Crozierk
New member
Hello All. Those of you who click on my profile and view my posts will see my activity here has been limited to essentially one post in March of 2018. In this post I put a few pictures of various plains game I took while on safari in the Kalahari. The folks who replied all insisted I share my hunting report as soon as I was able, and I failed to do so. I can blame life, but Lord knows I have had ample time to post this report and have instead chosen other things to prioritize. As I begin planning my next hunt in Africa, it feels only fitting that I right the wrong I have done the Africa Hunting community and at long last provide the stories of my first hunting experience in South Africa. As I am sure many of you know, time both sharpens and dulls memories. Some of these animals and experiences are etched in to my mind as if they just happened, others have faded in to the background and only murky details and assumptions can be recalled. I will do my best! I know many of you have waited with baited breath for my return, and here I am 
. I will also include some of my post hunt observations, as I have had ample time to dwell on them. Please bear in mind that this as accurate a retelling as I can muster. This hunt was many good things and a few bad, and left me with many fond memories as well as few items I will be doing differently on my next hunt in South Africa. I was in my early to mid 20's at the time, an inexperienced hunter, and not as firmly footed in the world as I am today. Most of the shortcomings of this trip were entirely my fault, and I will touch on them at the end. I hope you enjoy the read, and look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.
As I edit I realize I went on at some length regarding my winning of the hunt. I will leave it in, but feel free to scroll down to the hunt report. I promise my feelings won't be that hurt.
Outfitter: Ka Maoto Safaris
Region: Kalahari
Owner/Operator: Louis Loots
PH: Dawid Loots
Firearm: Suppressed 7mm Rem Mag, Nikon Scope
Target Game: Blue Wildebeest, Blesbuck, Springbok, Duiker, Impala, Warthog
The Beginning
My African hunting experience began on Facebook. A now banned group by the name of "Texas Exotic Hunting Reloaded" was in its prime. The main draw of this page was that outfitters would post giveaway hunts, free drawings to one or two lucky winners. The one requirement for entry was typically a "like and a share" of the outfitters main page. By and large these hunts were fairly "common" experiences, albeit out of reach for a young, newly married car salesman. A whitetail buck and doe combo, a duck hunt, a dove hunt, an axis hunt, etc. Then one day, an announcement. A big surprise coming! We all checked the page religiously, waiting to see the next post. All of a sudden, there it was. An African Plains Game hunt. A generous 5 animal package! Blue Wildebeest, Impala, Blesbok, Springbok, and Duiker plus a guest, daily rate included! Wow, I thought. What a once in a lifetime trip this would be! I dutifully liked and shared and entered in. I just knew I would win this drawing! The day of the drawing came, and I bitterly set my phone down as someone else's name was called. Oh well, I said, such is life. I moved on, the dreams of Africa still tumbling through my mind. Sometime later, maybe months, maybe weeks, I was scrolling through my feed, bored but unable to set it down. Then it happened. Another African Hunt Giveaway, this time from the outfitters page. They said they'd enjoyed the first give away so much, they were doing another. I quickly entered and held my breath for another week. The night before the drawing I confidently turned to my bother in law, best friend and hunting partner and told him "We are definitely going to Africa this time." I fell asleep before the drawing certain that I would be waking up to see my name plastered across the screen as the winner.
I awoke to my phone ringing about 6 am from an Oklahoma number I didn't know. Not unusual. As a car salesman and resident of DFW, I often had people with Oklahoma numbers calling or texting me reaching out to purchase a vehicle. I groggily answered the phone and heard the next best thing to "you won."
"Hey," the guy on the other end exclaimed, "you were our second drawing. The first guy couldn't go, so you're up!"
"Africa?" I replied.
"Yes!" Came the response.
"Let me call you back."
My wife, also awoken by the phone call, looked at me and said "Really? You won?" I nodded like a lunatic. "Have fun" she said as she rolled back over. I called the number back and assured him I would book my flight that day. The rest of the day was a fever dream. I remember walking in to my boss, telling him I would need a week off (a rare occurrence in my line of work) and that I hoped I would have a job when I returned. I called by brother in law and told him I won. He excitedly agreed to accompany me, and I began looking for flights. If you'll remember the newly married car salesman part of my story, money was a little tight. I made the decision to fly Emirates from DFW to Dubai, then Dubai to Johannesburg. It was a little longer flight, but several hundred dollars cheaper. Mind you I won this hunt sometime in late January or February, and the required hunt date was the end of March. No year or two waiting for me, I was going now! Or so it felt, anyways. I went back and forth with the stateside rep (whose name escapes me) and made a packing list, inquired about gun rentals, and other similar conversations that occur before a trip like this. Not long after the planning had begun, my brother in law dolefully informed me he would not be able to come with me. Money, timing, new baby, all the good reasons that sound like terrible ones when you are forced to cancel a trip like this. I was determined to go, even if it meant going alone. I let some other people know I had a spot available and what day they needed to be in Africa, and to meet me there if they were interested. In the 11th hour, another brother in law booked a flight and assured me he would see me there.
The Trip Over
Unfortunately, I don't remember much about the flight. I took lots of pictures and even started a digital diary, to take everything in and to remember forever. I took pictures of the airplane food, logged the daily highs and lows, everything I could think of. Unfortunately, that phone went the way all phones do. I lost my honeymoon pictures, my safari photos, my hunting diary, the works. For my rapt readers, this means you'll have to settle for what I can remember.
As a young American landing in Dubai, I can remember being vaguely nervous about my landing there. Not scared, but keenly aware of the differences between myself and the citizens there. The two American men in front of me loudly complaining about everything from the weather to the language didn't ease my concern any. We waited in line to board a small shuttle pulling a luggage trailer to the main terminal. When I arrived at the front of the line, I handed the driver my bag which he unceremoniously tossed over the rail in to the luggage trailer. He then reached for my backpack to do the same. I held it firm and shook my head. It has my passport, cash, phone charger, all the things I couldn't afford to lose! After a short stare down he nodded to the door and I boarded the bus, backpack in hand. My time in the Dubai Airport is a blur. The one thing I remember is that the only food I found was a McDonalds. They were advertising a new "veal" bacon, and it wasn't until after the trip I realized why the bacon was veal, and why that must have been a big deal to the population there.
