July 26, 2002

“30 years†I mused to myself. 30 years is a milestone no matter what the subject. A person’s 30th birthday supposedly separates them from being a youth to officially being an adult. A thirty year marriage is rare these days and is usually noted for its dedication and commitment. A 30 year mortgage is the standard method of funding a home purchase, but it is an intimidating debt to accept and quite an accomplishment to fulfill.

And 30 years is a long time to wait for something. I sat and reflected on how as a small boy of 6 or 7 years of age I read my fathers outdoor magazines and the wonderful articles they held about distant places to hunt. Even at that young age, I quickly sped past the fishing and bird hunting articles to those that spoke of lion, leopard, and elephant. A boys’ fascination of standing in the midday sun side by side with a PH taking the brunt of a charge from some angry animal was what I longed for.

Years passed quickly, high school, college, a career, several moves, a few highs, and many lows. Trips to other states pursuing game and a few Canadian provinces only sharpened my desire to see the sunsets in Africa. Although I tried, I never seemed to be able to have all my cards in order to put my first safari together.

Like many, I devoured every magazine article I could find about hunting that far off land. My collection of books now makes the shelves in my bookcase sag. And video tapes sit on top of the television set and scattered throughout the entertainment center.

After all this time, suddenly, here it was 30 years later and I was packing the last of my gear in preparation for the journey that would begin in the morning.

July 27 2002

As I sit in my local airport, I look at my watch again. Flight delays are common here and my 10:55am flight has been pushed back to 2:30pm. I consol myself by thinking that after 30 years, a few more hours can’t be that much harder to wait.

Although late, the plane finally left Marquette and the first leg of my trip was quickly over. I landed in Detroit, having missed my connection to Atlanta and discovering that there would not be another flight for 3 hours. At least that gave me the opportunity to get a bite to eat and, hey, after 30 years what’s a few more hours.

The only real concern I had was the declaration of valuables and firearms form (U.S. Customs #4457) that I need approved by U.S. Customs before I left the states. Although I had the form filled out, it was unsigned. To prevent problems on the return to the states, this form must be signed by a U.S. Customs agent.

Previous phone calls to U.S. Customs in Atlanta indicated that I could stop by anytime from 8:00am-10:00pm and get my valuables and firearms inspected and the form signed. Due to the flight delays, I would not arrive in Atlanta until 10:30pm, 30 minutes after they closed.

I called my girlfriend Traci, who was waiting for me in Atlanta, and asked her to call U.S. Customs and confirm they would be open on Sunday morning. When Traci called me back she told me an agent told her they would NOT sign the form at the airport even though they were open on Sunday and I had to go to the main office in downtown Atlanta. Although Traci tried to explain that I had no way to get there, that my flight left in the morning, and that the main office downtown would be closed on Sunday, the agent didn’t seem to care.

At 10:30pm I arrived in Atlanta 6 ½ hours late. I went to the Delta/South African Airways ticket counter as I was flying out on that carrier in the morning. I explained the concern I had about leaving the country without declaring my valuables and firearms. The ticket agent immediately called the U.S. Customs office and told me that I could indeed get my form signed in the morning before my flight left for Zimbabwe. Quite relieved I thanked the ticket agents for the extra effort on my behalf.

After all that, Traci and I headed to the hotel room, somewhat frustrated and tired. The hour was so late that we didn’t get a chance to have dinner together as we had planned, but did get to see each other for a few hours.

July 28, 2002

We arrived at the airport 3 hours prior to my flight leaving and checked in my baggage. My guns were inspected by the ticket agent and, when he pulled up my name on the computer, there was a note from last night to have me proceed directly to U. S. Customs to get the appropriate forms signed. U. S. Customs is at the far end of a huge airport so off I hustled kissing Traci goodbye and saying I would try to get back to her before they called my flight.

When I got to the U. S. Customs office the lady Customs Agent from the previous day who said I couldn’t get the forms signed was behind the counter. She refused to sign the form and was quite agitated that I was even trying to get the form signed. Even after explaining 3 or 4 times that we had talked to other agents last night and that I was directed to come to Customs from the airline, she still wasn’t buying it.

She told me that I should have had the form signed at my “local†office before I left home. When told that my local office was over 200 miles away in Duluth, she didn’t budge. She suggested I wait in Atlanta until the main office opened downtown on Monday! This would have resulted in me missing my flight to Johannesburg and throwing the whole safari off by several days.

By now, I’d had it. I asked her for the name of her supervisor and where we might find him or her on a Sunday morning. Further, I was not going to leave that office without my form signed or her preparing a declaration that I would not have any trouble re-importing my firearms and valuables.

She looked as though someone punched her in the stomach. She asked me to wait and walked out of sight. About 2 minutes later, she came back with the form stamped and signed. Not once did anyone check the serial numbers or inspect my guns, the items listed on the form or anything else for that matter.

I raced back to the airport lobby and sat with Traci for about 15 minutes before they called my flight. I said goodbye and headed for the plane. Luckily I was seated in an aisle seat in the upper deck of the plane. It seemed to me that there was more room upstairs and there was an open area in the middle of the cabin. Several other hunters were going to various parts of Southern Africa and we all talked before the flight left. It happened that four of the people I met on the plane were from Alaska. One of them even knew my brother as they are in the same archery club in Juneau.

We took off and 18 ½ hours later we landed in Johannesburg, I was in Africa! The airport was packed of course with people from our flight waiting to clear customs. While I was trying to figure out which way to go, I saw a man standing at the bottom of the escalator holding a sign with my name on it. I walked up to him and noticed about 6 other people standing near him. I introduced myself and he said that we should immediately go with him to proceed through Customs. The man’s name was Richard and he said that Louis from the Afton House was waiting for us.

It was amazing how quickly Richard got us through South African Customs. We cut ahead of everyone in line and quickly we were at the firearms office. Louis was there and according to the South African Police, all the guns were to be inspected as well as the ammunition. Well, two of my guns got inspected out of three and no one seemed to mind. But the firearms agent freaked when she saw that I had 49 and not 50 rounds of ammo for one of my rifles. I had marked that I had 50 rounds as that was the containers capacity. Mistakenly I had one empty casing in the box. I had to redo all the forms as it had to be “officialâ€.

Louis got all our bags, guns and bodies in two vehicles and we headed for the Afton House Bed and Breakfast. Louis told us that Johannesburg is a city with the highest crime rate in the world. Every house, building, parking lot, etc. is surrounded by either a concrete or steel fence. Along the top of each fence is razor wire or broken glass imbedded in the concrete.

As we reached the Afton House I had the opportunity to meet Annalise, Louis’ wife and she gave me the keys to my room. The Afton House folks showed incredible hospitality and the room was very comfortable. In fact it was much larger and homey feeling than you get at one of the large chains. I was still wired from the long flight and walked around the grounds looking for someone to talk to. It seemed everyone had gone in for a nap so I went back to my room and closed my eyes for about an hour. When I woke up I was HUNGRY! South African Airways didn’t feed us too much and I simply can’t sleep in a plane so by now I was running on empty.

