SOUTH AFRICA: My First Trip To South Africa 22 Amazing Days In The Bush

[WildRose]

I've been home nearly a month so I'm finally at a point where the blur that was my trip is beginning to clear up so I thought I'd share some of my hunts.

The trip was the product of an invitation from Francois VD Walt who has imported several dogs from me over the last 7 years. The dogs have done exceptionally well for him and in total there are about 87 out of my breeding in the RSA now. For four straight years we tried to get it together but I've had 7 orthopedic surgeries in the last 5 years, the last being a badly broken arm last year so each time we've tried to plan it, we've had to postpone another year.

This year being relatively healthy I just felt like I could no longer put him off without offending him so we committed to the trip and he did absolutely all the planning and organizing for me.

He lives in Witbank and is one of the prinicpals in Classic Arms there so he has connections literally all over sother Africa and he's also a licensed PH who has worked in the past for some of the most respected outfitters in Africa.

My first full day there we drove north to the Waterberg Mountains a strikingly beautiful area. Game was abundant all along our route so the drive was just a pleasure. We hunted a smaller property there near Naboom. The accommodations were nothing fancy but very comfortable. Two of us stayed in a large fiberglass igloo while Francois and his wife stayed next door in a nice little stone cabin. We had running water, hot water and a shower along with an indoor/outdoor kitchen and lovely stone fire pit for our brie (barbecue).

It was a beautiful and very relaxing place to "camp".

We hunted several properties there including some predator hunting the first evening for two days. The landowner was having a great deal of trouble with Jackels and a Brown Hyena who were being very hard on the Impala and others and I was glad to help.

He'd actually hired a professional to come in and call but was having zero luck. In three hours we were able take three Jackals. Unfortunately the Hyena eluded us. We even set up on an impala carcass that he'd killed but he just wouldn't come back.

We moved an hour or so the next day to a very large property, something over 40,000 Hectares near Ellisras. Again the scenery was just breathtaking.

We spent two days stalking Kudu, Blue Wildebeest and Eland. We stalked to within good shooting range of a half dozen Kudu but just didn't see one that quite fit what I was looking for. We had arranged to try and take an old barren Eland cow but due to the cover even though we had successful stalks we never could be 100% sure that she was the one I had a shot on so we did not take her.

Both days we also had multiple successful stalks on Blue Wildebeest but again in the heavy cover I could not be sure I had "the right one" in my sights and a clear shot so I held off.

Around noon on the last day we were to be there we came across a small herd of warthogs as we were walking to the truck. None of the boars were particularly outstanding but there was one sow in there I thought would look very good on my wall.

It was crowded at the water hole with some young Sable, Impla, and Kudu close by so getting into a shooting position on the sow was rather difficult. Francois and Derick held back and I just very slowly crept a couple of hundred yards at literally a snails pace trying to keep the sparse cover between me and them so they'd not notice my movements.

Of course there's a problem in using the cover in such a way because it also makes it quite challenging to get a clear shot. The best I could do was to get to a position that was fairly clear with just a few small scrub thorn trees between us.

I got set up on my sticks and then began a grueling wait hoping she'd turn sideways but she never would. Finally they started moving off so I took a shot from straight behind with the 300 wm. She was hit very solidly and went down about thirty or forty yards away.

I was thrilled of course but as we approached it was clear she'd gotten up and run off going through the fence into the next camp/pasture.

This was a bit disconcerting because we knew there were five to seven lions in that several thousand acres along with an unknown number of leopards.

I'm nervous enough about going after a wounded hog with tusks like she has and the risk associated with the cats definitely raised the blood pressure a bit.

Fortunately we quickly found her trail, she was obviously bleeding good and dragging a leg so we knew she was hit good and it was just a matter of us getting to her before the cats did.

After just a hundred yards or so we walk up on her and she gets up in a really foul mood. Derick put one in her with the .270 CZ he's carrying but that just seemed to infuriate her. Not wanting this to get uglier I just charged in until I had a clear shot and put a finisher in her chest as she'd decided not to run any further and turned back to fight.

It turned out that I'd apparently hit one of the small scrub trees and the bullet had come apart making just a huge gaping wound on her hind end right where I was aiming but it wasn't very deep. Strangest bullet performance I've ever seen!

To be continued.... .

 

[buchnerl]

Thanks for posting your hunt report @WildRose

Looking forward to some pictures and more of your trip in South Africa.

 

[WildRose]

So, following the successful hunt for a warthog we went back to the beautful thatched roof cottage we were staying in and had a nice brie for lunch including of course home made wild game sausage, wildebeest tenderloin (from Derick's freezer) and of course some biltong which I quickly learned is a staple in the South African diet.

Of course we then had to throw in a bit of a nap as well and headed back out around 3pm for the evening hunt. Again this includes both diesel spotting and stalking and lots of glassing and several foot stalks again looking for the right eland and Blue Wildebeest.

Dark was quickly approaching and I'm flat worn out. I hadn't begun to have a chance to get over the jet lag yet and I've already put more miles on my feet in five days than I had probably in the two months prior to the hunt but I'm feeling very good about how well I've recovered.

The sun is setting and we're driving in when we spot a small herd of Wildebeest and suddenly I've forgotten just how tired, dirty, dried out , ready for a shower, some supper and a bed I am HA!

Some quick glassing and discussion and we identify a very large old bull with nice horns but nothing spectacular. He ends up measuring about 28" when it's said and done and we quickly formulate a plan.

