How many of you, like me, have spent a fair bit of time stalking one or another specific animal, only to come upon another one, at close range, completely by chance and happenstance? I know it must be a fairly common experience, especially in Africa with its astounding abundance of game and other animals.

My two most surprising and unusual examples are reported below. I didn't shoot either one of my accidental prey, for reasons you will understand.

Once, while madly chasing after a couple of eland in the Selous several years ago, we were crashing through a low, swampy area along one of the many sand rivers. We were covering lots of ground quickly, trying (vainly, as it turned out) to catch two eland who had spooked and were booking it to Mozambique or parts beyond. And we were making more noise than a three year old's birthday party with the whole neighborhood on the guest list.

Then Kayai, one of our Maasai trackers, abruptly stopped, raised his left hand, and pointed up the bole of a small tree not three steps to the left of the trail. I had been huffing and puffing and floundering along as fast as I could behind him, but I pulled up short when he stopped, and looked up his arm.

There before us, perched halfway up the tree trunk, was a small, yellow, sort of foxy-looking, but miniature leopard-like creature, with brownish spots on its body, and a long, bushy, striped tail. It clutched the tree, frozen in space, with its head up and big black eyes looking right at us, for at least five or ten seconds. Then it quickly flipped end over end, ran to ground and disappeared in the underbrush.

Pedro, my PH, who had been standing right next to me as we watched the small creature, whispered to me, with a look of astonishment on his face, "That was a genet!" I was amazed that we had seen such a thing. After all, the genet is supposed to be a strictly nocturnal predator. It was a magical sight. But we paused only for the seconds it took to see the small beast, and watch it disappear, then off we trekked again after the departing eland.

Another time, last year in fact, while stalking a bachelor herd of five elephant bulls in the Caprivi region of Namibia, we had stopped to glass them. We had been moving very stealthily through a forest of stunted mopane, stopping every now and then to spy and glass the lumbering pachyderms as they moved and fed noisily ahead of us.

Finally, they had found a large thicket that was dominated by several very tall trees, and began to feed in earnest. The peace of the forest was rent again and again with loud splits and crashes, like distant thunderclaps breaking open the sky, as the elephant ripped down whole huge branches, knocked down smaller trees, and stripped them of bark and leaves.

I chanced to glance off to our right, and there, not ten feet away, was what looked like a cottontail rabbit on steroids. He was very calm, very serene. He was also looking towards the elephant in the thicket, and didn't seem to notice the five of us elephant stalkers at all.

Well, it was some kind of big boned Namibian (or wandering Botswanan) hare, and he observed the elephant right along with us for at least ten or fifteen minutes, before hopping complacently away to who knows where.

What are your most interesting or strangest "Accidental Stalks?"

We tracked buffalo (2 bulls) last year, in threatening rain (just before Christmas), and all of a sudden a elepant bull looked over a small brush at us. The clients wanted to shoot 2 elephants, and the oppertunity was just too great to pass up. He and his brother shot for the brain (frontal), did not drop it, and another few shots followed. (I could not shoot, as one of them stepped in between me and the ele.) As it turned, it collapsed, but not due to the bullets, it stepped into a very soft spot of mud, sinking in about 3 feet with his right front foot. By the time he was back on his feet, we were around the bush, and dropped him.

JJ Miller and I were stalking Zebra with a handgun when we virtually walked into 3 Gemsbok - one of which was BIG. The Gemsbok were no further than 15 yards from us behind some brush - totally oblivious of us, upwind and within easy range of JJ's .480 Ruger! But gemsbok was not on license on that particular hunting concession and we had to let them go. What a downer!

Samual - the tracker - and I were tracking eland across Landelani (a game ranch in Limpopo (NP) RSA) when we came upon a very big rhino at a range of about 15 yards. I swear Samual turned white and trembled, but I was too ignorant to be afraid. The rhino was motionless in the shade of the heavy brush and small trees.