I wandered around the grounds and found the guys from Alaska on the back porch doing some bird watching. I have never been much of a birder, but they were really getting into identifying the different species. It was amazing how many varieties of bird life there were in the backyard of a major city.

Shortly, Louis met us on the back porch and took us to a local steak house for dinner. I sat next to one of the guys from Alaska and Eugene Yap from Hawaii. Gene is a guide for axis deer, mouflon, hogs and goat in Hawaii. He and his son were just finishing up a hunt in Zimbabwe. His son, Matt, who was just 10 years old, had just finished collecting his Big 5 by taking elephant and buffalo. What an accomplishment, and what a nice kid.

All in all there were about 10-12 of us at dinner. The service was amazing and the food was really good. While I don’t drink wine, several people at the table remarked on the fine South African wines that were available.

My order got put on one of the Alaskan’s tabs, so we just split up the bill. Steak dinner for six, with appetizers, three bottles of wine, 6 or 8 bottles of beer and tip was only $96.00US!

During dinner we spoke of the turmoil in Zimbabwe. The government was ordering all whites to surrender their lands by August 9, 2002. Those of us that were going to be hunting in Zimbabwe were very concerned. Our concern was not only for ourselves, but those people in left in Zimbabwe. What would happen while we were there, no one knew.

July 30, 2002

I had breakfast with Gene and Matt Yap before I left Afton House for the airport. We had a great talk and they are really nice people. I hope that someday we get the opportunity to meet again. As I was clearing out, I met Allen and Margaret Moeller from Australia. They were also hunting with Mbalabala Safaris and we would be flying out together. The Moellers had stayed at a different bed and breakfast, but were brought to the Afton House in the morning.

I checked in at the airport and immediately got a porter, or should I say, he got me. He grabbed my bags and was gone. Another grabbed the Moeller’s and once again we were whisked through the airport. Being from Australia, for some reason the Moeller’s weren’t allowed to carry as much baggage as I. They actually had to pay extra for being overweight on luggage even though they had less baggage than I did.

As they were settling up with the airline, I was inside another “firearms†office. This office was responsible for getting my guns on the plane to Zimbabwe. As I was filling out the paper work and getting it stamped (everyone in Africa has a form or a stamp), one of the guys in the room made an interesting comment.

“Mr. Leslie, you have a very heavy gun case. Do you have something that you’d like to leave us so that we could get a cool drink after making sure such a heavy case gets on the plane?†A chill ran down my spine as I realized I was getting shaken down, pure and simple. While at the Afton House, we had been told that some 400 guns were “lost†in the Johannesburg airport this year alone. I quickly realized that if I didn’t pay these guys off, my guns might make that total 403. I paid each one off with a $5.00 bill which, due to the exchange rate, amounted to $50.00Rand.

My porter of course, was waiting the whole time and continued to get me through the rest of the airport without any problems. He got a $20.00 tip as I was out of $5’s and $10’s. He made sure that he knew when I would be back as he wanted to help me back through the airport. No wonder, with a $20.00 tip, I had paid him more than he would make all week!

The Moellers and I sat together on the plane and talked of other hunting trips and our homes. This was their first safari as well as mine. When we flew into Zimbabwe, it seemed the whole country was burning. Grass fires are common this time of year, and the air was filled with smoke.

After a short 2 hour flight, we touched down in Zimbabwe at the Bulawayo Airport. Leaving the plane and entering the Bulawayo Airport is a step back in time. The building must be from the late 50’s or early 60’s and hasn’t seen a new chair or table since it was built.

The first thing a visitor to Zimbabwe must do is pay a “visitors†fee of $30.00US. I was second in line and watched the guy in front of me give the clerk a $20 dollar bill and a $10 dollar bill. When it was my turn I gave the clerk two $20 dollar bills as that was the smallest domination I had. He looked puzzled and said he couldn’t give me any change. I said “I saw the guy ahead of me give you a $10 dollar bill so just give me that and we would be okayâ€. He just didn’t get it, I’m sure he was counting on the extra $10 for his pocket. Luckily the two guys behind me in line had change and I got my money back from the clerk and paid him exactly $30 dollars.

By now Charlie and Lindon “Lin†Stanton had found the Moellers and me. They got me pointed in the right direction to once again get my guns inspected by an “official†with a form and a stamp. The official only examined two of my three guns but he felt I had filled out the “form†incorrectly as one of my “7’s†looked like a “9â€. As it had to be “officialâ€, I had to redo the form completely. Now I was 2 for 2 on redoing forms.

The Stanton’s were very helpful in getting us out of the airport and you could tell they were used to this kind of bureaucracy. As we walked outside I met Ms. Stanton and said goodbye to the Moellers as they were leaving to hunt a different camp than I. Before I knew it Lin and I were loaded up in the Landcruiser Pickup and headed out of the airport. Lin is 22 and played Rugby his whole life so he’s a stocky young man.

Lin said it was a 3-4 hour ride to camp and we were headed right there. As we drove out of Bulawayo, I was glad to think that I had made it, the dream was coming true. One thing I noticed about the trip out of town was that people just seemed to step off the curb anywhere they wanted and dodge the cars careening down the street. It was a little unnerving but we missed them all.

The ride to camp gave me a chance to unwind and I got to see my first wildlife in the form of warthog and baboons feeding along the roadside. Interestingly, livestock also (donkeys, cattle and goats) feed freely along the road sides unfenced. Several times we had to stop to let them cross. The road sides were sporadically lined with people standing in the middle of nowhere waiting for a ride. Some it seemed had been waiting for days as they had small shelters set up. Where they were going or who they were waiting for is still a mystery. But during my entire trip, it seemed that everywhere we went, there was someone waiting to go somewhere.

We drove from the blacktop to a dirt road to a two-track and I couldn’t wait to see the camp. The closer we got, the more I noticed the high rocky hills made up of granite. Lin called them “gomous†and said the trees were acacia and mopane. A few more turns and another mile or so and we crossed a dry river bed and pulled into camp.

Camp was made up of two canvas tents for the clients, a tent for the PH’s, a cooking area, skinning and salting area, dining area, and shower area. It looked like a historic piece of old Africa you would read about in a book. I half expected to see Robert Raurk or Peter Capstick stepping out from one of the tents, it was perfect. Reeds were used to separate the dining area as well as around the shower and restroom area.

I was amazed to see a real flush toilet out here in the bush as I could not see any water source. Lin told me that the water came from a stock tank some 10K away! A pipe had been run the whole way just to serve this camp. Also at the camp I met Lin’s brother Matt and his client J.J. Archulate from New Mexico. J.J. is here hunting sable, leopard and plains game.

In fact J.J. had already scored on Zebra and a huge Waterbuck with horns over 31â€. The camp staff hauled my gear to my tent and Lin told me to get ready as we were going to sight my guns in and go for a ride. I quickly tore into everything, got into my hunting clothes. We drove a short way and set up to sight the guns in. Lin said take both rifles and the shotgun as you never know what you’re going to get into and we should be prepared. I shot the rifles and they seemed to hit just about where they did when I left the states so off we went.