I landed in Johannesburg late, trying to coordinate with Louis Loots (the owner of Ka Maoto Safaris) and my brother in law. I made it through customs and the gate and found them already together waiting for me. After smiles and hand shakes we went to the truck and away we went. Landing as late as we had, we were headed for the Loots home in Potchefstroom. From there we would head to the Kalahari and begin our hunt. We arrived tired and were shown our rooms, where we caught a few hours sleep. The next morning we woke early and headed out. Louis's son, Dawid, owned a cattle ranch nearby and we were to pick him up on the way. Similarly, there was a cook who was returning to camp we would be collecting as well. Once we had them both we were on our way for real. Watching the sun come up was amazing. I'll never forget seeing Africa for the first time. It felt different, smelled different. It was Africa! I'm sure I beamed like an idiot the whole drive. We stopped somewhere for breakfast and ate and discussed the upcoming hunt.
Bellies full, we hit the road again. The rest of the trip passed with the typical chit chat, dozing and window staring. We eventually came to a large gate, and I was informed we needed to pass through this concession to reach ours. Louis told me that both Elephants and Lions lived free on this concession, owned by a Russian, and that it would take us an hour or so to drive through it. I didn't see any elephants or lions, but the promise of them was enough. My blood was on fire. This was AFRICA. The plains game we spotted as we drove only fueled the feeling. By the time we reached our property, I was ready to go. I hurriedly unloaded my bag, dropped it in my room and changed in to suitable attire. I burst back in to the main room of the lodge, and had a moment of confusion. Everyone was sitting down. Didn't they know that there was hunting to be done! Just on the other side of that door was a whole world that I couldn't wait to get in to. Dawid looked up and grinned ,seeming to read my thoughts. "Middle of the day, too hot. We will go later, when it starts to cool down." I recognized the validity, but couldn't help looking through windows, watching the cameras positioned on the waterholes, and generally flitting around the room like a giant albino hummingbird. It didn't feel that my Safari would ever begin until Dawid casually said, "Warthogs at the waterhole. Want to go take a look?"
Warthog at the Waterhole
Before he was done talking, I was headed for the truck. Hunter (my brother in law), Dawid and Louis trooped out behind me. Louis hopped in the drivers seat, Hunter in the passenger seat and Dawid and I in the rack. We went rolling down the road at a pace I was certain would see us to the waterhole long after every warthog in the Kalahari had drunk its fill and moved off in to the brush. We eventually came to a stop at the bottom of a hill. Dawid explained to me that we would be dismounting and walking up the hill. Once we reached the top we would take a look at where the animals were and set up from there. We walked up the hill, in line with a massive tree, and peeked through the branches. There below us at the waterhole was a handful of warthogs. Dawid glassed them and pointed to one in the back. He mentioned she had a broken tusk on one side, but she would be the one to take in this group. I nodded, not minding a broken tusk. I wanted my animals to have grit, a story. I laid the 7mm across a limb, looked down the scope and found her. The safety clicked off and a round was chambered, and I fell in to a long slow exhale.
This seems as good a place to mention as any, that up until this point in my life I had never shot anything bigger than a squirrel. Sure, I had hunted, it was the shooting bit that had escaped me until now. I had done all matter of target shooting with all types of guns, and had shot in a deer stand waiting for something to come along. But to be looking down a rifle at a REAL LIFE warthog in honest to goodness Africa was something different than I'd ever experienced. Call it nerves, excitement, adrenaline, or whatever you like, but I pulled that first shot. I hit her and she took off squealing in to the brush. I looked at Dawid and he confirmed I had hit her, but hadn't been able to tell how good a hit it was. He radioed Louis and the truck came up the hill and picked us up. We circled around to where she had been and got out again, looking for signs of a hit. I heard "Blood" as Dawid or Louis picked up the track, and the four of us set off. Walking at full stride, pointing and calling out the blood trail, we followed the wounded warthog. She was moving quickly, then slowing, then speeding up again as we gained on her. At one point Dawid pointed and told me to shoot, but by the time I had the rifle up she was gone. I told Dawid that if he saw her again to feel free to shoot her, as I didn't want a wounded animal running around suffering from my poor shooting. He nodded and not much later he pointed again. For the life of me I couldn't find her in the scope and asked Dawid to take the shot. He took the rifle and and pulled the trigger, dropping the warthog under the pile of brush she had been resting under. It was a hollow victory. I was excited and happy to see her down, but also more than a bit disappointed with my performance. Nobody there made me feel lesser though. We went and collected her, moving her to a clear spot for the photos. Dawid and Louis assured me that everyone makes a poor shot here and there, and that we would soldier on and shoot better the next time. Outwardly I nodded and agreed, but inwardly the worry and doubt was already gnawing. What if I couldn't shoot any better? What if this was a Safari full of bad shots and animals finished off by the PH? Hardly the story I wanted to tell back home. I resolved to take my time and make shots I was comfortable with. Yes, this is Africa and yes, it is exciting. That didn't mean fundamental firearms skills drilled into me for over a decade needed to go out the window. Never the less, my first animal was in the salt and I was overall in high spirits. We loaded back up in to the bakkie and started driving, keeping an eye out for one of the various animals on the list.