We drive a bit further and they let me off the truck alone cautioning me to not shoot at all if I can't put it in the right spot because of the late hour. Tracking him if he ran any distance was going to be problematic very quickly and I'm carrying the 300wm rather than the 375 Ruger. The ammo I chose had already left a big question mark in our minds due to the performance on the warthog and they of course reminded me that this was a very large animal with a reputation for being both hard to kill and having a very bad temper when wounded.

I move quickly to get into a shooting position about 200yds away and set up the sticks. He's facing me apparently he's either winded me or seen my movement but can't figure out what I am. The sun is setting behind and to his right and the shadow fall perfectly for me to see the crease between his shoulder and neck.

I line up the crosshairs, trying to calm myself, think of the basics and to ensure good placement with the shot. After about a minute my breathing and heart rate are back to normal, he's snorting looking for me and is quartering slightly with his hind end to the right. I can't see waiting any longer as he looks like he's about to just break and turn away so I take the crease shot.

I'm able to see the impact is perfect, he rears up nearly falling over backwards so I'm thinking, "Good Hit, Good Hit! Needless to say I'm completely stoked. This is by far the largest animal I've ever shot and from the dust kicking up in the fading light I know he's down!!!

Full of adrenaline I rush to the spot I've last seen him and the truck is returning. I get there and about a 150 yards away I see him going down yet again but the brush is thick so I can't take another shot. Quickly I begin moving towards that spot as the rest of the crew bails out and hustles over. They hold back wanting to get on the blood trail and I keep advancing to where I've last seen him.

Again I see him get up and run about another hundred yards. The guys have picked up the blood trail and are cautioning me to be very careful as they don't think he's hit well. In the glasses they'd seen dust coming off of his left shoulder and though I'd hit him high on the shoulder but I clearly saw the impact on the crease so I know his heart and lungs should be toast.

I move forward advancing again to where I'd last seen him go down and about fifty yards away I spot him, down, but still very much alive, breathing hard with lung blood bubbling from his nose. I want to get a bit close to put one in his head but the guys again are warning me to be careful reminding me they are known to attack.

I close to about 15 yards and put one in his head and he appears to be down for the count.

We're all excited and quickly start setting him up for pictures and even take a couple when he seems to come to life yet again! Francois puts the 9mm to the crown of his skull to ensure that he's done.

I'm completely impressed with just how tough these animals are and my thoughts go to trying to figure out what the heck happened with the bullet! My entrance wound was right where I saw it in the crease but the bullet literally turned 90 deg after going through the sternum, taking out the heart, the left lung and exiting the left shoulder! CRAZY stuff. At that point we are completely done using the Swift Sirocco on anything tough for the rest of the hunt. This simply isn't what it's made for and I'd not risk losing a big animal or having one just get up mad and come after us. Fortunately Francois has a large supply of ammo at the shop (Classic Arms in Witbank) and he had some Privi Partisan with a Gromm Bonded bullet that shot very well and mushroomed perfectly on everything else we shot with it for the balance of the hunt.

We've literally now just got a couple of minutes to take pictures while our PH finds a path to get the Landcruiser truck in so we can load this brute. He was somewhere betwen 700-800lbs by everyone's estimate so it was definitely going to be a job.

In short order he's in the truck, an hour later dressed and in the cooler for the night. Marcoo has excellent facilities there and an excellent staff to help with the hard and bloody work who know exactly what they are doing.

What a truly rewarding three days with two great animals taken and many hours enjoyed on the stalks even when nothing was taken. For a guy like me it's a successful hunt just getting on the game and into a position for a shot whether I actually pull the trigger or not. We'd done that well over a dozen times over three days on multiple species so man, what an amazing experience!

The Polish on his horns was just amazing to me and I'm hoping we can keep them natural. I'm going to do a European Skull Mount with the head and a very nice, large flat skin with the hide for a rug or wall hanging.

For you other first times if you go for a Blue Wildebeest remember they don't call it "The Poor Man's Buffalo" because of it's size but because of their bad temper when wounded. Shoot well, and if it keeps moving shoot until it doesn't, give it plenty of time to expire and don't approach close enough to get yourself hurt until your PH tells you he's done. This is one very, very tough animal and big enough to put quite a hurt on you if they get the chance and decide to.

 

[WildRose]

At this point we have a break from the big game hunting for a few days as Francois has to get back to work. Classic Arms has a big Auction of firearms, firearms related equipment, and military collectibles three or four times a year and it is fast approaching.

As a result Derick who was kind enough to take some vacation time becomes my guide for a few days of working dogs and bird hunting. The bird hunting was just a dream for a birddog guy like myself. The best part of it is that I'm hunting over dogs that have been bred from the stock I sent to Francois. There's a gang of a half dozen owners of these dogs that hunt and train together religiously and I spend the next five days or so bouncing around with them from place to place enjoying some of the finest upland bird hunting I've ever seen, and that's coming from a guy who got famous as an upland bird hunting guide from Texas to Montana, Washington, Idaho, the Dakotas, Nebraska, and Kansas over the course of a couple of decades.

I know great dogs and I know great bird hunting and I was treated to several long, hard driving days enjoying both.

These guys I consider ese

We also worked in a large group training day/hunt as well. Something of a training and breeding seminar and something of a free for all hunt where we all started in one field and everyone split going different directions. It looked like something along the lines of a Chinese Fire Drill but surprisingly it went well, everyone found birds and of course we all had a great time.

