NAMIBIA: Chapter 2 With Kowas Adventure Safaris

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Travel
Four years ago, my family took the Delta 200 route from the states to Africa, suffering through 16 hours from Atlanta to Johannesburg before overnighting and catching an Airlink flight to Windhoek. Even in premium economy it was rough on my 6'3" frame, and it took me several days to adjust and feel fully functional. It's one thing I committed to doing differently on this trip. And so, I did.

One benefit of going solo, or at least only paying for one, is my budget allowed for an enhanced travel experience. It was more enjoyable in every way; from the minute I sat down in seat 3K on the 10:30 PM May 11 Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, booked through the always wonderful Jennifer Ginn at Travel Express. After a nice meal, I laid the seat flat and slept for the next six hours, waking in time for a quick breakfast before we began our descent. I believe the flight was smooth, as I felt fully rested as we touched down at 1:45 PM, a few minutes ahead of schedule.

I had a seven-hour layover in Frankfurt, which may have been enough time to head into the city, but I decided against it, and instead got an in-terminal room for a few hours to shower and rest before the next evening's flight. This was certainly more comfortable than sitting at a gate for an afternoon, and I'd say even better than a lounge given the privacy.

My sister Ashley is a couple of years younger than me, never married or tied down, and always ready for a travel adventure. Shortly after returning from my family’s first safari, I mentioned that I would go back at some point, and she told me then that she'd love to join me, even though she's not a hunter. So, when I started to plan this trip, she jumped on board. We planned to have separate itineraries but travel together and stay at the same lodge. She also booked a side trip for a few days to see the big-five animals at a couple of other properties. Her trip from Detroit to Frankfurt arrived much sooner than mine, and she spent the day out in the city. We met up in the early evening in the lounge before our overnight to Windhoek.

We caught up, talked about how excited we were for the next two weeks, and then boarded our Discover Airlines flight for the overnight across the equator (Discover is Lufthansa's holiday destination subsidiary).

While the food was just as good as the night before, the flight was not nearly as smooth. Unfortunately, I did not get to sleep before we entered a stretch of turbulence around midnight that lasted for over an hour. Rough air doesn't give me anxiety or worry, so that wasn't the problem; it was that literally being tossed side to side in my narrow bed prevented me from sleeping. I only ended up with about 4 hours of shut eye before waking up in time to watch the sunrise over dark continent below.

Upon arrival in Windhoek, we were some of the first few off the plane, and yet still waited in line for over 20 minutes to get to an open immigration agent. This is when I knew I was back. There is nothing quite like Africa time! I was grateful for the German precision however, as all flights were on time or early and both of my checked bags were waiting for me on the other side upon entry. This was a welcome relief compared to my prior luggage fiasco with Air Link. Fredrich, Jacques Strauss' good friend, and my PH for the first few days of the hunt, was waiting for us on the other side of security. It was glorious to be loaded up and, on the road, back to Kowas 45 minutes after touchdown. There is no better airport pickup vehicle than a safari land cruiser.

Fredrich and I got to know each other on the 1.5-hour drive to the lodge, while my sister sat in near silence at the back with her face glued to the window. I was smiling to myself as I was 1. Beyond happy to be back myself, and 2. Remembering the awe of my own first trip across this land. There really is nothing like the first time. Fredrich and I were going to get along just fine, and I had to laugh at the similarities he and Jacques shared in language and mannerism. Before I knew it, we were pulling through the gate and herds of impala, springbok, and sable surrounded us as we made our way down the red sand road to the Kowas lodge. Back at last.

Here we go.

 

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Day 1 – Getting our Feet Under Us
We pulled into the Kowas lodge at 10:00 AM on May 13th, 31 hours after I left my family at the sidewalk outside Terminal 1 at Chicago O’Hare. There were huge smiles and hugs all around as I greeted old friends back on the Kalahari sand.

On the drive from the airport, Fredrich talked about the plan for the day being unpacking, rest, shooting my bow, and an afternoon game drive before dinner. After our initial greetings were complete, and a tour of the common areas given, my sister and I settled into two beautiful chalets that were finished in the last month. We were the first guests in both. I had the Giraffe room.

The view alone was worth the price of admission.

After unpacking and taking a short nap, I headed back up to the main lodge for lunch. Jacques was back from his morning hunt (he would be hunting with another returning client for the first half of my trip) and we got the chance to reconnect and discuss the upcoming days. Instead of a game drive for the afternoon, I was offered the opportunity to do some shooting and then head to a blind to get the hunting started early. There was no hesitation. “Let’s go!”.

Fredrich watched as I shot a few groups of arrows at 30 yards to confirm nothing had moved enroute. With accuracy confirmed, we were off to sit in a blind overlooking a waterhole just 800 yards from camp, called “Kudu Water". There are three permanent bow blinds at the main Kowas property, and I didn’t get the chance to hunt out of any of them on the last trip, so I was excited to spend some time in the roomy comfort of these permanent structures. Fredrich and I were dropped off at the blind at 2:00 PM and we settled in for the remainder of the day.

The action was fast and furious. We saw multiple impala rams, though Fredrich said none were quite old enough to be considered a trophy. I was a little anxious about this assessment given my inability to get a crack at an impala on the first trip, and the fact that two or three of the ones we saw on this first afternoon were bigger than anything spotted then.

In addition to the impala, we saw waterbuck, springbok, some kudu cows, and Burchell's zebra. While I had zebra on my wish list, I was targeting the Mountain Zebra, a sub-species that can only be hunted in Namibia. The Mountain, or Hartman's, Zebra has a striking black/white pattern, with no shadow stripes, and stripes that go all the way down the legs. Given this was the first afternoon, I wasn't yet ready to compromise. We chose to simply watch and enjoy the parade.

As light faded, two blue wildebeest bulls slowly approached from straight out. This species was on my target list as well, and one of these guys had potential. As old animals tend to do, they took their sweet time approaching the water. Light goes fast in a blind, and by the time the bigger of the two got inside shooting range and stopped to lick a salt block, I couldn't differentiate any of my sight pins. I called it a night and Fredrich radioed for our ride.

Considering I had no expectation of hunting when the day began, I was beyond happy to get some time in the bush and to start to get my mind and body settled into hunting mode. After a great meal, I was ready for a good night sleep in a real bed. I fell asleep quickly, with the anticipation of nine full days of hunting ahead.

 

[dhoover]

great write up so far and awesome pictures. Keep it coming...

 

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Day 2 - Predator Control
While sitting in the blind the afternoon before, Fredrich and I talked about my target list and how we wanted to spend the next few days. My primary list included blue wildebeest, mountain zebra, impala, and warthog. Additionally, I left room in the budget for two to three additional animals if the opportunity on a mature trophy arose. Fredrich also told me I was to shoot every jackal we saw, no matter how tough of a shot. "Just get an arrow in it if one comes in. They are like your coyotes." We had an understanding.

We also talked through how much time we'd spend in a blind versus out in the bush on foot looking for animals to stalk. I was the first bowhunter of the season, and the blinds hadn't been used in nine months, so it was going to take a couple of days to get a sense for the time-of-day animals were coming to water. Given this, we agreed to head out before light on day two to see if anything was moving in for a drink at dawn.

We took breakfast with us, pulled out of the lodge at 6:00 am, and were settled into a new blind, “Garden Water”, by 6:30. A big impala ram had been sighted in this area the week before, and blue wildebeest were also common. We sat quietly until first light and then opened the windows. The only thing better than an African sunset may be an African sunrise. Unfortunately for us, the sun was the only thing moving early.

It wasn’t until 9:15 that we spotted our first animal, a young blue wildebeest bull that came through at 50 yards and never stopped for a drink. Following 20 seconds of action, we sat for another quiet two hours. Around 11:00 a sow warthog with a couple piglets came from our back left, stood staring at the water for a bit, and then ran back where they came from. Not long after, we heard the grunting of rutting impalas as a couple young rams ran into our view to the right and circled at full speed back into the bush.

The activity started to pick up with the temperature. A little before noon I looked out straight and slightly left to see a pair of jackals approaching. Fredrich said it was a male and female, and that they would circle and come into drink, but not stop for long. He said be ready when they stopped and shoot the big one…unless I could line them up and hit both!

The pair followed the script as they circled the water from left to right out in front of us. After moving along the brush line to our right, the male turned in and made his way towards the water hole. I had ranged the stone pool at 25 yards to the front, and 30 to the back. The jackal was coming in from right to left, behind the back edge of the water. I drew as he passed between two windows and waited for him to reappear. He entered the center window view and halted to a stop before reaching the water, looking directly at me. I guessed him at just over 30 yards, put the pin on his shoulder, and touched the release. There was a crack on impact and he dropped his tracks. Stone dead. No sound, no movement. Fredrich and I looked at each other and laughed. One down!