Wildebeest Down
Warthog in the salt, we trundled down the road. We discussed the animals to come, points of aim, and general small talk universally known to hunters who have spent time getting to know a guide or PH. As we drove, I admit I slipped into tourist mode. I couldn't stop gawking at the masses of plains game. Eland, Impala, Blesbok, and the list goes on. Herds watching us from a distance, ears pricked and turning in flight as we passed. Dawid glassed and looked as we chatted, not seeing anything that interested him enough to stop. I'll admit, I was less than helpful. Everything was a wonder. A sudden slap on the roof of the truck snapped me out of my own head. All of a sudden Dawid was leaned over the side of the truck pointing and Louis was turning the truck. Ahead of us, grabbing bits of grass between quick looks our direction, were two or three wildebeests. One in particular had caught Dawid's eye and he pointed him out to me. Dawid assured me he was a good bull and with no frame of reference, I agreed. He looked spectacular. Bigger than I imagined, I agreed I would like to take him. He coached me again on shot placement, telling me to put it just behind his shoulder. I had looked at countless vital pictures of these animals and understood where he wanted me to be. As I steadied the rifle across the shooting rail, I pushed the doubt away as best I could and chambered a round. I heard my dad's voice in my head say "It should almost be a surprise" and then the 7mm spat. It had almost been a surprise, but I knew it was a good shot. I heard a whoop from Dawid as he vaulted out of the bakkie and began running, shouting for me to follow. I came pelting after him and then heard the bellowing and thrashing. As Dawid slowed and I caught up, we came upon the wildebeest. He was absolutely anchored, dead but without the knowledge. My bullet had gone through the vitals and appeared to have caught a piece of the shoulder, as he could hardly raise his head, much less a leg. Dawid unholstered his pistol and handed it to me, instructing me to shoot him in the vitals again. "If he gets up, it could be bad." I hadn't recalled reading many stories about the dreaded blue wildebeest charge, but understood that dispatching him quickly would be a good thing for a variety of reasons. I took the pistol and did as instructed, and a memory from the morning drive came back to me. Dawid had said, "just hope your first isn't a wildebeest." Louis and Hunter brought the truck up and we prepared the bull for a picture. Dawid dipped his hand in the blood leaking from the bull and swiped it across my forehead. I grinned, happy to have been initiated. We took the photo and then Dawid rummaged in his bag, coming back out with a length of paracord. I hardly had time to ask what he was doing as he cleanly castrated the bull, threaded the paracord through it and knotted it around my neck. "Beautiful Jewelry, but don't take it home to the wife!" He laughed. I laughed and we waited for another truck to come with the skinner and tracker. We loaded the wildebeest and Dawid looked at the sky and conferred with Louis. They agreed we would drive around a little longer and see if we could find anything else before we went back for the evening.
Blesbok Before Bed
As we went back towards the lodge, we continue to scan for animals. I was satisfied. My first full day in Africa had resulted in a warthog and wildebeest down, and that seemed like plenty. I was along for the ride, reveling in my experience. Duiker darted in and out of the road, impala bounding away as we leisurely crawled down the dirt road. All of a sudden a group of bleskbok went careening away from us, through a stand of trees and scrub brush. Dawid slapped the top of the cab and we sped off, coming around a corner out the other side of the trees to see the herd pulled up, looking to see if we were following. Dawid quickly pointed out one, I readied the rifle and fired as the herd began to collectively move. I hit him solidly but he stayed on his feet, slipping through the trees with the rest of the herd. We fired up the truck and got back on the dirt road, generally following the course of the herd. As they came in to view again, we looked for one that was lagging or limping. With darkness coming we wanted to be quick about it. We got down and began casting around, looking for blood, working backwards away from the herd. After a few minutes I heard the call of "blood" and we began to follow. After a few more minutes we looked up to see the Blesbok, slowly making his way away from us. He was unaware of our presence, ambling slowly, clearly wounded. We cut around for a better angle, the 7mm spat again and the Blesbok laid down. My first shot had been back, potentially fatal but not quickly. The second shot was in the boiler room, and I was thankful I had managed to at least rectify my missed shot on this animal. We quickly took a photo and loaded him up and trundled back to camp.
Springbok before Breakfast
The next morning, Dawid and I awoke early as agreed to go for a walk, thinking to check a waterhole or two for tracks or animals in the cool of the morning. As we walked we talked, looked and listened. At this point, Africa was fully in my bones. He pointed out animals to me as we passed and the appreciation I had built yesterday for his skill grew as we walked. A herd of impala came across the road and he pointed out a ram with a worn down side, just the sort of animal I was interested in. I readied for a shot but they moved quickly away and I lowered the rifle, content to have had an opportunity. Dawid said we should continue on and that trying to track those impala at the moment would make for a long morning, so I followed onward. As we came over a hill Dawid motioned for me to get low. I did as he asked and we began to scan for game. There in front of us, maybe three hundred yards, was a lone springbok ram. Dawid looked through the glasses and handed them to me. "Pretty good one" he said. I looked over the ram and agreed, he did seem like a nice springbok. "We won't be able to get much closer, not enough cover" Dawid said. He motioned me to follow behind him and I fell in. We closed the distance as we could, using the grass and brush as best we could. We pulled up and Dawid whispered "This is it, are you ready?" I nodded as Dawid told me to rest the rifle on his shoulder and covered his left ear. I found the ram in the scope, breathed in and then out. The weak morning sun filtered through, a promise of a warm day but still a little cool. The ram seemed to glow, almost golden in the sun. The 7mm jumped again and the springbok was taken off his feet. Dawid shook my hand and congratulated me and began striding towards where the ram had been standing. "We have to hurry" he said as I hurried to catch up. I asked why and he said "you'll see" as he walked. When we got to the springbok, I was once again struck by his beauty. Dawid propped him up and pointed at his back. "What is that?" I asked. "Smell him" he said. I looked curiously at him. "I'm serious!" Dawid laughed. I obliged and smelled. It was sweet, almost like a honeysuckle. He radioed for a truck and I sat there, watching the Kalahari wake up.