Derick has to go back to work and Francois has four days off coming so back to Witbank for a day of rest and doing laundry plus I got to spend half a day in the store helping customers. That was as much fun as anything else I did on the whole trip. I'm a pretty good salesman and know enough about firearms and the associated equipment and managed to sell five rifles, a handgun, one shotgun, several scopes and some other equipment.

The part of the store the customers see is rather deceptively small. If there's something you need however related to firearms, equipment and associated gear, this is "The Place" to shop in South Africa. They also have a full time machinist/gunsmith who is a true craftsman and it was he who set me up with the suppressor and threaded the 300wm for me. His work of course was impeccable.

Since It's not legal to import a suppressor to the states and the cost was a pittance compared to buying one here, I bought one there and Francois will simply keep it for my future trips.

A good nights sleep and an early rise and we are off to Groblersdal. Sable, Nyala, Impala on the list along with other possibles and a little bird hunting!

 

[WildRose]

We arrive and I'm just thrown completely back at the site of this place. Huge wide open pastures/camps and both a world class breeding facility for all sorts of exotics including birds located just around the "house" which of course just hard to describe in it's size and beauty.

I'm introduced to the family and we get a short tour around the breeding facility, grab some lunch and make a plan for the afternoon.

First we head off to a several thousand acre pasture/camp in which are the Nyala. An hour or so of driving and glassing we see a dozen or so bulls that just have my head reeling. My first thought of the game when we got there was that this might well prove to be something between a canned hunt and just shooting dumb tame animals in a large area that have no fear of man whatsoever.

That of course proved to be not the case very quickly. They and all the other game we encountered quickly made tracks when they detected us making the diesel stalking rather difficult. Finally we spot one and I decide "He's my bull, this is what I came for".

When Francois asked me to put together my dream list of the big game I wanted to hunt the Sable and Nyala were right at the top of the list. To me they are both just incredibly beautiful animals and I've been dreaming of hunted them for as long as I've thought of hunting Africa. Well, here I am and success is quite possibly one good stalk away.

My bull and four others are in some thick, heavy brush just right next to a pond with a high dam so we decide to get off of the truck and make the trek on foot a half mile or so and see if we can slip up over the dam from behind and see if we can get a shot.

The truck was to continue on for a mile and then just sit and wait and to then return either when they heard a shot or we called on the radio to tell them it was a "no go".

We slink and slither slowly keeping down low in the draw to maximize the use of the cover and terrain knowing there's more game about and the Nyala are likely to move at any time. Finally we reach the dam and Francois and I separate each to climb up and see if we can spot them still in the area.

By the time we get up where we can see Kudu and Impala have joined the party and are drinking between myself and the Nyala. At this point I'm somewhat stumped on what to do though since among the Kudu is an old bull well over 6" with very tight curls and very heavy mass. This was a definite trophy that would be welcome in anyone's collection of mounts. Unfortunately we'd not discussed Kudu with Dawie so I had no idea what it was going to cost me if I shot him, or if I'd get tossed off of the place completely so I just had to keep drooling watching him while I hoped my Nyala would work out of the brush enough for me to get a shot. I wasn't afraid to shoot through some little stuff if I had to since I'm shooting the .375 Ruger today.

I was able to identify the right bull but he was just blissfully eating away in the cover and just would not give me the shot I wanted. This wen on for what seemed like hours but probably was no more than about 45 minutes.

Finally it's down to do or die time. I've got about a six inch hole 200yds away through which I can thread the needle and put one right into the crease behind the shoulder. I'm about to take that shot just kneeling and resting off my knee while leaning against a tree when one of the other bulls walks up right behind him. No way I can take this shot for fear of a pass through hitting the second bull.

At this point I realize I haven't taken a breath in what seems like an hour so I try to calm myself to just wait it out and see what happens, maybe I'd get lucky.

A few minutes later the 2nd bull clears and my bull is in a little better position. He's quartering hard away and looks like he's about to leave so I put the crosshairs on his third rib from the last an squeeze one through that little six inch hole.

Fortunately the shot was perfect taking out both lungs, just clipping the spine and exiting the left shoulder.

He was stone dead when he hit the ground! Needless to say I'm weak in the knees and flat can't believe I've taken such a nice Nyala, one of my absolute dream animals.

Francois and I walk around the water having a good laugh at all the other critters exploding off in different directions. It's almost impossible to believe that we went undetected with so many eyes and noses around but we managed to do just that. Francois, for a guy as big as he is and he is a real bear of a man has excellent game skills top to bottom and can move like a ghost when necessary. He's also one of the very best at spotting and identifying game I've ever hunted with. Few PH's can match, much less exceed his skill-set as a PH. Of course much of that he learned as a young man just hunting for himself and when he worked for Sandy MacDonald he worked with and learned from one of the very best to ever get in the game.

After much congratulating and giving the Nyala time to be sure he was done we finally moved to him so I could claim my price. I'm totally overwhelmed with what I'd just done. If I only took one animal on the entire trip and it was this Nyala or a Nice Sable, I would have gone on feeling great about the whole hunt. I indeed could have quit right there and gone home satisfied. What an experience, what a hunt, what great stalk and getting set for a shot. I could not have imagined it going any better. WOW!

