Velo Dog
AH ambassador
- Joined
- Mar 27, 2014
- Messages
- 5,208
- Reaction score
- 9,102
- Location
- Anchorage Alaska, USA
- Media
- 83
- Member of
- NRA Life Member.
- Hunted
- Africa 7 times. And the USA - most western states including Alaska and Hawaii.
DAY #3:
Breakfast at 6:15 AM sharp, including the usual morning board of fare.
Note: Not only was each breakfast quite good, in a general sort of way but likewise, our Cook always made the coffee thick and strong, much to everyone's delight.
6:45 AM, I'm rolling off in the hunting vehicle, with Eric and Adab, to see what we can get into.
9:00 AM, hartebeest seen about 6 or 700 meters from our vehicle and a jackal seen sniffing around up in the same canyon, perhaps only 500 meters from our vehicle.
We climb down and begin walking.
Of course, the jackal bolts inspiring all the hartebeest to wander up and over the far skyline.
Undaunted, old Adab presses upward and onward, flipping a little dust with the toe of his hunting shoe now and then, to confirm the very slight "cross wind" (if you want to call less than one MPH "wind").
Up and over we go but, no animals in sight.
Again glad that I had walked quite a bit prior to this hunting trip, I was able to keep up with Adab and Eric (both of which looked as if they were made entirely out of cables and leather).
This place was steep.
Down the other side we walked but, at the bottom, there was spoor indicating our rooi haired antelopes had turned sharply left and were more or less following the dry, sandy creek bed.
Sadly, this meant walking uphill again, as we entered another drainage, following the hartebeest tracks.
But, at least the air direction was now moving directly to our faces, what little air motion there was anyway.
RED HARTEBEEST:
Eventually, this dry creek played out as we reached the top of another ridge.
(Adab and Eric looked as fresh as a couple of daises but I probably looked like the first 64 year old man to run a marathon on the surface of the Sun).
Cautiously we descended, from bush to tree to bush, stopping now and then to glass a bit.
About one third of the way to the bottom, we were glassing over the landscape, straight across from us when suddenly, a single, hartebeest bull walked out of the thorns and into the sunlight, a little higher up in elevation from our level.
Evidently Adab could instantly see it was worth taking, as he did not speak but simply set the sticks in one fluid motion.
I chambered a round as carefully and quietly as possible, just as Adab was taking a half step from the sticks and I settled the rifle in.
My quarry stood only slightly quartering to me, almost broadside (not generally my luck with animals I've hunted) at about 230 meters and I shot him through the on-side shoulder.
He dropped to the shot and never got up.
My 270 grainer had broken the right shoulder and ranging upward, it exited high, just behind the left shoulder.
I presume that since he dropped instantly that, either a bone fragment or perhaps a bullet fragment had impacted the spine.
The exit hole was about the size of a USA nickel.
I waited by the animal while the fellers went to fetch our truck.
Evidently, we had walked up and down the hills in a semi-circle, as they came grinding along through the bush in "granny gear", within only about an hour.
LUNCH:
Meanwhile back at the fort, we were served a fine lunch of unknown game cutlets that, had been pounded, seasoned and flash-fried into schnitzel, accompanied by peppery brown gravy, seasoned rice and green salad, etc., etc.
Short Siesta then,
3:00 PM - Coffee and cookies, then off hunting again.
VLAAKVARK:
4:00 PM, while driving across a very flat valley floor, Adab pointed out a small dark dot moving across a grassy area, about one kilometer away, toward a meandering tree line (pretty much dry creek bed) and said,....."war-tog" as he simultaneously tapped the truck roof so Eric would stop.
Only brief glassing and Piggy Wiggy was declared a large boar.
Off Adab and myself went on foot but this time, we had to pass through a 3 wire cattle fence that seemed to go on forever, with no gate in sight.
Upon clearing it, Adab motioned for me to chamber a round, and so I did.
