Randy F
AH legend
Growing up in whitetail country without any serious hunters in my family, I'm a self-taught hunting addict.
After 40+ years of gun and bow hunting, I had considered myself fairly adept at tracking. My style has always been stalk hunting. The first rush-find them, the second rush-get in range, the third rush - make the shot. So I was always pretty proud of the fact that without anyone else to lean on for experience, I was eventually able to recognize the signs, seek out the one, get in range, make the shot and if not perfect, find the animal. I was taught many hard lessons by the animals that were excellent at making a fool out of me.
But I learned from it and felt I wasn't just to darn bad at it. There are a few Whitetails, Mule Deer, Antelope, and Black Bear mounts that had helped satisfy that thought.
Then I went to South Africa.
Libert was my PH/tracker/guide. We got to know each other fairly quickly. We had to. I only had 2 1/2 days to hunt in a ten day vacation visiting friends. (Including travel days) At least well enough that he got my humor when I was giving him crap and that I could know what he was thinking by a look he'd give me and his body language while on the hunt.
He was from Zimbabwe. By the time our short PH/client gig was up, I was calling him Zimbabwe Zeus. While he smiled at that, in the back of my mind I wasn't certain that there wasn't something superhuman in his DNA.
I'm not so sure he didn't have x-ray vision for one thing.
Superman would likely be his only rival in the hearing department.
Ethiopian long distance runners have NOTHING on him.
Mummies drink more water than he does.
He had a sense of smell that would make a bloodhound jealous.
I'm reasonably certain that the invisible lightning bolts emitting from his fingertips to the ground allows him to detect the slightest seismic anomaly.
And even though it was very hot and he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, the only time I saw a bead of sweat on his forehead was when, for just a split second, he thought he might have to carry my ass up the steep ridge we were on during a Kudu stalk. He did offer to carry the gun. The look I gave him convinced him to shut the heck up and keep going. I know the little @%#^%$ was grinning when he turned around and headed straight up instead of taking the angled path the Kudu were on, but he hid it well. But that's for a little later.
Having the physical attributes is one thing. Applying them to his surroundings coupled with his experience is quite another...and so damn cool to watch.
I had 2 1/2 days to hunt so I made my wish list (according to my checkbook) for my first hunt. (Yes, just being there convinced me I'd go back)
I wanted a Kudu, Nyala, Waterbuck, and threw in the obligatory Impala knowing full well there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that there would be time for all four.
So this is really more about Libert than it is about me or the trophies I was lucky enough to bring across the big pond. But here goes.
1. The Impala.
We had spent the evening before sitting around the fire and just chatting. He asked all the right questions and had a good idea of my level of passion and experience. So at day break we were out there and in it to win it. I was amazed at all the sights and sounds. Even though I'd hunted all my life I felt like a kid again. Just Giddy.
We stalked around for a few hours, sometimes a brisk walk, sometimes slowly creeping. But always when he stopped and we peeked through or over, there was something there. To this point there was nothing I wanted to take but the sights and sounds were amazing and all the game we'd already seen had me cranked up!
Later that morning, while at a relatively brisk pace, he stops dead in his tracks, and looks back. Off to my right. He slowly points to a void in this stuff so thick that a cat would struggle and I see...nothing. Now we all know the tricks, the flick of an ear, swish of a tail, slight tip of a head and all that but I swear there was nothing! At first I thought he was making stuff up cuz he knew I was behind him with a loaded weapon and was afraid he was going to take 180 grains in the right cheek if he didn't find something to get the pressure off my itchy trigger finger. But, I was wrong, instead he was using his x-ray vision to see through all that thick stuff and his superman hearing to detect the breathing of a small group of Impala hanging out in an opening behind the thicket. He claims he saw a horn move. Yeah right, at a strong walk? Behind us? At 100 yards? Naw, he conjured them up. I know he did, because we stood motionless for a lifetime before my mortal eyes finally caught movement. He slowly stood, motioned for me to follow...and we walked away. ?! I gave him my best wtf look, he smiled at me and nodded again to follow. Well of course I'm going to follow...but but...ugh! We crept back off to our right. As he leads us away I keep watch over my shoulder at the Impala in an attempt to see whether we're spooking them. That's when the ground disappeared from under me. Luckily it was only about a four foot deep washout so I somehow managed to stay upright and not turn my weapon into a lawn dart. It was however not the most graceful of dance steps which apparently caught Libert's funny bone head on. He was crouched down and silent laughing. In fact, a full belly chuckle complete with tears. Resisting the urge to kick him in the twins, I whisper-yelled "Warn a guy would ya?!". It's hard to whisper-yell. No matter how pissed you might be, it's funny. So this didn't help. By now he is convulsing silently and doing his best not to snort. That made me see the short movie that he just saw so now I'm laughing too. Ever the professional, he recovered quickly. The washout led us down around to a trail that led directly into the path of the group of Impala. We set up on the path and waited and watched. Eventually the group was all in the open enough and feeding so he was able to pick out the one to take. At the 50 yard line I let fly and one shot put down my first African animal. They could have trailed off anywhere given the distance between us and where Zeus conjured them up but he put us right in front of them. So for now I'll let him think I don't know what he did and keep listening as though I'm an idiot.
