rinehart0050
AH legend
Chapter X
Jester (Black Wildebeest)
Strong winds whipped across the valley, a billowing wall of dust obscured the herd’s view momentarily. The winds had started two days previous and had yet to let up. The black wildebeest flicked their long, blonde tails and bristled their blonde manes, in stark contrast to their solid black hides. Germans and Namibians refer to them as white-tailed gnu, an apt description that differentiates them from their blue wildebeest brethren. While the blue wildebeest is known as the poor man’s buffalo for their horns that form bosses and curve to the sides similar to the massive cape buffalo, the black wildebeest is known as the “clown of the plains” for their antics and tendency to prance about in a nonsensical fashion.
Today the comedian herd joined a group of a dozen plus blesbok. The wildebeest never shied away from other groups of animals, always finding comfort in the security that additional eyes and ears offered. The relentless winds buffeted the group as they grazed, but failed to deter them from the task at hand. A particularly inquisitive wildebeest noted the color variations in the blesbok. While most were a brown and white combination, a select few were either all white or all black. Black wildebeest exhibited no such variation, although their blue wildebeest brethren would occasionally manifest blonde fur, marking them as golden or royal wildebeest.
A strong gust kicked sand into the black wildebeest’s eyes, causing him to furiously blink and shake his head while hopping to the left and right like a bucking bronco. The discomfort passed and he calmed himself, returning to the nearby grass to feed. A movement in the distance caught his attention and he froze, focused on the spot he’d caught the motion. His brethren noted his alertness and paused to see what the issue might be.
A group of three humans emerged from behind a bush and hunched over as they moved to the next tree. The wildebeest bull let out a snort of surprise, immediately bringing all his fellow wildebeest and the blesbok to full alert. The humans moved to another tree and the bull kicked his hind legs in the air, generating a low cloud of dust, and then he was off. To his left and right he saw his fellow wildebeest running in formation and the blesbok just passed them, also in full gallop. The thunder of their hooves reverberated through him, reinforcing the comfort that strength in numbers affords.
The herd thundered to a stop approximately 200 meters from where they’d started. As the dust cleared, the wildebeest bull looked back to where he’d seen the humans – he’d remembered the exact bush. Nothing. He saw nothing at the bush. No sign of the humans. The frustration he felt boiled over and with a kick, he pranced and pounded around in a circle, kicking up dust and seeming to chase his tale.
Where had those humans gone?
They can’t just disappear! Perhaps they were on the other side of the bush, hiding in the shade. The bull simply couldn’t resist his natural curiosity. He had to be sure, confirm the location of the threat. He began to cautiously trot back the way he’d come. He made sure to keep safe distance from the bush he’d last seen the humans at, while circling around it slowly. The bull would find them, he’d confirm they were still at that bush, and he’d keep the herd safe with his knowledge. As he walked, the other wildebeest and blesbok followed cautiously. Many of them still weren’t sure what all the fuss had been about, just following his lead.
After about 100 meters, the black wildebeest began to suspect something was wrong. He’d essentially circled the bush at range without uncovering the human interlopers. His mane bristled, with the blonde tips standing on end. The bull was confused, something wasn’t right. He spotted a hint of movement at another bush to his left and paused. What was that?
We’d been pursuing bushbuck for the last few days, but with little success. Simultaneously, the wind in Eastern Cape really picked up, whipping the countryside for days on end. With our prospects for the wily bushbuck diminished to almost zero, Francois suggested we try for something else instead- how about black wildebeest? Now this was an interesting proposition. We’d hunted blue wildebeest on our first safari, with both Jen and my Dad each getting one. The black wildebeest is smaller than his blue cousin and has unique horns that curve forward, almost forming a facial shield, rather than out to the sides.
Francois took us to a property directly adjacent to the Umlilo lodge. As our Toyota Land Cruiser rolled through the gate, the wind buffeted our vehicle while the long grass whipped around erratically. We passed a small, rustic building tucked away in some low trees, a hunting retreat used by the local Afrikaners in generations past. With the wind howling furiously, I was skeptical of our chance, but trusted in Francois.
We followed the dirt road up a hillside. About halfway up, we stopped at a large European-style high stand. Climbing the ladder, we were greeted with a commanding view of the plains spread before us. Francois located a herd of black wildebeest mixed in with a group of blesbok, maybe 40 head in total, back towards the hunting lodge.
