Red stag mating seasson 2026

The arrival of the deer rutting season this year was accompanied by beautiful weather and high temperatures. Because of this, I began visiting areas where red deer occur more intensively in late August. The first acoustic signs that it had all begun could be heard deep in the valley just before dusk on August 31st. At first, I focused on the beginning of the rut higher up in the mountains, specifically in the Kozie Chrbty range. However, after a few outings, I concluded that visiting this location too often wouldn't bear much fruit, so I moved over to the High Tatras. There were several places where I spent this year's rut. However, you could say I stayed loyal to my home region; after many years, I prioritized shooting the peak season in habitats of mountain thickets, clearings, and partly on submontane meadows.

I fondly remember the moments from the days when I used to look for deer in the fields and meadows right next to villages, from where I managed to bring home plenty of interesting shots. However, I cannot stop progress. Although I walked away richer in beautiful moments and experiences this year, it wasn't quite as rosy when it came to the photographs. Photographing wildlife in its natural habitat is much more demanding—not only for the actual encounter, but also for moving through the terrain and simply for the ability to get to the places where the animals stay. In locations that only a few people have ever seen in their lives, and where you won't meet a living soul throughout the year, I often asked myself: "What on earth are you doing here?" Yet, these are exactly the places where you come across powerful, old stags and get such an adrenaline rush that it lasts you the whole year

I must admit I dedicated myself to photographing the rut truly intensively this year. Whenever possible, I was out there. By the twentieth morning or evening outing, I stopped counting. In addition to the weak progression of the rut and the warmer-than-average weather, I also struggled with the so-called "focal length factor." Simply put—I was often too far from the animals, or on the contrary, way too close. In my opinion, a few photographs in this article sufficiently demonstrate what I mean. However, many of the moments I carry away from this year's rut didn't fit into the viewfinder. A great deal happened either early in the morning, when one had no choice but to watch and listen to the forest in close proximity with the naked eye, or late in the evening when no light was left. I am not the type of person who needs a shot at all costs. Years behind the camera have taught me that one high-quality photograph holds more value than ten "ordinary" ones lacking light, emotion, or an interesting environment.

With a clear conscience, I could describe the entire course of this year's rut as the weakest I have ever experienced. And I've seen quite a few! Perhaps it is due to a complete change of environment, a shift in my approach to photography, maybe the weather, or perhaps it was all meant to be this way so I could realize the bigger picture and a new core meaning. I thank Mother Nature for the safe time she allowed me to spend in her embrace, and I trust that next year will be well worth it. I heard the last roar this year on October 3rd.