A rough measurement put him at just over 28" on one side, and just under 29" on the other. At his age though they said he'd already hit his peak and was losing, not gaining inches any more.

All I know is I liked him and those polished Ivory tips just make my head spin.

I can't say enough about how just truly lucky and blessed I am. A guy like me could have never dreamed of putting such a hunt together absent my Good Friend Francois going above and beyond, working on this for a full year to make sure my every waking minute in South Africa would be filled with great memories.

He never let me down, that's for sure.

 

[WildRose]

Did I mention that the day is still young? Before we even get him loaded Dawi tells us one of his boys has spotted a group of five very nice old sable bulls and they are just a few miles away. He's already called another truck to come and pick up this guy and wants to get us to the sable before they move too far. They are in a camp/pasture of about 3000 acres with very good cover and some difficult terrain so they can disappear rather quickly.

As we make the drive I'm told these are three old "retired" bulls that are no longer breeders. He says there's one particular bull in there that he thinks he wants me to take. He says the bull has extremely heavy mass to his horns but he's so old they've been groomed off losing several inches so he's probably no better than 38". Also he tells me to look closely as they think he's lost his left eye in a fight a few months back.

Well we soon spot them only a half mile or so from where they'd been seen. Dawie's sister is the Sable Expert in the family and so she has to give us the go ahead on which bull to take and she has to study them very closely to be sure she puts me on the right one. This proved to be quite a chore. These guys did not like to stand still and any time they even suspected we were around they just drifted off to disappear into the heavy cover. We spent four hours alternately stalking afoot and by truck trying to get "the shot" lined up on "the bull".

Trust me, after four hours of losing and finding them a half dozen times I thought we were quickly running out of chances. and my frustration was probably beginning to show.

Finally we come around a corner and there they are standing in a tight wad almost like a defensive position in a half circle, each of them staring us down.

Well the girl says, "That's your bull" and I ask which one? She says right in the middle of the pack! Great I think, I've got no clear shot unless we move the truck and if we move the truck the best I'm going to get is a keyhole shot trying to take him out with no margin of error at all. Of course the way things have been going the more likely outcome is that if we move the truck even an inch they'll blow out of there not to be seen again. They are obviously tired of being harassed.

I formulate a quick plan tell Dawi to put it in goat gear and let it just idle very slowly until I say "stop" and to expect a shot the second I say it.

Sure enough, two grueling feet put me in position to take a straight on chest shot and I've got all of a food or less of clearance on both sides or I hit one of the other bulls with a pass through. Well I sure can't afford two and say to myself if the gives me a perfect frontal shot I'll take it because there's almost no chance of a pass through shooting the .270gr Interlock.

In a grand stroke of luck he shifts his rear slightly to the left giving me exactly the shot I want.

At the crack of the rifle I'm waiting what seems like an eternity looking for my bullet impact. It is perfect right at the top of the sternum flipping him over stone dead. He must have been just starting to rear up a bit as the shot entered because it took the top of the heart and buried up in the spine just stone dead.

The rest of the boys split out of there like lightening, obviously in good health with no signs of a second hit.

The adrenaline hits me hard and I'm shaking like a virgin bride on her wedding night. I can't believe what I've just done. Two animals more than any other drove me to make this trip and in the span of just a half day of hunting I not only have two of them, I have two that are once in a lifetime quality trophy animals.

What immediately struck me when we got to him is just how big of an animal it really is, then I notice the scars from the years of fighting and the slash that cost him his left eye. This isn't just a nice trophy, he's an old warrior who's victories must have been many and his genes have been well passed on to new generations.

These are the types of animals I wanted to take, those who are past their best days and have done their part for bettering the species with their genetic donations so future generations can enjoy the same experience I had shooting their grampa!

I'm still utterly in awe of how a guy like me finds himself here taking animals people, including myself, have dreamed for years of taking.

He measures 41" and 42" with 10.5 and 11" bases and carries that heavy mass for about 2/3 of the length.


I am truly a very fortunate and blessed man and every time I look at these animals on the wall I can sit back and relive those days, those hunts, the stalks, and the shots.

Amazing isn't even a strong enough word for how I feel.


I had to of course get Francois into some of these since none of it would have been possible without his tireless efforts in putting it all together.

I am indeed a truly blessed man with a wealth of friends and stories of our time together to fill a lifetime.

 

[WildRose]

Still a few hours of daylight left so again we head to the bush. Nothing in particular is on the menu but if we see something that might fit well on my list anything is possible.

Into another large pasture we go I hadn't really considered shooting a Zebra this trip but we spotted a very old stud that had just one mare with him. Dawie didn't even have a clue where they could of come from since he'd not put any in there. Obviously a gate was left open at some point and the snuck in.

He and Francois talk for a minute I assume discussing prices and then asks me if I'd like to try and take one or both since Dawie very much would like them gone.

Well just as he got that out the Ruger barked and we have a perfect hit on the mare right in the triange at the shoulder. She goes down hard but almost acts like she's going to come up again so without a thought I put another in her. The shots were no more than 2" apart so I'm really starting to like this gun!

The stud is upset, he's circling around in the heavy stuff a hundred or so yards from her but won't come clear. It's at this time I notice a very nice Impala that thought he was well hidden in the brush. I'm looking for a nice trophy Impala and he looks to fit the bill. The question is what to do, can I even get a clean shot at him through that brush. He's a couple of hundred yards away and I can only see one possible shooting lane where I could possibly thread it through the trees for a good shot IF he'd take a few steps in that direction.