Francois drove us back down the hill and had Jani drop us off behind a large bush. We couldn’t see the animals, but Francois located them and had us move from bush to bush on an avenue of approach. With the wind making as much noise as it was, there was little need for stealth, which eased some of the usual tension of a stalk. The blesbok were feeding casually, while a few of the wildebeest bucked and kicked up dirt in the strange way that earned them the moniker “Jester of the Veldt.”
Once we were within about 150 yards, it became apparent that the animals knew we were in the vicinity. The mixed herd of wildebeest and blesbok ran off a ways in a cloud of dust. Francois assured us not to worry, the black wildebeest would come back. We quickly moved between bushes, getting our distance from the herd under 100 yards. Sure enough, the wildebeest came back, as if to check on us and figure out where we’d gone. In their hasty retreat, they missed seeing us move to a closer bush. Their natural curiosity was drawing them back to try and confirm where we’d gone.
We’d been observing the animals from the right side of our bush and lost sight of them as the continued to approach. Francois moved us to the left side and set Jen up on the sticks. As we waited, some blesbok came into view. Then, some more blesbok. And then a wildebeest. And another and one more. Jen zeroed in on the target that Francois indicated and squeezed the trigger.
With a crack, the bullet hit home and the wildebeest spun in a circle and stumbled to our right. The rest of the herd took off in a mad dash to our left. Then, after seeming to regain his awareness, our wildebeest took off in the direction the herd had gone.
We began to follow, walking down a gentle slope but with the entire valley laid out before us. In the distance, we could see a cluster of thunderstorms dumping rain in a certain, localized region. A rainbow spread across the sky as we spotted our wildebeest. He hadn’t made it too far and had lain down behind a cactus bush. Our approach was cautious so as to not spook him. Such a mistake could see us chasing an adrenaline fueled animal all across the countryside!
Once we’d stalked to a small bush, Jen put a final shot into her wildebeest, bringing our hunting safari to a successful conclusion. With the beautiful Eastern Cape countryside behind us and a rainbow painted across the sky, we took some photos to memorialize this hunt and all the adventures and memories that we’d shared.
Jester (Black Wildebeest)
Strong winds whipped across the valley, a billowing wall of dust obscured the herd’s view momentarily. The winds had started two days previous and had yet to let up. The black wildebeest flicked their long, blonde tails and bristled their blonde manes, in stark contrast to their solid black hides. Germans and Namibians refer to them as white-tailed gnu, an apt description that differentiates them from their blue wildebeest brethren. While the blue wildebeest is known as the poor man’s buffalo for their horns that form bosses and curve to the sides similar to the massive cape buffalo, the black wildebeest is known as the “clown of the plains” for their antics and tendency to prance about in a nonsensical fashion.
Today the comedian herd joined a group of a dozen plus blesbok. The wildebeest never shied away from other groups of animals, always finding comfort in the security that additional eyes and ears offered. The relentless winds buffeted the group as they grazed, but failed to deter them from the task at hand. A particularly inquisitive wildebeest noted the color variations in the blesbok. While most were a brown and white combination, a select few were either all white or all black. Black wildebeest exhibited no such variation, although their blue wildebeest brethren would occasionally manifest blonde fur, marking them as golden or royal wildebeest.
A strong gust kicked sand into the black wildebeest’s eyes, causing him to furiously blink and shake his head while hopping to the left and right like a bucking bronco. The discomfort passed and he calmed himself, returning to the nearby grass to feed. A movement in the distance caught his attention and he froze, focused on the spot he’d caught the motion. His brethren noted his alertness and paused to see what the issue might be.
A group of three humans emerged from behind a bush and hunched over as they moved to the next tree. The wildebeest bull let out a snort of surprise, immediately bringing all his fellow wildebeest and the blesbok to full alert. The humans moved to another tree and the bull kicked his hind legs in the air, generating a low cloud of dust, and then he was off. To his left and right he saw his fellow wildebeest running in formation and the blesbok just passed them, also in full gallop. The thunder of their hooves reverberated through him, reinforcing the comfort that strength in numbers affords.
