Hunt dates: August 12 – August 22, 2005
Hunting Outfitter/PH: Andrew McLaren of McLaren Safaris
Hunt Location: South Africa – Free State and Eastern Cape Provinces
Species hunted: blesbok, steenbok, black wildebeest, mountain reedbuck, and blue wildebeest; we also did some wingshooting, predator calling, and varmint shooting

Synopsis
What a great hunt! Andrew McLaren Safaris made my trip to South Africa unforgettable. Andrew and his lovely wife Cecilia were the consummate hosts, and saw to my every need. The hunting was challenging at times, but superb, the game was plentiful and varied, the accommodations and food were excellent, and Andrew is a fine outfitter and PH who I now consider a good friend.

The full report
There is an interesting story behind this hunt – one I won’t bore you with overly much. The hunt was originally booked with Lochi Lochner (“Lochi from Africa†here on AR) as a predator/varmint hunt with two medium-sized antelope (springbok and blesbok). Suffice it to say that events (think SAA strike) conspired against us and Lochi, who was otherwise engaged during my only available opening, made arrangements with Andrew to host me. Because Andrew has access to a lot of country, I was able to add several more species of big game and a variety of varmints and wingshooting to my itinerary. Andrew literally went out of his way to customize this hunt for me on relatively short notice. I was not disappointed!

Because this is the “African Big Game Hunting†forum, I’ll focus on our hunts for the larger game. However, I encourage any interested parties to view my other hunt report on Predator Masters that includes more history of the hunt and more detail of the wide variety of smaller critters Andrew and I (and a couple other chaps from these hunting forums) pursued during my stay.

I arrived at Mervilla, Andrew’s place in the Free State, on the evening of Friday August 12. We spent that evening and the next two days calling predators, shooting varmints, and trying out the shotguns. I did shoot a nice little springbok ram, though it was more of a nighttime culling operation for camp meat than actual hunting. Nevertheless, they’re pretty enough for a photo op.



On Sunday afternoon, before we got too fired up about big game hunting, we hit a local pond for some duck shooting and ended up with four yellow billed ducks and a red-headed teal.



Monday morning we traveled to a nearby farm to begin antelope hunting in earnest. This particular farm has a very large “back 40†with a pretty good population of blesbok and springbok. This day we were after blesbok. We glassed the herd from afar and determined that there were several eligible rams. Rather than spook them with the Cruiser, I started after them on foot from about a mile out. After duck-walking from anthill to anthill, then crawling several hundred yards, I had finally closed the distance to 221 yards (aren’t rangefinders grand?). I had a solid rest over an anthill, but I just couldn’t get a clear shot a good ram and the herd drifted past with no shots fired. The day had warmed by this time, so we regrouped with the farmer, who offered to help with a type of “drive†in which I would remain stationary (hunkered behind an anthill) and he’d attempt to push the blesbok my way. This tactic works well for muleys here in NM, so I was game for it. The blesbok, however, were not. They were quite spooky this late in the hunting season and knew something was up. After several botched attempts, we called it off for a while and went to shoot some varmints. We returned late that afternoon to try again. This time our plan worked, and I was able to take an old granddad blesbok just as the sun was setting. He wasn’t the largest ram in the herd, but as I’ve mentioned before I like mature animals with character, and this old boy had it – odd, light colored hide, flattened ridges on his horns, and teeth worn to the gumline. He won’t make “the book,†but I was quite happy with him as a trophy.