We decided to sit until early afternoon. A group of young male springbok came in from our back left, and a large group of eland cows, calves, and young bulls approached from a distance in front of us for over an hour. While there were not any target animals in either group, we were still bummed to have all of them get spooky and leave after getting within 40 yards of the water…close enough to see the dead jackal.

We decided that our sit was done with the carcass present, so we called for our ride and packed up our gear. We made our way out of the blind to locate my arrow and inspect our kill. The lack of reaction was explained by a shot that entered the left eye and exited the back of the skull. It was instant.

After lunch and a short nap, we headed back out in the cruiser with a plan to spend the evening slowly walking a thick dry river bottom looking for a target of opportunity. It felt good to be moving. Being on the hunt on foot also has a way of heightening all senses in a way that sitting in a blind doesn’t. It was hot for the first hour, as we slowly moved into the wind without seeing any movement.

As afternoon turned to evening, we heard the yips of zebra a few hundred yards in front of us. These were Burchell’s, but I told Fredrich I wouldn’t be picky on species when stalking with a bow, and to see if we could get close. The cover in front of us started to open as we pressed on toward the zebra. As it did, we spotted some oryx and a group of kudu cows with an old bull 150 yards ahead and to our right. We tucked into a shadow with a small bush to our left and sat still as we watched the kudu move towards us and then cross from right to left, approaching the zebra we had been closing in on.

As the two herds mingled, another kudu bull, this one younger but larger, followed the same path as the herd and advanced on the old bull and his cows. Fredrich watched the two bulls come together (they were out of my view behind him in the bush) and briefly spar before the older one began to loudly bark and run away…towards us!

When kudu spook, they typically bark a few times and stop as they move off. This guy went on a barking spree like a dog. Trotting a few yards and barking, repeatedly. He kept coming until he was 60 yards directly to our left, with the bush we were using as cover between us. Fredrich whispered that he probably wasn’t as big as the bull that I took on the previous trip, but he was definitely an old mature trophy. I decided right then, based on the intense experience of being this close on the ground, that I’d take him if given the opportunity.

I believe the bull saw something off where we were crouched as he stood at 60 yards barking for a solid 45-60 seconds. He suddenly started to trot again away from the herd, back to our left, but instead of going straight, started to make a semi-circle around behind us. I was in no position to shoot in that direction and tried to slowly turn my shoulders as he kept coming. The last time he stopped was within 25 yards. Again, barking. At this point there was nothing between him and us, and he looked huge from my position. He made one last lunge in our direction and I lost my calm. I quickly made the last needed rotation of my waist and began to push pressure on the D-loop on my bow string. That brought him to a screeching halt at 15 yards. To my dismay, he didn’t stand to examine us further. Before I could draw, he bolted back out to our left and barked a few more times before moving on.

Shortly after the bull encounter, we heard the rumbling hooves of the zebra and remaining kudu out in front of us stampeding off. We had the wind in our direction the entire time, and Fredrich was very perplexed by the behavior of the bull and remaining animals. Upon returning to the lodge, and conferring with Jacques and his dad, Dani, a long-time PH in his own right, they all reached the same conclusion…there was something more dangerous than us in the vicinity that evening.

I was enthralled by the kudu encounter and told Fredrich it was one of the most intense hunting experiences of my life that didn’t involve the harvest of an animal. That experience gave me the desire to keep going on foot, regardless of the difficulty of closing the deal. It’s the hunt I was in it for.

 

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Day 3 – Mountaineering
There are three full-time PH’s at Kowas; Jacques, the owner and CEO of the operation, Matheus (pronounced Matthews), a minority owner of Kowas and 25-ish year PH, and Fredrich, Jacques’ childhood friend and neighbor. This was Fredrich’s first year as a full-time PH working for Jacques, while Matheus has been a PH there longer than either of them, starting with Dani not long after he launched the business. On our arrival day I learned Fredrich needed to head to Windhoek on day three to take care of some official document business for his young child. Given this, I would be hunting with Matheus for the first time. Matheus is a Mountain Zebra specialist, so even though he’d never guided a client on a spot-and-stalk with a bow, we were going to give it a shot.

I must provide some clarity on what I mean by “mountains” in Namibia. These are not the Rockies. They run from 400-600 feet in elevation, with an easy to moderate grade. With that said, they are strewn with rocks, and like most mountains, there are very few steps on flat ground. The Kowas home property has a roughly 8-mile-long-range, running in a Southwest to Northeasterly direction.

The Mountain (or Hartmann’s) Zebra, as their name suggests, live in the mountains. They come down at night to water and occasionally can be found in the lower country at first or last light…but that is rare. Given this, we knew an encounter at a water hole was very unlikely. So, we went up after them.

We left the lodge at 7:00 and drove to the southern end of the range where we left tracker Humphrey with the truck and began our climb. I found the initial hike up to the southern peak to be quite comfortable, with the morning air still cool, and my energy and excitement high. The sun was well into the sky as we crossed the top of the first mountain and stopped to glass the valley below and hillside across. We spotted some Oryx (this would be a theme for the morning) on a far face, but no Zebra in this first gap.

The speed at which Matheus traversed these mountains was something to behold. Thankfully, I have a long stride, or else he would have done a lot of stopping and waiting. Most steps we took were on a rock, and choosing the wrong one could cause an echoing clank that cleared out the next 300 yards of all game. Matheus seemed to have a personal relationship with every rock in those mountains. He knew exactly which ones were anchored in the sand and used them to move in effortless silence. As we hiked, Matheus looked for game and I looked at our feet, trying to stay at pace and quiet. It was mesmerizing. Periodically, we’d stop to glass. The bushveld below was teeming with animals, but a couple hours into our morning, we still hadn’t spotted any zebras in the mountains.

We spotted the first group of zebra a couple hours into our morning hike. They were across a valley in front of us, halfway up the next hillside, 300-400 yards from our position. There were also a few oryx off to the left of them, and a group of impala below and to the right. It was going to be a challenge. We slowed our pace considerably, and looped right and down to stay in cover and out of the sun.

There were too many eyes. The oryx picked up our movement and ran up and over the next ridge. The zebras were not far behind. At least we had fresh spoor to follow. We went up the next side and picked up the group. We spent the rest of the morning hiking the remaining length of the range. We never caught up to them. We ran into oryx multiple times, twice inside 50 yards. Given the density of the cover up on top, none of the encounters provided a shot opportunity. What they did was continually bump the other animals out in front of us.

We reached the end of the range shortly before lunch. Seven miles, over 13,000 steps, up and down. My feet ached. We glassed one last time before making the climb down the northern end of the range. Way out in the pan below, the white-ish area straight up from my left shoulder, just below the horizon, there were mountain zebra. Lots of them. We had spent the morning clearing out the mountains.

Back at the lodge for lunch, my sister returned from a morning game drive with Dani and shared they had just come from the pan where they had indeed seen a lot of mountain zebras…62 to be exact!

We decided to sit over a waterhole for the evening. My feet needed a break. My sister was also interested in joining us. But first, I needed a nap.

Matheus, my sister, and I left for Kudu Water at 3:30. I believe this was my sisters first time out on a hunt, ever.

It was a great evening to be out. The animals were active from shortly after our arrival. We watched a group of five young male impala for nearly an hour, and a beautiful young male kudu for a good 45 minutes after that. In between, a herd of waterbuck and a few springboks came and went. We even had a mongoose jump up near the window of the blind to keep us entertained for a bit. While we shot some good photos, we didn’t see a mature animal of any species all evening.

Game was plentiful and spirits remained high. Our time would come.

 

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Day 4 – Getting Closer
Fredrich was back from Windhoek, and we were determined to close the deal on a stalk. After a quick breakfast, we departed for the same general area where we had the kudu encounter on the afternoon of day 2. The plan was to drive slightly further before starting our walk. We saw herds of oryx and blue wildebeest on our drive out of the lodge. Fredrich was hoping to get an opportunity at blue wildebeest or warthog on this part of the farm. Though I reiterated during our first couple hundred yards of walking I’d take nearly any mature animal on a stalk, given the difficulty involved. He turned, smiled, and said, “that makes things much more manageable”.

It was another beautiful morning in the bush. Temperatures starting the day in the 50’s, climbing to 80 degrees or so by mid-afternoon. In contrast to the prior morning’s adventure, it was good to be on soft, flat ground.

