Sorry for the long post, pictures are at the end if you want to scroll through. Will post more pics and details about the full safari later but for now here is the story behind my favorite animal I took:
It was nearing the end of our hunt and I had yet to take, let alone see more than a fleeting glimpse of, my top desired animal. I mentioned this over dinner as we were discussing plans for the next day. Our PH, Jorge, remembered an area that sometimes holds a grazing herd early in the morning. “We will need to be there early, before sunup,” he advised. No problem, see you at 5AM.
We pulled up to the property and checked in with the landowner to let him know our plan. His weathered old eyes brightened up and a slight smile flashed across his face. “Ah, yes,” he confirmed. “I have seen them recently in the mornings in that field across the property. Good luck.” I thanked him as I loaded three rounds into the rifle and slid the bolt forward. I climbed into the back of the truck with Jorge as our tracker, Franz, drove us down the red dirt trail away from the farmhouse.
The quiet morning air was crisp and cool and wet from the dew on the grass. As Franz crawled the truck along the path we strained our eyes against the dim gray light to make out the outline of an animal or a glimpse of movement in the brush. As we neared an expansive open field I glanced over at Jorge. He was perched on his seat motionless, eyes focused intently on what only a lifetime in the bush will allow you to see. With barely a movement, he snapped his fingers signaling Franz to stop the truck. “There,” he whispered as he motioned with his eyes across the field. I swung the rifle and looked through the scope just in time to see the last few animals of the small herd disappear at speed behind a line of bushes. Franz turned the engine off and Jorge hopped out of the back. “Shall we go get one?” he asked with an excited grin. Of course. Lets go.
We crept across the field towards where we thought we could intercept them, hiding behind bushes along the way. After a quarter mile I caught a glimpse between the bushes of two animals a few hundred yards away. “Psst, pssst,” I caught the attention of the PH and gestured that I saw two to the right. He came up beside me for a look then nodded confirmation and motioned that we would move to their left to try and close the distance. “Stay low and quiet,” he whispered, his voice barely registering. As we crawled from bush to bush in the waist high grass, I couldn’t help but think about the black mamba and puff adder that the other group in the camp had killed two days ago in this area. Or about the resident leopard that had been tormenting the landowners livestock and had dragged a duiker up a tree near the house to dine on the previous two nights. No, focus on the task at hand.
A few minutes later and we were crouched behind the last bush offering cover adjacent to the open field. Franz poked his head out from one side of the bush then turned to Jorge and nodded. Jorge raised his binoculars and poked his head out from the opposite side of the bush. Within a couple of seconds he turned back to me with a plan: “There’s three in the clearing ahead. Take the one on the right.” Franz nudged me to get ready and stay close on Jorge’s heels. I unslung the rifle off my shoulder and took a long deep breath to slow my heart and relax myself. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Jorge gave me a final nod to make sure I was ready and quietly stepped out from behind the bush with the sticks spread open. I followed right beside him and instinctively had my rifle cradled in the sticks before he even set them down. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jorge take a step back and raise his binoculars, focused on our quarry 175 yards away. “The one quartering towards us,” he confirmed as I had already clicked off the safety and put the crosshairs on the stocky chest. I took a deep breath. “Shoot.” I exhaled and squeezed.
The .300 Winchester Magnum probably barked but I never noticed it as I kept my eyes focused on my prey. The large animal shuddered but otherwise didn’t move. A thousand thoughts raced through my head. The shot felt good and Jorge confirmed, “Good hit.” The herd turned and bolted across the field towards the treeline and my animal turned to follow. I cycled the bolt chambering another round and took aim. As the animal tried to join the herd it stumbled. Watching through the scope I could see that its front legs were not working as they should and the animal was rapidly growing weak. It stumbled again then fell. The follow up shot was not needed. It raised its large head and heavy neck in a feeble attempt to stand then succumbed to its fate and laid down in the tall grass and expired, less than ten yards away from where it had been shot. I breathed a sigh of relief after what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only about fifteen seconds from the time we stepped out from behind the bush.
“Nice shot, very well done,” Jorge said through a smile as he lowered his binoculars. “I will go ahead and congratulate you now.” He shook my hand as I thanked him several times in rapid succession. I turned and thanked Franz also with a handshake. “Yes, very good. Congratulates to you,” he replied with a nod and a smile.