It took me a bit to get my “game eyes†back, but was soon starting to spot game. We drove for a bit before Lin said we were going to get out and go for a walk to see what might turn up. We walked single file, Lin first, me second and one of the trackers, Kululaku, behind. It didn’t seem we had walked very far when both Lin and I seemed to see something off to our left.

By glassing, Lin said they were waterbuck cows. I had thought that waterbuck were more grayish black and these were more tan colored than I expected. I was just amazed that we had come up on game so quick. Lin gave them the once over and said, “All cows, one small bull, let’s keep goingâ€. To be honest I could have watched them all night but they moved and so did we.

We kept walking up one of the gomous until we seemed to be above a lot of the other smaller hills. From there we could see for miles, and Lin pointed out my first Kudu. A bull and some cows were on another gomou near us and as we stared at them they stared back. The bull looked enormous to me but Lin said nope, only 51†we can do better. I kept repeating “listen to the PH Hugh†in my head.

The sun was beginning to set, and as it hadn’t rained in awhile, the dust in the atmosphere really brought out that postcard African sunset. The warm air, the setting sun, and the feeling that I was finally there was overwhelming. I just gazed into the sunset letting the wind bring me the smells of Africa. I hated for the day to end but I felt more alive than I had in months.

Kululaku radioed the truck and Vumani met us at the bottom of the hill. Lin and I sat in the back of the truck and he said load the shotgun lets get some birds if we can. We drove along in the cooling air looking for francolin and guinea fowl. Lin spotted two and told me to bail out, run up to them and shoot.

I know from experience that I am the world's worst wingshot and have no qualms about ground swatting any bird and I did exactly that. I nailed the first one on the ground and missed the flying bird. So I had done it, 30 years later, I had my first game in Africa. Francolins remind me of a cross between a quail and a partridge in size. They are light brown in color with a red crest and long spurs. I would learn later that they are very tasty.

We got back to camp after dark and the camp staff had a fire going as well as small gas lanterns in front of our tents. I put my guns away and Lin called me and said he had a beer with my name on it at the fire. The four of us sat by the fire getting to know each other and exchanging stories. It was a good group, two hunters, two PH’s and we all got along. I’ve been in camps where I wasn’t so lucky, but this worked out great.

Dinner was Sable Stew, which to me tasted a lot like caribou. We finished a hearty dinner and even had dessert. J.J. was fighting a cold that plagued him all week so I gave him some Cipro in the hopes that it would stave off the cold getting worse. It turned out that the Cipro didn’t help and eventually he was forced to get a prescription from town. We never stayed up very late as 5:45am came early so we headed to bed by 8:30pm.

July 31, 2002

This will be my first full day of hunting at Mashura. The wind had come up late in the evening and really roared all night. The tents flapping, J.J. snoring in the next tent, and my excitement kept me from getting much sleep. It dawned cold, rainy and windy and I was glad that I brought some warm clothes.

We all met at the campfire for a light breakfast of toast and tea or coffee before heading out. The plan was to hunt the morning by walking along on top of the gomous looking for game. J.J. and Matt would be checking leopard baits in another area of the ranch.

While we were driving to the area where we would do our still hunting we saw a few impala and warthog. Upon reaching our destination, we got out and started walking. Our bodies began to warm up from the walk and I was taking in all the country had to offer.

We began to climb the rocks and noticed small marmot like rodents running in and out of the crevices and behind the boulders. They were quite comical, as they would all disappear at once then one by one pop back out and run further down the rocks. They did not make any noise that I heard but Lin said they could make an alarm noise when frightened. Lin called them "Rocktussies" and they kept us company for most of the walk.

The five of us, two hunters and three trackers, kept up a steady pace constantly on the lookout for game. Lin, me, Kululaku, Joel, and Vumani in that order, were going up a slight rise when Lin stopped and set up the shooting sticks and motioned for me to get ready. I was still looking for what he spotted when he whispered that there was a “Bloody big waterbuck, take him!â€. Suddenly, there he was right in front of us and slightly down hill. Apparently he and Lin hit the top of the hill about the same time. The bull was only 50 yards or so away and wasn’t going to stay long.

I set my rifle on the shooting sticks and clicked off the safety. The bull was facing almost straight on to us and I asked Lin if I should shoot or not at that angle. He said “Yes, take him, NOW, he’s a good one!â€. I remember having that brief moment of indecision that we sometimes get that it can’t be that good a specimen this early in the hunt. But I also remembered that you should always trust your guide. I held just in between the neck and the shoulder as he was just very slightly quartering to us. Before I squeezed the trigger I remember seeing the rocky hills behind him, the pond below us and the foggy air swirling across the horizon.

At the shot I lost the bull in the recoil from the .375, but he ran to our left and Lin grabbed the shooting sticks and ran after the bull. We ran up and over the top of the hill as the bull rounded the hill at a somewhat lower elevation. Lin was setting up the sticks and I was working the bolt as we stopped and caught sight of the bull toppling over. He ran perhaps 50 yards. We waited a few moments before walking down to him as he expired.

I know that when I looked at him in the scope I blocked out the horns and concentrated on the chest. I did this intentionally so as not to screw up the shot and I never really evaluated the horns. I knew I thought they looked big when I shot, but I was wrong, he was massive. He had huge bases and was over 28†on both sides. The coat was much more tan than gray and he was in excellent condition. My first big game animal in Africa was more than I cold have hoped for and I was thrilled!



The trackers and Lin all congratulated me on the shot and the animal. I was just glad to have made a good shot. I think we all feel a little pressured when we shoot in front of a crowd and I’m no different.

I was amazed that the bull showed very little reaction to being hit at such close range with a big caliber. I was sure that the gun would have knocked him off his feet, but the bullet didn’t even exit the bull. As we posed him for pictures Joel moved a large flat rock that was in the way and underneath was a huge (as far as I’m concerned) black scorpion. I beat feet the other way and they all laughed. Snakes I can take, but creepy crawly’s like scorpions and spiders give me the willys. Joel just stepped on it like it was no big deal but my skin still crawls when I think of it.
[URL=http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v437/Hughiam/waterbuck2.jpg]
After the pictures were taken we drove around looking for more game while the trackers skinned and quartered the bull. We climbed to the top of another gomou in the Landcruiser and began glassing for game. Lin was looking down one side and me on the other when I heard him whisper for me to, “Get over hereâ€!

Right below him were three big impala rams, one over 24 “ according to Lin. I got down by Lin but couldn’t get a shot through the brush. The rams kept walking towards us till they were only 30 yards or so away, but still I didn’t have a clean shot. I think Lin was going crazy waiting for me to shoot. Suddenly they saw or sensed us and were gone. I felt bad, but before I left for this trip I told myself I would not shoot until absolutely sure of the results. I never did end up shooting an impala on this trip, but I that means I have one more reason to go back.