It wasn't the biggest Impala and he gave me the choice to shoot or not but it was respectable enough for me. I was thrilled.
2. Nyala
After a quick bite to eat, the Impala dealt with, back slaps and high fives done, it was time to get on with it. With a shot ringing out in that area, we moved to another area with steeper terrain and taller trees with shadowy underbrush. We took up the same routine and saw a whole lot of wildlife. I was in heaven. Warthogs, Blue Wildebeest, Baboons, heck I can't even name them all here but each time an offer to shoot but I was sticking to my plan. A few hours in we took a short break on a ridge because he said "we" needed one. What he meant was we didn't have time for a cardiac event which implied that if I needed mouth-to-mouth I was going to die. I was actually in pretty decent shape but that little ^&&^# was a machine!
Anyway, about an hour later, early evening after 34,647 miles on my carcass, I actually spied movement across large ravine which by that time could be better described as a small canyon. We glassed four Kudu that he determined to be all young bulls. I'm still glassing the Kudu and out of the corner of my eye I see him slowly crouch way down. He'd reached for my shirt to give a little tug to get down but I was already sinking as I looked to where he was staring. Just off to our left, straight down about 180 feet, out from under an outcropping of rock strolled a beautiful Nyala. Mr. superman hearing guy must have heard my heart pounding cuz he patted my arm like I'm a little kid or something. Little Pr**k! I was about to boot him off the cliff when it dawned on me that he was telling me the shooting sticks were coming out. I guess he's not so bad. But as I'm lining up on the Nyala, he whispers "don't shoot". What?!
As I'm reconsidering the boot, we watched a second, bigger Nyala step out from beneath the outcropping. Wha...how...who...but... Since it was impossible to hear or see it under there, I'm certain he sensed the seismic signature of a second set of Nyala footsteps and stopped me just in time. I guess I'll let him live. We had to wait for them to move out to a better area for a shot but my number two African prize was down...and my heart rate up. After high fives and a bear hug that nearly killed the poor guy, we finished up everything just before dark. And to think a short time ago I was nearly willing to risk maiming him with a boot over the cliff. Go figure.
What a first day!
The second day was even better.
I didn't think I would take up so much of your time or space. Sorry.
If there is any interest I'll continue on with day two.
After 40+ years of gun and bow hunting, I had considered myself fairly adept at tracking. My style has always been stalk hunting. The first rush-find them, the second rush-get in range, the third rush - make the shot. So I was always pretty proud of the fact that without anyone else to lean on for experience, I was eventually able to recognize the signs, seek out the one, get in range, make the shot and if not perfect, find the animal. I was taught many hard lessons by the animals that were excellent at making a fool out of me.
But I learned from it and felt I wasn't just to darn bad at it. There are a few Whitetails, Mule Deer, Antelope, and Black Bear mounts that had helped satisfy that thought.
Then I went to South Africa.
Libert was my PH/tracker/guide. We got to know each other fairly quickly. We had to. I only had 2 1/2 days to hunt in a ten day vacation visiting friends. (Including travel days) At least well enough that he got my humor when I was giving him crap and that I could know what he was thinking by a look he'd give me and his body language while on the hunt.
He was from Zimbabwe. By the time our short PH/client gig was up, I was calling him Zimbabwe Zeus. While he smiled at that, in the back of my mind I wasn't certain that there wasn't something superhuman in his DNA.
I'm not so sure he didn't have x-ray vision for one thing.
Superman would likely be his only rival in the hearing department.
Ethiopian long distance runners have NOTHING on him.
Mummies drink more water than he does.
He had a sense of smell that would make a bloodhound jealous.
I'm reasonably certain that the invisible lightning bolts emitting from his fingertips to the ground allows him to detect the slightest seismic anomaly.
And even though it was very hot and he was wearing a long sleeved shirt, the only time I saw a bead of sweat on his forehead was when, for just a split second, he thought he might have to carry my ass up the steep ridge we were on during a Kudu stalk. He did offer to carry the gun. The look I gave him convinced him to shut the heck up and keep going. I know the little @%#^%$ was grinning when he turned around and headed straight up instead of taking the angled path the Kudu were on, but he hid it well. But that's for a little later.
Having the physical attributes is one thing. Applying them to his surroundings coupled with his experience is quite another...and so damn cool to watch.
I had 2 1/2 days to hunt so I made my wish list (according to my checkbook) for my first hunt. (Yes, just being there convinced me I'd go back)
I wanted a Kudu, Nyala, Waterbuck, and threw in the obligatory Impala knowing full well there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that there would be time for all four.
So this is really more about Libert than it is about me or the trophies I was lucky enough to bring across the big pond. But here goes.
