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Kudu dreams and Kalahari dust, by WA Dave - John Rigby & Co.
Sitting on the sticks in the thorns, wind swirling, the eland bulls break from the cows andLearn more
www.johnrigbyandco.com
Sitting on the sticks in the thorns, wind swirling, the eland bulls break from the cows and head downwind. It’s day six of our 10-day safari, and finally, we’re in with a chance. We work the herd, checking each bull, rifle up on sticks, glassing, then passing onto the next. Waiting for the wind or eyes to give us up, always checking for an animal to materialise amongst the thorns. Often, all we’re left with is dust drifting back and the drumming of hooves as the herd heads off.
Finally, Dylan says, “that one.” An old bull on a slight rise, just his horns, head, shoulder, and a bit of his top line in sight. If he moves off to the right or down the rise, he’ll be lost. Two steps to the left, and the window onto his shoulder closes out. We feel the breeze on the back of our necks, unsure if we’ll get picked up by one of the feeding bulls.
Back on the sticks, steadying breath. Earlier in the safari, after holding the Rigby rifle for nearly an hour, glassing and checking the breeze, I realised my hand was trembling. Even after all these years, the thrill of the hunt still gets me.
I focus on this magnificent bull, remembering to aim small, account for range, and squeeze off. The bull disappears. It’s a long 200m walk across the sand after the shot…
We’re six days into tracking old eland bulls in the Kalahari. When I touched down in Maun the previous week, I’d felt the familiar thrill of stepping into untamed land. Driving south, past herds of game, Botswana’s Kalahari had stretched out before us – a raw, endless expanse of sand, thorns, and heat. By sundown, we arrived at Tholo Safaris, a 294,000-acre reserve near Ghanzi, run by the Eaton family. Their hospitality is unmatched, but my mind was already on the hunts ahead.
The Kalahari demands respect. It’s a place of extremes: freezing mornings that burn off into blistering heat, dry sand that sticks like glue, and winds that carry every scent to the keen noses of eland and gemsbok alike. I had come prepared with my Rigby rifles – my Highland Stalker in .275 and a .375 H&H Magnum – trusting these tools as much as I trusted my own instincts. In the days to come, both would be tested, as would I.
This safari started two years ago in another bakkie (a ute, at home), in a different country altogether – Mozambique. I’d asked Dylan, “Where would you go for kudu?” His reply, “I know a place,” has us here, tracking eland bulls, kudu, gemsbok, wildebeest, and so much more in the awe-inspiring Kalahari.
The hunts have been tough. The dry climate and endless varieties of thorns make each step a challenge, quickly teaching us to move more efficiently in the sand. My hands bear the scratches, and my gear has taken a beating. Mornings are freezing, and we’re layered up until we hit the tracks. By midday, it’s hot, the dry air sapping every bit of moisture.
Countless times, the animals bust us. You feel the wind shift and see the tracker and PH straighten and start walking purposefully, knowing we’ve been picked up yet again. The sand sticks to everything as we walk, stalk, craw,l and slither through the thorns.
The first real success came with an old impala ram. After days of following tracks, we spotted him moving at a distance, his horns wide and distinctive. Dylan and I worked our way downwind, sliding from tree to tree, waiting for the perfect angle. The ram paused, silhouetted against the sand, and I took the shot with the Highland Stalker. He tumbled right where he stood—a clean, satisfying end. Our tracker, Bessa, gave a cheeky grin as we approached, congratulating me with a mock salute. It was a special moment, shared with a team that was becoming like family.
The kudu hunt was equally unforgettable. We’d been passing on younger bulls for days, waiting for an old warrior with the right mass and spread. Finally, there he was, ghosting through the thorns, horns laid back. I raised my Rigby .275, no time for sticks, and settled the sight just above the grass line. He dropped at the shot, disappearing from view. Walking in to confirm, my heart pounded, but there he lay – a magnificent, wide-spread bull, his horns heavy with age. “Perfect choice,” Dylan murmured, and I could only nod, taking in the moment.
The Kalahari is the perfect setting for Rigby rifles, they’re built for this. The .375 H&H is the ideal choice to sling over my shoulder for six days after eland, to punch through thorns if required. The weight and stock design make for a very stable shooting platform, and it shoots accurately almost every load I test. Carrying the .275 is so enjoyable, really effective in an understated package comprising walnut and blued steel in that classic Rigby design and a 100+ year old cartridge.
This combination in Africa has allowed me to take Cape buffalo and waterbuck in the Zambeze delta floodplains, and nyala, bushbuck, warthog in the Miombo woodlands and sand forests of Mozambique, and now has proven to be mighty effective in the Kalahari on eland, gemsbok, blue wildebeest, kudu, impala and zebra.
The final night and we enjoy another evening around the firepit, eating fresh dove meat wrapped in bacon and cooked over the braai, thanks to a hunter travelling through camp on their way to another adventure. Around the fire, with good people and a drink in hand, it was fitting. A harsh and amazing landscape, incredible diversity of wonderful animals, and people sharing their dreams. An epic experience.
Thanks for sharing!
