Opening myself up here, but it's important.
I've only been to Africa one time. I'm nobody here. I'll never make it back, but I swear Africa lives in my veins.
I hunted NG 47 Botswana in 2001, with Graeme Pollock, Safaris Botswana Bound.
I have not hunted nearly as many animals as most of you have in my life.
A couple of black bears, two American bison, tons of NY whitetails.
I was extremely fortunate that my Dad took me on an elephant hunt as a graduation gift. Didn't know it then, but I do now.
I studied elephants and elephant hunting for two years ahead of time. I read "The perfect shot" many times. Devoured most of Capstick's books. I even have an autographed copy of Ron Thomson's "Mahohboh" that I would say is a must read. That guy is still a hero of mine.
The safari was fantastic. The best days of my life, even to date. I can still see the stars, and smell the campfire.
I remember all of the emotions of the elephant hunt clearly. Joy, exhaustion, anticipation, frustration, sadness. There's one however, that stands out clearly above the rest. I'm not afraid to admit it.
It was fear.
Yes, I was excited. Full of adrenaline.
But man was I afraid to sneak up on that immense animal. Fear like I never knew before or since. Terrified that he would turn on us. That something somehow would go wrong. That I would mess up this thing I had anticipated for so long.
I can't describe the fear, but it was extreme. In those final moments, I had tunnel vision. My heart was screaming. My breath was ragged. I was shaking.
Graeme was a wonderful PH. He was patient with this stupid spoiled kid, but stern in his instructions.
He calmed me down enough somehow, put me on the sticks, and I was able to make a perfect broadside heart shot at 20yds.
That part is all a blur for me. Graeme didn't end up shooting. He said he could tell it was a good hit because the bull had a "wobble" as he ran away. I was able to make several good follow up shots, including a hip shot that anchored the bull.
Maybe that fear was just because I was 17, or because I was so green, and afraid to screw it up. I hope not though.
I hope everyone who hunts them has some of that fear, at least a little.
I mentioned sadness, too. Maybe I'm soft, but there was an immense sadness that came when it was over. When it was quiet.
I looked into that bull's eyes. I cried. I took time to touch him, talk to him, thank him and stroke his rough head.
I hope I never lose that sight of the value of life, and the gravity of death which I learned in that instant.
To this day, it's a somber moment to touch his tusks, my most beloved possessions in this life.
I think if you are lucky like me, you will have even a twinge of those two emotions.
Best of luck!