It's Africa
We were collected by Louis and we rode around, looking at the game and enjoying the day. We drove through a gate and passed a herd of Rhino, Dawid telling me about their plans to begin offering dart hunts. We saw some cape buffalo from a distance, and stopped to watch a huge eland walk across the road. We only had a few animals left, and so far nothing on the list had popped up. I was content to ride around and take in the sights. All of a sudden, Dawid shouted "Zebra" and the familiar slap on the hood has us shifting gears and running down a dirt road, vaguely keeping up with a drifting cloud of dust. I had indeed seen the zebra, and I had mentioned that given the money I would love to hunt one on this trip, but that it likely wasn't a reality for me. I fully understood that buy giving away a package, the hope was that additional animals would be purchased. I had enough to buy a ticket and tip all the staff well enough, but a zebra was something that at the time was out of reach for me. I was happy to go get a closer look but I looked at Dawid and reminded him I wasn't planning on shooting one. He said he understood and we drove, thorns whipping across our face and arms as we forgot to duck, straining to catch a look at the zebra herd. Eventually we worked all the way around them, and then lost them completely. We slowly drove, looking for sign or the herd itself. As we crept around a bend in the road through the trees, we found them. Four or five, spread out and grazing. They were definitely nervous, but settling down. Dawid handed me the rifle and I shook my head. "Just look," he said, so I did. I knew I was breaking a gun safety rule older than all of them. Thou shalt not point the gun at something you don't intend to kill. But here I was, finger carefully out of the trigger guard, looking at a beautiful mare. Dawid urged me to shoot. I again told him I just didn't have the money. "This is Africa, we can make a plan." This sounded like a great compromise to me, so I flicked the safety off and sent yet another round through that 7mm rem mag. I heard the slap as she was hit, and then counted to see one less zebra running off. Dawid congratulated me on the shot and the feeling of dread about telling my wife was soon overtaken by the joy of finding my zebra, a few steps from where she had been hit.
The Downhill Slide
For me, at least, this was a turning point in the trip. I will attempt to write well and fairly, but from here on out for one reason or another in retrospect the trip was a little spoiled for me. As we continued to drive around, another impala herd crossed our path. It was the same herd from earlier, with the worn down ram! Dawid pointed him out and up the rifle came. When the dust had cleared, Dawid explained that I had hit the animal, but not badly and that we would just continue on as he would recover quickly from the superficial wound. I was also informed that because I had hit the animal, it would count as the impala included in my package. While I understood that piece of it. I was more than a little disappointed that we made no effort to track the ram, or even follow the herd to get another shot. After all, if I had hit the animal and was paying for him either way, shouldn't we make an attempt to recover him? I was informed that it would be a fruitless venture, and that we should continue on. I tried to brush off the incident, but it weighed on me. I was too out of my element to advocate for myself, perhaps I should have. Perhaps Dawid and Louis were right, and recovery or sighting them again would have been impossible. Either way, the last animal we were in search of was a Duiker. We had seen them throughout the trip, always flitting out of view before I could get a shot off. As it happened, my opportunity came on the way back to camp. We were driving a perimeter fence line when a crash sounded behind us. A Duiker had run full tilt in to the fence and then sped past the bakkie, running directly away from us. I hurriedly raised the rifle and took a shot I should never have attempted at that point my career. The Texas Heart Shot. My bullet exited out of the Duiker's rear right leg, mostly amputating it. We quickly caught up and followed up, but again I had made a bad shot. We took some photos and I realized this was my last African animal. I wondered idly what we would do the rest of the trip. After all, we had landed two nights ago, and hunted essentially a day and a half. We had another two and a half days on the trip. We loaded the duiker and headed back to camp, where I learned what the rest of our trip would contain. The plan was to leave and head back that evening. We would stay at Louis's house in Potch for the remainder of our trip. Louis said we could go to a big cat sanctuary and do some other sight seeing, which seemed fine to us, as bad as we wanted to stay in the Kalahari.
Hindsight's 20/20
If you have read this far, I appreciate you. I hope you enjoyed my report, or at least found some amusement in it. I now feel that I have fulfilled my obligation and can continue to plan my next Safari and participate here on Africa Hunting. I would like to share a couple things I was disappointed in, or will do differently next time.
I would like to highlight here that Louis, Dawid, and the staff I interacted with were professional, polite and friendly. Other than a heated conversation between Louis and his stateside rep discussing the lack of profitability in the free hunt giveaways, everything was a wonderful experience. To Louis's credit, he had that conversation behind a closed door, he was just shouting loudly enough to be heard in the main lodge. I'll admit that made me a little upset, as Louis was telling his rep that their was no profit to share because we weren't adding extra animals.
I also failed to get any of my trophies back from Africa. The taxidermist was difficult to communicate with, after a year and a half he sent me pictures of the euros he was doing for me. At that point he had sent the hides off for tanning and he would reach out to me when they were completed. That was several years ago now. I let the taxidermist have my 50% deposit and moved on. I should have been more diligent and pushy here, but again the lack of money I had at the time, coupled with lack of communication made me feel that it was a lost cause.
You'll notice in my report that most of these animals were either shot from the bakkie or close to it. As a new hunter, I believed I was hunting "Safari Style." That's what it is called in Texas, and is really common here. I was also out of shape and didn't have long to prepare, so who knows if I really would have been able to spot and stalk effectively. That being said, I will do more walking next time in Africa. I have no desire to ride around the whole time, I would like to go and fail and triumph on my own two feet. This felt like a shoot by and large, at least after the fact. At the time I'll admit I had no reservations about it. I have shot does from a truck since then, and will undoubtedly take animals from a vehicle again. I do not, however, want my next Safari to be a drive by. The animal that really stole the show for me was my Springbok, and I largely attribute that to the fact that we walked, spotted it and put a short stalk on it.
I was also disappointed in my self with my shooting. The zebra, springbok, and blue wildebeest were all clean hits that either killed the animal immediately or would have killed them relatively quickly if we had not come up. The warthog, duiker, impala and blesbok all required two shots. I spent a lot of time on the bench after that trip, and have not failed to dispatch an animal with one shot since. I will bring my 30-06 next time, as I am comfortable with it and would like to shoot my own rifle on my next trip.
My last and final disappointment was the amount of game meat we ate while in Africa. We ate Kudu burgers one night, that was it. I would like to have more of that on my next trip. We can't bring it back, but I sure would like to enjoy it while there. We got the impression that the biltong might be offsetting the "free" aspect of the hunt, and so didn't complain.