The Zebra stud meanwhile is still not giving up, he's calling and calling for his girl. Well since it looks like the Stud isn't going to give me a shot I concentrate on the Impala. He's facing away from me so he's going to have to take a few steps to his right at an angle or there's just no shot. The Stud wailing like a banshee in the background appears to be making him nervous and finally starts moving just like I'd hoped he would.

I set my scope on the window and get ready. If this happens it will happen quick and I'll probably have less than a second or two to make the shot as he steps in to the window.

Three, four, five steps, just two to go. Safety is off, just waiting for two more, finger putting pre tension on the trigger so when the time comes only the slightest squeeze and it will fly. He takes one more step but all I have is a shot possibly on the neck and at a bad angle. Can't take that shot bcause it's a low percentage shot and would ruin the came no doubt if I hit the spine. If I didn't he'd just run off never to be seen again in all likelihood.

Finally he moves gain but is now quartering hard away but his last rib pops into the window and without hesitation it flies. Looks like a prfect fit, longs gone and the way he goes down it looks like the spine is also clipped and bullet buries in off shoulder.

WOW, what a day, I'm sooooo Stoked, it just can't get any better than this!

Well, about that time it die. The old stud is still screaming for his girl but has finally moved. He's now standing in the middle of six Giraffes! HA Ok all I can think of here is that there's no way on earth I can take a chance on hitting one of them! I can't afford it and where the heck would I put it if I shot one! I'm told doing a flat skin with them is possible but it's so much work no one wants to do it and it would cost three arms and two legs to do it. If I hit one I'd probably still be there trying to work it off HA!

Well eventually he works into a position as he's leaving giving me a clear window on a poor shot angle. I try and line up a shot but he's ready to leave and finally gives me a bad angle but one I felt was doable. I lay it in about six inches behind the last rib on he right side. It smacks him hard putting him down instantly but briefly. He gets up obviously mortally wounded and his left shoulder broken.

He then takes off making a big quarter circle before popping into the clear about three hundred yards out. I'm ready and as soon as he comes clear put one straight through the shoulder obviously into the off shoulder as well.

He reaches down deep somewhere and finds the power to run off another 150yds into the bush before he finally calls it quits.

What an amazingly tough animal. I had envisioned them to be about the size of our wild donkey's here but this guy was at least 2.5 times that size. I've had horses my whole life and this guy goes a thousand pounds easy!

Huge feet and a beautiful marking patter. I couldn't believe what I've just done Three really nice animals down all in the span of about 20 minutes and all within four hundred yards of one another.

What a day, man, what a day!

I never in my wildest dreams thought I'd ever have a day like this in the field, not to mention the days that followed.

Dawie of course thought we looked tired and lean and invites us up to "the big house" for dinner. I'm thinking maybe a sandwich or a hamburger but oh no. The girls are going full blast in the kitchen and Dawie shows up with a platter of wild meets. We ate kudu, impala, and I think some fallow deer along with some buffalo tenderloin and some home made warthog, bushpig, and Im not sure what else sausage. Incredible! And my wife wondered why I didn't loose any more weight than I did on this trip. It's like everyone in South Africa thought I looked to thin and kept fixing me incredible meals of the most delectable meats a guy ever put in his mouth. How could I say No!?? Not me . The way I grew up if someone offers you a meal you accept it gracefully, try everything no matter how strange, and eat what they eat! At least I didn't offend anyone by saying no.

Sadly we had to say goodbye and leave very early in the morning to get everyone to work on time.

I get a day off to recover a bit and then spend a few more days bird hunting with some of the Matotoland Kennel Possee, but indeed there's much more to come in this story!

 

[dory]

Well done buddy ,its all about having fun and your having bucketloads .

 

[KVS]

Fantastic report, thank you for sharing.

 

[Nyati]

Great hunt so far, congrats !

 

[BRICKBURN]

Nice birds and beasts mix to your hunt so far.
Love hunting birds over those dogs.

Congrats.

 

[WildRose]

Nice birds and beasts mix to your hunt so far.
Love hunting birds over those dogs.

Congrats.

Those dogs keep me filled with invitations and open doors for hunts around the world. My dogs can now be found on 5 different continents. Without them I'd just be another nobody trying to grind out a living.

 

[WildRose]

As the last ten days of my trip closed in we shifted gears quite a bit and started moving south to the Kalihari, Karoo, and Eastern Cape.

I had to laugh as I kept seeing the signs for Hanover as I'd spent quite some time in Hanover Germany during my travels in Europe so I knew the area must have been settled by German Immigrants long ago. We had to stop in town for a bit so Francois could find a Pharmacist and get some prescriptions called in and while he waited I went on a bit of a walk about and got a haircut. During those two hours several people introduced themselves asking what brought me to town etc. Again, as I'd found throughout my travels the Afrikaaners as a people are overwhelmingly and consistently the kind of people who just make you feel at home no matter how far from home you are. An honest smile and a handshake will get you just about anything.

We proceded another hour or so from Hanover into the heart of The Karoo. The landscape is stark, flat, dry, high and unforgiving. You see nothing but scrub brush, rocks and dirt so dry it turns to powder as you kick it up walking along. Yes there's some grass here and there but a cow would walk herself to death trying to make a living on it. This is sheep and goat country and you can tell that it must have taken very hard people to scratch out a living there and bring civilization along with them as they advanced.