I grew nervous as we walked across the field towards where we had seen the animal go down. Did I really take this animal on my first shot attempt? Had it actually died or would it jump up and run when we approached? Was it of the quality we had perceived through the lens or was it a below average specimen? These questions would soon be answered when we found the animal laying in the tall grass. I approached slowly and gave it the customary eye touch with my muzzle then stepped back for assessment. It was better than I had expected. “Excellent specimen. Long, heavy horns with some of the thickest bases I have seen on a cow,” Jorge announced. He pointed to the entry wound low on the right side of the chest. “And a perfect shot.” I took a slow victory lap around my fallen prey then knelt beside her.
Here was my lifelong dream animal laying in front of me, a moment I had dreamt of since reading that magazine article when I was 10 years old. A wave of emotions swept over me as I ran my hands over her coarse gray hair and my eyes grew watery as that unfamiliar lump swelled in my throat. Accomplishment. Regret. Joy. Sorrow. Pride. Shame. Relief. Thankfulness. Sympathy. Fulfillment. Was this the best animal I could have taken? Was it a clean shot that limited suffering? Was it a fair hunt? Will this animal go to good use? Franz took a knee beside me and gave me a pat on the shoulder. He had done this a thousand times with a thousand different hunters but he understood that each time was special, an accomplishment that would live forever in each hunter’s mind. “Verrry nice! A good animal,” he consoled as he patted her rump. Jorge chimed in as if to reassure my unspoken doubts, “Yes this was a very good one to take. She was very old and quite large for a cow.” I softly said my thanks to the animal for its sacrifice and thanked our creator for such an amazing opportunity.
We stood up and continued our silent admiration of the animal as we waited for enough daylight to take photos of our trophy then load her into the truck. I gazed around the field burning every detail into my mind in an attempt to memorialize this event forever. At that moment I realized it was Memorial Day, giving me another reason to be thankful for being able to partake in such adventures at will, due in part to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of freedom. As the fiery African sun rose above the bushveld as it had done countless times before I was there and as it will rise countless times after I leave, a euphoric and surreal calm washed over me. Standing over my trophy gemsbok bathed in golden light in the middle of a picturesque landscape with my two new friends and my favorite person in the world, I was truly at a loss for words to describe this experience. “Wow, this is it,” was all I could think with a deep sense of satisfaction, “this is why I came to Africa.”
-S
It was nearing the end of our hunt and I had yet to take, let alone see more than a fleeting glimpse of, my top desired animal. I mentioned this over dinner as we were discussing plans for the next day. Our PH, Jorge, remembered an area that sometimes holds a grazing herd early in the morning. “We will need to be there early, before sunup,” he advised. No problem, see you at 5AM.
We pulled up to the property and checked in with the landowner to let him know our plan. His weathered old eyes brightened up and a slight smile flashed across his face. “Ah, yes,” he confirmed. “I have seen them recently in the mornings in that field across the property. Good luck.” I thanked him as I loaded three rounds into the rifle and slid the bolt forward. I climbed into the back of the truck with Jorge as our tracker, Franz, drove us down the red dirt trail away from the farmhouse.
The quiet morning air was crisp and cool and wet from the dew on the grass. As Franz crawled the truck along the path we strained our eyes against the dim gray light to make out the outline of an animal or a glimpse of movement in the brush. As we neared an expansive open field I glanced over at Jorge. He was perched on his seat motionless, eyes focused intently on what only a lifetime in the bush will allow you to see. With barely a movement, he snapped his fingers signaling Franz to stop the truck. “There,” he whispered as he motioned with his eyes across the field. I swung the rifle and looked through the scope just in time to see the last few animals of the small herd disappear at speed behind a line of bushes. Franz turned the engine off and Jorge hopped out of the back. “Shall we go get one?” he asked with an excited grin. Of course. Lets go.
We crept across the field towards where we thought we could intercept them, hiding behind bushes along the way. After a quarter mile I caught a glimpse between the bushes of two animals a few hundred yards away. “Psst, pssst,” I caught the attention of the PH and gestured that I saw two to the right. He came up beside me for a look then nodded confirmation and motioned that we would move to their left to try and close the distance. “Stay low and quiet,” he whispered, his voice barely registering. As we crawled from bush to bush in the waist high grass, I couldn’t help but think about the black mamba and puff adder that the other group in the camp had killed two days ago in this area. Or about the resident leopard that had been tormenting the landowners livestock and had dragged a duiker up a tree near the house to dine on the previous two nights. No, focus on the task at hand.
