Firebird
AH legend
Obviously we had experienced great success to this point. I had decimated my budget and I asked Wik to run the numbers with me just to make sure I didn’t go beyond my means. We still had days left but my only remaining wish was for bushbuck. We still had the photographer paid for a couple days and wanted to maximize our time with him.
This day was forecast to be cold, wet and windy in the morning but clearing up around noon. Early on I had suggested an ostrich hunt-I’ve seen them but we’ve never hunted one ph’s hate them for their propensity to run wide and far spooking all the other game. Wik asked several times if I was sure I wanted to hunt an ostrich and I kept on saying yes. Wik had to call his contacts to find a place where we could hunt them. Most places said they didn’t hunt them this time of year or they had filled their quotas or whatever. But one guy said we could come hunt to our hearts content. To be fair the conversation was heavily Afrikaans and I have no idea what was said, but we had a place to hunt the feathered dinosaurs. It was a longish drive through the rain. On the way Wik suggested while we were in this vicinity that we go back to mtn top for bushbuck if the weather cleared. If it did not, then he had a plan for blesbok. That story is that some of wild animals forgot that they couldnt escape a fence and had relocated to a neighbors sheep property. So going into the ostrich hunt and the blesbok hunt it was understood there would be low fences and livestock. Also to be fair, these are enormous properties, but a sheep farm is still a sheep farm. This doesn’t bother me at all-I’ve spent much of my life kicking around Nebraska and Wyoming and Idaho and Montana and Arizona and Texas and I understand fences and ranch hunting. Not a problem!
Drove to the ostrich place in the rain. I liked that guy immediately. He was funny and nice and happy to have us visit. He drove us to a block of property and indicated we could hunt to the end of the horizon. He offered we could shoot jackals and springbok and steenbok if we saw them and if we came back later in the day he could find us a bushbuck on his lucerne (alfalfa) fields. This didn’t interest me but I enjoyed his accent and he had a good sense of humor.
So we entered the gate, waved good bye to the rancher and his little brown spaniels and Wik started glassing. Wik is almost always glassing. The guy said there were several flocks of birds in here and suggested we look out of the wind. We could see a long way and could not see birds. . . So we started driving. We came to a ravine where a dry creek bed and thick brush made their home. Right in the very bottom was a lone male ostrich picking gravel from the dry creek. Wik backed us up maybe a half mile and we started the process. I started by putting on my waterproof jacket and warm hat. Then I reached for the rifle. I indicated to Simone which case and as he slid the .375 out of its soft case he smiled and said “the buffalo killer!” Well yes and no-same rifle but different scope and bullet. I loaded the 235 grain tsx into the chamber, latched the safety and we started walking in.
Over the rise in the hill the ostrich caught our movement and came alert. I tried to shoot but forgot the safety catch, then I hurried the shot off the sticks but still rocked him-and then He ran off. We all agreed it was a solid hit, but A wierd angle and I couldn’t say honestly I knew where the shot landed. We went in and could find where he had been but was definitely not there. You would think an ostrich would be easy to spot but 5 minutes later we were still drawing a blank. Finally Wik spotted it, walking slow over the rise of a hill but fully upright at 250’yards. I lined up the crosshairs and shot him again. He tried to run but didn’t have much left and sort or laid/fell down. We approached cautiously and could see his eye still blinking so I shot him again.
Having to shoot him three times marred the experience for me. The bird was wet from the rain and that made him look bedraggled and soggy. Then I lifted a wing and it was like opening the door on a beehive only these were flies. Apparently on a cold wet day, all the flies in the entire east cape seek shelter in an ostrichs’ armpit. And then in death his penis came out, wiggling like a fish. I was done with ostriches! Normally putting my hands on a hunted animal is a good experience for me. The ostrich was the opposite. Maybe a different day or maybe better shooting would have been a better overall experience, but I think I’ve shot my last Ostrich.