The place we stayed is what we here would term an old family ranch headquarters with a main house, a lodge that has had several incarnations since it was first built as a barn and stable connected to a small living quarters. When you walk inside you see a combination of luxury and old world hard scrabble blended together to make a large eating area, lounging area, bar, and first class Kitchen.

The owner, PC, greets us and shows us around. This place has been in his family for many generations and you can tell he's the kind of guy who is as much a part of the land as the grass and brush that grows from it. Geese are landing and feeding in the irrigated alfalfa field just yards away from our sleeping quarters in the old Ranch House which was without a doubt one of the most comfortable places I laid my head during the whole trip.

No time to unpack, just grab the guns and off we go to sight in and do a bit of windshielding to get familiar with the place. We see a half dozen warthogs, dozens of Springbock and even some Eland before returning to the house for a magnificent supper cooked on the brie right there in the main dining room in the huge fireplace.

After a nice long evening of introductions and visiting with the other guests and PC we turn in. Man the showers there were just fantastic with firehose pressure that will knock off the dust and work out the stiff muscles from long drives and long days in the field. I'm a guy who doesn't sleep much and getting to sleep is a chore but I was out like a light in minutes in that big comfortable bed!

Early the next morning we are off looking for Gemsbok. It's about an hour's drive to a neighboring ranch that has several small herds on it. The flat ground is broken only by long rocky ridges, a little scrub brush and even less grass. We climb one of these ridges to glass and sure enough a mile or so away we see what appears to be some bedded Gemsbock trying to stay out of the wind on the lee side of the ridge.

By the time we get to where we thought would offer a good shooting position they were up and had moved several hundred yards so we back down off of the ridge and make a quick 400yds sneak and back up we go to see where they are. Unfortunately they are directly down wind of us. The winds do funny things there because of the flat ground broken by the steep rocky ridges and it was whipping pretty good at around 30mph. On our side of the ridge it was a cross wind but on theirs the downslope carried our scent straight to them.

We quickly assess what's there. There's two old cows that are well over 48" with good mass and I'd have taken either one of them in a heartbeat but we were there only for bulls. There are two older looking bulls in this group. One is a broken horn on one side showing about 24" but the other side is over forty in our estimate and the other looks close to 40 with really good mass and symmetry.|

By the time we decide he's the bull we want to take they are moving on out at a pretty good clip at what I guessed to be about 350yds. I throw the safety off and get on him praying he'll just stop for a second but they just keep moving. I have to change positions quickly moving up the ridge to get a clear line but once I'm there I can't get steady and they are at an estimated 400yds and still moving. At this point as bad as I hate to admit it I flat blew the shot. They were heading into a little saddle where there's a brake in the ridge and between misjudging both the wind and the range my shot sails just over the top of his back.

This however is where the suppressor becomes well worth having in spite of it being a pain adding so much length to the barrel. They barely react at all and just trot off. They apparently didn't even hear the shot due to the combination of the suppressor and the high wind carrying the sound away.

Well I'm disgusted with myself as we start down the guys are giving me hard time when I look up and see the herd has stopped and is feeding again.

We quickly devise a plan and hook around and down the ridge and make a near sprint down the ridge guessing we were far enough to either intercept them or be ahead when they feed down along the ridge.

Sure enough I'm able to get into a good position and steady up on a rock and just wait while they move down their side of the ridge coming ever closer. Finally they reach what would be the closest point from me to them that they would get to if they kept the same line of travel.

I settle in well braced on a big flat rock, get comfortable and start thinking of the basics. Get your breathing right, get your heart rate down, it's just short of 400yds so put it right on the withers, be patient he'll stop, when he does gently squeeze.

Of course he doesn't stop, they just keep moving along apparently going to circle back around at the next saddle to get out of the wind again.

I read the wind again paying attention to the movement of the grass and the dust their feet are kicking up. I hold right for the top of the withers with the horizontal line and put the verticle line right on his nose, relax and let it fly.

He folds like a house of cards not even twitching after he hits the ground. My prior disgust with myself for missing is instantly erased and replace by elation. The Gemsbok is an animal I have wanted to hunt for the last forty plus year after seeing my first one at the YO Ranch here in Texas as a child and here I am, literally on the other side of the world 40 years later having just fulfilled a lifelong dream!

No, he's not a record book animal but he's all mine and I couldn't be prouder of him!

The next morning was spent in pursuit of a nice warthog boar. We did spot an absolute monster of a boar but by they time we got down to what might have been good shooting range he had just disappeared. The sows and pigs were still around that he was with so we surmised he'd just slipped off into the cover along the river before we got there and was having a nice nap.

The last evening was spent shooting geese and just driving around taking in the country and enjoying the beautiful scenery and the company of PC the owner.

Following yet another spectacular dinner consisting of Eland tenderloin and assorted veggies we turned in early so we could be off again on yet another adventure. ...

 

[WildRose]

At this point in the trip my time is winding down quickly. We are off before dawn to another large farm/ranch of several thousand acres near Jansonville bordering on the Addo Elephant national park and a large private game reserve.

After yet another few hours of enjoying the amazing scenery of the area we arrive at our destination. The owner has come down from Pretoria to meet us and we settle into our rooms, wonderful accommodations yet again, to lunch then off to shoot the rifles again to be sure they are still "on" and we load up in the Landcruiser for some diesel stalking and sight seeing.