On the way back to pick up the trackers we bumped into a huge 57†kudu but could not get on him. At the rendezvous point, the trackers had already retrieved most of the meat and the crows were beginning to gather. Lin’s eyes lit up at the sight of the crows and he asked if I would mind letting him take a shot or two with my shotgun. Little did I know that Lin hated crows and any one that got within shotgun range was in trouble. I think he nailed two of them while we waited for the rest of the meat and hide.

I saw my first baobab trees, huge, strangely shaped old trees. It was yet another piece of Africa that I wanted to see since I was a child and now it was a reality. I was told that every 5 feet of circumference represents 20 years of growth.

After lunch with left for the afternoon hunt. The weather was deteriorating with cold, rain and wind. Not much game was moving and we only saw some impala and some kudu cows. We had to make a stop at Lin’s uncle Lindon’s house to pick up the tracker Joel who was most familiar with the area. Lin’s uncle is quite a character and he made me feel very welcome in his home. Once we picked up the tracker we drove for about hour before we got out and started climbing a gomou.

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trying again

We were about 30 feet below the peak of the gomou when, I spotted two bush pigs feeding in our direction. I pointed them out to Lin and he said I should take one. As we were just one day into the hunt and they really weren’t on my list I said I’d like to hold off. Lin said that they were very hard to get, and I probably would never see one again. I was worried about the shot spooking the game in the area, but Lin kept saying that these were a rare animal and the large boar was really a good trophy.

By now the pigs were about 60 yards away and directly downhill feeding almost straight away. I set up the sticks for a hard quartering away downhill shot and hit the pig in the spine angling forward into the chest cavity. The pigs hind legs folded and he started squealing which sent the trackers into hysterics. I quickly moved to the right and fired again which dropped the pig in his tracks.

Bushpig are a unique animal appearing to be a cross between a wart hog and a wild boar. The coloring is grayish black but with long wild orange and white hair. His tusks proved quite large and I was glad to have shot him. Later when we skinned him out we found both slugs in the chest cavity. I was stunned that two shots at 60-65 yards with a .375 and left no exit wounds on this 165 lb. animal. Quickly I was learning that African game is incredibly tough. Also, that they have the ability to soak up fatal shots without showing signs of being hit.

We covered the pig with branches to keep the birds away and continued to hunt. We caught up with a good Kudu bull but he got our wind and was gone. As it was getting late we sent the trackers for the truck while Lin and I continued our stalk. We waited at the rendezvous point for quite awhile wet and cold. Finally the truck showed up and I was relieved to be out of the weather as I was soaked through.

Dinner was impala roast which was quite good and we washed down with a couple of Castle’s to celebrate a great day. The campfire felt good as the evening wore on and it warmed the chill out of my bones. I hit the sack at 8:30pm as we were all pretty beat up from the weather but happy to have had such a successful day. The weather forecast for tomorrow is the same as today.

August 1, 2002

After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee we went hunting. The rain has stopped but the weather is still cold and overcast. We traveled just about a mile or so and bumped into a small herd of zebra. We jumped out and tried to put on a stalk but they were really jumpy and thundered away.



A few miles further we saw five more cross the road some way in front of us so we stopped the truck and got out and crept up the two track. The stallion was in amongst the mares and foals and there was no shot. They began to run off with us following at a brisk walk. The group stopped and looked back with the stallion once again blocked by his harem. Finally the females and young cleared and I had a 60-70 yard shot at the stallion. The zebra was quartering to me and Lin said he was a nice one and we should take him.

I held on the shoulder and, at the shot, the zebra ran like he wasn’t hit at all. We sprinted after him and ran to the top of a small mound. We hit the top just in time to see the stallion stop and look back at us. Lin threw up the sticks and I was just starting to pull the trigger, as I wasn’t sure I had actually hit him, when he started to collapse. He rolled down the small rock mound he was standing on and died. The shot had been perfect, but as I said earlier, African game is very resilient.

It wasn’t even 7:30am yet and I had my zebra. He was a very good stallion with fine markings and few scars. We loaded him in the truck after taking the customary pictures and headed back to camp for breakfast. We ate while the skinners prepared the zebra for a rug.

After breakfast we went out again and drove a few miles to an area of thick mopane growth. I told Lin that it looked like eland country and he said that they did hang out here as did kudu. Along the drive we saw wildebeest, warthog and duiker.

We went for a walk to see if any game was about in the scrub. We hadn’t walked for more than a 1/2 hour when we bumped into a lone kudu bull feeding. We got pretty close, I would guess about 75 yards from him, and glassed him. After a bit, Lin said he was only 50-52†and we could do better. He said while he looked long, he had no depth in his curls so on we went.

We marched on only to bump into a herd of eland of about 20-25 head. Lin said he saw a bit of the bull and we put on a stalk. With that many eyes, and the eland constantly feeding away, we really had to work to get ahead of them and keep out of sight. The bush was quite thick in spots and at times we could only see the legs or small patches of fur. We kept working at it, backing off, crawling on hands and knees, running at a crouch, and sliding along on our bellies.

Occasionally one of the cows would stare in our direction and we had to freeze, but then they would move off again with the herd. One thing about eland, even the cows looked big to me. I kept saying, “Lin, there’s a bullâ€â€™ and he would just shake his head and say “cow.†I was feeling a little foolish when he finally said the bulls are bluish in color and when you see one you’ll know it because they are twice as big as a cow.

On and on we went, pushing to get a look at the front of the herd through the heavy cover. My hands and knees were sore and bleeding, but we were not going to give up until we were completely beaten or we had a shot. When it seemed that they were going to give us the slip, suddenly there he was. This giant animal that looked as big as moose staring back at us from about 60 yards. He was quartering to again with a tree in front of his shoulder. Lin said this was a really good bull and that I needed to shoot him.

I held fire as I would not shoot until he cleared the trees. Lin said shoot as soon as he starts to turn as we could hear the other eland moving off. I never looked at the horns as by now I knew to trust Lin’s judgment. I just held on the bull hoping he went to the right to offer me a shot.

Finally, slowly his head started to turn right and with it started to step the same way. I held on the neck for a quartering on shot and squeezed when it felt right. At the shot the bull jumped and I felt the thud of the scope over my eye. I hadn’t held the gun as tight to my shoulder as I should have and paid the price.

We ran as fast as we could trying to keep the bull in sight while I was checking my eyebrow to see if I needed stitches. He stopped after running a short ways and lowered his head and began to sag in the hindquarters. I was already on him resting against a tree and aiming at the crease in his right armpit when Lin said, “Don’t shoot we want the meat and you hit him good.â€

Suddenly, the bull locked his hind legs and swung his head up and looked in our direction as though he got his second wind. Lin said hit him again which I did and the shot took him right in the crease of the armpit. He took two steps and fell over dead.



We ran up to the bull and I was simply amazed at the size of the animal. These things are huge and we guessed him to be somewhere between 1,500 and 1,600lbs. The horns measured 32 1/4 “ with good bases and deep ridges. As we looked him over, the rest of the eland herd ran by us and in the herd were two incredible kudu bulls. Lin guessed them at over 54†and said we would go after them later.