The meat was not damaged much and the guys cleaned the bird in such a manner that the hanging carcass was actually quite nice. There wasn’t as much meat as I hoped to see, similar to farm raised turkeys vs.wild turkeys but they even use the bones as a food source so the bird will be well used.
This day was forecast to be cold, wet and windy in the morning but clearing up around noon. Early on I had suggested an ostrich hunt-I’ve seen them but we’ve never hunted one ph’s hate them for their propensity to run wide and far spooking all the other game. Wik asked several times if I was sure I wanted to hunt an ostrich and I kept on saying yes. Wik had to call his contacts to find a place where we could hunt them. Most places said they didn’t hunt them this time of year or they had filled their quotas or whatever. But one guy said we could come hunt to our hearts content. To be fair the conversation was heavily Afrikaans and I have no idea what was said, but we had a place to hunt the feathered dinosaurs. It was a longish drive through the rain. On the way Wik suggested while we were in this vicinity that we go back to mtn top for bushbuck if the weather cleared. If it did not, then he had a plan for blesbok. That story is that some of wild animals forgot that they couldnt escape a fence and had relocated to a neighbors sheep property. So going into the ostrich hunt and the blesbok hunt it was understood there would be low fences and livestock. Also to be fair, these are enormous properties, but a sheep farm is still a sheep farm. This doesn’t bother me at all-I’ve spent much of my life kicking around Nebraska and Wyoming and Idaho and Montana and Arizona and Texas and I understand fences and ranch hunting. Not a problem!
Drove to the ostrich place in the rain. I liked that guy immediately. He was funny and nice and happy to have us visit. He drove us to a block of property and indicated we could hunt to the end of the horizon. He offered we could shoot jackals and springbok and steenbok if we saw them and if we came back later in the day he could find us a bushbuck on his lucerne (alfalfa) fields. This didn’t interest me but I enjoyed his accent and he had a good sense of humor.
So we entered the gate, waved good bye to the rancher and his little brown spaniels and Wik started glassing. Wik is almost always glassing. The guy said there were several flocks of birds in here and suggested we look out of the wind. We could see a long way and could not see birds. . . So we started driving. We came to a ravine where a dry creek bed and thick brush made their home. Right in the very bottom was a lone male ostrich picking gravel from the dry creek. Wik backed us up maybe a half mile and we started the process. I started by putting on my waterproof jacket and warm hat. Then I reached for the rifle. I indicated to Simone which case and as he slid the .375 out of its soft case he smiled and said “the buffalo killer!” Well yes and no-same rifle but different scope and bullet. I loaded the 235 grain tsx into the chamber, latched the safety and we started walking in.
Over the rise in the hill the ostrich caught our movement and came alert. I tried to shoot but forgot the safety catch, then I hurried the shot off the sticks but still rocked him-and then He ran off. We all agreed it was a solid hit, but A wierd angle and I couldn’t say honestly I knew where the shot landed. We went in and could find where he had been but was definitely not there. You would think an ostrich would be easy to spot but 5 minutes later we were still drawing a blank. Finally Wik spotted it, walking slow over the rise of a hill but fully upright at 250’yards. I lined up the crosshairs and shot him again. He tried to run but didn’t have much left and sort or laid/fell down. We approached cautiously and could see his eye still blinking so I shot him again.
Having to shoot him three times marred the experience for me. The bird was wet from the rain and that made him look bedraggled and soggy. Then I lifted a wing and it was like opening the door on a beehive only these were flies. Apparently on a cold wet day, all the flies in the entire east cape seek shelter in an ostrichs’ armpit. And then in death his penis came out, wiggling like a fish. I was done with ostriches! Normally putting my hands on a hunted animal is a good experience for me. The ostrich was the opposite. Maybe a different day or maybe better shooting would have been a better overall experience, but I think I’ve shot my last Ostrich.
The meat was not damaged much and the guys cleaned the bird in such a manner that the hanging carcass was actually quite nice. There wasn’t as much meat as I hoped to see, similar to farm raised turkeys vs.wild turkeys but they even use the bones as a food source so the bird will be well used.