Since the trophy fee for this monster was $35,000 USD it never crossed my mind to shoot it! We backed away very quietly.

A very long stalk for a large Kudu bull was over and he never cleared the scrub, finally scenting or hearing us and took off. It had been several hours, we were prespiring heavily in the heat with sweat bees swarming all around. Everybody was disappointed, tired and hot with a 1.5 hour walk back to the bakkie.

When we turned the corner there was a large Hartebeest and the PH said, "Shoot quick!". It was the best shot I made then entire trip taking out the top of the heart and dropping him on the spot. The Hartebeest was 22" with very thick bases and scored gold. I think the PH was more excited than I was about the trophy.

A couple of years ago "Gomez Adams" and I along with a couple of trackers and a game scout were on the track of a herd of cow elephants in the thick jess of Charisa. We were in very thick jess and stopped at the base of a tree on a low termite mound. Gomez and I were crouched on the right side of the tree with the trackers a few yards behind us trying to hear the herd. Next thing was we heard scratching noises on the other side of the 12" diameter tree, then saw a spotted body disappearing into the bush. It seems we picked a tree with a leopard in it to squat under. The boys got a good look at it and thought it was a large female leopard. Glad it decided to run down the opposite side of the tree rather then over our heads.

465H&H

I think it would be nearly impossible to hunt in Africa and not have an accidental stalk. On one of mine we were preparing a long stalk on a group of kudu when we ran headlong into some gemsbuck. I had already shot a 42.5 incher, so my son shot a nice bull that went 38.5 inches at about 80 yards. We went back and got the truck and loaded up the gemsbuck, headed back out with it when a bunch of kudu including one really nice bull. I grabbed my sons 7x57 out of the rack instead of my rifle walked into the brush and immediately saw the big bull partially obscured behind a huge rock and some brush with only the head and neck sticking out from the rock. Since he was only 75-80 yards, I put a 160 partition at the base of the neck, he did the typical ass first drop like a neck shot whitetail. He went 55.5 inches, so not a bad half hour of hunting with a gemsbuck and a kudu.

One of the wildest stories like this was told to me by my PH in Tanzania, Pedro de Sa e Mello, about a 21 day hunt in the Selous he had had with an American client several years before.

Pedro, his trackers and the hunter were stalking very quietly up on a herd of buffalo, with the wind in their faces, trying to get in range of a good bull in the middle of the herd. Then the buff started acting itchy, raising their heads, looking around and then finally moving directly toward the hunting party - first slowly and then with more speed.

As Pedro and his client assessed the situation, one of the trackers pointed off to his right with a soft chopping motion of his arm and hand. Pedro looked over and saw a large-maned lion hunkered down in the grass, about twenty yards off, waiting for the advancing buff. The lion was totally focused on the buff and paid no attention to the small hunting party.

His client had not yet taken a lion, despite days of baiting and waiting, so Pedro whispered to him, "He's a very good lion. Shoot him behind the shoulder." The client did, and brought a splendid lion to bag.

Needless to say, at the shot, the buff herd galloped off to less noisy pastures.

Some poking around and tracking in the vicinity revealed that this lion had been hunting with others in his pride. Pedro surmised that some of them had moved upwind of the buff herd, to give the buff their scent, and push them into the ambush set by the big male, and maybe some others we had not seen.

To everyone's relief, at the shot, the rest of the dead lion's pride had fled with - and perhaps still after - the buff.

We were hunting wildebeest in the dark ( ) and walked right up to a black rhino feeding, maybe 10 to 15 yards. We then departed rather quickly.

My personal run-ins with accidental quarry have been less dangerous than bumping into elephant, lion, leopard, buff and rhino.

Although once, on Ile d'Anticosti, a large island in Quebec, Canada, situated in the craw of the wide mouth of the St. Lawrence seaway, while hunting whitetail deer, I did find myself eye to eye with a raptor. Had I been a vole, or a mouse, I am sure I would have been his breakfast. But I was too big to kill, and too quick to peck, tear and rip away, so here is the story of those few moments.