It took Lin and I and the two trackers to roll the eland over for photos. Then I thought oh no, how are we going to load this thing? Lin called Matt on the radio and after a short wait he showed up with his Toyota. Matt has a winch and we quickly had the bull in the back of the truck and headed back to camp for lunch.

As the skinners hung the bull at the skinning pole I couldn’t help but think he was bigger than most steers I have seen butchered. To date I had four animals down with basically one shot kills. It was the hunt of a lifetime.

After lunch the weather got colder and cloudy. Lin and I drove for a bit before parking on top of a treeless gomou. We planned to try and spot a good kudu, perhaps one of the big ones we’d seen earlier with the eland. We glassed all sides and saw many animals including waterbuck, zebra, and impala but no kudu.

Lin spotted a flock of guinea fowl at the bottom of the gomou and we discussed going after them for the pot. We had eaten guinea fowl and francolin stew and it was very good, much like ruffed grouse. As the flock moved towards us, they reminded me of short grey-blue turkeys, pecking and scratching for food in the ground.

Lin had gone over to look at the other side of the gomou when I spotted a herd of eland almost a mile off in the distance. The trackers called Lin over and we both glassed the eland. Suddenly Lin said that he spotted the bull and he was enormous. I saw the bull and he was indeed a monster. The bull stood out from the others with his huge size and grey/blue color.

Lin ran to the radio and called Matt as his client J.J. was also looking for a good eland. Although Matt and J.J. were several miles away, they drove our way as fast as they could. By using the radio, we talked them into the area where we had last seen the eland and wished them luck.

We had a great viewing area to see them set up the stalk. The truck stopped and the hunters got out and moved away into the scrub. We waited and waited wondering what was happening. In the middle of the scrub, I saw the heads of several giraffe pop up and stare in the direction the hunters had headed. After a few moments, the giraffe busted out the right side of the scrub about the same time the eland herd ran out the other.

We felt bad that J.J. and Matt must have jumped the eland and missed an opportunity when there was the loud boom of a rifle. Lin and I looked at each other as Matt’s voice came over the radio to say that J.J. had shot at the bull and thought it was hit. We jumped in the truck and drove to the area keeping in contact with the Matt as best we could.

Matt’s voice came through the radio again saying they found the eland, and he was a beast. J.J. had used Matt’s .375 and hit the bull at something like 300 yards. Looking at his bull I guessed that it must have been about 200lbs heavier than mine with a great “brush†on its forehead. We all laughed and joked about splitting the guide fee three ways as Lin and I had spotted it and Matt guided him to the bull.

Back at camp we quickly got cleaned up as we had been invited to dinner at Lin’s uncle’s house. I called for a shower and the camp staff filled the shower bucket with hot water. I showered and shaved using lantern light and dressed to go.

Dinner was lamb, and we had a great evening. Charlie and Pam Stanton, Lindon and Jenny Stanton, Matt and Lin, J.J. and I and a neighbor named Pete. Pete had recently lost his land through the government seizure of white owned lands. I learned a great deal that night about what was happening politically in that country. I seemed quite uneducated in the ways of the world. Sadly, I am afraid that hunting in Zimbabwe will be adversely affected, but more so, worried about the many great people I met while hunting there. Despite such a nice dinner and pleasant company, I felt sad that so much of the future was up in the air for my new friends.

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Great Report.

Congratulations on your first of many safaris... look forward to future installments! That waterbuck is a sod!

And a very fine long read that was.

Very, very well written. Thanks for taking the time to write all that.

I like details. Nice going, neat account of your hunt and congrats to you on your pursuing your dreams!

Congratulations on your first Safari and no doubt not your last.
The Stantons have guided most of Australia's over sea's hunters at one time or another, providing a great hunting experience.
ozhunter

August 2, 2002

We left camp at 6:30 am to look for kudu. So far the trip was beyond my expectations and we had decided to put in all the extra effort we could to get up on a good kudu bull. We drove to the area where I had shot the eland and climbed a huge gomou. I was struggling that morning as I had taken a shot of scotch in my coffee that night. I don’t drink hard liquor, and with each step it seemed like I could taste the scotch and it made me a little queasy.

As we hiked our way to the top, I spotted a good klipspringer. While not on the list of animals I wanted to hunt, it was a good male that would have been a bonus, but we passed him up. It was a nice image of him looking down at us from his lofty perch trying to figure out what we were as the sun seemed to make his coat glow in the morning light.

We hit the top of the gomou and the view was tremendous. The three trackers and Lin and I each took up a spot and began to glass for game. The sun was warming the rocks as the game began to appear in and out of the bush below us. We spotted eland, zebra, impala, wildebeest, and the kudu. About 3/4 of a mile away, two lone bulls were feeding in the bush. We left two of the trackers on top of the gomou and Kululaku, Lin and I started after the bulls.

The trackers would guide us to the bulls with a long stick they used to show where the animals were in relation to our position. We got the wind in our favor and kept looking back at the trackers on top of the gomou to keep on course. Although we felt we had everything right, we never caught up with them. In fact we bumped into a herd of zebra and wildebeest that spooked at our approach.

We froze as the animals walked out across an open area in front of us. I really wasn’t interested in hunting wildebeest until I saw them close up. The blocky bodies, darkly striped coat and impressive head gear suddenly put them on the list. But that would be for another day, right now, kudu were the only thing that mattered. This bachelor group of wildebeest held many good bulls, but we let them pass.

Realizing we had lost the kudu somehow, we took a break. Vumani brought the truck up and we had a cool drink of water after the long stalk in the hot sun. We were at it for several hours by this point and we decided to drive around a bit to see if we could spot a kudu in a good area for a stalk. On the drive we bumped into a larger, or possibly more of the same herd of wildebeest. The bush seemed crawling with them and they all ran around looking at the truck. They almost seemed to form a line to the left of the truck all facing us and giving us a great look at their horns.

I then saw the biggest wildebeest I would see on this trip. His horns measured a good 3 inches beyond his ears and he clearly was wider than any other in the herd. Lin guessed him at 30†or better. By now Lin knew that I wanted a wildebeest, but that I wouldn’t shoot from the truck. Further, we agreed that today was for kudu. The herd finally had enough and ran away.

It’s moments like this that really tear at a hunter. I could have easily shot the trophy bull at less than 50 yards from the window of the truck. He was truly a trophy of a lifetime, but I had come with the mindset that we would stalk or still hunt every species. I would have loved to come home with that bull, and no one but me, the guide and 3 trackers would have known the truth about how he was taken. But to me, I would have had to live with it, and I chose to pass.

On the way back to camp, Matt radioed to say that a leopard was hitting one of the baits and he and J.J. were building a blind. Several of the big cats lived on Mashura including one monster that the boys had hunted unsuccessfully a few times. Cat hunting is done differently here than I the methods I had read about or seen in videos.

Here, once a cat takes a bait, a blind is built about 40 yards away out of reeds. Then a path is made some 100 yards farther away from the bait and directly in line with the blind. The trackers clean every leaf, twig and stick out of the path to prevent any unnecessary noise from a misplaced step. At the end of the trail the hunters will wait, prepared to spend the night. Leopards here only feed after dark and a microphone is left at the bait with a long cord going the 100 plus yards to the hunters.