We had been seeing quite a few nice steenbok rams, so we decided to try our hand at the next good one we saw. Tuesday morning found us heading to another farm to look for a white springbok (the farmer wanted his hide, and I was here to help). However, we had traveled only a short ways when we spotted a pair of tiny steenbok waaaay out in a pasture. After much glassing, we were able to determine that the ram was worthy of pursuit, so the hunt was on. In just over two hours, I had managed to close the distance from more than 1000 yards to only 123 by using the sparse cover and moving only when the steenboks’ heads were down. I positioned myself for a shot and was waiting for the ram to enter a small clearing in the grass when I felt the wind tickle the back of my neck. The two steenbok vanished into the waist-high grass in a flash, ending that stalk. No animal, but what fun! In the middle of the day we traveled to Soutpan for salt (Soutpan = Salt Pan) and visited a local museum at Florisbad, the site of research on one of the oldest human skulls found. Later in the evening we spotted another good steenbok ram on a neighboring property. As we glassed him, his mate led him on a merry chase under the fence, across the road several hundred yards in front of us, and onto the property Andrew had permission to hunt. What luck! We quickly moved into position for a shot, and my morning’s busted stalk was redeemed when I managed to take this fine ram:



Although his long horn makes him a potential book animal, I was happy to have taken a nice, mature animal. I was shocked to see that the short horn was not just small, but broken! It was hard for me to imagine these little fellows fighting hard enough to break a horn, but I guess males of all species get a little crazy about their females.

Wednesday we set off to hunt black wildebeest on another farm about 30 minutes away. We met with the landowner, shared some coffee and rusks, and were greeted with good news. A large herd bull that he’d been watching for several years had finally been evicted from the herd by a young contender and was all alone on the prairie. In the flat country of the Free State, one set of eyes is much easier to deal with than 50. It was a warm day, so we loaded up in the back of the Cruiser and headed to the far reaches of the farm. We’d covered several sections when we spotted the old boy on a small knoll all by his lonesome. We were able to park the Cruiser behind a large steel water tank, which concealed our departure from the vehicle. We peeked over the water tank and used binos to confirm that the bull was who we though he was. Andrew said that he was quite a large bull and that if I could get close enough I should take him. While he and the landowner remained at the tank, I made a short crawl/stalk across the open towards a cattle feeder, which seemed like a dandy rifle rest. As I neared it, the bull spotted me and turned, initiating what I thought was his departure. I dashed the last few yards and got in position, but the bull was facing away, offering no shot. I thought for sure he’d continue to flee, but that was not the case. Instead, he abruptly turned and trotted straight towards me in what looked like a mock charge! At about 200 yards, he stopped and stood quartering towards me stomping his feet and shaking his head. I couldn’t believe this , but I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. As soon as he settled down I touched the trigger and saw him fall in a heap. Andrew was there in a flash, congratulating me on nice shot and a great trophy. We approached cautiously, but there was no need, the old bull was down for the count.



Having finished with the black wildebeest earlier than expected, we spent some time driving around the farm just taking in the scenery. There are quite a few black wildebeest on this place, and we managed to get close enough to a couple herds for some decent photos. I now know why they call these critters the “Clown of the Plains.†Their antics are quite amusing to observe.



Early Thursday morning we were on our way to the Eastern Cape to chase mountain reedbuck and, if time allowed, blue wildebeest. A three-hour drive found us in entirely different terrain. Gone were the plains of the Free State. Ahead loomed the rocky hills of the Cape and our temporary home - Ribbokrant. After settling into a quaint old farmhouse, we drove to another nearby property. We parked near the bottom of a likely looking bunch of hills and started our hike. Up and up we went, but saw little in the way of animals or promising sign. We jumped a female reedbuck with a youngster, and glassed a couple warthogs in the valley below, but little else. The weather and scenery were beautiful though, so we pressed on. As afternoon wore on, we decided to head back to beat nightfall. We found a good place to descend and dropped off the hill. We were nearly back to the valley floor when we jumped a small group of mountain reedbuck. Though I could only see four without horns, Andrew assured me in a whisper that a male was nearby. Having learned not to doubt these ol’ PHs, I got into a solid shooting position and waited. Sure enough, the females and young headed out across the bottom of the canyon to the opposite side, drawing a wary ram out of the thick brush below us. When he stopped on the canyon floor at 159 yards like an old mule deer buck taking his last look, Andrew said “He’s a good one, take him.†Some might say that a .338 is overkill for mountain reedbuck, but you can’t argue with results!



