Tundra Tiger
AH legend
Day 5
The fifth day was all about finding the wildebeest, something Don felt certain of and me somewhat (quite a bit) less.
We picked up the search in the last place we'd seen blood, and - against all odds - Don and Norman found a light blood trail. The trail was leading us into a really tight, steep sided canyon.
One of the better ideas I had during this trip happened on this day. I had shot the wildebeest with my 99, but because of the thick vegetation, I switched to the .45-70, figuring all shots would be close.
In fairly short order, we actually found and jumped the bull from his bed - maybe just a few hundred yards after starting the search? He stood facing us, about to run. Rather than wait for the sticks, I shouldered the rifle and fired a shot; the distance was perhaps 50 or 60 yards.
This time the blood trail was more than ample, and resulted in a dead bull black wildebeest perhaps 70 or 80 yards later. The bulled entered the front, traveled through, and exited a hind quarter. I will never cease to be amazed - or thankful - for Don and his never-say-die attitude in us finding this animal, from a wound that likely wasn't fatal to begin with.
At the end of the day, I missed a blesbok at 190 yards. Yep, you guessed it: I shot low, underneath it... though this time it was a clean miss.
The fifth day was all about finding the wildebeest, something Don felt certain of and me somewhat (quite a bit) less.
We picked up the search in the last place we'd seen blood, and - against all odds - Don and Norman found a light blood trail. The trail was leading us into a really tight, steep sided canyon.
One of the better ideas I had during this trip happened on this day. I had shot the wildebeest with my 99, but because of the thick vegetation, I switched to the .45-70, figuring all shots would be close.
In fairly short order, we actually found and jumped the bull from his bed - maybe just a few hundred yards after starting the search? He stood facing us, about to run. Rather than wait for the sticks, I shouldered the rifle and fired a shot; the distance was perhaps 50 or 60 yards.
This time the blood trail was more than ample, and resulted in a dead bull black wildebeest perhaps 70 or 80 yards later. The bulled entered the front, traveled through, and exited a hind quarter. I will never cease to be amazed - or thankful - for Don and his never-say-die attitude in us finding this animal, from a wound that likely wasn't fatal to begin with.
At the end of the day, I missed a blesbok at 190 yards. Yep, you guessed it: I shot low, underneath it... though this time it was a clean miss.