn rut shakes the forest. If your heart doesn’t pound, check if you’re still alive.
Wild Boar – Ah, the boar. Balkan hunters grow up with these beasts. Fast, smart, mean when wounded. Best hunted with dogs and fire in your blood.
Roe Deer – Graceful. Quick. A hunter’s game in the soft green hills. Not easy, not hard. Just right.
Balkans - The Land Itself
Balkans aren’t one place. They’re many souls in one body. Macedonia. Serbia. Montenegro. Croatia. Hills, rivers, sea, and snow. Each hunt feels different. Each story ends around a fire, with meat, bread, and rakija.
You want to feel something real? Come when the frost bites, or when the spring grass rises.
Who is Bulkan Hunting For?
If you want spa and slippers, look elsewhere. But if you want the ground under your boots, the burn in your legs, and the howl of a wolf far off—this is your place.
First time in the Balkans? No problem. We guide with care, like older brothers. But we don’t carry you. You walk. You sweat. You earn.
Hunting the Balkans
Season by Season
Spring – Roe deer, fresh trails, green rising fast.
Summer – Chamois in the sky. Long hikes, cold rivers.
Autumn – Red stag calls, leaves falling like fire. The soul season.
Winter – Driven boar. Men shouting, dogs barking, bullets flying. No theater. Just raw.
Why Come With Us?
We’re not travel agents. We’re hunters born on this soil. We speak the language of trees, rocks, and tracks. We deal straight. No velvet gloves.
Whether you’re a veteran or new to the chase, you’ll leave with something true. Maybe it’s a trophy. Maybe it’s a scar. Maybe it’s just a story to tell when you’re old.
Ready?
Don’t wait. The mountain feeds the patient, but it doesn’t wait forever.
Write to us. Ask your questions. Then come. The hunt is calling, brother.