Alexandro Faria
AH enthusiast
I know I'm going to step on a few toes here, so I apologise in advance. Please understand that offending is not my goal.
I have shot my fair share of truly remarkable beasts. Most notably a 26.5" impala ram I shot at the age of 13. I was once obsessed with records; like most young men, I am very competitive and having set records in various sporting disciplines I foolishly applied this way of thinking to hunting. I must confess my utter disappointment in myself.
2 years ago, I was culling zebra up in a mountain range nearish to the North Western boarder of the Kruger. It had been a tough few days as it was the end of the season and the herds had taken to the hills to avoid the hunters that had come before me.
One particular morning, after about 3 hours of climbing, stalking and multiple busts, I stopped to take a break and regroup my thoughts. I had just botched another stalk as a result of a duiker I hadn't seen sitting on the opposite end of a bush I had chosen to hide behind. Off he went, taking a beautiful stallion and 2 mares with him… Damn.
I unchambered and walked a further half km to a sight that will remain with me till the day I die: Before me was a red forest. A piece of land no bigger than about 300 square meters of nothing but blood-red sand and around 100 acacia trees. This sight, coupled with a few hornbills and the golden light brought me to tears. I sat up against the stump of a fallen karoo, taking in the magical sights and sounds around me.
In the hour or so I spent in that forest, a lot had changed in me. I had allowed a competitive nature and big city habit to taint that which gave meaning to my life. I thought back to my first hunt; the sense of utter amazement, love and wonder I had felt for everything around me. I had grown complaisant since then, lost sight of what was truly important.
Needless to say, I have never made that mistake again. My competitive streak now manifests differently: Instead of looking for a bull that makes others jealous, I look for the animal that resonates most with me. As a result, my hunts usually lead me to an old bull/cow, well passed his/her prime either with a broken horn or a shabby coat that I feel deserves both a quick and honorable death.
It's important that we as hunters don't forget why we hunt. A beautiful bull is something everyone can appreciate, but let's not forget what hunting is truly about. Hunting should be a personal pursuit, void of ego and selfish desire. To kill for the purpose is a record is disrespectful to both you and the animal. Remember, you're taking a life for the purpose of bragging rights… In my opinion, a true hunter would never do such a thing.
As a final point, I would like to challenge all of you who may have lost sight of the magic of hunting to try find it again. Hunting game on a high fence piece of land with bought game may result in you claiming that world record, but is it really worth it when the essence of hunting is almost completely forgotten? Hunt free range, respect yourself and your prey and always take time to appreciate where you are and what is around you. After all, isn't experiencing the soul of Africa and some of her intimate secrets more important than the bragging rights you may get back home from harvesting an animal that was bred to be shot?
I have shot my fair share of truly remarkable beasts. Most notably a 26.5" impala ram I shot at the age of 13. I was once obsessed with records; like most young men, I am very competitive and having set records in various sporting disciplines I foolishly applied this way of thinking to hunting. I must confess my utter disappointment in myself.
2 years ago, I was culling zebra up in a mountain range nearish to the North Western boarder of the Kruger. It had been a tough few days as it was the end of the season and the herds had taken to the hills to avoid the hunters that had come before me.
One particular morning, after about 3 hours of climbing, stalking and multiple busts, I stopped to take a break and regroup my thoughts. I had just botched another stalk as a result of a duiker I hadn't seen sitting on the opposite end of a bush I had chosen to hide behind. Off he went, taking a beautiful stallion and 2 mares with him… Damn.
I unchambered and walked a further half km to a sight that will remain with me till the day I die: Before me was a red forest. A piece of land no bigger than about 300 square meters of nothing but blood-red sand and around 100 acacia trees. This sight, coupled with a few hornbills and the golden light brought me to tears. I sat up against the stump of a fallen karoo, taking in the magical sights and sounds around me.
In the hour or so I spent in that forest, a lot had changed in me. I had allowed a competitive nature and big city habit to taint that which gave meaning to my life. I thought back to my first hunt; the sense of utter amazement, love and wonder I had felt for everything around me. I had grown complaisant since then, lost sight of what was truly important.
Needless to say, I have never made that mistake again. My competitive streak now manifests differently: Instead of looking for a bull that makes others jealous, I look for the animal that resonates most with me. As a result, my hunts usually lead me to an old bull/cow, well passed his/her prime either with a broken horn or a shabby coat that I feel deserves both a quick and honorable death.
It's important that we as hunters don't forget why we hunt. A beautiful bull is something everyone can appreciate, but let's not forget what hunting is truly about. Hunting should be a personal pursuit, void of ego and selfish desire. To kill for the purpose is a record is disrespectful to both you and the animal. Remember, you're taking a life for the purpose of bragging rights… In my opinion, a true hunter would never do such a thing.
As a final point, I would like to challenge all of you who may have lost sight of the magic of hunting to try find it again. Hunting game on a high fence piece of land with bought game may result in you claiming that world record, but is it really worth it when the essence of hunting is almost completely forgotten? Hunt free range, respect yourself and your prey and always take time to appreciate where you are and what is around you. After all, isn't experiencing the soul of Africa and some of her intimate secrets more important than the bragging rights you may get back home from harvesting an animal that was bred to be shot?
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