Less than 300 yards into our walk we spotted a couple of oryx bulls a ways out to our left, and a blue wildebeest 100-150 yards in front of us. We got low and worked up to the next available bush with shade. As we did, I saw a warthog up ahead bolt out to the right. The wildebeest was hidden, but a much bigger herd of oryx was spotted further out to our front left. We decided to work in their direction. As we did, the two oryx bulls appeared closer out over our left shoulders, also moving towards the bigger herd. Both bulls were mature. We did our best to maneuver to cut them off, crouch walking to the next available bush every time they were hidden. As we got closer it became clear that we had guessed the angle incorrectly. They were moving faster than us, and 75 yards was as close as we got. From there they moved further away, and we sat back to watch, planning our next move as we let them get out of sight.

Out to the north, a couple hundred yards beyond where the oryx just crossed, a springbok ram and female fed in the morning sun. Fredrich studied them for a bit and declared the ram was a mature animal. While I had taken a springbok on my first safari, as I stated when the morning started, I was going to take every stalk opportunity that presented itself. So, the game began again.

We began to close the distance and got to approximately 100 yards when another ram appeared further in the distance. This took our pair further away from us. However, the distraction allowed us to move faster and we quickly closed in. The two rams began to fight, and our guy won the day, driving the interloper out of his territory. As we watched, Fredrich said he believed the ram would come back towards us, to an open area to our left that was likely his bedding and territory marking spot. We moved 20 yards or so towards it and ran out of options as he approached. We sat tight and waited.

The ram followed the script and made his way back into the open spot, just as Fredrich predicted. Unfortunately for us, it was still 75 yards or so from our position. We had to hope the ram would bed and allow us the opportunity to move in, or meander around and find himself within my comfortable range. When he came through the opening and kept feeding around a tree on our side, it looked like option two was in play. Unfortunately, instead of working directly towards our position, he kept fading farther to our left…downwind. At 61 yards, he stopped and looked up. I could feel a light breeze on the back right of my neck. Game over. Even so, what a riot.

We spent the rest of the morning walking, mostly alone. Around 11:00, we got into an area of thick cover with broken rocky ground. We spotted a group of springbok 80 yards ahead and to the right. As we crouched to assess, an unseen male impala grunted to our left. The springbok bolted. The impala was up wind of us, so we moved in his direction to see if we could make visual contact. No dice. We called for Humphrey and the cruiser and made our way back to the lodge.

We grabbed a quick lunch to take with us and headed out to a completely different section of the farm than we had been hunting. The third of three permanent blinds, “Small Dam”, was over a water hole a good 20-minute drive in the opposite direction from the lodge. For reference, the Kowas home farm is roughly 30 square miles! We got to the blind at noon and settled in for the remainder of the day. The first few hours were quiet, other than a pair of leopard-faced (or lappet-faced) vultures, an endangered species, that flew in for a drink.

As we sat, alternating between reading a book and glassing our surroundings, Fredrich mentioned that there was an old one-horned kudu bull in this area, and that if he showed up, I could shoot him as a management animal for a dirt-cheap price. I told him I’d be interested, but we’d see how the evening unfolds.

It wasn’t until 3:30 that we spotted our first movement of the evening, a kudu cow a few hundred yards out to our front right. As she moved from right to left, I spotted another one behind her, a bull. He was a big animal, but his horn(s) looked off. I quietly laughed and told Fredrich “there’s our guy”. He got up from his seat to get a view out the front right window of the blind and quickly confirmed my assessment. As he was standing, he looked out the right window behind us and spotted a small group of red hartebeest bulls, also quite a ways out. He sat back down and we discussed the situation. He said the hartebeest looked like big bulls but were coming slow. We agreed to take the first opportunity that presented itself.

We sat back, watched, and waited. The two kudu turned into a group of seven or eight cows and calves along with our bull. They continued to move towards the water at an angle, crossing from the right to left of this picture, moving behind the clump of trees directly behind the water hole, and then around the tree to the left before coming into the left of the pink salt block.

I was sitting in a chair in the back middle of the blind, with a comfortable view to shoot anything within 3 yards of each side of the water out of the tall, narrow, middle window. As the group of kudu began to congregate off to the left, I leaned back in my chair so I could watch them through the left window in the blind. While the plan was to wait them out until they got to the water, something slightly spooked a few of the cows and they jumped and ran a few yards before settling back down. The bull was broadside at 25 yards, right to left, just behind the pink salt block at this point. With the herd being on edge, I decided I could pivot and make the shot out the left window. I drew, twisted my torso and leaned slightly back to get a clear view. Fredrich turned his phone camera on to get the shot on video. A second later I settled the top of the leg between the 20- and 30-yard pins on my bow sight and pulled the release.

The shot felt good out of the bow, and the entire herd bolted directly away from us at the sound, slightly to the left. Just before they reached the brush line, I thought I saw the bull stumble. My only immediate concern was that I did not see the arrow make impact, and neither did Fredrich. I was nervous that my follow-through was not clean given the position I shot from. But, everything “felt” good, and after three and a half days of hunting, and only shooting a jackal, we were excited to have an animal to follow-up on.

We waited 30 minutes before exiting the blind. There was no blood at the impact site, and no arrow to be found. We began to follow the track and at roughly 100 yards could see where the bull stumbled before making a slight left turn and heading out into a very large area of low bush. At this point I was thinking it was a high lung hit. It would take some time for the chest cavity to fill up, which would explain the lack of blood on the ground. However, when we hit 200 yards without a drop, that’s exactly what my heart began to do.

As we entered the low bush country, Fredrich gave me his .300 Win Mag and took my bow. The cover was shorter than me, and certainly shorter than a kudu bull. If he laid down, I would hopefully get a shot at him if we jumped him. The only problem was the heft of the rifle I was carrying. This was a bench gun, with the added weight of a suppressor. I was unsure if I’d be able to shoulder the howitzer in time.

It was another hundred yards or so before we found the first spot of blood. I knew it was muscle blood immediately. It continued, but it was sparse, and we were following tracks most of the time. The bull did not lay down, and stayed with the herd, which made tracking a painstaking process. I was of little help on the spoor, so I tried to stay positive and mentally engaged, scanning the bush in front of us hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I did not. We tracked until nearly dark, for over a mile, and while there was still blood, it was clear this kudu was not mortally wounded.

Humphrey came to pick us up at dark just as we got back to the blind. We quietly packed up and rode back to the lodge in silence. I was a mix of angry and sad. Angry that I had rushed and blown a chip shot, and sad for a wounded animal. Anyone that has hunted knows the feeling. I also noticed a string rash on my left forearm while riding back. I hadn’t felt it after the shot. I couldn’t remember the last time I had hit my arm when shooting…another indication I was torqued and out of position.

Back at the lodge we had a drink and commiserated. Fredrich and I were both starting to feel the pressure of no animals in the salt, and it got to us. I apologized for not waiting until the kudu was out the front window, and he apologized for not telling me to wait. We looked at the rough video with Jacques and his dad and while you couldn’t see much, upon slowing it down we could just make out the arrow entering high above the shoulder. The shot was through the backstrap.

We all agreed we owed a continued follow-up the following morning. Even if not deceased, African trackers are amazing, and there was a chance we could catch up to the herd and get a shot with the rifle. I went to bed early and did not sleep well.

 

[DAK]

Fantastic write up man! Keep it coming!

 

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Day 5 – Redemption

We met for breakfast at our normal time and headed out with Humphrey and skinner Lucas in tow. The plan was simple; we would put the trackers on the track and Fredrich and I would drive to high ground in an attempt to locate the herd. We’d periodically check with the trackers to get a sense of direction and move accordingly. We first drove to the blind and the guys left to get on the track while I stayed back and searched for my arrow. I looked in ever wider circles and finally found it, roughly 85 yards behind where it passed through the kudu, clearly not hitting much resistance on its way.

Fredrich returned in short order, and we drove up to higher ground. While we saw a lot of game during the morning; springbok, blue wildebeest, eland, red lechwe, red hartebeest, giraffe and oryx, the only kudu spotted were cows and calves…no bulls. We spent a lot of time sitting on top of the cruiser glassing the land below us, watching the trackers progress and looking for a single horn in the expanse of brush.

At 11:30 Fredrich called off the search. The guys had taken the track for over six miles, never jumping the bull or even seeing a spot where he lay down. Upon following the herd to the next closest water hole, where they must have moved straight to overnight, it was decided that the bull was alive and well. Two management hunters earlier in the season had specifically targeted this bull, without getting a shot opportunity. He had now been hit and survived an arrow. The legend of the one horn kudu had begun.

While my frustration had not fully abated, I was comforted knowing this animal was not lying dead somewhere, or hobbling around as leopard bait. Fredrich and I committed to returning to the hunt with focus and confidence.

