Sorry for the long report today but what a hell of a day!!
Day 5
This morning we returned to the same pond, determined to beat those Eland bulls to the water. We left camp even earlier, navigating the dark bush road arriving first.
Once at the pond, we had to make a few quick adjustments to the blind. The trackers had set it up with a rifle hunter in mind rather than a bowhunter, but a few quick fixes later, we were ready.
We sat in total silence for about thirty minutes until the first scout—a lone baboon—appeared from behind us. After that, the floodgates opened. Waterbuck, impala, kudu, and warthogs started pouring in from every direction.
About an hour into the chaos, we caught a glimpse of an Eland cresting the ridge directly in front of us. Then came an Eland cow, and another, and another. Suddenly, bringing up the rear of the herd, two massive, mature bulls stepped into the ridge line. One of them was absolutely monolithic. He had the biggest body imaginable, and his horns looked as thick as baseball bats. I could actually hear his hooves clicking as he walked.
I slowly shifted into shooting position as he approached the water. I could feel the heart in my chest pounding like old steam engine.
He stopped at the waters edge and lowered he’s head to quiche he’s thirst from a long night of chasing cows. He was quartering toward me at a downward angle—not the ideal presentation for an arrow. Not realizing this at time due to adrenaline pumping through my veins. I anchored my bow but the second I reached full draw, a kudu cow barked a sharp alarm. The Eland cows jumped, and the bull hoisted his head, looking around for danger. Fortunately, he went right back to drinking. It was a fatal mistake.
I settled my pin and let the arrow fly. The loud thwack echoed as it hit just behind the shoulder.
In my head, I knew I needed the shot to be a bit further forward on the shoulder, especially given that steep angle. He bolted and ran about 80 yards then stopped and lowered he’s head. We could see blood, but it wasn't pouring out of him. For nearly 45 grueling minutes, the bull stood perfectly still not taking a step in any direction. Finally, he shuffled a few feet and turned broadside. He was right at 84 yards with a stiff crosswind. We decided to try and get another arrow in him. I knocked a second arrow and tried to hold for the wind, but my arrow still drifted back, missing the vitals. Still, getting a second arrow into a wounded animal is always better. He walked another 30 yards and stopped again, heavily breathing, clearly struggling but refusing to go down.
Another 20 minutes passed in suspense. We decided we needed to try and stalk him in hopes of getting a 3rd arrow in him. Suddenly, a big, mature warthog appeared at the watering hole just 25 yards away. Doug took one look at him and whispered he’s a shooter, telling me to nock another arrow. I shifted focus, drew back, and executed a perfect shot this time. The hog went on a classic death-run, making it only 30 yards before piling over stone-dead. During the commotion, the Eland bull slowly and painful walked away. He was really struggling now.
Doug called the trackers in, and we took some quick pictures with the beautiful warthog. The trackers grabbed the warthog, we immediately took up the Eland's blood trail. The trackers had no trouble following the sign, and in one spot, we found a massive pool of blood. But after about 200 yards, the entire safari flipped on its head.
Out of nowhere, a deep, resonant lion growl ripped through the bush. To make matters worse, it was incredibly close. My stomach instantly dropped into my boots. We froze dead in our tracks, completely encircled by tall, golden grass that limited our visibility to a terrifying 20 feet. Doug quietly but in a tone I will not forget to back up slowly. He raised his rifle and covered our retreat. We caught a fleeting glimpse of a lioness and her cubs. You could see her head and the twitch of her tail slicing over the top of the grass. It instantly reminded me of the movie The Ghost and the Darkness, where the man-eaters used the tall grass to stalk the railroad workers. It’s an all-time great movie, but experiencing it in real life gave me absolute chills. My nerves were firing, but we couldn't abandon the bull. We pressed on, keeping our heads on a swivel to ensure we didn't become the prey.
We hadn't gone more than 100 yards when Doug spotted the Eland bedded down about 84 yards away under a massive tree. The bull was completely choked in by heavy brush. I knew there was zero chance a group of us could get within bow range without busting him, so I looked at Doug and asked if I could finish the stalk solo. I've always preferred slipping in alone anyway. Granted, I was more than a touch concerned knowing a lioness was watching the same patch of woods, but I mustered up the courage, and Doug agreed it was our best play.
I dropped to my hands and knees, crawling on my belly for 80 yards, agonizingly searching for a clear window through the labyrinth of branches. It was incredibly thick, and my adrenaline was pounding; I was terrified he would see me before I could get a shot off. Finally, I found a tiny, one-foot gap in the brush. I slowly raised up onto my knees and ranged him at 42 yards. He was bedded tightly behind a small stump, quartering toward me with the wood protecting his left side. It left me with zero margin for error. But through years of hunting, I've learned that when an animal is already wounded, any extra arrow you can put in them is a massive plus. The additional trauma dramatically increases your odds of a recovery.
I slowly stood up, pulled back my bow, and forced myself to take a deep, deliberate breath. I focused entirely on my form and released. I watched the arrow streak through the tiny opening and punch into the Eland's shoulder. He didn't bolt. Instead, he stood up, turned around, and walked into a shallow, dry creek bed.
Determined to finish it, I slipped down into the creek bed after him. I caught up to him at 38 yards just as he was stepping out of the creek bed. He stopped and looked right at me, completely wobbling on his feet. Taking absolutely no chances, I drew and pinned a fourth arrow into him. The great bull collapsed in his tracks.
Finally, after four arrows and a mountain of drama, he was down. I wouldn't exactly call it my finest technical moment in the woods, but I was incredibly proud of the way I handled the adversity, the pressure, and the situation. What an absolutely unbelievable day: a giant Livingstone Eland, a beautiful warthog, and a face-to-face encounter with a wild, free-range lion. Mozambique/Mokore is showing off, that’s for certain.