When the cat comes to the bait, the sound of his feeding is heard and the hunters stalk up to the blind to where the rifle is already set on shooting sticks. The PH turns on a torch (flashlight) and confirms that this is the right cat and the client then is told to fire or pass. Then the client and PH come back to camp to wait to track the animal until the morning as following up a poorly hit cat in the dark would be suicide.

After lunch, we hiked up to the top of another large gomou to glass for kudu. The country here was very rocky and interspersed with trees creating perfect feed and cover for the game. The afternoon sun was setting and the breeze was getting light and switching directions. That meant that stalking would be tough if we got a chance. We spotted warthog and impala from the hill as well a few klipspringer on the way up.

The edge of the gomou faced several other gomous, but dropped off almost straight down below us. As we glassed, we spotted several warthog coming out of their holes for the evening. We hadn’t sat for very long when Lin spotted a bull kudu feeding in the trees about 1/2 mile away. Further searching turned up 3 other bulls all feeding in the same general area. Although one of the bulls was clearly a younger animal, the other three bore promise. We made the decision to try for them and Lin directed the trackers to keep an eye on the bulls and us from the top of the gomou. He left his shooting sticks for the trackers to use as pointers so that once we got down into the trees we could look back and use the trackers signals to close in on the bulls.

We bailed off the gomou and skidded down the face of the cliff. From there the ground was broken into open patches of rock and granite boulders interspersed with small trees and brush. We crept along the bottom of the hill, keeping cover between us and the feeding bulls. Footing was solid but the ground was covered with patches of dried leaves. The leaves were large brown cylinders that curled the full length of the leaf and made a very audible crunching sound with each misplaced step.

I felt good about our chances and my excitement was building as we worked our way trying to find the correct route. We jumped a klipspringer on the way and prayed he wouldn’t run into the kudu and alert them to our presence. Luckily the klipspringer swung back towards the gomou and we continued our slow progress.

Lin would continually check the wind and look back to our trackers making sure that we would have a good opportunity to judge the bulls. Once we were within about 75 yards it really got dicey. The leaves were everywhere and we were out of cover. The bulls could be seen feeding in front of us as well as slightly up and to our left. We got on our hands and knees and bellies at times to cut the distance and get in a good position to see the kudu. Several times while I was working my way up to Lin I would hear him hiss to freeze as one of the bulls would gaze in our direction.

Finally there we were some 50 yards from 4 bulls scattered in front of us. Lin quickly said that three of them were not shooters, one however kept us guessing. Each time he would move we’d try to get a good look at his horns but each time we would only see one horn, or just a glimpse of both. Lin and I both wanted a good kudu, and we had agreed to pass up a marginal bull.

As the bull fed, we saw him pulling branches down with his horns to get at the leaves that were out of his reach. At one point his head was lifted high tipping his horns back and I saw the center of his eye through the spirals of his horn. The spiral looked as big around as a coffee can and Lin and I looked at each other and smiled. I think we both knew that this was the one, but he needed to move a bit out of the brush. Lin said I should try and get to a tree some 3-4 feet away and, as I was sitting down, I began to scoot towards the tree.

Several things happened at this point that put the whole situation in jeopardy. As I was moving to the tree to get ready for a possible shot, the bull started to walk towards us at an angle. I put my hand down on some of those damn leaves and felt my heart sink as the noise rose up in the evening air. I froze as the bulls head snapped to attention and he stared in our direction at about 40 yards! As he raised his head, I heard Lin whisper, “He’s 55 inches, take himâ€. The rifle was lying in my lap due to my attempts to move to the tree, so a shot was out of the question.

Time stood still with me looking at the bull, the bull looking at what made the noise and Lin staring though his glasses at the bull. Finally he dropped his head and I raised the rifle to shoot from a sitting position. Lin said “Shoot Hugh, the wind is changingâ€.



Directly in front of the shoulder were the branches of a tree on which the bull had been feeding, blocking my shot. I knew at 40 yards, the .375 would probably have hit the bull, but this was my dream come true, I was going to be sure. I whispered back to Lin, “I need one more step, just one more.â€

The sun was casting shadows into the valley and the warm air was quickly being replaced by the cool change to evening as the bull stepped into the clear. He stopped and looked slowly in our direction as the cross hairs settled on his grey shoulder and I pressed the trigger.

Lin jumped to his feet as I rose knowing that the shot was true. Before I was even to my feet Lin turned around and said “He’s going down right thereâ€. The bull had run less than 50 yards when his legs gave out. I ran to his side and stood as his life left him. I felt the sadness that all sportsmen feel when in this position, but more so as this beautiful animal had fulfilled my every hope. My eyes blurred a bit in that moment and I turned away just to reflect on how truly wonderful life can be.

Lin and I congratulated each other and shook hands as we had really worked for this fine bull. My knees and hands were scratched and bleeding as they were with the eland. We were sweating and tired, but thrilled. The trackers must have had a great show from up on that gomou seeing us work our way in, and when they showed up with the truck they all congratulated me.


August 3, 2002

Today we would hunt wildebeest. After our close calls yesterday, I felt getting a good bull would be pretty easy. How wrong I was! We climbed up the same large gomou from the day before and soon spotted many of the animals feeding through the bush. Lin and I and Kululaku put on a stalk from the gomou leaving two trackers on top of the gomou to direct us as they did yesterday. Everything was right, we had the wind, we had cover and we were stalking up on undisturbed animals. But as soon as we closed the distance to about 100 yards, they spooked, and we could hear their hooves pounding away. We gave chase keeping the wind in our favor and circling around the animals.

Kululaku had a radio and he would radio back to Vumani and Joel up on the gomou to give us directions to where the wildebeest had fled. Time after time we would run our guts out after the wildebeest to try and set up for a shot. Each time they would somehow sense that we were closing in and bolt away. The morning wore on and the temperature came up and I began to feel a bit fatigued. I run 4-5 miles a day 4-5 times a week and I was getting foot sore and cramps in my legs.

We finally called for the truck as the cooler held some bottled water. I was parched after our morning of wind sprints, so the water was a welcome relief. After our break we eventually got back to one of the larger gomous that we had been up on in previous days and spotted the Wildebeest again. They seemed to be relaxed and feeding so we decided to try to sneak up on them. We had the wind, cover and were very quiet, but once again they spooked long before we ever got close. I just couldn’t understand it. By now we were pretty tired and our best efforts came up short. We decided to head back to camp for some lunch and a break as the day was getting very hot.

Lin’s father, Charlie had lunch with us at camp. The boys and Charlie shot a few crows on the wing, while I was content to let them land in nearby trees. Charlie said that once we got the wildebeest, we should head down to the Bubye River Camp for nyala.