We returned to the lodge for lunch, and I took a quick nap before meeting again to head back to a blind at 2:00 for the afternoon. As we loaded up the cruiser, Jacques walked up with a rather serious look on his face and said, “would you stop f***ing around, get serious, and kill something.” I smirked and told him a tongue lashing might be exactly what I needed to turn this safari around. With that, we were off.

By 2:30 we were back at “Garden Water”, the same spot where the jackal was taken on day two. There were a few oryx and sable in the general vicinity of the blind as we approached in the cruiser. They moved off slowly as we unpacked and settled in for the afternoon. The water hole was quiet for the first hour and a half. At 3:30, two warthogs came through at the back of the water opening from left to right. They were males, but not mature, so we watched them pass. Roughly an hour later, a group of young blue wildebeests approached from our left. They were very skittish and never fully committed to coming to the water. It is wild, how even with perfect wind, many of these animals get a sense that something is dangerous or risky about coming in to drink. I was the first bowhunter of the season, and it had been 9 months since anyone had sat in these blinds, yet the fear was present.

Twenty minutes past 5:00 I stood up to stretch and to look out the left side window behind us. Nothing was in view. I crouched down for a minute to put something away on the floor in the blind and when I turned my eyes up a blue wildebeest was crossing the same window from behind us towards the front, not 50 yards out! I turned my head towards Fredrich with wide-eyes and urgently whispered, “Blue Wildebeest out the left window”. I quickly crawled back the two steps to my chair and sat down as Fredrich picked up his binoculars to look at the animal. It was a quick inspection. He moved his binoculars away from his eyes long enough to look at me and firmly whisper “pick up your bow”.

When I sat down the bull was hidden by the front left corner of the blind, between the left side window and the left front window. As I picked up my bow, he was already crossing the left front window and heading to the water with zero hesitation. In contrast to most of the animals we had been observing from blinds on this hunt, here was an animal acting like he owned the place. As he crossed in front of the water, I started to whisper out loud to myself, “pick a spot, aim low, follow through”, repeatedly.

I followed my own instructions to perfection. I quietly uttered "killed him" as the arrow disappeared into the dark hide within a half inch of my aim point. I could see bright red blood pouring out both sides of him almost instantly. The bull ran out to our left, and at about 50 yards slowed and tumbled to the ground. He got up, walked another 20 yards or so and laid down. After a couple minutes, he fought to get back up and walked a bit further before going down again. I was stunned by his will to live. It was likely close to five minutes before he slowly laid his head down and expired. All the emotions ripped through the blind...relief, satisfaction, joy. More was said through looks, fist bumps, and hugs, than words.

We sat for another hour to let the adrenaline recede and see if we could double our luck. A lone red hartebeest bull did approach, and I would have taken him given the opportunity, but when he hit the blood trail of our dead wildebeest, he bolted.

We made our way out to our trophy with enough light to admire him and take photos. He was old, and big, very big. I was stunned by the size. A poor man’s buffalo indeed.

And one very happy hunter!

We called Humphrey for the cruiser and loaded our beast in with the winch.

The ride back to the lodge was pure jubilation. It was such a contrast of emotions from how the day started, and likely made it much more powerful, and sweeter. The entire crew came out to see our trophy and the celebration began. Everything tasted better that night. I stayed up a little later, and I slept like a baby.

 

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Day 6 – The Dynamic Duo

I had a little more pep in my step the morning after getting the first trophy of the trip in the salt. I also knew that I was back hunting with Jacques for the remainder of the safari. Jacques and I hit it off at our first meeting. Hunting together four years ago cemented the connection. Fredrich was good, and I enjoyed hunting with him through the first few days, but there was no history. Climbing in Jacques’ cruiser to head out to a neighboring property in search of warthog early on day 6 was a little like getting the band back together. It just felt right.

We drove through a few cattle gates as daylight spread across the savannah. The herds were already on the move.

The neighboring property clearly had received more rain during the summer, as the grass was much taller than on the Kowas home farm. Jacques said they had a lot more warthogs, and one particular big one, because of it. We drove the perimeter of one section and spotted a couple different females with piglets on the drive in. We drove around to the downwind side of this section and parked the cruiser on a slight rise where we could glass with the elevation advantage.

In short order, tracker Joseph spotted our big boy a couple hundred yards out with a sow. The stalk was on! I had only seen their backs for a moment while glassing from the jeep. Once we got down to their level, we were going to have to get close before seeing them. Thankfully, we had Joseph backing us up on the radio to help guide our approach.

We slowed our pace once we cut the distance in half. They were slowly browsing and completely unaware of us when a sand grouse exploded off to our left with a cackle. That put the pigs on alert. Up went their tales 50 yards in front of us and away they went.

We quickly moved forward and picked up their tracks. Jacques thought they would settle down in short order given they hadn’t seen us. Sure enough, the tracks went from a run to a walk after 100 yards or so and we were back in the game. However, they had moved far enough that Joseph lost sight of them. We were on our own.

The pair settled back into a meandering pattern of browsing as the sun warmed the earth. We tried to move at the appropriate pace to make up ground while also keeping our eyes peeled to each side as their direction of travel was so erratic. It was close to an hour of pursuit before we closed in on the end of the section of tall grass. The ground became a little rockier as we moved up a slight ridge before it fell off into a more open savannah below. Jacques was in front of me trying to locate the next hoof print when our quarry burst out of the grass not 20 yards directly to my right. Up and over the ridge they went, stilling hauling at full speed as they disappeared from our view below.

We went for a long walk along another section after our pig chase had ended. We spotted a few red hartebeests way off in the distance, but not in a position to pursue. After a quick chat we decided to head back to the Kowas farm, grab lunch to go, get into a blind before 11:00, and sit through midday before heading back out on foot in the evening.

We came across two interesting things on the drive back.

First, we passed the waterhole where I took my first African animal, a springbok, four years ago. There had been an elevated blind on a platform at the time, but now only the platform remained. Jacques said they had taken the blind down at some point and had not gotten around to reconstructing it, which was too bad because this water hole was very active. I looked at the platform and told him if we dug out underneath it a foot or so and put some brush around it, we could likely sit under it and I could effectively draw and shoot. He agreed and said he’d have his dad go out with a couple guys to see what they could do.

Next, we drove past “Kudu Water” where we intended to sit for the afternoon. The plan was to drop our gear, head to the lodge to grab our lunch, and then sneak the 800 yards back on foot to avoid taking the vehicle through again. As we pulled up to the hide, we discovered a leopard had gotten to one of the older male impalas before I did. He killed him within five yards of the blind the night before, and drug him 20 yards behind it before enjoying a meal. It raised a couple hairs being reminded so explicitly that we were not the only apex predators in the vicinity.

You can see a few of the cat’s footprints in the drag mark.

We made the decision to drag the carcass another 20 yards back from the blind and still hunt from it for the afternoon. I trust Jacques implicitly, but I was a little on edge as we walked back on foot down the dry riverbed running from camp and he casually mentioned the tom was likely close by and watching us…with only our lunch in our hands!

We made it safely and settled in for the lunchtime overwatch. Walking back ended up being a smart call, as we had animals inbound almost immediately. This group of blue wildebeest was first up.

They were very skittish however and refused to fully commit to the water. We also had several waterbuck, a few springboks, and some impala, including one big ram, pass through the vicinity over the next few hours. In fact, there was almost never a minute without an animal in sight.

This was a shooter ram, and multiple times it appeared that he and the female he was pursuing were going to move within range. However, after finally giving up on his girl, he came towards us only to skirt the water and blind at 60 yards. It became clear that the fresh kill and leopard scent was keeping the game at a distance. At 4:00 we decided to drive back to the platform to check on the progress of the work crew and set out on foot from there for the evening stalk. As we pulled up, I noticed another cruiser full of lumber and material, and it quickly became clear that my suggestion was only the beginning inspiration for what was under development. We were about to have the Taj Mahal of pit blinds at our disposal.

I jumped in the hole to confirm there was plenty of head room to draw and shoot while standing up, and to mark where the openings needed to be. With our modeling work complete, I grabbed my bow and we headed into the thick bush.

Soon after entering the heavy cover, we spooked a young springbok just before being bum rushed by an impala ram chasing a younger challenger away from his herd. The young one kept running past us as the king ran back to his harem. They were within 40 yards for a moment but running full tilt the entire time. We slowly moved in the direction the ram ran back to.

We located the herd soon after as they slowly moved across and away from us. It was a challenge to close the distance and stay in cover. We jokingly whispered that we really needed another young male to come by to draw the ram out of the group. We finally got inside 75 yards after 30 minutes of crouch-walking and ran out of cover. The ram was at the back of the herd, and in the open at 60 yards. He was looking in our direction, and we were out of options. As Jacques was sarcastically asking me to take the shot, a few springbok, including a nice ram, appeared out to our left. They were moving in our direction, but in a way that we feared would put them downwind, blowing up the entire affair. Luck was on our side however, as they noticed the impala and faded in their direction, feeding towards us, but moving more to their left than right. Jacques said the male was a good trophy and we should try to take him if given the chance.