1. The Impala.
We had spent the evening before sitting around the fire and just chatting. He asked all the right questions and had a good idea of my level of passion and experience. So at day break we were out there and in it to win it. I was amazed at all the sights and sounds. Even though I'd hunted all my life I felt like a kid again. Just Giddy.
We stalked around for a few hours, sometimes a brisk walk, sometimes slowly creeping. But always when he stopped and we peeked through or over, there was something there. To this point there was nothing I wanted to take but the sights and sounds were amazing and all the game we'd already seen had me cranked up!
Later that morning, while at a relatively brisk pace, he stops dead in his tracks, and looks back. Off to my right. He slowly points to a void in this stuff so thick that a cat would struggle and I see...nothing. Now we all know the tricks, the flick of an ear, swish of a tail, slight tip of a head and all that but I swear there was nothing! At first I thought he was making stuff up cuz he knew I was behind him with a loaded weapon and was afraid he was going to take 180 grains in the right cheek if he didn't find something to get the pressure off my itchy trigger finger. But, I was wrong, instead he was using his x-ray vision to see through all that thick stuff and his superman hearing to detect the breathing of a small group of Impala hanging out in an opening behind the thicket. He claims he saw a horn move. Yeah right, at a strong walk? Behind us? At 100 yards? Naw, he conjured them up. I know he did, because we stood motionless for a lifetime before my mortal eyes finally caught movement. He slowly stood, motioned for me to follow...and we walked away. ?! I gave him my best wtf look, he smiled at me and nodded again to follow. Well of course I'm going to follow...but but...ugh! We crept back off to our right. As he leads us away I keep watch over my shoulder at the Impala in an attempt to see whether we're spooking them. That's when the ground disappeared from under me. Luckily it was only about a four foot deep washout so I somehow managed to stay upright and not turn my weapon into a lawn dart. It was however not the most graceful of dance steps which apparently caught Libert's funny bone head on. He was crouched down and silent laughing. In fact, a full belly chuckle complete with tears. Resisting the urge to kick him in the twins, I whisper-yelled "Warn a guy would ya?!". It's hard to whisper-yell. No matter how pissed you might be, it's funny. So this didn't help. By now he is convulsing silently and doing his best not to snort. That made me see the short movie that he just saw so now I'm laughing too. Ever the professional, he recovered quickly. The washout led us down around to a trail that led directly into the path of the group of Impala. We set up on the path and waited and watched. Eventually the group was all in the open enough and feeding so he was able to pick out the one to take. At the 50 yard line I let fly and one shot put down my first African animal. They could have trailed off anywhere given the distance between us and where Zeus conjured them up but he put us right in front of them. So for now I'll let him think I don't know what he did and keep listening as though I'm an idiot.
It wasn't the biggest Impala and he gave me the choice to shoot or not but it was respectable enough for me. I was thrilled.
2. Nyala
After a quick bite to eat, the Impala dealt with, back slaps and high fives done, it was time to get on with it. With a shot ringing out in that area, we moved to another area with steeper terrain and taller trees with shadowy underbrush. We took up the same routine and saw a whole lot of wildlife. I was in heaven. Warthogs, Blue Wildebeest, Baboons, heck I can't even name them all here but each time an offer to shoot but I was sticking to my plan. A few hours in we took a short break on a ridge because he said "we" needed one. What he meant was we didn't have time for a cardiac event which implied that if I needed mouth-to-mouth I was going to die. I was actually in pretty decent shape but that little ^&&^# was a machine!
Anyway, about an hour later, early evening after 34,647 miles on my carcass, I actually spied movement across large ravine which by that time could be better described as a small canyon. We glassed four Kudu that he determined to be all young bulls. I'm still glassing the Kudu and out of the corner of my eye I see him slowly crouch way down. He'd reached for my shirt to give a little tug to get down but I was already sinking as I looked to where he was staring. Just off to our left, straight down about 180 feet, out from under an outcropping of rock strolled a beautiful Nyala. Mr. superman hearing guy must have heard my heart pounding cuz he patted my arm like I'm a little kid or something. Little Pr**k! I was about to boot him off the cliff when it dawned on me that he was telling me the shooting sticks were coming out. I guess he's not so bad. But as I'm lining up on the Nyala, he whispers "don't shoot". What?!
As I'm reconsidering the boot, we watched a second, bigger Nyala step out from beneath the outcropping. Wha...how...who...but... Since it was impossible to hear or see it under there, I'm certain he sensed the seismic signature of a second set of Nyala footsteps and stopped me just in time. I guess I'll let him live. We had to wait for them to move out to a better area for a shot but my number two African prize was down...and my heart rate up. After high fives and a bear hug that nearly killed the poor guy, we finished up everything just before dark. And to think a short time ago I was nearly willing to risk maiming him with a boot over the cliff. Go figure.
What a first day!
The second day was even better.
I didn't think I would take up so much of your time or space. Sorry.
If there is any interest I'll continue on with day two.
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