All in all, I loved Africa. It was a wonderful trip, and I look forward to going again, bringing back stories I will share with you much more expediently. Even with the time that has passed, most of that trip came flooding back to me in a wave. I loved it all, and only experience and maturity has informed that while I enjoyed my first African Safari, I want my next one to be something a little different.
. I will also include some of my post hunt observations, as I have had ample time to dwell on them. Please bear in mind that this as accurate a retelling as I can muster. This hunt was many good things and a few bad, and left me with many fond memories as well as few items I will be doing differently on my next hunt in South Africa. I was in my early to mid 20's at the time, an inexperienced hunter, and not as firmly footed in the world as I am today. Most of the shortcomings of this trip were entirely my fault, and I will touch on them at the end. I hope you enjoy the read, and look forward to hearing your thoughts and opinions.As I edit I realize I went on at some length regarding my winning of the hunt. I will leave it in, but feel free to scroll down to the hunt report. I promise my feelings won't be that hurt.
Outfitter: Ka Maoto Safaris
Region: Kalahari
Owner/Operator: Louis Loots
PH: Dawid Loots
Firearm: Suppressed 7mm Rem Mag, Nikon Scope
Target Game: Blue Wildebeest, Blesbuck, Springbok, Duiker, Impala, Warthog
The Beginning
My African hunting experience began on Facebook. A now banned group by the name of "Texas Exotic Hunting Reloaded" was in its prime. The main draw of this page was that outfitters would post giveaway hunts, free drawings to one or two lucky winners. The one requirement for entry was typically a "like and a share" of the outfitters main page. By and large these hunts were fairly "common" experiences, albeit out of reach for a young, newly married car salesman. A whitetail buck and doe combo, a duck hunt, a dove hunt, an axis hunt, etc. Then one day, an announcement. A big surprise coming! We all checked the page religiously, waiting to see the next post. All of a sudden, there it was. An African Plains Game hunt. A generous 5 animal package! Blue Wildebeest, Impala, Blesbok, Springbok, and Duiker plus a guest, daily rate included! Wow, I thought. What a once in a lifetime trip this would be! I dutifully liked and shared and entered in. I just knew I would win this drawing! The day of the drawing came, and I bitterly set my phone down as someone else's name was called. Oh well, I said, such is life. I moved on, the dreams of Africa still tumbling through my mind. Sometime later, maybe months, maybe weeks, I was scrolling through my feed, bored but unable to set it down. Then it happened. Another African Hunt Giveaway, this time from the outfitters page. They said they'd enjoyed the first give away so much, they were doing another. I quickly entered and held my breath for another week. The night before the drawing I confidently turned to my bother in law, best friend and hunting partner and told him "We are definitely going to Africa this time." I fell asleep before the drawing certain that I would be waking up to see my name plastered across the screen as the winner.
I awoke to my phone ringing about 6 am from an Oklahoma number I didn't know. Not unusual. As a car salesman and resident of DFW, I often had people with Oklahoma numbers calling or texting me reaching out to purchase a vehicle. I groggily answered the phone and heard the next best thing to "you won."
"Hey," the guy on the other end exclaimed, "you were our second drawing. The first guy couldn't go, so you're up!"
"Africa?" I replied.
"Yes!" Came the response.
"Let me call you back."
My wife, also awoken by the phone call, looked at me and said "Really? You won?" I nodded like a lunatic. "Have fun" she said as she rolled back over. I called the number back and assured him I would book my flight that day. The rest of the day was a fever dream. I remember walking in to my boss, telling him I would need a week off (a rare occurrence in my line of work) and that I hoped I would have a job when I returned. I called by brother in law and told him I won. He excitedly agreed to accompany me, and I began looking for flights. If you'll remember the newly married car salesman part of my story, money was a little tight. I made the decision to fly Emirates from DFW to Dubai, then Dubai to Johannesburg. It was a little longer flight, but several hundred dollars cheaper. Mind you I won this hunt sometime in late January or February, and the required hunt date was the end of March. No year or two waiting for me, I was going now! Or so it felt, anyways. I went back and forth with the stateside rep (whose name escapes me) and made a packing list, inquired about gun rentals, and other similar conversations that occur before a trip like this. Not long after the planning had begun, my brother in law dolefully informed me he would not be able to come with me. Money, timing, new baby, all the good reasons that sound like terrible ones when you are forced to cancel a trip like this. I was determined to go, even if it meant going alone. I let some other people know I had a spot available and what day they needed to be in Africa, and to meet me there if they were interested. In the 11th hour, another brother in law booked a flight and assured me he would see me there.
The Trip Over
Unfortunately, I don't remember much about the flight. I took lots of pictures and even started a digital diary, to take everything in and to remember forever. I took pictures of the airplane food, logged the daily highs and lows, everything I could think of. Unfortunately, that phone went the way all phones do. I lost my honeymoon pictures, my safari photos, my hunting diary, the works. For my rapt readers, this means you'll have to settle for what I can remember.
As a young American landing in Dubai, I can remember being vaguely nervous about my landing there. Not scared, but keenly aware of the differences between myself and the citizens there. The two American men in front of me loudly complaining about everything from the weather to the language didn't ease my concern any. We waited in line to board a small shuttle pulling a luggage trailer to the main terminal. When I arrived at the front of the line, I handed the driver my bag which he unceremoniously tossed over the rail in to the luggage trailer. He then reached for my backpack to do the same. I held it firm and shook my head. It has my passport, cash, phone charger, all the things I couldn't afford to lose! After a short stare down he nodded to the door and I boarded the bus, backpack in hand. My time in the Dubai Airport is a blur. The one thing I remember is that the only food I found was a McDonalds. They were advertising a new "veal" bacon, and it wasn't until after the trip I realized why the bacon was veal, and why that must have been a big deal to the population there.