The ram stopped broadside at 45 yards, and Jacques begged me to take the shot. I wasn’t comfortable however, with the distance or the position I was sitting in. In addition, from my vantage point, I did not see a big enough opening to get an arrow through. I held firm and said we would wait, and if they spooked, so be it.

The springbok females moved towards the impala, and the male followed in tow. It was clear they were going to move almost inline with the impala ram, who was still frozen looking in our direction. As the springbok moved behind a bush, I had to slide my butt out an additional foot to have a shooting lane towards where they would re-emerge. I did so with fear the impala would bust. He did not.

As the springbok ram walked into the opening from left to right, I leaned back and drew. I asked for the distance, and Jacques whispered “30 yards” as he made a low grunt to stop the ram. Near instantaneously, I settled the 30-yard pin over the front leg and released. As I did, the ram stepped with his right leg and turned towards us in response to Jacques’ call. With the animal’s movement, I hushed “oh shit” as the arrow made impact, at a point neither of us could clearly determine.

At the shot, animals ran in every direction. Our ram and his small herd of females ran back to the left. We thought we could see blood before he disappeared, but again, there was no consensus. We got up and moved to the point of impact, where we found a small piece of meat. My heart immediately sank, “muscle…again”.

We got on the track as dark approached. Blood appeared within 75 yards, brighter than the kudu, but clearly not lung blood. At 200 yards we found my arrow, along with a spot of a lot of running blood. My spirits improved, but we were still very perplexed. I shoot 535 grain arrows, with a 65 lb., 31.5-inch draw, and cut on contact broadheads. I’ve run this setup through elk, kudu, and wildebeest with ease. How the arrow was hung up in a small springbok was a mystery. We tracked blood across an open area until dark, at which point we called Joseph for the truck with a plan to grab a .243 and head out at first light to pick up where we left off.

While it did not feel good to once again leave a wounded animal in the field overnight, I went to bed confident this story would end in my favor.

 

[WMU05]

Day 7 – Cleaning Up

Jacques, Joseph and I pulled out of the lodge at 7:00. We’d left shooting sticks where we stopped the night before, making it easy to get back on the track. Joseph took the lead, with Jacques next carrying a .243, and me in the rear with my bow. We were ready for whatever we encountered.

We were on the blood trail for less than 10 minutes when we spotted some springboks in the brush ahead and to our left. They were 150 yards out and moving away from us. The two Africans lifted their binoculars and at about the same time, uttered, “it’s him”. I thought “well, that didn’t take long.”

The first group we saw, including our guy, was moving further out to a much larger group that was feeding in the next open area. We circled back and to our left to get the wind in our favor and to put some more cover between us for the approach. We closed another 50 yards and stopped to glass the multitude of animals spread out through the dense underbrush ahead of us. Along with the springboks, there was also a herd of blue wildebeest behind them. We were hesitant to move any further given the number of eyes, so we took our time picking the herd apart to locate our target. After a couple minutes, Jacques said “there he is, in the back”. I located him and could immediately see a red streak with still fresh blood down his lower neck in front of the shoulder.

There was zero chance of approaching within bow range and I wanted to finish the job, so up went the sticks. I found the wounded ram in the scope, but could only see his head, neck, and ass, as his torso was blocked by the bush he was browsing on. After a minute I told Jacques if we moved right a bit, I might have a small opening to the shoulder. We repositioned and I settled back in. The opening was small, but clear. At 150 yards on sticks, I was rock solid. I said I was going to take him as I squeezed the trigger.

A suppressed .243 does not make much of a crack. The thud of impact reported back as the ram flipped back and went down for good. The rest of the herd startled but did not bolt. We congratulated each other on a well-done follow-up and finishing the job, as we waited for them to move off.

Upon inspection, the ram had indeed turned towards us before impact on the initial shot. My arrow entered the lower part of the neck, in front of the right shoulder, and exited through the left shoulder blade, which explained the hang-up. While I shoot 3-blade fixed broadheads, I did take 4 expandable Sevr blades with me specifically for use on smaller animals in spot and stalk situations. I wanted a little more room for error, just in case. Unfortunately, in my rush to get an arrow knocked the night before, I failed to grab the one Sevr head in my quiver. Had I done so, I’m convinced this animal would have dropped on impact from a spinal hit. That’s how close the wound channel was. How my shot managed to miss the spine, a major neck artery, and the top of the offside lung, was a mystery to all of us. Regardless, we had our ram, the first springbok stalked on foot and shot with a bow in the 36-year history of Kowas Safaris.

For fun, we took one picture with both weapons involved.

Following an early lunch, we decided to head back to the “Garden Water” blind where I’d killed the Blue Wildebeest two nights prior. The plan was to sit for most of the afternoon and then make the call on if we would stay until dark or bail out for some more stalking fun.

Action at the water hole that afternoon was intermittent. Not long after getting settled in, a group of sable approached from the left and went straight to the water. The bull in the group was a beauty. Jacques asked if I was sure I didn’t have a sable on my list and I reminded him we’d be done hunting for the week if it was. I left my bow on the ground and we enjoyed the interaction.

Throughout the afternoon, we were visited by a couple different family groups of warthogs, and one black springbok male that spent an inordinate amount of time licking a salt block.

As the decision time approached for how we’d spend the evening, a lone oryx female was spotted cautiously approaching the water hole from a couple hundred yards out in front of us. She was an old dry cow, and since I had yet to take an oryx with my bow, we decided this would be a great trophy if given the opportunity.

The cow approached from our front left, got to the edge of the sand, and stopped. From there she observed. Then she slowly walked back and went around the backside of the sand from left to right, stopping again out to the front right. Multiple times she started to take a few steps towards the water, and Jacques and I both whispered “she’s coming”, only for her to turn back away before standing motionless for more minutes on end. This went on for nearly an hour.

She finally appeared to commit, making her closest approach yet as I clipped the release on and waited for her to reach the water. Then, at 41 yards, she laid down.

And there she stayed, until just before dark, when she stood up and walked straight away. She never took a drink, and for all I know, is still meandering West. I had to smile and tip my cap to the old girl. The sixth sense that these animals have, a survival instinct, is amazing. Even when you think everything is in your favor as a hunter, they can still win.

That night as we sat around the fire, I had Dani point out the Southern Cross to me, something I failed to do on either trip up until this point. It was smaller than I imagined. Though not as small and insignificant as Africa can make a man feel. I went to bed and thanked the good Lord for the day’s success, and prayed he’d help make the last three days of hunting feel a lot longer.

 

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Day 8 – A Moment Earned

We were back on the high side of the safari ride with three full days left. The plan made over breakfast was to drive to the foothills of the mountains just east of the lodge and stalk North into the wind, attempting to cut off an impala ram driving his females up into one of the valleys for the day. Our starting location was not far, so by 7:15 we were on the move on foot, leaving Joseph with the cruiser. It was another beautiful morning in the bush.

We drove through numerous impalas, and a lone Nyala bull, on the way out, a good omen for the hunt. Not long after we began our walk, we heard the unmistakable grunt/snort of a rutting ram. The mountains sloped up to our right and this group was ahead and to our left, making their way up. We picked up the pace to get within bow range of where we thought they would cross our path.

We were late. We were not well hidden when the ram popped out between two bushes not 40 yards in front of us. We all froze as the ram snorted. He wasn’t sure of us, and Jacques was able to hold him in relative range by imitating his calls back to him. As he moved into cover, we took a chance and crept forward. Unfortunately, the next one in line picked us out. The group got up hill in a hurry.

We let them move off before continuing our walk. Shortly, we heard another group further off to our left, on the hillside across from the valley we were in. We picked our way across the bottom and gradually moved up the other side. We didn’t make it to the group we heard before crossing paths with two lone rams. They were both nice, with second one in line being the bigger of the two.

These two were moving from our right to left ahead of us, intending to cross the valley we’d just come up. We backtracked a bit and circled left. We tucked in beside a bush when we thought we were in a good position. The first ram stepped out 40 yards to our left and immediately noticed something off in our location. Instead of continuing, he turned and made his way towards us, closing inside of 30 yards. It would have been tough to draw with his focus on us, but I didn’t make the attempt as Jacques whispered to wait for the second one.

The first ram got tired of waiting for us to move and turned to head down the valley just as the second stepped out in the 40-yard opening. I started to draw as he appeared, but he was on a fast walk to catch up to his buddy and never stopped to offer an opportunity. As they moved down, we attempted to swing around them again, but the wind was not good, and they got the better of us. Zero for two!

