The last hunts
Given as long as this is getting I am going to cover the oryx since that was a lot of fun. There is a wildebeest hunt too but I had no intention of writing a novel here, so we will move onto Oryx.
We take a brief break, but the kids are very tired and we will split up. Papa chased oryx this morning while we were finishing the kudu hunt and got on some animals but didn’t get a shot off. So he and Mathus will head out and I will go off once more with Jacques. We drive to a non-descript fence. If you had just picked me up and set me here and it could just as well be that we are in Wyoming on an antelope hunt like we did before the kids were born, years ago.
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The koppies in the background are where we are headed. So it’s a quick drive and we settle in to glass again. It had previously occurred to me that we spent nearly 4 days to get a kudu and now we are down to the last day and a half to close on TWO oryx. But Jacques says this will not be a problem. I try and relax. We get to the koppie and all take out our binoculars. I left my big 50mm objective binos at home and that was probably a mistake. I cannot keep up with Jacques on glassing. Part of this is lack of experience here, clearly. And it may well be a bit of small mercy that I do not have my 50mm Swaros since then I would have no viable excuse at all. We reach the top of the hill and get out of the truck.
“Do you see him? That’s a good bull”
Humphrey nods
--I do not
A sly smile. “The edge of the black thorns in the shade.”
After some coaxing we all do see him, including me. On the edge of the cover in the distance a bull oryx is sitting in a narrow clearing in the shade. As best we can tell he is alone, but there is a ton of cover around him and could be more animals that we cannot see. We head out, closing distance to the thicker trees in the distance. The bull is bedded there.
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Our stalk-to-shot ratio has been pretty good all week, so I am wondering if this is actually going to happen. As we get to the little dry creek bed in between us and the trees we all feel it a once. Jacques kicks up the sand and it blows straight out away from us and the wind is hard at our backs. A look and a furrowed brow. There is not much to do now but try and make it work. We close the gap until we are at the edge of the blackthorn trees. I end up shooting from below this larger tree to the left.
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Once we are in the cover of the big tree we can see the bull and he is still bedded. The wind is definitely behind us and the bull is not 250 yards away. Not sure if he is just fast asleep or indifferent but we decide to move quickly before he starts paying better attention. Jacques is trying to maneuver the sticks as I am crouched down. The bull is still bedded. Now, as we have done previously, it is time to stand in one fluid motion, get on the sticks and find the bull and then shoot. When I stand both Jacques and I will be in plain view of the bull, but we’ve done this several times now. But this time it all goes sideways. I look up to make sure there is no branch I am going to stand up into but I do not look far enough behind me. So I stand up and immediately get snagged by these vicious little barbed thorns of this tree. My hat, the backpack, my neck, my shirt, everything is snagged. I try to pull loose and that makes an awful racket with the bone-dry branches banging together. But now I can’t step forward onto the sticks either since the tree has snagged me where I stand. Very frustrated I just pull free, and the dry branches of the tree make a sound like if you put a bunch of wood into a shoe box and threw it down the stairs. I anticipate coming into the scope to see a cloud of dust where the oryx retreated back into cover but instead see very clearly in the scope a bull oryx, still at peace and bedded maybe 250 yards from us.
--No way
“Lucky” says Jacques
--I can shoot.
“Let me get him to stand”
Jacques gives a hoot and then a louder hoot and a bark. Nothing. For a moment I wonder if this oryx is in some kind of vegetative state since nothing we can do—wind or noise of cat calls—can apparently disturb him. Finally, after a series of more aggravated barks the oryx does indeed rouse and stands to look for the source of his annoyance. I fire. He spins once and comes down heavy into the red sand
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We are all pleased with this and relieved that we have now finished “the list”. As it turns out it will take Papa one more day, and also a 3 km tracking job as his first shot was very rushed and hit quite low. BUT even though that was a bit unfortunate it does give an opportunity to showcase the tracking ability of Mathus and Joseph. Papa remarked that there was significant tracking through huge collections of scattered tracks and across bone dry rock and the like. At one point when we were out looking for wildebeest the next day the phone rang and I could tell something was up.
--They got an oryx?
“He says they hit one but are tracking. He says they will find it.”
--A bad hit? They have been looking for a while?
“All I know is that if Mathus says they will find it, they will find it.”
And they do. Apparently during the stalk they came over a rise and a whole family of cheetahs was also on the stalk and they walked right past the bunch of them (you think where you hunt has predator issues?). Apparently they considered briefly stopping for photos but Papa was dead-set on closing on the oryx. After a bit of walking and another shot or two they did get Papa’s oryx as well.
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On our last meal we feasted on kudu tenderloin and sat by the fire to reflect. Our hosts were very amused that I so enjoyed this local double IPA that is made in Windhoek but could be a sticky Portland beer served in any of the pubs back home. Apparently it had been in the bar fridge for 6 months since none of the Texans that visit will drink it (Thanks y'all!). Not too many Oregon beer guys come visit? But we did a number on them over the week. On our last morning we took the kudu skulls out of the salt for one last photo
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And finally, one last trophy – at last when we arrive back at the airport in Windhoek what do we track down but Papa’s ammo case, which somehow was lost on the plane and logged an untold number of miles going back and forth from Jo’berg to Windhoek over the course of the week. Then we finally got a hold of the right person that could go retrieve it off the plane and hold it for us. Not that it did us much good on this trip, but at least it will be there for mule deer season back home.
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Then finally leaving and a long wait at the airport to reflect. We discuss it all—with nothing but gratitude. We say farewell—or at least, until next time -- to our hosts and get ready for the LONG trip back. It has taken year and I can’t help but think of it like the ending of your favorite song – sad to see it end but so gratefully that you heard it and experienced it, especially with others. This place, at once so foreign but similar to being in places that we have hunted before, like something new that reminds you of the hunts from long ago. Or lyrics from your favorite song that you can’t help but remember at times “I toured the light-- so many foreign roads. For
Namibia, forever ago.”
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