I landed in Johannesburg late, trying to coordinate with Louis Loots (the owner of Ka Maoto Safaris) and my brother in law. I made it through customs and the gate and found them already together waiting for me. After smiles and hand shakes we went to the truck and away we went. Landing as late as we had, we were headed for the Loots home in Potchefstroom. From there we would head to the Kalahari and begin our hunt. We arrived tired and were shown our rooms, where we caught a few hours sleep. The next morning we woke early and headed out. Louis's son, Dawid, owned a cattle ranch nearby and we were to pick him up on the way. Similarly, there was a cook who was returning to camp we would be collecting as well. Once we had them both we were on our way for real. Watching the sun come up was amazing. I'll never forget seeing Africa for the first time. It felt different, smelled different. It was Africa! I'm sure I beamed like an idiot the whole drive. We stopped somewhere for breakfast and ate and discussed the upcoming hunt.
Bellies full, we hit the road again. The rest of the trip passed with the typical chit chat, dozing and window staring. We eventually came to a large gate, and I was informed we needed to pass through this concession to reach ours. Louis told me that both Elephants and Lions lived free on this concession, owned by a Russian, and that it would take us an hour or so to drive through it. I didn't see any elephants or lions, but the promise of them was enough. My blood was on fire. This was AFRICA. The plains game we spotted as we drove only fueled the feeling. By the time we reached our property, I was ready to go. I hurriedly unloaded my bag, dropped it in my room and changed in to suitable attire. I burst back in to the main room of the lodge, and had a moment of confusion. Everyone was sitting down. Didn't they know that there was hunting to be done! Just on the other side of that door was a whole world that I couldn't wait to get in to. Dawid looked up and grinned ,seeming to read my thoughts. "Middle of the day, too hot. We will go later, when it starts to cool down." I recognized the validity, but couldn't help looking through windows, watching the cameras positioned on the waterholes, and generally flitting around the room like a giant albino hummingbird. It didn't feel that my Safari would ever begin until Dawid casually said, "Warthogs at the waterhole. Want to go take a look?"
Warthog at the Waterhole
Before he was done talking, I was headed for the truck. Hunter (my brother in law), Dawid and Louis trooped out behind me. Louis hopped in the drivers seat, Hunter in the passenger seat and Dawid and I in the rack. We went rolling down the road at a pace I was certain would see us to the waterhole long after every warthog in the Kalahari had drunk its fill and moved off in to the brush. We eventually came to a stop at the bottom of a hill. Dawid explained to me that we would be dismounting and walking up the hill. Once we reached the top we would take a look at where the animals were and set up from there. We walked up the hill, in line with a massive tree, and peeked through the branches. There below us at the waterhole was a handful of warthogs. Dawid glassed them and pointed to one in the back. He mentioned she had a broken tusk on one side, but she would be the one to take in this group. I nodded, not minding a broken tusk. I wanted my animals to have grit, a story. I laid the 7mm across a limb, looked down the scope and found her. The safety clicked off and a round was chambered, and I fell in to a long slow exhale.
This seems as good a place to mention as any, that up until this point in my life I had never shot anything bigger than a squirrel. Sure, I had hunted, it was the shooting bit that had escaped me until now. I had done all matter of target shooting with all types of guns, and had shot in a deer stand waiting for something to come along. But to be looking down a rifle at a REAL LIFE warthog in honest to goodness Africa was something different than I'd ever experienced. Call it nerves, excitement, adrenaline, or whatever you like, but I pulled that first shot. I hit her and she took off squealing in to the brush. I looked at Dawid and he confirmed I had hit her, but hadn't been able to tell how good a hit it was. He radioed Louis and the truck came up the hill and picked us up. We circled around to where she had been and got out again, looking for signs of a hit. I heard "Blood" as Dawid or Louis picked up the track, and the four of us set off. Walking at full stride, pointing and calling out the blood trail, we followed the wounded warthog. She was moving quickly, then slowing, then speeding up again as we gained on her. At one point Dawid pointed and told me to shoot, but by the time I had the rifle up she was gone. I told Dawid that if he saw her again to feel free to shoot her, as I didn't want a wounded animal running around suffering from my poor shooting. He nodded and not much later he pointed again. For the life of me I couldn't find her in the scope and asked Dawid to take the shot. He took the rifle and and pulled the trigger, dropping the warthog under the pile of brush she had been resting under. It was a hollow victory. I was excited and happy to see her down, but also more than a bit disappointed with my performance. Nobody there made me feel lesser though. We went and collected her, moving her to a clear spot for the photos. Dawid and Louis assured me that everyone makes a poor shot here and there, and that we would soldier on and shoot better the next time. Outwardly I nodded and agreed, but inwardly the worry and doubt was already gnawing. What if I couldn't shoot any better? What if this was a Safari full of bad shots and animals finished off by the PH? Hardly the story I wanted to tell back home. I resolved to take my time and make shots I was comfortable with. Yes, this is Africa and yes, it is exciting. That didn't mean fundamental firearms skills drilled into me for over a decade needed to go out the window. Never the less, my first animal was in the salt and I was overall in high spirits. We loaded back up in to the bakkie and started driving, keeping an eye out for one of the various animals on the list.