Two close encounters before 9:00 AM had me continuing in high spirits as we turned back right and crested the ridge towards the lowlands below. The downward side of this last hill was very thick, so we moved with extra caution. It couldn’t have been 10 minutes from when we gave up the chase on the last two when Jacques stopped and crouched, the universal sign for “I see something”. Less than 75 yards ahead was a group of females with one old ram, browsing the morning away.

We sat down in a small spot of shade with the herd 60 yards in front of us. They were not moving in any specific direction, feeding around a couple particular bushes. We did a lot of glassing, and Jacques said this ram did not have prototypical shape or length, but he was ancient, with thick horns, including one that was worn down, and lots of secondary growth. I told him he sounded like my kind of trophy. We took an opportunity without a lot of eyes visible to crawl another 10 yards to the next spot of shade. Here we crouched…for 30 minutes.

The ram was regularly circling the herd of females. Sometimes he’d be out at 65 yards, at the closest point he was at 50. Jacques asked if I was willing to shoot at that range and I answered in the negative. He didn’t think we could move farther without getting busted, but I wasn’t willing to take a shot I wasn’t confident in. I told him we pray he makes a wide circle in our direction or decide to take our chances with another move. By this point, I was cramping badly, with one leg falling asleep and the other trembling pretty good from the position I’d been stuck in. I was leaning against Jacques, and he could feel the shaking worsen in my lower half. I think that made up his mind. We started to move.

We somehow managed to get another 9 yards downhill without being detected. We should have stopped there. The ram spotted our last shuffle, and the stare down was on. We were very well hidden, as I couldn’t see much of the ram from where I was crouched behind Jacques. After five minutes of neither of us moving, our boy lost interest and turned to look back as his ladies. He then did me a favor that only God can explain, moving up hill out to our left, into the one clearing between us and them.

He stepped into the opening straight out to our left at 31 yards, perfectly broadside, and turned his head back at us and stared. I whispered to Jacques “the moment he turns his head back forward I’m going to draw and raise up to shoot”. A few seconds later he turned. I came to full draw as he snapped his head back at the motion. It was now or never. I raised up the last couple of inches needed to get the 30-yard pin at his midline straight up the leg, just above the low brush between us. I was miraculously calm and steady given the intensity of the last 45 minutes. The release and follow-through were perfect. There are some archery kills where the visual of the arrow in flight and impact live with you forever. This will be one of mine.

The ram tore off away from us with a bright red splotch immediately visible on his shoulder. I fell backwards, extending my legs for the first time in nearly an hour. Tears came immediately, from the pain, relief, excitement, and satisfaction. It was an overwhelming emotional experience and release. I sat up and smiled back at Jacques who had stood up after the shot to watch the ram’s exit path.

I composed myself and stood, giving Jacques a giant hug of appreciation. We took a celebratory selfie from the scene of the shot.

We were both confident in the shot, so we moved forward after only a few minutes to pick up the track. Bright red blood with bubbles was present almost instantly. I had remembered to grab the arrow with the expandable Sevr head when I popped the quiver off and handed it to Jacques as we closed the distance. While the “room for error” wasn’t needed on the shot, the blood trail it left was impressive.

Shockingly, we went across the hill and down, close to 150 total yards, before we spotted the ram up ahead in the shade under a tree, still alive. I nocked another arrow and moved in to finish the job as he struggled to rise. It quickly became evident his strength wasn’t there. I put the arrow back in my quiver and sat down to wait for the end, praying it would be quick.

It is amazing to see the toughness and will to live in a wild animal. This impala was alive for over 10 minutes after a double-lung shot with massive blood loss. It’s hard to describe the amount of admiration and respect I felt as we walked up to finally put our hands on him. Jacques did not stay long, knowing I needed some time alone. He went to meet Joseph and the cruiser as I sat under a tree a few feet from our trophy, thanking God for the blessings of a life that found me on this hillside, halfway around the world, at this moment. I hadn’t moved when Jacques and Joseph returned.

If we’re lucky, we get a few experiences like this in our hunting careers. I feel like I’ve had more than my fair share. I didn’t want it to end. I could have spent the rest of the day right here.

We did have to move though. The hunt, like life, would not stop. The moment was transferred from reality to a memory, enabled by photographic reminders. After two safaris and 12 days of hunting for an impala, getting to ride back to the lodge with this one was very special.

Dani was departing the lodge as we approached. We met on the road and got out to share our success. He was blown away by the age of our ram, but more so by the fact that we took him on foot with a bow, another species for which this was the first successful archery spot and stalk in Kowas history.

Kowas started as a bowhunting only operation back in the 1990’s, and Dani spent many years bowhunting himself along with guiding archery clients. The pride he showed in our success meant a lot. After reliving the morning, we all started to leave as Dani turned, and laughing at us, said “my son is kicking my @ss”. Seeing his son surpass his own accomplishments clearly brought an immense amount of joy.

After lunch we drove back to the neighbor’s property in search of warthog. We never saw a boar on that afternoon, but did try a stalk on a group of oryx a few hundred yards off the trail, soon after driving in. This part of the farm was too open, and when we got to 200 yards out, made the call to head back to the cruiser instead of blowing them out of the section.

To close the day, Jacques and Joseph climbed a local windmill to see if they could spot a target of opportunity.

They climbed down after 10 minutes of glassing and advised the only trophy animal in sight was a big kudu bull 500-600 yards out with a cow. While I shot a kudu with my bow on the last trip, that was at a water hole. The opportunity to stalk one was too good to pass up. I told Jacques, “Let’s go”.

Off we went, with Joseph back up the windmill giving us hand signals to keep our approach in line. We got a visual on him as we closed within 150 yards, and he was indeed a beauty. Our downfall was the grass. It was tall, and noisy, covering hard ground underneath. While he didn’t see us, at 125 yards there was enough noise for him to get suspicious and move on.

We walked back to Joseph as the last of the days light faded. I was still riding high from the morning and joked with Jacques that the last encounter was the hunting God’s sending us a message…”don’t get greedy, you’ve done enough for today”.

Indeed, we had.

 

[WMU05]

Day 9 – Storm Clouds

Out the door at 7:00, we went back to the neighbors, determined to get a crack at the big boar before this safari was over. It was cooler and cloudy on this day, with a forecasted high of only 70 degrees Fahrenheit. The weather for May was a little unusual the entire trip, with plenty of scattered clouds on most days. On this day, there was a prediction of thunderstorms later in the afternoon, an even scarcer occurrence.

We saw a few pigs on the way in, but again, no big boars. We gained a little elevation and climbed atop the cruiser to glass. No dice.

We moved on and parked the cruiser for a walk into some thicker cover. Our plan seemed to work when Jacques spotted the gray back of an oryx up ahead, laying under a tree. We were able to make out a handful in this group that we had walked within 100 yards of. It ended up being a short encounter however, as one of them caught us in the sun during one of our initial maneuvers. The whole group rumbled off.

We did a bunch of walking the rest of the morning and eventually got on a group of oryx in some broken terrain. There wasn’t as much cover as we preferred for stalking, but there was a slight rise between us that allowed us to close to 50 yards before running out of concealment. I had been doing some longer distance shooting at the lodge at Jacques’ urging, to where we both felt comfortable at 50 yards on a big animal. However, before we could get a clear shot at the closest one in the group, a female at the far edge of the group hit our downwind side and blew the party. We tried to make a play on a big red hartebeest shortly after, but the spooked oryx did us in with him as well.

We called it a morning before 11:00 and headed back to the lodge. The plan was to grab lunch and take it with us to the newly constructed Taj Mahal pit blind, which we’d been letting rest the last couple days since completion. We arrived before lunch, inspected the design, and ducked inside.

We cut our own shooting holes in the burlap after getting inside. Other than the handful of giant dung beetles crawling around the floor, it was a clean and comfortable setup.

There were tracks all around this water hole, giving us hope for an action-packed afternoon. The animals did not disappoint. Springbok and blue wildebeest approached not longer after we arrived, and they came in droves. Not long after a large group of blesbok joined the group. Blesbok were on my secondary list, but there were only young males in the group that came in.

After the initial midday action there was a lull that allowed my PH to get some much-deserved rest. It was a pretty cozy hole in the ground!

As the day wore on, darker clouds began to form in the North. By midafternoon we could see lightning and rain approaching. We were spared the worst of it, with most of the front skirting just off to the East of us. We experienced light rain for 5-10 minutes, but not enough to drip through the slats in our platform roof. The weather did not seem to bother the animals, as a nice kudu bull sauntered in from our right to drink during the rain. This bull was likely a little bigger than my prior specimen, but I was only interested in a kudu on foot on this trip. We watched him continue from the water out to our front left just before we heard the distance rumbling of an engine.