After lunch and a short nap, we headed out again for wildebeest. This time, we went back to the large gomou and spent the time looking for the wildebeest. Once again, they showed up pretty close to where they were in the morning. Still about 3/4 of a mile away and feeding through the trees, it looked like we might get a chance. We all jumped in the truck and drove a long way around them to get ahead of the herd and a favorable wind. On the way, however, we bumped into them right next to the road. Lin kept driving and we went about 1/4 mile up the road before jumping out and stalking back.

The wildebeest were feeding in a patch of bush that only allowed us a view of about 50-60 yards. Further, they were on the other side of a cattle fence. Had we tried to get over the fence, they would have seen us. So it was on our hands and knees again to close the distance, pick out a bull and get a shot.

Evening was coming on and time was getting short as we tried to pick out a bull. Lin said that there were two just in front of us, but I was behind Lin and couldn’t see them. I had to make a move to get up on one knee, but once there would have to shoot or be spotted and the whole herd would go. Lin told me to get up and I did, resting the gun against a fence post. I could see the bulls feeding from left to right about 50 yards in front of me. As the closest bull turned his head to us, Lin said I should take him as he was a good one.

Like every other shot on this hunt, it seemed something was blocking the shoulder and I had to wait. Both Lin and I were getting nervous that these things would run and if that happened, it would be the end of the day. I remember watching the bull as he moved, his long black tail switching and his head lowered as he fed. Then there he was in the open, and I dropped down to look through the scope and fired.

The shot took him about 3 inches behind the shoulder crease and he literally ran right at us as other wildebeest stampeded out of the woodwork. There had been about 25 of them all right around us when I shot. The bull ran in front of us and I was just about to squeeze again and Lin told me not to shoot as he wasn’t sure which bull had been hit. I was pretty sure I was on the right one, but held off.

As it turned out, the bull made it about 30 yards past us and collapsed. We hopped the fence and got to him in short order. While not the 30 incher from the day before, he was a nice bull with 25-26†horns and heavy bases. I was surprised to see that the bullet failed to exit the body and could be seen under the skin on the far side.

We took pictures in the evening sun as the trackers went back and retrieved the truck. I almost decided on a rug as opposed to a shoulder mount for this wildebeest. The unique backskin, tail and mane make a very beautiful rug. In the end however, I asked that he be skinned for a shoulder mount and I would keep the backskin for a throw rug.



The vitals on wildebeest seem to be farther forward than I had previously thought. I could smell gut when we got to the bull and, later as we skinned him, discovered that I had indeed hit gut as well as the lungs due to the angle he was facing.

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August 4, 2002

We got up early and packed up camp as we would be heading to another camp on the Bubye Rive to hunt nyala. The drive to the new camp took about 3 1/2 hours and was pretty uneventful except for a flat tire.

The Bubye River camp is a more permanent camp than Mashura with hot and cold running water, concrete floors in the sleeping huts, kitchen, bathroom and dining area. The camp is situated along the Bubye River which is always dry except for occasional flooding. Water was drawn from a hole that was dug in the river bed and pumped up into camp. All of the buildings are made of thatch and it is quite scenic. In the mornings and evenings, game could be seen walking across the dry river bed right from camp.

In camp were the Moellers I had met earlier from Australia and their PH Graime Smith. Alan Moeller had shot zebra, warthog and eland so far, however Margaret was not hunting.

After unpacking we went for a ride and saw some small nyala, kudu, impala, duiker and warthog. The country along the river is quite lush with palms and thick trees and bushes. Game is plentiful along the river, but when traveling more that 1/2 mile from the river the land changes and is quite barren. This area is in the middle of a drought and much of the game away from the river is in poor condition. Some of the eland and kudu literally look like skin and bones. It’s amazing how just the distance of 1/2 mile can affect the game as much as it does.

The impala, warthog, giraffe and nyala all seem to be handling the drought well and looked healthy. Apparently the food these animals eat is more plentiful than the browse needed by the larger antelope. The gomous are gone as well, the high rocky outcroppings that I loved to hike at Mashura have been replaced by mopane forest and palm trees. It makes spotting and stalking different than at Mashura, and often times you encounter game at very close range.

On our ride we saw a really nice nyala that went about 25â€. We stalked to within about 25 yards and I could have shot him with my bow. Lin and I discussed holding out for a really nice bull or nothing at all so we passed him by. Further on I saw an enormous baobab tree and yellow fever trees. Yellow fever trees are almost luminescent greenish yellow with bark that looks like it has been spackled on.

We saw several giraffe on the way back to camp including some big bulls. While I am interested in shooting a giraffe, we are concentrating on warthog and nyala first. When we arrived back at camp, we learned that Alan had shot a bushbuck with about 13†horns. The bushbuck in this area generally doesn’t grow as large as they do in other areas so Alan shot a good one. I’ve seen larger bushbuck taken in other areas that were in the 15-16†class so I have decided to pass on bushbuck. The money that I set aside for a bushbuck will then go towards an nyala.

Alan and Margaret kept us laughing all night with stories from their home. Apparently, their children had led colorful lives. It was a good camp and we all got along well.

August 5, 2002

The morning routine was the same here as Mashura, up at 5:45am, a light breakfast, then a drive to an area where we could stalk. Today the weather has gotten colder and clouded up a bit. We stalked for several hours but did not see any big nyala that we could stalk. There was one very good bull that jumped the two track ahead of us but was gone before we could get closer. We also did see a steenbok male that was a good trophy. I passed on him but was glad to see one. Steenbok are smaller than a duiker with huge ears that look too big for their heads.

On the way back to camp for lunch we saw three good kudu bulls that we would see throughout our stay at Bubye. They were all in the 53-55†class and ran together in a bachelor herd.

Once back at camp, word came that J.J. had taken a nice leopard back at Mashura. He had taken him on the first night they sat for him which was really fortunate. He will continue to hunt sable up at Mashura before moving down here to Bubye in a few days.

After lunch we drove for several miles down the river. Not much game was moving, so we parked and went for a walk. We hadn’t gone very far when Kululaku tapped his pant leg repeatedly which is a sign to stop and that he had seen something. Lin turned back and asked what he saw and Kululaku made a sign with his hands that I took to be nyala horns. He continued to make the “nyala†sign but said “Inchiri†which is Ndebele for warthog.

While I was trying to figure this out, Lin understood what he meant. It was indeed a warthog but one with big tusks! In fact there were three hogs in front of us, one big boar and two sows. They were feeding in the bushes ahead and it was difficult to see them. Lin set up the shooting sticks and I waited for a close 30 yard shot. The boar finally stepped clear of the bushes and I got my chance. He was quartering to me at a hard angle and I pulled the shot about 2 inches behind the shoulder.

The shot felt good but I really wanted to break the shoulder and lay him down right there. He started to run after the shot then suddenly just picked up speed like he was on fire and ran out of sight. We followed, running as fast as we could, and found him about 80 yards away lying next to the road.

The bullet had gone through him, this was the first animal that had a exit wound. He was a very good boar with tusks over 11â€. As we took photos and loaded him in the truck, I was shocked at how little hair there really was on the boar. There was much less hair than our “wild†boars here in the states but they did carry the same lice attached to the mane.



