Central Portugal Tests Handheld Lasers to Deter Rampaging Wild Boar

Nobody moves to central Portugal expecting a nocturnal stampede to flatten their vegetable patch, yet that is precisely what many newcomers discover. Sever do Vouga, a lush municipality tucked between Aveiro’s coast and the Serra da Freita mountains, has just rolled out a plan it hopes will let farmers—and their expat neighbours—sleep through the night: lasers.

A laser line in the sand

Sever do Vouga’s council has ordered 100 handheld laser deterrents and handed them to the Entidades Gestoras das Zonas de Caça (EGZC), the local hunting-ground managers. Those bodies will lend the gadgets to small-scale farmers, homesteaders and even hobby vintners who have watched rooted maize stalks, toppled saplings and gouged soil pile up faster than insurance claims. The municipality’s president, Pedro Lobo, frames the initiative as part of a toolkit that already includes a €50 bounty for each female wild boar and €30 for every male, as well as extended hunting permits. He argues that lasers offer a non-lethal first strike, buying locals time before more drastic steps. In practice, the devices emit a sweeping green beam, which boar interpret as an approaching barrier. The council warns users to operate them only at dusk or dawn, to avoid dazzling drivers on the EN328 and to respect the lotação, the seasonal hunting quotas still enforced by the ICNF.

Boars out of balance: how we got here

Across Portugal the wild-boar population has ballooned to roughly 280,000, according to a University of Aveiro study, and could hit 400,000 if left unchecked. Intensive eucalyptus plantations, warmer winters and the gradual abandonment of terraced fields have delivered an unintended buffet. In the district of Aveiro alone, damages topped €8 M last year, a cost that falls disproportionately on family farmers who lack insurance or electric fencing. The national wildlife agency, ICNF, updated its Plano Estratégico do Javali in 2023, granting hunters the right to stalk boar year-round, even in tourist hunting zones smaller than 400 ha—a controversial departure from old closed seasons. Conservationists counter that excessive culling may disrupt predator–prey dynamics, yet many rural councils insist the real imbalance is already evident: fields scraped bare, roads littered with collision debris, and urban fringes where boar now root through recycling bins.

Will the gadgets work? Early evidence and open questions

Scientific backing is thin. One peer-reviewed trial on red deer recorded flight responses in only 13 of 307 encounters with a similar laser. Wild boar are notoriously adaptable: if an orchard offers acorns, they will brave motion sensors, pyrotechnics, and even radio-collared dogs. Still, wildlife biologist Marisa Pires says the beams might prove effective for “a couple of weeks” if operators keep them mobile, unpredictable, and combine them with odour repellents. The council has earmarked funding for thermal-camera monitoring, hoping to log sightings before and after deployment. Should the data show promise, neighbouring municipalities like Águeda, Oliveira de Frades and Mira may follow suit. If not, Sever do Vouga concedes it will revert to more traditional nocturnal drives supported by licensed hunters.

Practical takeaway for expats with land or cars

Foreign residents tending vines in Vale do Vouga or restoring farmhouses along the Ria de Aveiro’s inland spurs should register with their local Junta de Freguesia to borrow a laser unit. The devices are free but must be returned within 14 days. Owners are advised to pair them with 1.2 m electric fences and to keep small dogs indoors at night, as boar can maim pets. Motorists on the A25 and secondary roads such as the IC2 should slow around forested bends between 22:00 and 05:00, when collision risk peaks. Portuguese insurers rarely cover wildlife damage without a specific rider; double-check policies or consider the €30-annual “fauna” add-on offered by several local brokers. Finally, remember that hunting licences (cartas de caçador) require a residence permit and passing a safety exam, so visiting friends cannot simply grab a rifle during harvest.

Part of a wider policy experiment

Sever do Vouga is not alone in testing technology. Calpe, in Spain’s Valencia region, has begun using remote-triggered cage traps monitored by AI-driven cameras; Andalusia declared an Emergencia Cinegética in 2024, relaxing rules on night-vision scopes. Back in Portugal, the Câmara de Castelo Branco flirted with immuno-contraceptive darts, while Setúbal subsidises double-mesh fencing for rice paddies. The jury is still out on which mix of tools will reverse the surge. For now, Sever do Vouga’s green beams represent both a glint of innovation and a reminder that, in rural Portugal, residents—new or native—are often the first line of defence when the forest comes knocking.