Jacques and I looked at each other with shared frustration as he poked his head out of the blind to see Fredrich and Jacques’ wife Elleni approaching in a cruiser. They pulled up and advised that Dani had insisted they head out to get us given the severe weather. They had apparently been hit by a strong thunderstorm at the lodge, including pouring rain and hail, and assumed we were under duress (and that for some reason our radio must not have been working to call them). Though we were on the same farm, we were several miles away, and completely dry. We sent our rescuers on their way, sheepishly.

We elected to stay put for the evening, but it turned out to be a futile effort. Whether the animals in the general vicinity had heard the cruiser or were just coming to this water for the first time since construction, those that passed through after the rain were on edge. A group of Burchell Zebra stallions played games with us for over an hour, circling the water between 50 and 75 yards. While I was still after a Mountain Zebra, this was the penultimate evening, and I told Jacque’s I’d shoot a Burchell if given the chance. I was not given a chance.

The black wildebeest stayed even further out, as a lone female oryx, potentially the same old tease from two nights prior, came in from the right and laid down in the sand. She stayed 40 yards out until dark and then walked away. We called for our pick-up and headed in, never knowing how the evening would have progressed without the interruption.

Dani was waiting for us outside the lodge and apologized profusely for creating the distraction. I couldn’t feel too bad. A dad will always be a dad.

Another heavy downpour came through during dinner that evening. Everyone was amazed. It was the heaviest May rain the farm had received since the Strauss family bought it over 30 years ago.

We skipped the fire that evening for the first time. I headed to bed early as mother nature cleansed the earth for a fresh start on our last day.

 

[WMU05]

Day 10 – A Grand Finale

I relented on the last day. I really wanted a Mountain Zebra, so I told Jacques to pack the .300 Win Mag.

As usual, we were out of the lodge just after first light. Before hiking up the mountains, we decided to make one drive around the lower base of the range to see if we could locate a herd that was a little late coming back up for the day. We stopped at the far northeast end and climbed the last small hill to glass the bush below in three directions. We weren’t up there for long before Joseph pointed out to the west. Jacques uttered “big warthog”, as I picked the old boy up with my binoculars. We couldn’t judge the ivory from the distance we were at but could tell he was a big old boar. Jacques looked at me and asked, “do you want to grab your bow and go after him?” I answered in the affirmative.

We hiked back down to the cruiser, which was on the way to the pig, uncased my archery gear, and headed out. We once again left Joseph up high to direct traffic as we departed on foot. We had a good line on his location, but when we arrived in the general vicinity, he was nowhere to be found. We slowly meandered around looking before we got the signal that he had moved farther to our left. We headed in that direction and soon after got a glimpse of him. With a better look, Jacques said he was a big pig but did not have much ivory. He’d consider him a management animal but still let me take the skull if I wanted to. After our days of fruitless efforts on warthogs, I was all in.

We circled to our left to get in front of the warthog’s direction of travel and crouched down next to a bush with an opening in front of us. The pig entered moving from our right to left, 40 yards out. This was not a big target at that range, but as he moved out into the opening, and then pulled a U-turn to immediately head back into the cover, I drew. He stopped briefly, now facing left to right, I put the 40-yard-pin above the front leg and released. I muttered “oh sh*t” before the arrow even got to him.

Somehow, in my haste to move into a concealed shooting position, I failed to remove the quiver from my bow, as I had done on every other hunt in my life. Even on this safari, on every prior stalk, I had taken it off when we moved in close and handed it to Jacques or Fredrich. I do not shoot with it on, as I have never felt comfortable with the balance. Maybe practice would change that, but I haven’t put in the time to find out. This shot proved that, as my arm immediately fell left on release, sending the arrow back into the pig’s mid-section. Jacques could see the follow-through and immediately knew what happened. There was no time to despair, as we had a wounded warthog to follow.

The warthog did not run far, and within 10 minutes we had him back in sight. This time we had to circle out to the right to get in front of him and put ourselves in position for a 30-yard shot at the next opening. I had used the one Sevr head in my quiver on the first shot, so was now back to the traditional fixed blade for follow-up. The boar exited the brush line at 30 yards as I drew for the second time that morning and immediately turned away from us at a hard angle. He didn’t stop for another 10 yards, quartering hard away. This was not a shot I would have taken initially, but with a wounded animal, the goal was to get another arrow in him. I aimed mid-body with the 40-yard pin and released. With my quiver now in Jacques’ hand, the follow-through was good, and the impact looked perfect. Given the angle there was no pass-through. The boar ran off with three holes in him, along with red and white fletching sticking out his right side.

We were both in a better mood after the second shot and quickly picked up the blood trail. I think we were both a little stunned as the track continued for the next couple hundred yards towards the property line. As an aside, it is interesting to experience different tactics around the world. Deer hunting in the Midwest of America, we would let an animal wounded like this one lay for 6-8 hours and then go find him, hopefully dead in his first bed. From what I’ve experienced in Africa, everything is pursued rather quickly. Their trackers are certainly much better than we are, and there are a lot more predators, which I think explains it.

When we reached the property line, we waited for Joseph to climb down the hill where we left him and come around with the cruiser to join us. As we waited, we spotted a group of Mountain Zebra out in an open pan…of course.

We peeled off a layer at the vehicle, I handed Joseph my bow to carry in case we walked up to him and needed a finisher, and I took the .300 out of its case for insurance. We climbed the fence and continued our pursuit. Needless to say, the second arrow was not immediately fatal. We spent the next hour or so zigzagging across the neighbor’s property, never laying eyes on our warthog. He had picked up a friend however, as we were now discerning two sets of tracks as we went, making sure to confirm blood in the set we followed.

As we approached late morning, and the heat picked up, we hit the next property line. Jacques made a couple calls to confirm we were good to continue our pursuit, and we were on our way. The terrain got thicker as we reached the top of a ridge that gradually fell off down to a valley below. On this hillside we made our first eye contact with the pig since the second shot, twice seeing him quickly cross an opening in front of us, once in one direction, then the other. Neither time was long enough to even shoulder the .300. Shortly after the second sighting, we looked down in the valley below to see him hit the bottom and head across. We moved right to set up the sticks for a shot, but he quickly disappeared in the tall grass in the middle of the valley, a couple hundred yards out. We thought we had a clear shot in any direction from where we last saw him, so we stayed put and sent Joseph down on the track to flush him out.

We watched as Joseph closed in on the location of our last sighting, as I lined up down the valley where we thought the board would run. My heart sank a little as Joseph walked through the area, and continued to the left, up the valley. We thought we could see anything that moved in that direction!

We packed up and hiked down to re-join the track. The grass was clearly much taller in the valley floor than it looked from above. We were going to have to do this the hard way. We were three hours in; our pig was still bleeding and hadn’t laid down.

As we continued our pursuit, I could not get a conversation from the night before out of my head. As we sat around the bar in the lodge before dinner, Dani, who has lived the lives of 5 normal men, was reliving many of the dangerous animal encounters he’s seen or survived. He shared that he’s watched two different men killed by animals, one hippo and one croc, and shared his list of the most dangerous and unpredictable animals…leopard, hippo, black rhino, and…warthog. “Warthog?” “Oh yeah, Jacques has experience hunting all species of dangerous game but has had more close encounters with warthog than any of them.” That conversation kept me extremely focused and on edge as we got back on the track in the tall grass, especially knowing I was the one with the rifle that the team would be counting on if things got hairy.

The warthog stayed in the low center of the valley and travelled further up, instead of down. There were still two pigs together, and we were slowed by the constant re-checking of each track. During one of these instances, a warthog burst out from under a bush not 10 yards in front of me. I pulled up and acquired it in the scope as it ran straight away. I didn’t really have a clear shot and could not see any blood or arrow given the angle he was running. Neither could my companions apparently, as neither yelled “shoot”. We quickly continued on the track, and sure enough, it was our guy that had just escaped, the first bed with blood in it that we’d found.

While we were frustrated at his escape, we moved forward with increased confidence that he was slowing down but also knew it would take a little time for him to settle into a walk after being jumped. His pattern continued to zigzag, and he started to head part way up the opposite hillside, before turning back down into the valley. How many times he bumped because we were close is hard to say, it was just too d@mn hard to see very far.

As we got back down into the low ground, we were spread out between the two tracks when we heard Joseph exclaim “there he goes”. Jacques and I were off to the right, and could not see him, but at this point Jacques decided to push the issue. He took off on a run, with me trying to keep up. We ran close to 100 yards before he stopped, never catching a glimpse. Joseph caught up to us momentarily and Jacques told him he wanted to move. “Let’s track fast”.