The herd thundered to a stop approximately 200 meters from where they’d started. As the dust cleared, the wildebeest bull looked back to where he’d seen the humans – he’d remembered the exact bush. Nothing. He saw nothing at the bush. No sign of the humans. The frustration he felt boiled over and with a kick, he pranced and pounded around in a circle, kicking up dust and seeming to chase his tale.
Where had those humans gone?
They can’t just disappear! Perhaps they were on the other side of the bush, hiding in the shade. The bull simply couldn’t resist his natural curiosity. He had to be sure, confirm the location of the threat. He began to cautiously trot back the way he’d come. He made sure to keep safe distance from the bush he’d last seen the humans at, while circling around it slowly. The bull would find them, he’d confirm they were still at that bush, and he’d keep the herd safe with his knowledge. As he walked, the other wildebeest and blesbok followed cautiously. Many of them still weren’t sure what all the fuss had been about, just following his lead.
After about 100 meters, the black wildebeest began to suspect something was wrong. He’d essentially circled the bush at range without uncovering the human interlopers. His mane bristled, with the blonde tips standing on end. The bull was confused, something wasn’t right. He spotted a hint of movement at another bush to his left and paused. What was that?
We’d been pursuing bushbuck for the last few days, but with little success. Simultaneously, the wind in Eastern Cape really picked up, whipping the countryside for days on end. With our prospects for the wily bushbuck diminished to almost zero, Francois suggested we try for something else instead- how about black wildebeest? Now this was an interesting proposition. We’d hunted blue wildebeest on our first safari, with both Jen and my Dad each getting one. The black wildebeest is smaller than his blue cousin and has unique horns that curve forward, almost forming a facial shield, rather than out to the sides.
Francois took us to a property directly adjacent to the Umlilo lodge. As our Toyota Land Cruiser rolled through the gate, the wind buffeted our vehicle while the long grass whipped around erratically. We passed a small, rustic building tucked away in some low trees, a hunting retreat used by the local Afrikaners in generations past. With the wind howling furiously, I was skeptical of our chance, but trusted in Francois.
We followed the dirt road up a hillside. About halfway up, we stopped at a large European-style high stand. Climbing the ladder, we were greeted with a commanding view of the plains spread before us. Francois located a herd of black wildebeest mixed in with a group of blesbok, maybe 40 head in total, back towards the hunting lodge.
Francois drove us back down the hill and had Jani drop us off behind a large bush. We couldn’t see the animals, but Francois located them and had us move from bush to bush on an avenue of approach. With the wind making as much noise as it was, there was little need for stealth, which eased some of the usual tension of a stalk. The blesbok were feeding casually, while a few of the wildebeest bucked and kicked up dirt in the strange way that earned them the moniker “Jester of the Veldt.”
Once we were within about 150 yards, it became apparent that the animals knew we were in the vicinity. The mixed herd of wildebeest and blesbok ran off a ways in a cloud of dust. Francois assured us not to worry, the black wildebeest would come back. We quickly moved between bushes, getting our distance from the herd under 100 yards. Sure enough, the wildebeest came back, as if to check on us and figure out where we’d gone. In their hasty retreat, they missed seeing us move to a closer bush. Their natural curiosity was drawing them back to try and confirm where we’d gone.
We’d been observing the animals from the right side of our bush and lost sight of them as the continued to approach. Francois moved us to the left side and set Jen up on the sticks. As we waited, some blesbok came into view. Then, some more blesbok. And then a wildebeest. And another and one more. Jen zeroed in on the target that Francois indicated and squeezed the trigger.
With a crack, the bullet hit home and the wildebeest spun in a circle and stumbled to our right. The rest of the herd took off in a mad dash to our left. Then, after seeming to regain his awareness, our wildebeest took off in the direction the herd had gone.
We began to follow, walking down a gentle slope but with the entire valley laid out before us. In the distance, we could see a cluster of thunderstorms dumping rain in a certain, localized region. A rainbow spread across the sky as we spotted our wildebeest. He hadn’t made it too far and had lain down behind a cactus bush. Our approach was cautious so as to not spook him. Such a mistake could see us chasing an adrenaline fueled animal all across the countryside!
Once we’d stalked to a small bush, Jen put a final shot into her wildebeest, bringing our hunting safari to a successful conclusion. With the beautiful Eastern Cape countryside behind us and a rainbow painted across the sky, we took some photos to memorialize this hunt and all the adventures and memories that we’d shared.
