This is a continuation of the Outdoor Writer's Africa Hunt Photos - June 2003 thread. Part I contains the hunt photos and brief synopsis for the gemsbok, springbok, black wildebeest, zebra, blesbok and impala. I split the two so those who view the other one don't have to wait for all the photos to load again so they can view the latest additions.



So here we go, starting with our 5-hr drive back to Lentaba Lodge, one of the two main ones John X has on the Lalibela Game Reserve.



By the time we arrived there, the sun was already setting. We had started our actual hunting on a Sat. and it was now Tues. night. So the next morning it was off in search of a kudu.



Again, we went off the John X property to another big ranch, and I was starting to understand why John X claims it has 3,000,000 acres to hunt. By this time, I felt like I had visited 1/2 of it. In reality, though, we hadn't touched foot on most of it.



As we drove up the ranch road to the house so we could check in with the landowner before going in the field, I noticed a distinct difference in the terrain. Although there were a few open pasture areas, most of the ranch was rolling hills covered by lots of trees and brush. In short, it was pretty dense except for myriad but narrow bands that had been cut through the trees in order to build the fence lines, which were just simply wooden posts about four feet high with three or four strands of wire.



In contrast, the outside perimeter of the ranch was high-fenced. But the second-generation owner told me that his kudu herd was a self-sustaining population, having been started there by his father over 50 years ago. And after spending hours that day searching for a good bull, I believed him; we saw dozens of cows and youngsters either browsing in openings or moving through the trees.



My PH turned down every bull we saw, however, claiming we could find a better one since we had plenty of time to hunt yet. Left to my own devices, there were at least two I would have taken.



So after a fruitless day, we were headed back just minutes before the sun set. As we rounded a bend, we saw four kudu standing right along the fence line next to the dirt two-track. The biggest one was right behind a fence post and tight against the wires, perhaps ready to jump them. Ed told me he was a good one and to shoot if I wanted to.



I dropped to a knee, pushed the safety off and put the scope on him. The fence post was directly in line with his leg and shoulder and the upper part of the fence between the top two strands of wire had some sort of mesh on it. I held just over that and to the left of the fencepost.



At the shot, the other bulls wheeled and ran off, probably from whence they had come. But the bull I hit jumped the fence and immediately disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the road by the time I chambered my second round. My PH thought I had gut shot the bull. I told him I didn't think so.



We headed to the spot we last saw it and started tracking it as best we could. We found little blood. Then, even with flashlights, we lost the trail after only a couple hundred yards. The PH made the decsion to come back the next morning and start fresh with the landowner and some of his employees helping out. We drove to the house to tell the owner what happened and what we planned.



We got there bright and early and started where we had lost the sign the previous night. Fifty yards later, we found the dead bull. Although my shot had been a tad high and back, it hit both lungs, and the bull had gone less than 300 yards from the fence line.



Unfortunately, both the jackals and birds had found him before we did. Most of the guts and the rear quarters had been eaten by the jackals, and the birds had pecked out one eye and the area around it. Plus, I was concerned about hair slippage since the cape had been on the dead animal too long, IMO. The PH agreed with me and said he would get me another cape in the coming weeks to replace it at no charge. I think he realized that he didn't put enough effort into locating the bull the night before, no doubt upset about my supposed gut shot. Just in case, however, we did take my cape and immediately immersed it in a water & salt solution while still at the ranch.



As an aside, I later found out that Ed was having a bad year -- sort of jinxed. All nine of his hunters that he had guided in 2003 had lost at least one wounded animal. So he assumed I had become No. 10.



Ed followed through on his promise and sent another cape to the taxidermist a couple months later. I told them to trash the other one or use as they might.



My kudu, which went 48.5".











Next is the hunt for a warthog that afternoon on the same ranch. -TONY

While chasing kudu the previous day, we had seen several decent warthogs roaming that same ranch. Since we were already there to retrieve the kudu, we decided to stay that afternoon and try for a good hog.
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<br />We hadn't been out an hour when we saw a pair moving down one of the fence lines toward the little dirt road we were walking along. So rather than stalk them, we decided to stay put and ambush them. I set up with my Snipepod and waited for them to get to the crest of a little hill that was about 75-100 yards from me. They didn't want to play that game, though.
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<br />They dropped into a dip behind that hill and never came to the top. After waiting for about 15 minutes, we decided to move in on them, thinking they stopped in the dip to feed.
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<br />Big mistake!
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<br />As we stood up, we heard a snort and looked up the road to our right. Both hogs, standing in the tall grass along the edge, were staring straight at us. They had entered the trees from the dip and basically circled us. The breeze was blowing right at them, and by the time I snapped the safety off, they were gone. Thus, off we went to find another victim.
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<br />About an hour later, we were working our way along a road that led to a high point. Our intent was to get high and glass. Halfway up, a sow and her two youngin's moved out and began feeding about 100 yards above us. Ed figured a boar would be nearby. Hugging the trees, we pussy-footed up the hill and wound up only a few yards from the piglets. We watched for a bit but her mate never showed. After the trio passed under the fence and fed their way into the brush on the opposite side of the cut, we continued to the top. An hour of glassing turned up nothing worth wasting a bullet on.
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<br />We headed back down, then cut off on another of the "main" dirt roads. We call them cow paths here in AZ. As we passed a fence cut, I looked up and saw a hog walking uphill. Ed glassed him quickly and thought he was a good one.
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<br />While Ed ranged him, I moved up to rest my rifle on the top of a fence post. The hog was at 295 yards and still moving. I held at the base of his neck, and Ed called the shot as, "Geez, just left. Any closer and you would have taken a whisker or two off."
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<br />But, when the bullet hit the ground, the hog turned and started running directly at us. I again aimed at the base of his neck. This time we heard the "whop" as the bullet from the 268-yd. shot, hit home. The hog's butt immediately sagged and his rear legs became useless as he tried to make it into the brush by pulling himself along with his front legs. My bullet had obvioulsy hit the spine. Even though we could no longer see him, we knew he wasn't going far. Sure enough, he barely had moved off the fence row before dying.
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<br />So like every other days so far, this one was a success, both in finding my kudu and shooting a decent warthog.
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It was now Friday, and my hunt was just about over, even though we would be at the lodge until the following Tues. morning. Of my selected animals, all I had left was an nyala.