Our warthog was now split from his partner, which allowed Joseph and Jacques to move at a brisk pace on the spoor. I tried to stay close, with my focus up and around us as the two in front were heads down. We were in that order, starting to move back and forth again, when a commotion occurred not 6 feet to my left under a bush. A bunch of things happened near simultaneously. Jacques jumped to his right as the boar charged out straight at him. I uttered “oh sh*t” as he turned to his right, towards my legs, after Jacques jumped out of the way. I jumped backwards and shouldered the rifle in one move as he peeled further to his right, a foot or so from me. I heard Jacques shout “shoot him” as I took one step forward to get an angle on him as he wheeled out to my left and started to run away. I vividly remember taking an extra half second to breath as I dropped the crosshairs from in front of him to the back of his head, then neck, before pulling the trigger. He dropped dead at 10 yards.

I immediately knew why people are driven to hunt dangerous game. I’d never experienced that kind of adrenaline rush while hunting, and I’ve had my share of worthy moments. I turned and looked at Jacques and Joseph with wide eyes and a laughing smirk as I let out a few expletives. They were laughing their @sses off. Jacques told us not to move so he could take a picture of where we were when it all went down. I added the circles where the warthog was hiding and where he finally fell.

We let our heart rates get back into double digits before walking up and examining the beast that had led us on this four-hour adventure. If I thought the prior animals taken on this trip were tough, this boar took the grand prize. My initial shot was, as we saw, back in the guts. The second shot, while hitting right where we thought, did not penetrate the chest cavity. It wasn’t until later in the skinning shed when the entire story was revealed…that the shot hit a rib and glanced out, running along the outside of the rib cage, under the shoulder, up the entire length of the neck, and lodging in the back of the lower jaw, breaking it! And it stayed the entire time, for over six miles.

We took trophy photos and then covered the boar under a tree in the shade with grass and a coat. We would make the just over one mile as the crow flies hike back to the cruiser, and Joseph would then make the hour drive around the mountain range to enter this property and pick him up. As we were walking, and I was dreaming about the water we had left at the vehicle as this was going to be a “quick track”, I laughingly said to Jacques, “I bet you’re glad I’m not only a bow hunter!” Everyone agreed!

When we got to the cruiser, the mountain zebra were still down in the pan. We passed by them within a couple of hundred yards on our drive in, and we both looked at each other with a grin. “There’s our afternoon plan.”

We arrived back at the lodge for a late lunch and relayed the excitement of the morning to my sister and Dani. Everyone was floored that we left for zebra and came back with a spot and stalk warthog, let alone the process. We asked my sister if she wanted to join us that afternoon for a zebra stalk. After some cajoling; “come on, when will you ever have the opportunity to do something like this”, she agreed. I took my boots off to rest my feet for a couple hours following the 16,000 steps I’d put in that morning.

We met back up at 3:30, just after Joseph returned, dropped the warthog off at the skinning shed, and grabbed a quick lunch. The bow stayed in my room. There would be no more games.

We drove back to the pan and stopped roughly 500 yards from where we could see some of the herd up ahead. Joseph stayed up on the cruiser rack while the three of us proceeded on foot. The first two hundred yards we walked slowly, making sure to not spook any of the other game in the vicinity. There were some blue wildebeest hidden out to our left, and many black wildebeest and springbok further out to our right.

Our odds of success were not high at this point. There were a lot of animals in sight of the line we needed to take for another 100-150 yards. We crouched low and made our move with extreme patience. We’d go 10-15 yards at a time, stop in a spot of brushy shade while Jacques glassed in every direction to check the other game around, and repeat the process when he was sure everything was calm. When we got to 200 yards, I thought to myself, “great, that’s close enough”…but it wasn’t for Jacques. We pressed on.

The last two maneuvers were incredibly nerve wracking. Not only were there other species inside 100 yards to our right, the zebra in front of us were also now looking in our direction. Jacques slowly rose next to a bush and glassed our quarry. He looked down at me and said “165 yds, we’ll shoot from here”.

I handed Jacques the rifle and slowly rose as he set it on the sticks. The stallion was off to the left of the group of mares, quartering hard in our direction, looking straight at us. Compared to the 40-yard archery shots I’d been taking, the zebra looked like a target the size of an elephant at that distance with a 12x scope. Jacques had me wait as he got my sister to stand where she could see over my shoulder. Once he did, I whispered “I’m going to take him” as I settled the crosshairs on the point of his left shoulder. The trigger broke clean and the .300 hit like a hammer. He dropped on the spot. There would be no tracking.

After the prior three hunts, it was admittedly anti-climatic to shoot an animal with a rifle at that distance. However, I really wanted a Mountain Zebra rug and was thrilled to end my safari by procuring one in the last hours of the hunt. I had to shake my head as we admired this beautiful warrior. Africa delivered again.

My sister was enthralled by the entire experience. Even though she grew up in my hunting family, this was the first real hunting experience of her life. I don’t think it moved her to pick up a rifle herself, but I bet I could convince her to join me on a stalk again in the future.

It was a joyous ride back to the lodge with the setting sun off to the west. While I was ready to start the trek home to see my family, I prayed that there were many more of these sunsets in my future.

 

[WMU05]

Day 11 - Totsiens

I slept in on departure day, and it felt good. I let the sound of the savanna and the warm African sun wake me. The wish list was fulfilled, and I was emotionally and spiritually rejuvenated. I was ready to reenter the modern world.

After a leisurely breakfast I spent the morning packing. The daily laundry service made this chore painless. Even so, it was still a little mournful. I had settled my tab the night before but found Jacques to walk through tip instructions and say my final goodbye. By late morning, my sister and I were in the car with Elleni on the way back to Windhoek.

We spent the afternoon at the market downtown where we had lunch and I started buying thank you gifts for my family back home. I had flowers delivered a couple days prior to my wife, but there needed to be additional gratitude in tow for the two weeks away from home. After the market, we made a stop at the taxidermist where I added to the goodies, snapped a couple pictures for instructions, and got some ideas for a future trip.

My sister and I were on separate flights out. She left an hour before me, transiting back through Frankfurt. I watched her flight take off, and not long after, made the long walk across the tarmac to my ride to Munich.

I settled in, sat back with a pre-flight drink, and fired up the memory bank. There was so much to unpack. So much happened so fast on some of the hunts that I was already forgetting some of the details. I had been sharing regular updates with a good buddy throughout the hunt, and towards the end he asked for my overall assessment. I texted him that when you go on a guided hunt in North America, you hunt for a week, and if you’re lucky to punch your tag, you’re done. You either hang out in camp, or head home early. In Africa, you go back to the lodge, celebrate with a good meal and a drink, share the story with new friends, and say “let’s do it again tomorrow”! That was the overriding feeling as my feet left Namibian soil…”let’s do it again”!

The flights were smooth and comfortable. The contrast to our first trip and the travel through Johannesburg was stark. I’ll take the European route every time.

On the last evening, I gave a toast before dinner. I started with Jacques, thanking him for the patience, understanding, effort, and positive attitude he always showed. I told him that I fully understand what I choose to do is not easy, that the kill list is shorter, and we have a lot more near misses than successes, but that it’s one of the joys of my life to have found a hunting partner that’s in it for the same reasons as me. While I clearly did not cover myself in glory by my shooting on this trip, we put in the work necessary to finish each job (the kudu was spotted multiple times over the remaining days by other hunters in camp, running his herd like normal), and the effort was part of the reward.

I chose the hard way, and Africa rewarded me.

 

[dhoover]

Great hunt! You are a gifted writer. Thanks for sharing.

 

[scubasteven25]

Great write-up and congratulations on the trophies and memories.

 

[K-man]

Great job on the hunt and the report, it took me back to my time at Kowas several years ago. Thanks for writing!

 

[MAdcox]

Great write up on a great hunt. Always great to spend time with the Strauss family. I feel for you keeping up with Matheus on those hills. He and I had a great week several years ago but you better be in shape to follow him!
That Zebra is a toad!! What a last day animal , congratulations.

 

[AZDAVE]

Enjoyed your writeup. The old impala stalked on foot with your bow. Respect

Don't forget you have a date one horned kudu to plan for.

 

[WMU05]

Enjoyed your writeup. The old impala stalked on foot with your bow. Respect

Don't forget you have a date one horned kudu to plan for.

Appreciate all the positive responses.

I heard from Fredrich yesterday...the one horned kudu has been spotted twice by hunters in the past weeks, with neither getting close enough for a shot. He's got a small scar, and is incredibly warry. Maybe he'll wait for me...