Day 3: Monday, January 21
As it turned out, we had walked 15.3 kilometers (about 9.2 miles) chasing the eland (thanks iPhone!). In borrowed shirt and shorts, and 5 day old underwear (perhaps too much information?!). Now some may think “that’s not that far, especially in comfortable shoes.” If you’re thinking that, here’s something you should know two things. Firstly, Crocs provide no ankle support whatsoever, and have a sole which can be (and is) penetrated even by sharp remnants of thatching grass (fortunately there are few thorns in the savannah). Secondly, during the rainy season, some kind of worm emerges from the soil in the savannah and creates large mud casings, which then dry to varying degrees of hardness. Some break down when you walk on them, some don’t. And the ground is littered with them, to the point that it is virtually impossible to put a foot down on anything approaching a flat surface. On ground which has been recently burned, you can see these as you walk on them, and can try to walk on game paths, were the game has broken down many of the casings. But where the grass has not been burnt, there is no avoiding these things.
Here's what most, if not substantially all, of the ground looks like:
Note that these casings don’t just appear in patches. They are everywhere, and cover most of the ground. They also appear in mounds, almost like burial mounds. Cameroon also has an unusual form of ant hill/termite mound which is often built on top of these mounds.
Back to hunting. This morning we got up at 5.30, with our goal to be out the door at 6 am. This became our habit for the rest of the safari. The challenge for both Guav and I, now that we had the eland down, was to find something else to get excited about. There was virtually nothing in the savannah which I did not already have, so from now on this would be, I hoped, a much more leisurely safari. I should point out that in Cameroon, animals are broken down into various categories for hunting license purposes. Category A, for the savannah, consists of giant eland, roan, hippo, elephant and savannah buffalo. You are only allowed two of those animals. There were no rivers on this concession which would support hippo, and elephant had long since been poached out. That left roan and buffalo, and I was reasonably ambivalent as to which one we chased. We decided to see what the hunting gods had to offer.
And they offered up an interesting trophy – one I actually did not have – within the first few minutes. A red-flanked duiker appeared not far from the road. Guav took a quick look and said “too small.” You have to be quick because these little guys don’t stand still for long and can and do easily disappear into knee-high grass (and the grass here is head high or higher). But within a few hundred yards we saw another, and this one had Guav excited. We jumped off the truck, walked slowly back down the road hoping it would stop . . . and it did, to look back. Bad idea. A quick shot, a bit high, but enough to kill it on the spot.
The red-flanked duiker is not the same as the Natal red duiker. This one has a gray patch on its back, thus giving it the red “flanks.” A lovely little trophy and one I was glad to have.
We spent the balance of the day looking for buffalo, tracking some we had seen, losing them when the wind shifted, and generally being bettered by everything we saw. On our way back to camp around 5.30 we saw a beautiful roan bull trying to charm a female. Had we decided to hunt roan we might have taken him, but it was early days, so we let him go, with a wish for luck with the lady. We would recall this encounter the next day.
If there is one animal which appears in large numbers in this area it's Western Kob. They are everywhere, and tend to be relatively calm. Not far from the camp, just at last light, we saw a nice male, and decided to take him. The angle was bad, so Guav said “wait until he turns.” Looking through the scope, I saw him turn, and took a shot. Guav immediately asked “why did you do that?” “Because he turned,” I said. “Well, he turned the wrong way, and you shot him in the ass. Now we're in for it.” Oops. But these things can happen when you look through a scope too long.
There was a lesson in this episode, though, for those who say (as I have) that calibre can’t substitute for shot placement. Maybe that’s true, most of the time. But in this case, the bullet went in the ass and all the way to the heart, with the Kob dropping dead within 40 yards. It was a good think I was using a .375, because a lighter calibre might not have made it to the vitals. Dead is dead, regardless of the shot, but I agree, the rear end is not the best place to start.
Two nice animals down on day 3. Time to head back to camp – tonight is laundry night. I was going to wash my underwear and socks and hope they were dry enough to wear by morning. It had now been 6 days since I left home . . .