Then, after about half a kilometer or so, we reached a large "oxbow" curve in the almost entirely dry creek and slowed our pace to have a look.
Nothing yet so, we pressed on, but now following the snake like turns of the generally dry creek's bank.
Our bank was a little higher than the opposite one and the sandy bed varied from about 5 meters across in the narrows to about 15 meters across in the widest places, cut bank to cut bank.
Very cautiously and quietly we sneaked along, stopping our snails pace frequently, to silently and thoroughly scrutinize every bush and sizable rock (coincidently this method is often how we hunt blacktail deer here in Alaska, and I love it).
After only about 15 or 20 minutes of this careful sneaking along the dry creek, we spied an old tusker.
He was busy grubbing up on some grass, straight across from us and out a little ways beyond the creek itself.
Adab set the sticks, again without speaking and I shot this boar on the shoulder.
Death was instant, as though he had been shot through the brain stem.
Luck had been with me again, as he stood broadside, at about 40 meters, apparently unaware of our presence, until the last moment (his head popped up and he quit chewing for a split second, just prior to impact).
The 270 grain round nose exited his far shoulder either in multiple pieces or, in one piece but, with accompanying bone fragments as additional projectiles.
The largest exit hole was only about the size of a USA dime but, not totally round so, it is hard to say if that largest hole was from the whole bullet or, a fragment of same or, a bone chip.
At only about 40 or 50 paces, I would not be at all surprised if the bullet had shattered against one or both shoulder bones, and exited in pieces.
Whatever the case may be, the result was lightening fast, no tracking or thrashing about, just bangdead.
With his knife, Adab gutted our prize and carried it about 3/4 of a kilometer back to the fence and dropped it over.
Eric pulled up in the truck about then and they loaded this pig into the truck bed, before we rolled back to camp, now quite a few kilometers away.
SUPPER:
After sundowners around the evening fire, (Dale reports a bad day for him shooting, couldn't hit the ground with his hat) supper was served about 7-something to 8:00 PMish.
Spaghetti Bolognese, garlic bread, braised carrots, green salad with Italian seasoned vinaigrette dressing.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Breakfast at 6:15 AM sharp, including the usual morning board of fare.
Note: Not only was each breakfast quite good, in a general sort of way but likewise, our Cook always made the coffee thick and strong, much to everyone's delight.
6:45 AM, I'm rolling off in the hunting vehicle, with Eric and Adab, to see what we can get into.
9:00 AM, hartebeest seen about 6 or 700 meters from our vehicle and a jackal seen sniffing around up in the same canyon, perhaps only 500 meters from our vehicle.
We climb down and begin walking.
Of course, the jackal bolts inspiring all the hartebeest to wander up and over the far skyline.
Undaunted, old Adab presses upward and onward, flipping a little dust with the toe of his hunting shoe now and then, to confirm the very slight "cross wind" (if you want to call less than one MPH "wind").
Up and over we go but, no animals in sight.
Again glad that I had walked quite a bit prior to this hunting trip, I was able to keep up with Adab and Eric (both of which looked as if they were made entirely out of cables and leather).
This place was steep.
Down the other side we walked but, at the bottom, there was spoor indicating our rooi haired antelopes had turned sharply left and were more or less following the dry, sandy creek bed.
Sadly, this meant walking uphill again, as we entered another drainage, following the hartebeest tracks.
But, at least the air direction was now moving directly to our faces, what little air motion there was anyway.
RED HARTEBEEST:
Eventually, this dry creek played out as we reached the top of another ridge.
(Adab and Eric looked as fresh as a couple of daises but I probably looked like the first 64 year old man to run a marathon on the surface of the Sun).
Cautiously we descended, from bush to tree to bush, stopping now and then to glass a bit.
About one third of the way to the bottom, we were glassing over the landscape, straight across from us when suddenly, a single, hartebeest bull walked out of the thorns and into the sunlight, a little higher up in elevation from our level.