The sun was near the horizon, so we quickly took some pictures and Andrew made the little reedbuck into a “briefcase†to pack him out to the nearest Cruiser-accessible location. We hurried off to see if we could sneak up on the warthogs we’d seen watering from the hilltop, but they had moved on. We made our way back to the truck, picked up the stashed reedbuck, and returned to the house for dinner, showers, and bed.

The next morning we hunted from the house, choosing first to try our hand at jackal calling. After a couple stands I managed to call one in, but he hung up in the flat below me (see picture below) at more than 400 yards, offering no shot.



Although they’re quite difficult to see, there are some blue wildebeest in plains below us. Seeing them encouraged us to change our quarry from predators to wildebeest. I’ve always found blue wildebeest rugs attractive, and had decided that I wanted one for myself, but wasn’t overly concerned about a trophy head. This worked in our favor, as the landowner had previously told Andrew that there were too many blue wildebeest cows on the place. We were more than happy to see if we could remove an older one from his herd. The wind wasn’t quite right for a stalk on the animals below us, but Andrew is very familiar with this property and was confident that there were other wildebeest elsewhere. We made a circle around the base of a large plateau to get the wind in our faces, then crept up the edge to see what was on top. Hmm, red hartebeest. We dropped back off, hiked along the base of the small mesa a bit farther, and eased over the lip again. This time we spotted some blue wildebeest in the distance. They were well out of rifle range, so we again dropped off the steep edge and made our way to a new vantage. When we popped over this time, the herd was a mere 100 yards away, but screened by low brush. We watched for a time, and they finally started to move out, but to our downwind side. Luck was with us again though, and an old cow was leading the pack. Fearing that she’d wind us any time, I shot her walking as soon as she cleared the brush. The rest of the herd bolted back from whence they’d come, but the old cow stumbled a few feet and fell just in front of us. She will make a fine rug.



Our hunting was pretty much done here, but after tending to the meat we still had some time, so we wandered around the place just seeing the sights and the plentiful game. Springbok, blesbok, red hartebeest, and blue wildebeest abound on this property. There are also mountain reedbuck, and some of the neighbor’s eland had even come for a visit. I was scheduled to leave the Free State this night, so we grudgingly loaded our gear and departed Ribbokrant in the afternoon. We returned to Mervilla, unloaded the meat of two animals, and had a nice meal before saying our goodbyes.

Andrew most certainly deserves some recognition for the accommodations provided on this hunt. At Mervilla I had a wonderful little stone bungalow to myself, which included my sleeping quarters, dining area, and private bath. My pictures don’t really do it justice, as the bungalow and the yard around it are quite delightful.







At Ribbokrant we stayed in an old farmhouse equipped with a diesel generator and all the amenities of home – comfortable living/sleeping areas, a nice little kitchen, and hot water for showers. Everything you’d need and more!

congratulations ,great trip and thanks for the photos.juan

Sounds like you had a great trip -- thanks for posting.

Wonderful report! Nice way to mix up a hunt and fit so many different critters in. Bet the ducks were a lot of fun.

Sounds like a fun trip. Shooting birds and varmints in the RSA is a unique experience. Calling jackals at night using a predator call with those strange cries jackals make is unnerving at times. Kind of surreal! Thanks for the report!

Hey DR,

Sounds like a great trip, while you were hunting with Andrew and the others, I was getting a blow by blow account on how things were going on my end. You had a wonderful mix of activities that I am sure added enjoyment to the safari.

BigBullet

Great Report, the Free State always is a challenge to hunt and a very fun trip.

Good going! The American flag was a good touch.

Yep, mixing it up sure made the hunt that much more enjoyable. It was quite relaxing not to worry about the next "trophy," and to just take what came our way.

Andrew and Cecilia really know how to make a guy feel at home too!

Hey DR,

What a great hunt report. It looks and sounds like you had a great time. That is a great mix of animals and experiences!!

Bob