I was completely alone. In a frozen swamp. On Thanksgiving Day. Waiting and watching for a big whitetail buck to wander by and offer me a shot. I was nestled into the nook of the fork of two branches of a fallen pine tree. A likely spot, I thought, overlooking the snow-covered, ice-encrusted wetland wilderness of the ile.

It was 8:30 a.m. I had been there since 6:30 a.m. Nothing else - I mean nothing that lived and breathed - had been there during that time. I had heard nothing but nothing for two hours, excepting, of course, the crushing, cracking crescendos my feet made when they broke through the crusted ice on my way to this unspoiled and primeval place. Silence does have a sound, you know. It is the sound of nothingness and nothing and nada and niente and not anything else but that.

But then I heard the sound of a real sound, a living sound. It was rhythmic, a wafting whuff, whuff, whuffing sound. But no other sound, no other noise, besides the riverine flowing of the blood through the cranial arteries near my ears did I hear.

I went from being completely alone, as Adam was alone, to not being alone any more. Out of the frozen air, diving and down-drafting until finally flairing out and forking down with outstretched talons, flew and dived and came and alit on a sturdy, yet fallen, dead and barren pine branch not five feet from my frozen face, a large, at least foot-long kind of falcon, or hawk or kite.

He was bold and white and black and unafraid and fearless and grey with piercing black eyes that peered innocently and savagely into my own. He cocked his head, first to one side, then the other.

I wanted to speak to him. But that would have been absurd, and would have somehow profaned the moment. So I just looked back at him and admired him and thought what an amazing life we lead, to be able to experience such things as this one, in the frozen and barren North, far from home and warmth and the familiarity of the things that keep us there, yet also keep us wanting to be here.

Was stalking a herd of Impala first thing in the morning in South Africa. Impala were skittish as all heck although the wind was right and they had o idea we were there.

The PH and I came across a drag mark in the ground and he originally thought it was one of the rhinos marking his area. as we came over the rise to some thick cover we heard the sound on bones crunching coming from a thicket in the ravine below.

Seems we had come across a leopard who had just killed one the impala. The PH suggested we give the leopard a wide berth. No argument on my part.

Last year while hunting in the save conservancy in Zim, my PH & I found a sick/fevered buff laying in the river bed. Went back the next morning and within 30 yards of the water a large hippo erupted, turned to look at us and then went back underwater and disappeared. Several minutes later we decided to walk the river bed and watched a female leapord slowly cross in front of us within 75 yards. My PH slowly turned to me and said; "You have brought a large amount of luck with you"! I love the African bush.

Ok, just a small plainsgame "accident" but a fond memory.

2000 - Zimbabwe - hunting Eland. Got prone with the 416 and couldn't sort out which one to shoot. Eventually, they all walked away.

I was perched on a rocky outcropping, just laying there enjoying the sunset, pissed that the Eland all walked away. A herd of Impala below us, full on rut. The herd male was making a hell of a ruckus. We paid them no mind.

The ph eventually looked down and said, "Jeez, shoot that Impala."

"No, I have one."

"Shoot that Impala!"

"No, thanks."

"Shoot that Impala!"

I looked at him funny and said, "Is he a good one?"

I won't say exactly what he said next, but I got the hint.

He was 25".

Near the tail end of my elephant hunt we were looking for sable and walked right into a pair of lions. The male was huge with a wonderful mane and my PH asked if I wanted him. My first shot went off as he finished the word him. Four shots and a bit of excitement later we had a wonderful lion which by the way I had a license for. I wouldnt have had the license if not for Jack Atcheson Jr insisting that I get it due to all the walking involved in the ele hunt. Ill never forget his words," you will be covering alot of ground so you better get a lion permit just in case". For once I was lucky and smart.