Wildebeest Down
Warthog in the salt, we trundled down the road. We discussed the animals to come, points of aim, and general small talk universally known to hunters who have spent time getting to know a guide or PH. As we drove, I admit I slipped into tourist mode. I couldn't stop gawking at the masses of plains game. Eland, Impala, Blesbok, and the list goes on. Herds watching us from a distance, ears pricked and turning in flight as we passed. Dawid glassed and looked as we chatted, not seeing anything that interested him enough to stop. I'll admit, I was less than helpful. Everything was a wonder. A sudden slap on the roof of the truck snapped me out of my own head. All of a sudden Dawid was leaned over the side of the truck pointing and Louis was turning the truck. Ahead of us, grabbing bits of grass between quick looks our direction, were two or three wildebeests. One in particular had caught Dawid's eye and he pointed him out to me. Dawid assured me he was a good bull and with no frame of reference, I agreed. He looked spectacular. Bigger than I imagined, I agreed I would like to take him. He coached me again on shot placement, telling me to put it just behind his shoulder. I had looked at countless vital pictures of these animals and understood where he wanted me to be. As I steadied the rifle across the shooting rail, I pushed the doubt away as best I could and chambered a round. I heard my dad's voice in my head say "It should almost be a surprise" and then the 7mm spat. It had almost been a surprise, but I knew it was a good shot. I heard a whoop from Dawid as he vaulted out of the bakkie and began running, shouting for me to follow. I came pelting after him and then heard the bellowing and thrashing. As Dawid slowed and I caught up, we came upon the wildebeest. He was absolutely anchored, dead but without the knowledge. My bullet had gone through the vitals and appeared to have caught a piece of the shoulder, as he could hardly raise his head, much less a leg. Dawid unholstered his pistol and handed it to me, instructing me to shoot him in the vitals again. "If he gets up, it could be bad." I hadn't recalled reading many stories about the dreaded blue wildebeest charge, but understood that dispatching him quickly would be a good thing for a variety of reasons. I took the pistol and did as instructed, and a memory from the morning drive came back to me. Dawid had said, "just hope your first isn't a wildebeest." Louis and Hunter brought the truck up and we prepared the bull for a picture. Dawid dipped his hand in the blood leaking from the bull and swiped it across my forehead. I grinned, happy to have been initiated. We took the photo and then Dawid rummaged in his bag, coming back out with a length of paracord. I hardly had time to ask what he was doing as he cleanly castrated the bull, threaded the paracord through it and knotted it around my neck. "Beautiful Jewelry, but don't take it home to the wife!" He laughed. I laughed and we waited for another truck to come with the skinner and tracker. We loaded the wildebeest and Dawid looked at the sky and conferred with Louis. They agreed we would drive around a little longer and see if we could find anything else before we went back for the evening.
Blesbok Before Bed
As we went back towards the lodge, we continue to scan for animals. I was satisfied. My first full day in Africa had resulted in a warthog and wildebeest down, and that seemed like plenty. I was along for the ride, reveling in my experience. Duiker darted in and out of the road, impala bounding away as we leisurely crawled down the dirt road. All of a sudden a group of bleskbok went careening away from us, through a stand of trees and scrub brush. Dawid slapped the top of the cab and we sped off, coming around a corner out the other side of the trees to see the herd pulled up, looking to see if we were following. Dawid quickly pointed out one, I readied the rifle and fired as the herd began to collectively move. I hit him solidly but he stayed on his feet, slipping through the trees with the rest of the herd. We fired up the truck and got back on the dirt road, generally following the course of the herd. As they came in to view again, we looked for one that was lagging or limping. With darkness coming we wanted to be quick about it. We got down and began casting around, looking for blood, working backwards away from the herd. After a few minutes I heard the call of "blood" and we began to follow. After a few more minutes we looked up to see the Blesbok, slowly making his way away from us. He was unaware of our presence, ambling slowly, clearly wounded. We cut around for a better angle, the 7mm spat again and the Blesbok laid down. My first shot had been back, potentially fatal but not quickly. The second shot was in the boiler room, and I was thankful I had managed to at least rectify my missed shot on this animal. We quickly took a photo and loaded him up and trundled back to camp.
Springbok before Breakfast
The next morning, Dawid and I awoke early as agreed to go for a walk, thinking to check a waterhole or two for tracks or animals in the cool of the morning. As we walked we talked, looked and listened. At this point, Africa was fully in my bones. He pointed out animals to me as we passed and the appreciation I had built yesterday for his skill grew as we walked. A herd of impala came across the road and he pointed out a ram with a worn down side, just the sort of animal I was interested in. I readied for a shot but they moved quickly away and I lowered the rifle, content to have had an opportunity. Dawid said we should continue on and that trying to track those impala at the moment would make for a long morning, so I followed onward. As we came over a hill Dawid motioned for me to get low. I did as he asked and we began to scan for game. There in front of us, maybe three hundred yards, was a lone springbok ram. Dawid looked through the glasses and handed them to me. "Pretty good one" he said. I looked over the ram and agreed, he did seem like a nice springbok. "We won't be able to get much closer, not enough cover" Dawid said. He motioned me to follow behind him and I fell in. We closed the distance as we could, using the grass and brush as best we could. We pulled up and Dawid whispered "This is it, are you ready?" I nodded as Dawid told me to rest the rifle on his shoulder and covered his left ear. I found the ram in the scope, breathed in and then out. The weak morning sun filtered through, a promise of a warm day but still a little cool. The ram seemed to glow, almost golden in the sun. The 7mm jumped again and the springbok was taken off his feet. Dawid shook my hand and congratulated me and began striding towards where the ram had been standing. "We have to hurry" he said as I hurried to catch up. I asked why and he said "you'll see" as he walked. When we got to the springbok, I was once again struck by his beauty. Dawid propped him up and pointed at his back. "What is that?" I asked. "Smell him" he said. I looked curiously at him. "I'm serious!" Dawid laughed. I obliged and smelled. It was sweet, almost like a honeysuckle. He radioed for a truck and I sat there, watching the Kalahari wake up.