Evidently Adab could instantly see it was worth taking, as he did not speak but simply set the sticks in one fluid motion.
I chambered a round as carefully and quietly as possible, just as Adab was taking a half step from the sticks and I settled the rifle in.
My quarry stood only slightly quartering to me, almost broadside (not generally my luck with animals I've hunted) at about 230 meters and I shot him through the on-side shoulder.
He dropped to the shot and never got up.
My 270 grainer had broken the right shoulder and ranging upward, it exited high, just behind the left shoulder.
I presume that since he dropped instantly that, either a bone fragment or perhaps a bullet fragment had impacted the spine.
The exit hole was about the size of a USA nickel.
I waited by the animal while the fellers went to fetch our truck.
Evidently, we had walked up and down the hills in a semi-circle, as they came grinding along through the bush in "granny gear", within only about an hour.
LUNCH:
Meanwhile back at the fort, we were served a fine lunch of unknown game cutlets that, had been pounded, seasoned and flash-fried into schnitzel, accompanied by peppery brown gravy, seasoned rice and green salad, etc., etc.
Short Siesta then,
3:00 PM - Coffee and cookies, then off hunting again.
VLAAKVARK:
4:00 PM, while driving across a very flat valley floor, Adab pointed out a small dark dot moving across a grassy area, about one kilometer away, toward a meandering tree line (pretty much dry creek bed) and said,....."war-tog" as he simultaneously tapped the truck roof so Eric would stop.
Only brief glassing and Piggy Wiggy was declared a large boar.
Off Adab and myself went on foot but this time, we had to pass through a 3 wire cattle fence that seemed to go on forever, with no gate in sight.
Upon clearing it, Adab motioned for me to chamber a round, and so I did.
Then, after about half a kilometer or so, we reached a large "oxbow" curve in the almost entirely dry creek and slowed our pace to have a look.
Nothing yet so, we pressed on, but now following the snake like turns of the generally dry creek's bank.
Our bank was a little higher than the opposite one and the sandy bed varied from about 5 meters across in the narrows to about 15 meters across in the widest places, cut bank to cut bank.
Very cautiously and quietly we sneaked along, stopping our snails pace frequently, to silently and thoroughly scrutinize every bush and sizable rock (coincidently this method is often how we hunt blacktail deer here in Alaska, and I love it).
After only about 15 or 20 minutes of this careful sneaking along the dry creek, we spied an old tusker.
He was busy grubbing up on some grass, straight across from us and out a little ways beyond the creek itself.
Adab set the sticks, again without speaking and I shot this boar on the shoulder.
Death was instant, as though he had been shot through the brain stem.
Luck had been with me again, as he stood broadside, at about 40 meters, apparently unaware of our presence, until the last moment (his head popped up and he quit chewing for a split second, just prior to impact).
The 270 grain round nose exited his far shoulder either in multiple pieces or, in one piece but, with accompanying bone fragments as additional projectiles.
The largest exit hole was only about the size of a USA dime but, not totally round so, it is hard to say if that largest hole was from the whole bullet or, a fragment of same or, a bone chip.
At only about 40 or 50 paces, I would not be at all surprised if the bullet had shattered against one or both shoulder bones, and exited in pieces.
Whatever the case may be, the result was lightening fast, no tracking or thrashing about, just bangdead.
With his knife, Adab gutted our prize and carried it about 3/4 of a kilometer back to the fence and dropped it over.
Eric pulled up in the truck about then and they loaded this pig into the truck bed, before we rolled back to camp, now quite a few kilometers away.
SUPPER:
After sundowners around the evening fire, (Dale reports a bad day for him shooting, couldn't hit the ground with his hat) supper was served about 7-something to 8:00 PMish.
Spaghetti Bolognese, garlic bread, braised carrots, green salad with Italian seasoned vinaigrette dressing.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Last edited:
I love it, thanks!