On the menu here are Black Wildebeest, East Cape Kudu, and if we have enough time maybe a very nice Impala. I've already taken one worthy of a shoulder mount so it's going to take quite an Impala for me to pull the trigger again.

We move from high spot to high spot glassing around looking for Kudu and Wildebeest. We see literally dozens of Kudu but none that I thought was "the one" along with a wealth of other game including Springbok in large numbers. This ranch is just utterly and completely beautiful from fence line to fence line and beyond.

It's getting late, the sun quickly going down so we drive up to one last high spot and everyone gets out going in different directions to see if there's a Kudo around or perhaps the Black Wildebeest. Again, as has so often been the case on this trip luck is with me and within five minutes I spot a small herd of black things that had to be the Wildebeest. I get the attention of the others and the owner comes over and we make a quick plan to stalk down close enough to at least see if there's a good bull among them. It takes us about an hour to get within 300yds of them and sure enough my luck holds and I spot two bulls both of which look very good to me. After five minutes or so of evaluating them the owner "Doc" decides the one off by himself feeding alone is the bull we want but he of course wants to get closer.

We drop off into a badly washed out draw out of sight of the herd and move a couple of hundred yards down it and when we emerge we're within 200yds of the bull we want.

We quickly set up but due to the low brush there was just no possible way to get into an ideal shooting position and the Doc and I both are getting concerned because darkness is rapidly approaching. He's reiterating to me for about the three dozenth time that I just cannot shoot this late unless I'm positive I can make a good shot. With darkness approaching rapidly and the leopards and jackels that frequent the ranch anything not recovered quickly will be lost to the predators before daylight.

Not wanting to miss out on the chance to take this beast I think quickly and get behind the Doc seated like we're riding a two man bobsled. I tell him I want to shoot off of his shoulder with my shoulder against the tree we're sitting under for steadiness and he smiles and kind of giggles and gives me the go ahead.

Again, the brush is so heavy I've only got a tiny clear window to shoot through if he'll just take a step or two. We wait, wait, wait, wait and wait some more but he's just not moving. Finally a cow comes by and nudges him a bit as she crosses behind him and he takes those two precious steps that we need.

I've already spent a half hour calming myself and reminding myself of the fundamentals so I tell doc to get dead still and if he's ok with it I'll take the shot.

He says "Go Ahead" and before the D had even reached his lips the shot rings out and I see it impact clearly exactly where I wanted it, a few inches just above his elbow.

Down he goes and up we go, both of us completely elated. After one half mile stalk to get into position and yet another 200yds stalk to get on him and yet another half hour waiting on him to take those precious two steps I needed he's down and down hard.

It's late so I quickly start moving to him to make sure that if he does get up I can put him down immediately and Doc is yelling at me to be careful because if he does get up he'll come straight for me so I stop about fifty yards away and sure enough somehow he manages to get up and spins around in a circle a couple of times apparently looking for whatever hit him. I quickly put one more into him which enters at the last rib and buries up in the opposite shoulder. Down for the count he goes and yet again another wave of elation hits me.

I approach and not until I see him up close did I appreciate what a truly magnificent trophy he is. I cannot cover the base of either horn with both of my hands and in spite of the fact his horns dip down deep before curling back up the tips are well above the top of his head!

We then hear the landcruiser coming our way and we quickly get a few pictures and celebrate the moment. Fortunately we only had to drag him a couple of hundred yards to load him in the truck. Of course as almost always seems to be the case the drag was straight up a big hill.

Man, what a day!

I don't know what he scores but he's just over 31" measured from the base along the inside edge of the horns. Of all the trophies I've taken on the trip so far, this one to me is the best. He's old, older than dirt as we say around here. Doc tells me he knows the bull and he's at least 12-14 years old and definitely on the downhill side of life. His time remaining on the planet was marked in days rather than years so this was indeed the "right bull" for me. His bases are chipped and cracked with some big chunks out of them and you can see the scars from who knows how many fights over the years. They are also weathered and cracked simply from age as well.

I was truly dumbfounded sitting there looking at him thinking what a life he must have had there in those hills and how lucky I was to be there at all much less at the right time and place for it all to come together so that I could have the privilege of taking this old warrior for my own.

What a privilege it is to have been part of the story of his life.
'

 

[WildRose]

 

[Wheels]

Really enjoying your hunt.

Thanks.

 

[gillettehunter]

I would say that you have had an exceptional safari. Some great trophies and a wonderful experience. I really wanted to shoot some birds on my last trip, but it never happened... Congrats. Bruce

 

[WildRose]

I would say that you have had an exceptional safari. Some great trophies and a wonderful experience. I really wanted to shoot some birds on my last trip, but it never happened... Congrats. Bruce

Bruce, when you start planning your next trip let me know. If you'll allow for a few extra days I can set you up with some of my friends there for some amazing bird hunting. Argentina is probably the only place on the planet you can burn more shells in a day and that's of course pass shooting vs upland. They also have some utterly amazing waterfowl hunting available. You would even be hunting with dogs out of my breeding. Between what I've exported to the RSA and what they've bred from those dogs there are I think 87 dogs out of my breeding there now. That number of course will probably double in the next year.

 

[WildRose]

Needless to say we ate well and shared a drink or two toasting the hunt and cementing new friendships following our Black Wildebeest hunt then off to bed wondering just how we could possibly even match much less top it tomorrow.