It's Africa
We were collected by Louis and we rode around, looking at the game and enjoying the day. We drove through a gate and passed a herd of Rhino, Dawid telling me about their plans to begin offering dart hunts. We saw some cape buffalo from a distance, and stopped to watch a huge eland walk across the road. We only had a few animals left, and so far nothing on the list had popped up. I was content to ride around and take in the sights. All of a sudden, Dawid shouted "Zebra" and the familiar slap on the hood has us shifting gears and running down a dirt road, vaguely keeping up with a drifting cloud of dust. I had indeed seen the zebra, and I had mentioned that given the money I would love to hunt one on this trip, but that it likely wasn't a reality for me. I fully understood that buy giving away a package, the hope was that additional animals would be purchased. I had enough to buy a ticket and tip all the staff well enough, but a zebra was something that at the time was out of reach for me. I was happy to go get a closer look but I looked at Dawid and reminded him I wasn't planning on shooting one. He said he understood and we drove, thorns whipping across our face and arms as we forgot to duck, straining to catch a look at the zebra herd. Eventually we worked all the way around them, and then lost them completely. We slowly drove, looking for sign or the herd itself. As we crept around a bend in the road through the trees, we found them. Four or five, spread out and grazing. They were definitely nervous, but settling down. Dawid handed me the rifle and I shook my head. "Just look," he said, so I did. I knew I was breaking a gun safety rule older than all of them. Thou shalt not point the gun at something you don't intend to kill. But here I was, finger carefully out of the trigger guard, looking at a beautiful mare. Dawid urged me to shoot. I again told him I just didn't have the money. "This is Africa, we can make a plan." This sounded like a great compromise to me, so I flicked the safety off and sent yet another round through that 7mm rem mag. I heard the slap as she was hit, and then counted to see one less zebra running off. Dawid congratulated me on the shot and the feeling of dread about telling my wife was soon overtaken by the joy of finding my zebra, a few steps from where she had been hit.
The Downhill Slide
For me, at least, this was a turning point in the trip. I will attempt to write well and fairly, but from here on out for one reason or another in retrospect the trip was a little spoiled for me. As we continued to drive around, another impala herd crossed our path. It was the same herd from earlier, with the worn down ram! Dawid pointed him out and up the rifle came. When the dust had cleared, Dawid explained that I had hit the animal, but not badly and that we would just continue on as he would recover quickly from the superficial wound. I was also informed that because I had hit the animal, it would count as the impala included in my package. While I understood that piece of it. I was more than a little disappointed that we made no effort to track the ram, or even follow the herd to get another shot. After all, if I had hit the animal and was paying for him either way, shouldn't we make an attempt to recover him? I was informed that it would be a fruitless venture, and that we should continue on. I tried to brush off the incident, but it weighed on me. I was too out of my element to advocate for myself, perhaps I should have. Perhaps Dawid and Louis were right, and recovery or sighting them again would have been impossible. Either way, the last animal we were in search of was a Duiker. We had seen them throughout the trip, always flitting out of view before I could get a shot off. As it happened, my opportunity came on the way back to camp. We were driving a perimeter fence line when a crash sounded behind us. A Duiker had run full tilt in to the fence and then sped past the bakkie, running directly away from us. I hurriedly raised the rifle and took a shot I should never have attempted at that point my career. The Texas Heart Shot. My bullet exited out of the Duiker's rear right leg, mostly amputating it. We quickly caught up and followed up, but again I had made a bad shot. We took some photos and I realized this was my last African animal. I wondered idly what we would do the rest of the trip. After all, we had landed two nights ago, and hunted essentially a day and a half. We had another two and a half days on the trip. We loaded the duiker and headed back to camp, where I learned what the rest of our trip would contain. The plan was to leave and head back that evening. We would stay at Louis's house in Potch for the remainder of our trip. Louis said we could go to a big cat sanctuary and do some other sight seeing, which seemed fine to us, as bad as we wanted to stay in the Kalahari.
Hindsight's 20/20
If you have read this far, I appreciate you. I hope you enjoyed my report, or at least found some amusement in it. I now feel that I have fulfilled my obligation and can continue to plan my next Safari and participate here on Africa Hunting. I would like to share a couple things I was disappointed in, or will do differently next time.
I would like to highlight here that Louis, Dawid, and the staff I interacted with were professional, polite and friendly. Other than a heated conversation between Louis and his stateside rep discussing the lack of profitability in the free hunt giveaways, everything was a wonderful experience. To Louis's credit, he had that conversation behind a closed door, he was just shouting loudly enough to be heard in the main lodge. I'll admit that made me a little upset, as Louis was telling his rep that their was no profit to share because we weren't adding extra animals.
I also failed to get any of my trophies back from Africa. The taxidermist was difficult to communicate with, after a year and a half he sent me pictures of the euros he was doing for me. At that point he had sent the hides off for tanning and he would reach out to me when they were completed. That was several years ago now. I let the taxidermist have my 50% deposit and moved on. I should have been more diligent and pushy here, but again the lack of money I had at the time, coupled with lack of communication made me feel that it was a lost cause.
You'll notice in my report that most of these animals were either shot from the bakkie or close to it. As a new hunter, I believed I was hunting "Safari Style." That's what it is called in Texas, and is really common here. I was also out of shape and didn't have long to prepare, so who knows if I really would have been able to spot and stalk effectively. That being said, I will do more walking next time in Africa. I have no desire to ride around the whole time, I would like to go and fail and triumph on my own two feet. This felt like a shoot by and large, at least after the fact. At the time I'll admit I had no reservations about it. I have shot does from a truck since then, and will undoubtedly take animals from a vehicle again. I do not, however, want my next Safari to be a drive by. The animal that really stole the show for me was my Springbok, and I largely attribute that to the fact that we walked, spotted it and put a short stalk on it.
I was also disappointed in my self with my shooting. The zebra, springbok, and blue wildebeest were all clean hits that either killed the animal immediately or would have killed them relatively quickly if we had not come up. The warthog, duiker, impala and blesbok all required two shots. I spent a lot of time on the bench after that trip, and have not failed to dispatch an animal with one shot since. I will bring my 30-06 next time, as I am comfortable with it and would like to shoot my own rifle on my next trip.
My last and final disappointment was the amount of game meat we ate while in Africa. We ate Kudu burgers one night, that was it. I would like to have more of that on my next trip. We can't bring it back, but I sure would like to enjoy it while there. We got the impression that the biltong might be offsetting the "free" aspect of the hunt, and so didn't complain.
All in all, I loved Africa. It was a wonderful trip, and I look forward to going again, bringing back stories I will share with you much more expediently. Even with the time that has passed, most of that trip came flooding back to me in a wave. I loved it all, and only experience and maturity has informed that while I enjoyed my first African Safari, I want my next one to be something a little different.