A few minutes later and we were crouched behind the last bush offering cover adjacent to the open field. Franz poked his head out from one side of the bush then turned to Jorge and nodded. Jorge raised his binoculars and poked his head out from the opposite side of the bush. Within a couple of seconds he turned back to me with a plan: “There’s three in the clearing ahead. Take the one on the right.” Franz nudged me to get ready and stay close on Jorge’s heels. I unslung the rifle off my shoulder and took a long deep breath to slow my heart and relax myself. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Jorge gave me a final nod to make sure I was ready and quietly stepped out from behind the bush with the sticks spread open. I followed right beside him and instinctively had my rifle cradled in the sticks before he even set them down. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jorge take a step back and raise his binoculars, focused on our quarry 175 yards away. “The one quartering towards us,” he confirmed as I had already clicked off the safety and put the crosshairs on the stocky chest. I took a deep breath. “Shoot.” I exhaled and squeezed.
The .300 Winchester Magnum probably barked but I never noticed it as I kept my eyes focused on my prey. The large animal shuddered but otherwise didn’t move. A thousand thoughts raced through my head. The shot felt good and Jorge confirmed, “Good hit.” The herd turned and bolted across the field towards the treeline and my animal turned to follow. I cycled the bolt chambering another round and took aim. As the animal tried to join the herd it stumbled. Watching through the scope I could see that its front legs were not working as they should and the animal was rapidly growing weak. It stumbled again then fell. The follow up shot was not needed. It raised its large head and heavy neck in a feeble attempt to stand then succumbed to its fate and laid down in the tall grass and expired, less than ten yards away from where it had been shot. I breathed a sigh of relief after what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only about fifteen seconds from the time we stepped out from behind the bush.
“Nice shot, very well done,” Jorge said through a smile as he lowered his binoculars. “I will go ahead and congratulate you now.” He shook my hand as I thanked him several times in rapid succession. I turned and thanked Franz also with a handshake. “Yes, very good. Congratulates to you,” he replied with a nod and a smile.
I grew nervous as we walked across the field towards where we had seen the animal go down. Did I really take this animal on my first shot attempt? Had it actually died or would it jump up and run when we approached? Was it of the quality we had perceived through the lens or was it a below average specimen? These questions would soon be answered when we found the animal laying in the tall grass. I approached slowly and gave it the customary eye touch with my muzzle then stepped back for assessment. It was better than I had expected. “Excellent specimen. Long, heavy horns with some of the thickest bases I have seen on a cow,” Jorge announced. He pointed to the entry wound low on the right side of the chest. “And a perfect shot.” I took a slow victory lap around my fallen prey then knelt beside her.
Here was my lifelong dream animal laying in front of me, a moment I had dreamt of since reading that magazine article when I was 10 years old. A wave of emotions swept over me as I ran my hands over her coarse gray hair and my eyes grew watery as that unfamiliar lump swelled in my throat. Accomplishment. Regret. Joy. Sorrow. Pride. Shame. Relief. Thankfulness. Sympathy. Fulfillment. Was this the best animal I could have taken? Was it a clean shot that limited suffering? Was it a fair hunt? Will this animal go to good use? Franz took a knee beside me and gave me a pat on the shoulder. He had done this a thousand times with a thousand different hunters but he understood that each time was special, an accomplishment that would live forever in each hunter’s mind. “Verrry nice! A good animal,” he consoled as he patted her rump. Jorge chimed in as if to reassure my unspoken doubts, “Yes this was a very good one to take. She was very old and quite large for a cow.” I softly said my thanks to the animal for its sacrifice and thanked our creator for such an amazing opportunity.
We stood up and continued our silent admiration of the animal as we waited for enough daylight to take photos of our trophy then load her into the truck. I gazed around the field burning every detail into my mind in an attempt to memorialize this event forever. At that moment I realized it was Memorial Day, giving me another reason to be thankful for being able to partake in such adventures at will, due in part to those who have made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of freedom. As the fiery African sun rose above the bushveld as it had done countless times before I was there and as it will rise countless times after I leave, a euphoric and surreal calm washed over me. Standing over my trophy gemsbok bathed in golden light in the middle of a picturesque landscape with my two new friends and my favorite person in the world, I was truly at a loss for words to describe this experience. “Wow, this is it,” was all I could think with a deep sense of satisfaction, “this is why I came to Africa.”
-S
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cant wait for the rest!!
