Day 4 - Good times and bad
Wake up is at 530 again, and I managed to sleep until the alarm sounded. Indeed, I recall I was dreaming about hunting a baboon, and the alarm cut rudely through the dream, pulling my into reality. I laid there with my eyes closed, hoping that sound wasn't real. Maybe if I stayed really still it'll just go away. No such luck. The second tone of my alarm went off, signalling the end of my rest. Finally I started moving, my eyes still dry and heavy. I realized I hadn't moved at all during the night, except to pull up the covers. It was a very good rest earned after a hard day of hunting. I got dressed, and checked my lucky shoes, but they were still wet from the washing last night. Looks like desert boots it is. Breakfast is bananas, mango juice, orange juice and another delicious warthog burger. So good!
We were back in the bakkie at seven. Today it's a small Suzuki. It didn't take a half an hour before I spotted an impala ewe through some trees. I called for the truck to stop and reverse. Now Patrick could see it, too. We ditched the truck and started to stalk up. Schalk took my digicam to get video of the hunt. He did this several times this morning. We hid behind a bush, and then started our approach. These impala have remarkably keen vision, and spotted us early. The herd took off in a rush toward the left. We only saw one ram in the whole bunch, but it was a young one. Back to the truck with us.
Further up the trail about a half mile, Schalk somehow saw a blue wildebeest through the VERY thick foliage. Cautiously and quietly we stepped out of the truck. Patrick tried falling out instead, but caught himself partway out, preventing an embarrassing meeting with the dirt. Following Erik's lead we made our approach. We sneak around to the left. Then to the right. The back to the left. The wind isn't playing very nice today. Patrick spotted a bull standing in the open. I'm behind a thick tree, but we set up the tripod. The bull is looking straight at me.
No sooner did I get my eye in the scope and lock on, someone let out a grunt on the left, and the herd ran away yet again. I turned and looked over my right shoulder as a large one went dashing past u s at the sixty yards range. Crap...foiled again. We followed some tracks for about twenty minutes, but no signs of moving animals could be found. We retreated to the bakkie once more, and continued the drive.
We spotted another bull standing off in the distance. The truck stopped again, and I glanced at my watch: 812. We're doing well this morning. Hiding behind a bush we sneak up. Someone got alerted, and what we thought was a lone bull, which I was told to shoot if I found a shot, turned out to be the herd we spooked earlier. They again run away to me left. I went ahead and shot anyway. I shot at several of them. I shot a video!! One more trip tho the bakkie.
A short distance later we spotted them again. 828. Erik got to work on following the herd, and we quickly found them. Schalk stayed with the truck. This time, it seems like they have forgotten all about us. Patrick sets up the tripod behind a branch. The sun is overhead behind us. I can see three blue gnu grazing in a clearing. Another one starts to walk from left to right. The walker is a nice bull. Tho two with their heads down, tails facing us are suspected bulls. Two of them disappeared behind some cover. The one male suspect remains, but his tail is still facing me. He's keeping his head down. 849. We've been watching this beast for seventeen minutes. Finally he raised his head, and turned slowly broadside. Patrick says, "Nice bull. Good spread." I ask, "Do you like it? Take the shot?" "Yes," he replies, giving me the go ahead to complete my Beest slam. This is about to make the third beest on the third day.
Safety off. I adjust the rifle to put a little more pressure against the sling behind my left elbow. My target is still in sight. No more wobble is seen in my scope, even at 10x magnification. Cross hairs are holding at the perfect position, a third of the way up the torso, directly above the front leg. One last breath, in and out. Squeeze slow and smooth. BANG! The 30-06 reports once more. I quickly reload, and put my eyes back on the bull. I saw him stumble, then get up and run to the right. The herd passed left and right a couple of times. Two stop in the clearing an look around. I can read their thoughts, "Where the hell did that come from? Where do I run?!" Finally, they settle on an exit, stage left.
It was almost four minutes before the herd departed the scene. Erik takes of in the direction of the spot where I shot my prize. Then it's Patrick, and me in the rear. My eyes hardly moving from the spot where it happened. My bull's ground zero. We got close to the area, and split up. Erik walked right, Patrick left. I went straight in, getting closer to the sport where he was shot. Scanning left and right I'm not finding any signs of blood in the grass. "Over here!" Patrick calls out. He found my bull lying twenty yards or less from where he was hit. It's another small bodied bull, but he has a wide spread and big bosses.
Erik went back to the lodge to get two helpers and the jeep, while Schalk, Patrick and i set up for pictures. At the skinning shed, I found out I hit its stomach and one lung. It's strange to find out that its stomach is large enough to take up the majority of its abdominal cavity. The time of the shot was 851. We were finished at the shed, and back at the camp by 1030. Erik said he was hungry, so he cleaned up the heart and went home to cook it. Patrick and I had eggs on toast with minced beef. Another great meal.
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We were back in the game by 1430, in the Jeep to search from more critters to hunt. Stephen is driving this time. We started by taking the trails around the perimeter, but he decided to drive straight through the middle of the jesse to get us closer to the impalas. Slippery little devils with their keen eyes, they spotted us each and every time we came anywhere close. Setting up a shot is nearly impossible, and always futile. Getting into the jesse is a great benefit though. I was able to get some nice pictures of kudu and blue wildebeest. They all seem fully unconcerned with our presence, and we were very close several times.
The impala ewe herd we kept finding with some regularity. At one point we could see two of them standing broadside, staring us down. One could never ask for a better shot.
too bad, they didn't have horns...After a few moments, the herd ran again, with one ram passing briefly. This was likely the ram I saw on my first morning here. We saw three warthogs running through the trees across the river bed. No possibility to get to these, or even ID them as male or female. As we continued I saw them once more, but still running. The search continued....