Late that night on our way back to camp a meteor crossed the sky not far from the truck. It was the largest and brightest that I had ever seen, changing from whiteish-blue to yellow and orange and then breaking apart into smaller white particles. It was breathtaking.

Dinner was impala steaks which I really liked as they had almost a beef flavor. Alan and Margaret and Graime would be leaving in the morning and I was sorry to see them go. They were great company in the camp and very funny people.

August 6, 2002

Today we would go after nyala as I had shot everything else on my list except giraffe. We were up at 5:45 and drove away from camp for about a mile when a very good bull nyala jumped the two-track in front of us. This bull had done the same thing in about the same spot yesterday. Lin said that we would walk the two track tomorrow and get him as he crossed the road.

We drove on and saw some nyala cows and a small bull in a group and yet a little farther on 4 more small bulls. The weather was cold but clear and the sun was warming things up so game was moving. Things looked good for us to get an opportunity at a bull.

We drove for several more miles and turned around to retrace our steps and head towards camp. About 10 minutes later I looked out Lin’s window and said “There he isâ€. A good bull and two cows were standing not 25 yards off the road. Lin said that we should take him if we could, and drove down the road about 300 yards and parked the truck.

We jumped out and started stalking back to the bull hoping that he and the cows hadn’t run off as we drove away. As we got closer to the spot we had last seen them we got down on our hands and knees and kept peeking over the weeds along the side of the two track trying to spot them.

Suddenly Lin motioned to me that they were “right thereâ€, and about 40 yards off the road were the three nyala. I eased up to a fence post and steadied for a shot while Lin looked the bull over. I felt that his horns were shorter than that of the bull we saw in the morning, but Lin said I should shoot.

The sun was shining down into the palm grove casting shadows along the body of the bull as I found him in the cross hairs. He fed unaware only a short distance away and I watched as he moved from left to right. His shoulder was slightly obscured and I held as I had done for the past 7 days. I wasn’t going to ruin a perfect hunt with a hurried shot.

He stepped cleared and jumped straight in the air kicking his hind legs high as I shot. Then he ran into a bunch of palm leaves as Lin and I gave chase. Lin hollered to get to the river as he thought he would run that way and give us a chance for a second shot if we needed it. When we got to the river bank we could see for several hundred yards in either direction and there was no nyala.



Lin called back to the trackers, who had followed at a distance as we eased up to the bull, and asked if they found anything. I heard voices and Lin turned and smiled and said they had found him. We ran towards the trackers ducking in and out of bushes and palm plants and nearly stepped on the bull.

Lin looked confused and I was wondering where the trackers were when we heard them again. Lin and Kululaku spoke back and forth in Ndebele as I knelt to admire the nyala. Lin explained that the trackers had not found “it†as we had thought, instead they had found blood and were following the trail. We misunderstood them and ran right into the animal. At this point it didn’t matter, we were thrilled that the bull was down.

While not as impressive in size as a kudu, nyala are simply beautiful. This one was no exception, he had a thick main, long beard, striped coat, orange legs as well as a heavy set of horns. He was wide, Lin said much wider than the bull we had seen earlier, and had 25 + inch horns that carried good weight throughout. Ivory tips finished out the lyre shaped head gear.

We sat taking pictures and laughing as the sunlight dappled down through the trees. I had not come to Africa with the thought that I would take an nyala, but fortune had smiled on me. We drove back to camp and I asked the skinners to prepare the hide for a life-size mount.

I showed them how to do a dorsal incision that would make for easier mounting when I got the hide back home. This was the first time I think they had been asked to skin in this manner, and their muffled conversations, probably were about this crazy white man wanting something skinned “wrongâ€. Regardless, they did a fine job and the nyala was quickly in the salt.

After lunch, we stopped by another of Lin’s relative’s hotel to pick up some supplies. The truck was late so we went in and had a pop with his aunt and cousin and his family. As I sat there, it seemed that something was crawling up my leg. When I looked down I saw a small reddish colored tick, then another, and another. I was literally crawling with the small “pepper ticks†and started scratching them off. Lin’s aunt told me to go to the bathroom and gave me some kind of ointment. I rubbed down with the stuff and it seemed to discourage the ticks and I was none the worse.

While tracking the nyala and taking the pictures, I must have kneeled on a nest or something. I spent the next couple days, inspecting myself and overreacting to every “itchâ€.

After we left the hotel and got back to camp, Lin said we would go out after giraffe that evening. We had seen several everyday and we thought taking one was possible. We drove for several miles to an area where we had seen a few good bulls, and sure enough there were three of them.

We put on a stalk after getting the wind, and carefully got within about 60 yards. The bulls were feeding on the edge of a small open area and we could see all three. The problem was, the big bull was in among the trees with no possibility for a shot. Further, a smaller bull was between the big bull and us.

We crossed our fingers and hopped for the best, but the smaller bull suddenly turned our way. Then the other two caught his gaze and stared at us. It’s pretty hard to hide from 3 sets of eyes 15 feet off the ground and they had us pegged. All three began to run and for all I know, they may still be running.

We went back to the truck and spent the remainder of the day looking for giraffe, but also shooting guinea fowl and francolin. I was glad to have the opportunity to shoot a few more birds for the camp staff.

That night around the campfire, Lin said we would go after giraffe again in the morning and I said no. I was done hunting, I had done everything I had set out to do. Giraffe would have to wait till next time.

Lin left to shower, and sitting alone next to the campfire, I heard a leopard cough across the river. The warm fire and cold Castle Lager in my hand made me feel quite content and I reflected on my adventure. The success of this trip was a dream come true and I hated for it to end, but I will return. I remember reading somewhere that “Africa gets in your bloodâ€, it’s true. Once is not enough.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v437/Hughiam/nyala1.jpg
pic

WOW!!

Fantastic! Thanks for sharing.

Good hunt report.

So this hunt was 4 years ago. What motivated you to finally write your trip report?

Congratulations Hughiam.
This story, and the pictures..........JUST GREAT

404,

I wrote it when I returned 4 years ago. I never had a venue to share it. Thanks to AR I have one now.

Hugh

That's a great report, very good pics.

Great report, a great hunt and a good read. I know how you felt on the last day, on two of my prior hunts I declared the hunt over with a day's hunting left. Sometimes you feel like you have accomplished everything that you wanted to accomplish and it's better to stop and just spend the last day enjoying being there.

TerryR

That was a great read and congrats on a wonderful hunt, if my first goes half as well as yours I will die a happy man!!

Hugh,

That was great! I usually skim through plains game report just because I don't have the time to read every word. I read all of yours and encourage you to continue writing about hunting. You do a great job and put the reader right there with you. Very nice!

Mark

congratulation,i really think i was watching everything through my eyes there,classic way to explaine it ...goodluck

I can see that you've got the disease now. . .

Excelent report and i understand you ,because i lived reading and hunting guiding here and dreaming with Africa i know have the money to go but thank you to my hunting clients and my hospital work i dont have time.Ill mail you because we have very similar feelings about hunting...juan