From the brink of extinction to near-eradication – the fate of the Alpine ibex has taken twists and turns worthy of a true king of the Alps. In Austria, we enjoy the privilege of being able to hunt this game species, whose market value has not diminished over the centuries.
He has always combined vice and virtue and even lent his appearance to the devil, who wore his mask and horns.
When we observe the large Alpine ibex staring at us from a rocky outcrop, we have no inkling of this peaceful giant’s acrobatic talent. But he can vanquish the steepest rock faces. It’s the beginning of October and the ibex hunt opens in the Austrian province of Vorarlberg. As every year, a privileged few, who have often waited two or three years for the honor, are allowed to roam the country’s mountains and take 450 to 500 animals from a population of around 5500. Needless to say, what is rare is expensive, but the considerable sums spent by the hunters enable the mountain farmers to significantly increase their income and thus maintain the mountain pastures, which are often very difficult to access.
We are in the beautiful Garnera valley, which lies on the border between Austria, Switzerland, and Italy. Accompanying us is Stephan Tschohl, the happy tenant of a hunting ground that stretches over several thousand hectares of high mountains and has one of the highest densities of ibex in western Austria. After studying in France, Stephan took over the family hotel, where he offers hunters the best possible welcome. As the weather this first week of October is exceptionally summery, we have opted for spartan accommodation: a former customs hut from which we will set off at first light. For Stephan, spartan is not synonymous with simple, and so we climb up in the blazing sun. When we reach the hut, nestled in the countryside, we can finally enjoy the scenery.
While we take out our binoculars to watch a family of marmots enjoying the last rays of sunshine, Stephan empties our rucksacks, in which we find enough food to feed a whole regiment of Alpine hunters! Finally, the sun disappears behind the mountain ridge and is certainly still warming the fur of the wild animals on the Swiss side. Our host emphasizes: “The Swiss also hunt ibex, but they don’t have the same shooting criteria we do.” In Austria, hunting the Lord of the Peaks is taken very seriously. Every animal has to meet strict criteria – especially in terms of age. They are only shot sparingly so as not to upset the age pyramid and the hierarchical structure of the individual core populations.
We use the last light of the day to split some logs and light the old cast-iron stove in the hut. It’s easy to imagine how the customs officers spent their lives up there, not too long ago, when the borders between European countries were more than just a mountain ridge criss-crossed by hiking trails. While Stephan treats us to his local specialties, the mercury continues to rise in the single room – simultaneously kitchen, dining room and bedroom – and the fogged-up window panes let in a strange glow. It’s time to enjoy the rising full moon, which floods the whole valley with an unreal light. It feels almost as bright as day, or at least bright enough to make out eight massive silhouettes against a grassy slope, over a kilometer away. No doubt about it: Capra ibex is here!
The night was short and the fresh air, which whips across our faces in gusts of 90 to 100 kilometers per hour, comes to wake us up. The light rucksacks are only used to carry the essentials for the day, and off we go towards the slope where the ibex were standing just a few hours ago. The wind from the south worries Stephan, as our game is on the same axis and, in his opinion, the ibex react much more sensitively to scent than to visual warnings. We’ll see what happens. Three hours later, we still haven’t spotted the ibex. Our guide talks about the stress caused by the return of the large predators, which had disappeared from the region for almost a century and are now returning with a vengeance. After the lynx, which has been a permanent guest in the valley for around ten years, the wolf and, more recently, the bear have now returned to the region. However, the ibex do not seem to be too affected, as they are able to flee to places completely inaccessible to predators. Chamois, roe deer, and red deer are more susceptible to the large carnivores, who come mainly from Italy and Slovenia, but also from Switzerland.
In the early afternoon, we settle down on a rocky outcrop and decide to scan the mountain with our binoculars. We systematically analyze every little shape that might indicate an ibex. After an hour of careful observation, we finally spot a group of ibex, one of whom seems to meet the shooting criteria. We still have about three hours of good light conditions left. We follow Stephan with determined steps. He takes care to stay in good wind and under cover. Unfortunately, the silence is shattered by the warning call of a marmot, announcing at our presence. The ungulates immediately take up a surveillance position on rocky outcrops, from where they have a 360-degree view.
We systematically analyze every little shape that might indicate an ibex. After an hour of careful observation, we finally spot a group of ibex, one of whom seems to meet the shooting criteria. We still have about three hours of good light conditions left. We follow Stephan with determined steps. He takes care to stay in good wind and under cover. Unfortunately, the silence is shattered by the warning call of a marmot, announcing at our presence. The ungulates immediately take up a surveillance position on rocky outcrops, from where they have a 360-degree view.
We can’t afford to lose another second, and extend the bipod of the rifle. Stephan tells us not to move. We lie flat on our stomachs so the ibex can’t spot us. Four females move up the slope, also alarmed by the rodent’s cry. Gusts of wind stir up the grass, a few alpine choughs whizz through the air and make their calls. Stephan still says nothing, and for good reason: the old ibex is hiding behind his fellow males. Finally, the females approach the group of males, where they are immediately greeted by a beautiful pair of horns: The master of the house wants to give his harem a proper welcome and we see him looming in the riflescope’s reticle.
As always, the seconds before the shot seem endless and we experience a sense of eternity. The rangefinder reads 250 meters, a distance that requires a correction of 18 centimeters, and the crosshairs are already directly under the back of the ibex, who rears up as the .270 Win caliber bullet finds it marks. Fatally hit, our ibex leaps down the rock face and flees just 50 meters before collapsing in a field of scree.
Stephan yodels with joy and runs towards the ibex, leaping from rock to rock. The animal is eleven years old and his horns – nearly a meter long! – are marked with impressive growth rings and the traces of glorious battles that made him the ruler of Garnera’s peaks.