30.06.2026 • Hunt & Hunter

Vampire Hunter

Amid the parks and castles of southern England lives a fascinating species of wild animal that seems to belong to another era. JÄGER writer Frederic Norheimer experienced an exciting hunt for muntjacs.

Vast, well-maintained cultural landscapes, traditional hunting methods, and an abundance of game that is rarely found in such density on the European mainland. Here, fallow deer roam in large herds across the open fields; here, herds of red deer wander through ancient parklands; and here, too, one finds those special game species that were once considered exotic—but are now an integral part of everyday hunting life. One of these is the muntjac, native to Southeast Asia.

Undemanding little park dwellers

Their enormous adaptability is impressive. Whether in structurally diverse agricultural landscapes, dense hedge complexes, parks, or young reforested areas, muntjacs find cover, forage, and shelter everywhere. Weighing about as much as a frail fawn, the animal initially appears very unassuming. The buck has short, spear-like antlers that sit on conspicuously elongated antler bases.

Even more striking, however, are the elongated upper canines. These dagger-like weapons can protrude several centimeters from the muzzle and are used in intraspecific conflicts. I found the herb-like scent of the eye sockets particularly interesting; the muntjac buck uses them to mark its territory. One often sees bucks with scarred legs and slashed ears—scars in the area of the antlers—signs of fierce territorial battles.

Setting out into familiar hunting grounds

From a wildlife biology perspective, muntjacs are particularly interesting due to their ability to reproduce year-round. There is no fixed rutting season as with native deer species. Interestingly, the Buttolo-Blatter can be used very effectively while hunting. At the same time, the high reproduction rate means that hunting must be intensive. Damage to young plants, crops, and sensitive habitats is not uncommon.

My journey begins on a cool spring morning in Frankfurt. The sky is still gray as I enter the airport with my hunting bag packed. Despite having traveled to England many times, I feel that special mix of anticipation and inner tension every single time. The flight to London Heathrow is short. There’s barely time to really get into the right frame of mind before the plane is already preparing to land again. Entering the country requires more preparation today than it used to. A valid passport is mandatory, as is an electronic travel authorization, which must be applied for well in advance of departure. Because of the red tape, I’ve decided to travel without my own firearm.

My luggage therefore consists only of the essentials for stalking: sturdy, waterproof boots, wind- and rainproof clothing, my hunting license, and a thermal imaging device with a daytime viewing channel so I can scope out the terrain the old-fashioned way.

British Tradition and hunting culture up close

I’m already being met upon landing. A firm handshake, a sincere smile—typically English. The drive to the hunting grounds takes about an hour. As we drive through a seemingly endless succession of fields, hedgerows, and wooded areas, I repeatedly spot herds of fallow deer in considerable numbers. Sometimes there are over fifty animals in a single area. But I also spot the first muntjacs grazing by the roadside. Everywhere you look, there are hares, pheasants, and even red deer. Game damage is a daily reality here. Hunting is therefore practiced not only out of passion but also out of a sense of responsibility toward land users.

The British hunting system differs fundamentally from the German hunting district system. There is no comprehensive lease system. In many places, England resembles a vast, carefully maintained parkland. Here, vast gardens merge seamlessly into structurally diverse farmland. Hedgerows divide the landscape like natural ramparts. And this is precisely the kind of habitat that is tailor-made for muntjacs.

Like little ghosts in the hedgerows

Stalking requires a slow approach. Every glance through a gap in the hedgerow could reveal a sighting. Often, the R8 in the familiar 6.5 Creedmoor caliber is positioned on the shooting rest; a glance through the thermal imaging device, while simultaneously calling with the decoy—pure excitement every single time. This leisurely approach significantly improves the chances of bagging one of these small Asian deer. We slowly make our way along the edge of a meadow bordering the forest, roaming through a wooded area, past small ponds. Ducks are everywhere, along with a high diversity of bird species, but we also come across secluded meadows time and again. Suddenly, I spot a movement. A glance through the rifle scope. The hunting guide looks through his binoculars. Once again, he uses his call, since the animal’s head is hidden by the grass. When it lifts its head, the muntjac stares directly at us. But then it calmly resumes grazing and moves on. No clear sign of it being on the lookout, no ideal shooting opportunity. My pulse quickens; the thrill of the hunt takes hold. The distance fluctuates between 180 and 200 meters; the wind isn’t ideal. Again and again, I double-check the distance. In situations like this, the 6.5 really comes into its own. I’ve already adjusted the clicks on the ASV turret and am waiting. Then, finally, the animal with the long canines gives me the opportunity to take the shot. No matter how often you bag game, that hunting thrill always takes hold again. At my shot, the animal falls, struck by the bullet.

It’s as if time has stood still here...

Slowly, we approach the animal. My guide pats me on the shoulder and finally pulls me into a brief hug. My joy is immense, for lying before me is my first muntjac. With distinctive rose-shaped antlers, clearly visible canines, and a scarred face—a truly rugged fellow. It’s not the trophy value that counts; it’s the intensity of the experience. The stalking is far from over.

In England, it’s common to bag several animals on a muntjac hunt. The population is high, so we continue on through the wet meadows. The sky glows with warm colors. From a distance, we hear the calls of pheasant cocks, some rearing up and others strutting. This is either a sign that a predator is on the prowl or that the muntjacs are currently on the move here. We bagged several more muntjacs that evening. I’ve been captivated by the fascination of hunting in England.

I’ve been to this country several times to hunt. And yet every trip feels new. Perhaps it’s due to the unique combination of centuries-old hunting tradition and modern game management. Perhaps it’s the open, sincere hospitality of British hunters. Or it might be game species like the muntjac and the water deer, which remind us just how diverse and surprising hunting can be. Stalking this little “vampire” demands concentration and quick reactions. But it rewards you with intense experiences of nature and hunting memories you’ll never forget.

With the friendly permission of JÄGER Magazin and Frederic Norheimer.