But at the ranch where we hunted springbok, the owner had several full springbok hides covering coffee tables in between two couches that were also covered with hides. So I had told Ed I wanted to kill another one just to get the full hide. I really didn't care whether it was a buck or a doe. The going price was $50 for a second one. We put this on the back burner, however.



We drove toward Port Elizabeth and then west to hunt nyala. The ranch, like the one we hunted kudu on, was large, hilly and brushy. The nyala herd on it was also self-sustaining according to the owner. After some coffee and chit-chat, we boarded the truck and followed another cow path to the highest hill on the property and parked.



We walked about 200 yards into the brush before we saw the first game. It was a smallish bushbuck. Five minutes later, we pushed a nyala cow out of her hiding place. Yet it was two hours before we saw the first bull -- an 18" non-shooter.



Hungry, we decided to go back to the truck and eat some crackers and biltong. We never made it until much later. As we stepped out onto the road, we spotted a nice bull. He was browsing just at the edge of the trees, less than 75 yards from us. Ed whispered, "Kill 'im.



I dropped to a knee, wrapped up in my sling and put the crosshair where the upper leg connected to the body. At the shot, the bull jumped straight up about two feet off the ground -- a typical reaction I've seen before with a heart shot. He hit the ground running, but not for long. Two seconds later, we heard him crash land in some brush. Unfortunately, there was also a cactus for him to land in, filling the hide with spines. After spending 15 minutes getting rid of them, we dragged the bull out to the road for photos.











Rather than head back to the lodge, we went into Pt. Liz so Ed could drop off his truck for service. While it was being worked on, we went to a seaside restaurant for some chow. Heck, I even got to see my first cricket match on TV, no less.



Now, my hunt was pretty much done -- kinda.



On Sat. Ed, another Ph, Gary, and I drove up on the hill about two miles from the lodge to get my springbok hide. We simply meant to kill one, not hunt it.



So here we are watching two different herds, trying to decide which one to go after. Suddenly, one of them takes off running right toward the truck, passed by the front end and then stops about 300 yards away. A good buck was standing out front. "Kill that buck," Ed said.



I put the muzzle of the .264 out the window, fed a single round into the chamber and put the rifle across the forearm of my left arm that was resting across the window sill. The buck dropped in place. Gary, watching through binoculars from atop the truck had only two words for me, "Well done." When we drove up to it, he facetiously asked me if I wanted to take photos. My answer with a laugh: "No, I don't need any photos of that fine HUNT."



Though it wasn't as good as my other one, it was still a nice buck. So I'll probably mount the horns on a plaque and label it as my "Drive-by Springbok."



Later that day, nearly the entire camp headed into a small town to the north to attend the area's annual game sale and festival. I even got interviewed by a local TV station that was there with a live feed. They probably knew I was foreigner. Then on the way home we stopped at a pub for some snacks and beers. I also had to endure watching another cricket match that RSA was involved in.



And now the hunt was over -- NOT!



After breakfast Sunday, everyone else except me left the lodge to hunt. Even my PH went to help a couple of guys from Ohio who were hunting 2x1 with another PH.



I was left to amuse myself, which I did mostly by sitting on the terrace with my tripod and 15X binoculars. I spotted an incredible amount of game from there, including at least a 16" bushbuck and a big kudu bull. But the area for about 1 mile around the lodge is a self-imposed No Hunting area. Oh, and I even sipped a few beers that day. Still it was a boring day, and I started getting the DTs from not killing anything for so long.



So that evening in the bar, I said to Ed, "Tomorrow's my last day here, and I don't want to hang out here for the entire day. Let's go let the air out of something."



I told him I would like to shoot a bushbuck and a blue beestie. So that's what we planned to do. Of course, it meant another $1,500 in trophy fees, plus the related costs. Gulp.



Stay tuned for the wrap-up tomorrow. -TONY