VanderLaan
AH senior member
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2011
- Messages
- 77
- Reaction score
- 10
- Member of
- SCI, Quail Forever, NAVHDA
Day Four Ammended
I forgot to mention my episode with the Duiker. While sitting in the blind where I had killed the Impala, a beautiful male Duiker came to water. The sun was getting low on the horizon and with about an hour of daylight left, I put the crosshairs on the shoulder and squeezed the trigger. Sadly, the Duiker ran off into the scrub with a front leg hinging back and forth. I realize that wounding animals happens, but I really wrestle with that aspect of hunting. I knew right away that the Duiker was never going to be found and I was right. David and Ellson were quickly on the track and found blood, but it quickly became clear that my shot was too far forward. We eventually ran out of daylight and had to call of the tracking. Losing that Duiker really bothered me that night. I still bothers me today. I know that he was likely eaten my a Leopard or a lion, but that is small consolation for my conscience.
Day Five
The morning found us in the back of the Rover, searching for Zebra. I really wanted a Zebra more than anything else, as for me, nothing symbolizes Africa more than a Zebra. After several miles, Herc stopped the truck telling David and I that he saw some Zebra to our left. Herc grabbed the sticks and we all fell in line. Making our way through the scrub, it became clear to me that the Zebra's habit of hanging out with a mess of other animals was going to make this hunt difficult. After stalking close to a half mile, we were able to close the gap with the Zebra to less than 100 yards. However, all we could see were striped legs under the scrub. While we tried to reposition ourselves to get a better shot, a group of Gemsbok blew the whistle on us and any chance of us getting a shot on these Zebras ran off ito the scrub with the rest of the animals.
Our stalk had taken us over three miles from the truck and the sun was starting to heat things up. When you are Bigfoot tall, duck-walking through the low scrub really takes a toll on you. With sweat dripping from my brow and down my back, I realized that taking a Zebra was not going to be a simple affair. I also had last night's Duiker hunt hanging on my shoulders.
We arrived back at the truck and took a quick water break to discuss what our next move was. We determined that it would be best to keep cruising the bush looking for Zebra and then possibly taking up a blind over a waterhole in the afternoon. With the sun rapidly climbing overhead, we took off into the brush to see if we could find another Zebra. Fortunately, it did not take long. In less than ten minutes, Herc stopped the truck, grabbed the sticks and told us to get out. David quickly took the wheel of the Rover and drove on down the road. Herc explained that there was a single Zebra to our left and that he liked to have David drive the Rover away to distract the Zebra. We quickly closed the gap to 150 yards and Herc threw up the sticks. I mounted the rifle, but thinking about last night's episode with the Duiker, I told Herc that there was too much brush for a clear shot. Herc move up another ten yards and shortened the sticks. I knelt down on one knee, put the crosshairs on the Zebra's shoulder and pulled the trigger. As I worked the bolt, I watched the Zebra spin and disappear into the brush.
I asked Herc what he thought of the shot and his response was that it was hard to tell. As we walked to where the Zebra was standing , I told Herc that I thought I saw a Zebra belly on the left. He put up his glasses and told me that it was likely a rock. We got a bit closer and he told me that I was right! The Zebra had spun and died less than 10 yards from where he had stood when I shot. He was a beautiful old stallion with worn out teeth. Herc speculated that he was a lone old bull that had been pushed out of the herd. He also suggested that he would likely not have made it through another winter. David arrived with the Rover and asked where we had shot the Zebra. He shook his head in disbelief when I took three steps to my left and said, "Right here". David simply cracked a big smile and said, "Very nice!".
We took some pics and loaded the old stallion into the Rover. We dropped him off at the skinning shed and went into the house for some lunch. The afternoon's agenda included sitting at a waterhole for Impala or Warthog.
I will try and post the pics of the Zebra later tonight.
I forgot to mention my episode with the Duiker. While sitting in the blind where I had killed the Impala, a beautiful male Duiker came to water. The sun was getting low on the horizon and with about an hour of daylight left, I put the crosshairs on the shoulder and squeezed the trigger. Sadly, the Duiker ran off into the scrub with a front leg hinging back and forth. I realize that wounding animals happens, but I really wrestle with that aspect of hunting. I knew right away that the Duiker was never going to be found and I was right. David and Ellson were quickly on the track and found blood, but it quickly became clear that my shot was too far forward. We eventually ran out of daylight and had to call of the tracking. Losing that Duiker really bothered me that night. I still bothers me today. I know that he was likely eaten my a Leopard or a lion, but that is small consolation for my conscience.
Day Five
The morning found us in the back of the Rover, searching for Zebra. I really wanted a Zebra more than anything else, as for me, nothing symbolizes Africa more than a Zebra. After several miles, Herc stopped the truck telling David and I that he saw some Zebra to our left. Herc grabbed the sticks and we all fell in line. Making our way through the scrub, it became clear to me that the Zebra's habit of hanging out with a mess of other animals was going to make this hunt difficult. After stalking close to a half mile, we were able to close the gap with the Zebra to less than 100 yards. However, all we could see were striped legs under the scrub. While we tried to reposition ourselves to get a better shot, a group of Gemsbok blew the whistle on us and any chance of us getting a shot on these Zebras ran off ito the scrub with the rest of the animals.
Our stalk had taken us over three miles from the truck and the sun was starting to heat things up. When you are Bigfoot tall, duck-walking through the low scrub really takes a toll on you. With sweat dripping from my brow and down my back, I realized that taking a Zebra was not going to be a simple affair. I also had last night's Duiker hunt hanging on my shoulders.
We arrived back at the truck and took a quick water break to discuss what our next move was. We determined that it would be best to keep cruising the bush looking for Zebra and then possibly taking up a blind over a waterhole in the afternoon. With the sun rapidly climbing overhead, we took off into the brush to see if we could find another Zebra. Fortunately, it did not take long. In less than ten minutes, Herc stopped the truck, grabbed the sticks and told us to get out. David quickly took the wheel of the Rover and drove on down the road. Herc explained that there was a single Zebra to our left and that he liked to have David drive the Rover away to distract the Zebra. We quickly closed the gap to 150 yards and Herc threw up the sticks. I mounted the rifle, but thinking about last night's episode with the Duiker, I told Herc that there was too much brush for a clear shot. Herc move up another ten yards and shortened the sticks. I knelt down on one knee, put the crosshairs on the Zebra's shoulder and pulled the trigger. As I worked the bolt, I watched the Zebra spin and disappear into the brush.
I asked Herc what he thought of the shot and his response was that it was hard to tell. As we walked to where the Zebra was standing , I told Herc that I thought I saw a Zebra belly on the left. He put up his glasses and told me that it was likely a rock. We got a bit closer and he told me that I was right! The Zebra had spun and died less than 10 yards from where he had stood when I shot. He was a beautiful old stallion with worn out teeth. Herc speculated that he was a lone old bull that had been pushed out of the herd. He also suggested that he would likely not have made it through another winter. David arrived with the Rover and asked where we had shot the Zebra. He shook his head in disbelief when I took three steps to my left and said, "Right here". David simply cracked a big smile and said, "Very nice!".
We took some pics and loaded the old stallion into the Rover. We dropped him off at the skinning shed and went into the house for some lunch. The afternoon's agenda included sitting at a waterhole for Impala or Warthog.
I will try and post the pics of the Zebra later tonight.