The first night I arrived there were some kudu feeding from the hay stands across the fiver bed from the lodge. They show up each night. That night, they were joined by a single waterbuck bull. I was told that there is a big bull on the farm that has been giving the other bulls trouble. They say this mean bull has been sought after for some time, but he always escapes. One hunter spent two weeks looking for him, and had zero luck.
While driving around seeking impala we saw this troublesome bull standing just off the trail. He didn't seem to care we were there, ans slowly moseyed into the foliage. Patrick told me this was the mean one. I turned around and said, "How about we trade what i have left for this one?" as we continued on the path. I could see the numbers being crunched behind his furrowed brow as he considered the idea. Stephen slowed down as Patrick replied, "Okay, sharp. Let'd do it."
Quickly, we slipped out of the bakkie and made a plan to stalk him. I could still see his silhouette behind a bush and some branches. Slow and steady we creep in closer. He's very tall. Between him and us are some waist-high patches of grass, and one dead bush. Patrick and i sneak up to the the bush. My thought is to leave him and high crawl around just a little more to open my shot some. As I wait for him to consider if we should more, I continue looking through my sights. And thin it happened....Murphy showed his ugly mug, and my bull bolted off to the left into the trees. Erik saw him come back to the right, so we tried to catch his tracks. That sneak bastard went down into the river bed, and up the other side. Another animal has evaded me. Our discussion afterward made me even more frustrated for several reasons: my heavy 180 grain bullet likely would have gone past the branches and made contact. I'm told the waterbuck isn't a very tough animal, and if shocked in the body in the right spot (the shoulder, which I could see very well) it likely would have fallen. Patrick says they don't run far when hit. Then the biggest frustrating detail of all. The land owner wants this mean bull to be eliminated, but in seven months no on has been able to get close to it.We did, and I didn't take the shot. Plus, we didn't try to chase him more than five minutes. I was bitter and angry for some time after. This truly is the one that got away, but we set a plan to try and catch it again tomorrow.
So the search continued. We drove around to a place where there are ruins built with only large stones, no mortar. This place is as large as the lodge area with all the small chalets. The history lesson revealed that the women of the Matabeles tribe carried the stones all the way to this site. The Matabeles tribe spanned a range of 400 miles, all the way up to Zimbabwe. Patrick is full of historical knowledge. Today, the ruins are NOT full of the warthogs that frequent the area.
Some time later, Stephen noticed some warthogs off to the right about 200m. Up went my scope as my butt hit the dirt beside the bakkie. Zooming in all the was to 10x, I could see three pigs. It's easy to see why some have posted on this site about being mistaken about the tusks, and shooting juveniles. The white hair on their cheeks looks like tusks in the glare of the sun. No shooters here, bu t I stowed my rifle, ans stalked closer to get some clearer pictures.
It turned out to be a group of five pigs. It's funny to watch them on their knees rooting for food. The sun is going down. Not much longer before we have to stop hunting.
Stephen spotted an impala ram on the left. Se stopped, and I placed my earplugs. For some reason, I went around the front of the jeep, left of the tripod. Crap, he saw me. Another escapee. A few minutes later another ram saw us and fled. We only saw him as he jumped over a shrub and into the thick stuff. A few more minutes, and maybe a half mile, and we saw the last herd of the day. This time, I went around the back of the truck
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. The bush was at such a height I had to take a knee to see the impala. I didn't wrap my sling behind my elbow this time."Do you see them?" Patrick asks. "Ewe. Ewe. Ram!" I answer back. "If you have a shot, take the shot," he says with authority.
Click, click. My safety goes off. I can see the wobble in my scope. "Why didn't I wrap the sling?" I ask myself. I see an ewe beside my ram. She speeds up, and goes to the right. She's behind the foliage. My ram is just about out of sight. I don't want to go back with empty hands, so I squeeze the trigger faster than i should have. BANG! goes the rifle for the second time today. My first thought was not one of confidence, but disappointment.
![Coffee :coffee: :coffee:](https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/gh/twitter/twemoji@14.0.2/assets/72x72/2615.png)
We rushed over to where the ram was standing. Searching to and fro, and through the high grass we found no trace of blood. My disappointment was confimred. I missed the shot altogether.
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We loaded up on the bakkie, and head toward the lodge. We had to pass by the skinning shed. Waiting for our arrival to see my latest kill is Schalk, Christian, and Leon. When I saw they were looking my way, I hung my head.
![Not Worthy :notworthy: :notworthy:](https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/gh/twitter/twemoji@14.0.2/assets/72x72/1f647.png)
My face was covered, and I said, "Don't look at me. I missed it." Of course, they laughed at me, but who wouldn't? We gave them the short story of the waterbuck, and Schalk said they saw that bull not 45 minutes prior at the waterhole by the skinning shed.
Dinner was a minced blue wildebeest dish with onions called "boboti,"rice and bread made with corn in the dough. All in all, very tasty. I don't care for corn, but the bread wasn't bad either.
After dinner, we set out in Patrick's truck with the .22 rifles looking for a jackal and rabbits. Apparently, they don't eat rabbits around here, so I'm going to make hare brai (bbq rabbit)
![Big Grin :D :D](https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/gh/twitter/twemoji@14.0.2/assets/72x72/1f600.png)
. We never saw any jackals, but did bag one rabbit. Christian was interested in learning how to clean it, so I gave a lesson. At the same time, I learned how to remove the skin, if you want to keep it. I typically just toss the fur and head, and keep the meat.
Shower at midnight, wake up at 530. We're planning an early attempt to find that pesky waterbuck bull. I hope it plays out well. I'll be wearing my "lucky shoes."
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