June 2. Off for Kudu. After coffee and a light breakfast we head out. We grab the two Jack Russell terriers, Flex and Rigby. Those of you who know Marius and Kim, know these two dogs are their children. They are great dogs. Flex is the older more experienced one while Rigby is the puppy who has a very bad case of gas, everyday. Really. He gives the best of them a run for the money. Every one is silent and deadly and always in the bakkie.
The hunting area around the lodge is expansive, green, hilly or mountainous depending on what you are used to, rocky and at times slippery. That morning we saw ostrich, which I have come to hate passionately, wart hogs, eland, zebra, kudu, jackal, impala, blue and black wildebeest and baboons. My eyes are not accustomed to spotting these animals very well at all. Marius doesn't really need binos. He has eyes like an eagle. Just for shit and grins I would throw up the binos and say, "There's a Kudu" and Marius would put up his binos in the same direction and say, "Yep, got 'em. Immature bull." I was joking, he wasn't.
We put a couple of stalks on some Kudu that just didn't pan out. We walked a lot, I mean a lot. Hell, it was day one and we put the miles in. Ate a late lunch at the lodge, warthog and blesbok patty sausage. Soon after, we spotted a mature Kudu and decided to put on a stalk. After an uphill, downhill, uphill, downhill through the bushes, we see the bull. He decides to lay down under a tree after chasing some cows. We set up on the opposite ridge with a slight cross wind in our favor. Marius puts me on the short sticks and I wait for him to stand up. I wait and wait. I have never shot anything laying down before. I wait and wait some more. I can't take it anymore. Trying to control my breathing and heart rate is failing at this point. He rest of the hunt is based upon the first shot, for me at least.
Marius is different from the other PH/guides in the US. Most of the hunts we have been on in the US, we have been told when you CAN shoot. In South Africa, we were basically told, if you are steady and comfortable, make sure you have a clear shot, and let your PH know when you are about to pull the trigger so he can follow you bullet/impact/miss/whatever. So completely different and laid back. Nothing like being told to "Shoot NOW!"
Well, the Kudu never stood up, ever again that is. BOOM!, roared the .338 Win Mag. Crack! Smack! Thud! Dad immediately says "Good shot son." Loew the other PH, says it was a "cock shot". I'm thinking, oh no, what did I do wrong. Come to find out that it means a good shot. Different country, different slang. The Kudu was hit solidly and just rolls over, dead. 240 yards. The Barnes 225 gr. TTSX is awesome, brutal. Our hand-loads. Gratifying. The bullet is sitting in the opposite shoulder, just under the skin. Perfect. One shot. No where to go but down from here. I hope it all goes this smooth for the rest of the trip.
Uneventful night. Dinner was Wildbeest shepards pie. Pretty damn good. Time for shower and bed, big day tomorrow. We have finally drawn blood.