It was a short night with little sleep as I was just too pumped to settle down in spite of three or four good Scotches!

Morning came early and we were treated to a wonderful breakfast. Our plan for the day was to again do a whole lot of diesel stalking and glassing for just the right Kudu. Doc had some other hunters there he needed to tend to so we fended for ourselves till lunch time. It was a glorious morning that started off very crisp, right around freezing in fact as there was a light frost and it was beautiful as the sun came over the hills and lit everything up. The abundance of game on the ranch is just amazing but it's obvious the land is supporting them well and without stress or the need for any supplemental feeding. Several years back they removed all of the livestock and the ranch is managed solely for the wildlife.

After Lunch Doc joins us yet again and we're back hard at work glassing. The Kudu seemed to be everywhere and I had my scope on at least a dozen 48" or better bulls but still nothing that was quite "there" for me. I came a long way and if I was going to shoot a Kudu at all it would have to be "the one". I'm not the kind of guy anymore who just has to kill something to call it a successful hunt. We'd put stalks on four different times working well into shooting range before deciding to pass and move on. To me that's the challenge and the excitement of the hunt anyhow. Let's face it, once you pull the trigger all that's left is hard work.

Just as the evening before the sun is rapidly going down in the west just as we spot what is obviously a very old bull way up on the side of the next hill. The problem is that between he and us are more than a dozen other bulls, cows, and youngsters so there's no way we are going to be able to take the shortest route to him.

Doc and I bail out and work our way around the hill we were on so as to circle around and come out below all of the Kudu we'd seen. Little did we know that we'd run into just as many if not more as we began working up the draw between the two hills. I swear I nearly broke into a deep belly laugh several times thinking that the bull we are stalking must be deaf, dumb, and blind from old age because he's the only animal on the mountain we didn't spook!

We finally get into a good glassing position about 500yds from him and decide he's definitely "the one". Good mass, tight curls and good length totaling at least 50". His body condition though is obviously poor compared to the rest so our initial take on him being a very old mature bull was steadily being confirmed and reinforced.

Getting to a shooting position though at a range where Doc was comfortable with me taking the shot however was quite difficult. The scrubby brush was thick and pretty tall which made it very difficult to get anything remotely resembling a clear line of sight. We've been on this stalk now for well over an hour and the light is fading quickly and finally at 297yds. Again just as the evening before I've got a good shooting lane but he's going to have to take a couple of steps to get into it. Doc and I keep discussing the situation but there's just no good options. We sit right where we are and wait, or we give it up and head back to the truck. This is our last day with him and he decides that we wait as though I haven't already had a completely satisfying trip already!

This time I'm a little better off in that I've got the primo's trigger sticks to shoot off of and a tree to lean against but as luck would have it they are jammed for some reason and I can't get them down far enough for the shot angle so I just set them up and set the rifle on the side of one leg and held it there with my free hand while nuzzling my back and shoulder into the tree. I tell the doc if the old bull will just step into the window I felt completely confident in taking the shot. He again reminds me of the late hour and how critical it is to make a perfect shot or risk losing him altogether.

Finally after what seems like an eternity he takes a couple of steps, doc asks me if I have him and I tell him all I can see clearly is the point of the shoulder through a small hole but if he's happy with it I'll take the shot. He says "Ok, take it" and before "it" is off his lips the shot is on the way. 300yds isn't far but add a thirty degree uphill angle and such a small hole to shoot through with the late hour and that is just a bit of pressure and all of that is going through my mind as I squeeze it off and see him bang flop right in his tracks! I tell doc "he's dead" and he asks if I'm sure and I say "Oh yea, he's definitely down".

We decide I'll go straight to him while doc goes for the truck. Unlike the evening before this is going to be a very difficult extraction through rough terrain, in the dark, and it's over a mile from him to the nearest point intersecting the road. Fortunately the guys back at the truck had a good spotting scope and seeing the bull go down they were already on the way down. We manage to get a few quick pictures in the fading light while we try to figure out how to get him off of the mountain.

We end up gutting him and splitting the carcass into halves and put the halves on poles to carry out. Well, that sounded like a good plan but in that terrain it was still a tough haul.

It took us nearly two hours just to get back to the road and everyone's shoulders were worn completely out from wrestling with the swinging meat. For those who've never taken a Kudu they are not a small animal at all equal in size to a very large Mule Deer buck or cow Elk. Even halved you're talking quite load.

We finally get back to camp around 11pm, all of us worn to a nub but with big smiles on our faces. I'm still utterly in awe, two world class trophies taken 24 hours apart. The old Kudu measured 52" on one side and 53" on the other. How a poor boy from West Texas could find himself in such a place with two such animals still boggles my mind. I'm a truly blessed man with a wealth of friends the world over, were I not I wouldn't have ever even made the trip. I could hunt another lifetime and still not match this trip.

A young friend of mine in South Africa was talking with me Monday trying to get me to come back next year and plan a week with him. He was laying out everything available and prices and I just laughed and told him that from my original "wish list" there were only about three or four species left so it didn't really matter what we do next time around we'll still have a good time and shoot lots of birds.

I've been home almost a full month and these two hunts still leave me speechless and in a state of awe. A luckier man has never lived.

 

[Mekaniks]

What a great hunt report @WildRose !! Thank You

Do you have a website for your dogs?