NathanOrszaczki
AH member
After harvesting the majority of my desired list in the Dundee region, we still had a few days up our sleeve to chase bushbuck. Mark suggested we pack up camp and head south to his hometown of Hilton, where we could base ourselves until it was time for me to fly home.
Bushbuck was a priority species for me. I believe they're very similar to our hog deer back home—secretive animals that spend much of their lives hidden away in thick creek systems. And I wanted one.
On the drive south, I asked Mark for all the ins and outs of how we would hunt a bushbuck. He explained that we'd be hunting local farmland where bushbuck move up and down the creek systems, often feeding out into the paddocks at dawn and dusk before disappearing back into the cover.
We arrived at Mark's place around lunchtime and made a plan for the afternoon's hunt. Mark's mate Gerald came along, and it was nice to share a car with like-minded people who all had one thing in common.
We were hunters.
As we drove through the farm, Mark and Gerald were like two peas in a pod.
"There's a good ram living over there."
They pointed out different sections of the property and shared stories of hunts they'd had over the years. I was more than willing to sit back and listen.
Before long, we spotted a common reedbuck ram feeding out in a paddock, along with several bushbuck ewes and a couple of younger rams. Mark once again demonstrated just how well he knew the country we were hunting. He pointed towards a section of creek not far away and said he expected we'd find a mature bushbuck ram working through there.
I had complete confidence that we would.
Sure enough, only minutes later we spotted a nice ram moving steadily along the creek with a couple of females.
The moment I laid eyes on him, there was no hesitation.
"He's a shooter."
Mark looked through his binoculars, smiled and agreed.
We decided to work our way down the edge of the farmland before slipping over a ridge that would hopefully put us within shooting distance of the creek without the ram ever knowing we were there.
The stalk began perfectly.
As we approached a small wire fence, Mark and I carefully climbed over it, doing everything we could to stop it from rattling.
Gerald, on the other hand, had different ideas.
He accidentally planted his boot on the top wire and suddenly looked like he was performing some sort of Irish dance as he desperately tried to regain his balance before graciously ending up flat on his back.
Mark and I were nearly in tears.
For a moment, I'd almost forgotten we were hunting.
After helping Gerald back to his feet and dusting him off, we continued along the ridge.
Not long afterwards, we spotted two young bushbuck rams locked in a fierce sparring match. Neither was willing to give an inch, each trying to assert his dominance while refusing to take a backward step. It was one of those special wildlife moments that made us stop and simply watch.
Then we spotted him again.
My ram.
He was weaving his way through the thick scrub lining the creek, slowly working towards a small opening that looked like it might offer a shooting opportunity.
I settled onto the shooting sticks and waited.
Just as we'd hoped, the ram bounced out of the thick cover and stepped into the gap.
"Hey!"
Mark stopped him with a sharp yell.
The ram froze.
The crosshairs settled, and I squeezed the trigger.
The shot struck true.
The ram collapsed where he stood, and handshakes were exchanged all around.
I couldn't believe it.
I'd just taken my first bushbuck, and more importantly, I was now one species closer to achieving a dream I'd had for years—collecting all of South Africa's spiral-horned antelope.
As I walked up to the ram, I was simply in awe.
His rich chestnut coat was covered in striking white markings, and his horns were everything I'd hoped for—heavy, symmetrical and beautifully shaped.
I gently held one horn in my hand while resting my other beneath his jaw.
For several minutes, I simply sat there admiring him.
Moments like these are difficult to put into words. Yes, there is excitement in a successful hunt, but there is also gratitude and respect. I wanted to slow everything down, pay my respects, and appreciate what an incredible animal lay before me.
Bushbuck was a priority species for me. I believe they're very similar to our hog deer back home—secretive animals that spend much of their lives hidden away in thick creek systems. And I wanted one.
On the drive south, I asked Mark for all the ins and outs of how we would hunt a bushbuck. He explained that we'd be hunting local farmland where bushbuck move up and down the creek systems, often feeding out into the paddocks at dawn and dusk before disappearing back into the cover.
We arrived at Mark's place around lunchtime and made a plan for the afternoon's hunt. Mark's mate Gerald came along, and it was nice to share a car with like-minded people who all had one thing in common.
We were hunters.
As we drove through the farm, Mark and Gerald were like two peas in a pod.
"There's a good ram living over there."
They pointed out different sections of the property and shared stories of hunts they'd had over the years. I was more than willing to sit back and listen.
Before long, we spotted a common reedbuck ram feeding out in a paddock, along with several bushbuck ewes and a couple of younger rams. Mark once again demonstrated just how well he knew the country we were hunting. He pointed towards a section of creek not far away and said he expected we'd find a mature bushbuck ram working through there.
I had complete confidence that we would.
Sure enough, only minutes later we spotted a nice ram moving steadily along the creek with a couple of females.
The moment I laid eyes on him, there was no hesitation.
"He's a shooter."
Mark looked through his binoculars, smiled and agreed.
We decided to work our way down the edge of the farmland before slipping over a ridge that would hopefully put us within shooting distance of the creek without the ram ever knowing we were there.
The stalk began perfectly.
As we approached a small wire fence, Mark and I carefully climbed over it, doing everything we could to stop it from rattling.
Gerald, on the other hand, had different ideas.
He accidentally planted his boot on the top wire and suddenly looked like he was performing some sort of Irish dance as he desperately tried to regain his balance before graciously ending up flat on his back.
Mark and I were nearly in tears.
For a moment, I'd almost forgotten we were hunting.
After helping Gerald back to his feet and dusting him off, we continued along the ridge.
Not long afterwards, we spotted two young bushbuck rams locked in a fierce sparring match. Neither was willing to give an inch, each trying to assert his dominance while refusing to take a backward step. It was one of those special wildlife moments that made us stop and simply watch.
Then we spotted him again.
My ram.
He was weaving his way through the thick scrub lining the creek, slowly working towards a small opening that looked like it might offer a shooting opportunity.
I settled onto the shooting sticks and waited.
Just as we'd hoped, the ram bounced out of the thick cover and stepped into the gap.
"Hey!"
Mark stopped him with a sharp yell.
The ram froze.
The crosshairs settled, and I squeezed the trigger.
The shot struck true.
The ram collapsed where he stood, and handshakes were exchanged all around.
I couldn't believe it.
I'd just taken my first bushbuck, and more importantly, I was now one species closer to achieving a dream I'd had for years—collecting all of South Africa's spiral-horned antelope.
As I walked up to the ram, I was simply in awe.
His rich chestnut coat was covered in striking white markings, and his horns were everything I'd hoped for—heavy, symmetrical and beautifully shaped.
I gently held one horn in my hand while resting my other beneath his jaw.
For several minutes, I simply sat there admiring him.
Moments like these are difficult to put into words. Yes, there is excitement in a successful hunt, but there is also gratitude and respect. I wanted to slow everything down, pay my respects, and appreciate what an incredible animal lay before me.
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