NAMIBIA: SOUTH AFRICA: Otavi & Leeukop Safaris KZN (The Whole Tale)

[BRICKBURN]

The next morning starts off with an early start and Kemp decided it was time to look at some more Buffalo on the far side in the mountains.

While sighting the rifles in the first day I had spotted a large Bull at about a mile, walking through the open bushveld across a mountain side. It was exciting to see that big boy and we were now headed back to that side to have a better look.

We got passed the rifle range and then drove past the Bushpig bait and parked. Out with the Big White gun and we were off Buffalo spotting. Into the bush we go. Moosa is carrying the .375 and there are a couple of game guards walking behind us, so I feel like we have some back up.

Picture taken earlier at a gate crossing.

It is cool and we move up the slope into the wind and boom it hits me, the smell, I know what that is; bovine dung, exactly like a feed lot or farm yard. The black shapes start emerging into view in the cover as we moved forward up the slope to get in closer. Kemp is moving up this slope slowly and I am just following along behind him. A thought for safety rolls through my mind and I quickly make an assessment. Kemp is a bunch younger but I have longer legs. I conclude that, if required, I have a good chance to compete for first place in the Buffalo run. I keep looking back to see where the protection is, as I am not so sure about the buffalo cows attitude that are off to our side. I do not want to be separated from the big loud gun, when all I have is the Big White gun. One way or the other I keep my eye on those cows.

As we move closer the herd spooks up the slope and they do not like us sneaking up on them in the trees. They move off out of sight over the ridge and we hustle up the slope to get a view to them. When we caught up I see that there are no big boys yet.

When they get to the more open stuff the settle down and finally they stop. We decide to stay in the trees and move along the edge, which does not bother me one bit. We are still down wind but the sun is now rising over the hill and shining straight into our eyes. I decide to move a bit more to the side to get some pictures and I am now giving Kemp a significant advantage and lead for any future retreat. Now I am getting to see who is here.

I am moving around alone and as best I can in this cover attempting to get pictures of anything with horns; Soft boss, hard boss, any boss. I want to know who is here. I am always using my other eye constantly scanning for who is going to circle around behind me while I am taking pictures. Now these buffalo are getting more curious, wondering what this object in the bush is. They are becoming bolder by the minute and a two, a cow and a young bull, start to make some moves toward us. I can take a little of that but when one or two cows start to take too much interest and the younger bull is starting to give that stare that everyone talks about, it is time to stop taking pictures and make a retreat further into cover.

I have taken a lot of pictures from relatively close range and I am satisfied. We make our retreat and start back to the vehicle with me looking over my shoulder the whole time, well at least the first hundred yards or so.

Nice start to the day. I did no assessing and just took pictures because there are other herds and big boys on their own out here too.


On to the Nyala hunt. It is finally warm enough for them to get up out of bed and start to walk around and get themselves some sunshine.

My wife had gone for a game drive yesterday and had taken a picture of a very nice Nyala and I have showed it to Kemp and he says he knows there is a better one. If there is a better one than that, I want to see him. We start the search on the west side of White Whale Mountain and only manage to see some Zebra and one or two Nyala bulls that I know are not the one. We continue to the north side and work our way through the draws on roads I have never seen before. Suddenly, Moosa is out of the Bakkie and will be crossing the mountain side above us while we are lying in wait again at the bottom end of a drainage. This has become a very familiar process now. We move ahead, get in to position and wait. The result is nothing, no tracks no Nyala. Giraffe, “Nyala females” come by but not the one we are hoping for.

It’s now time for lunch so back we go to the lodge.

Now the new bride in our group is interested in coming along for the afternoon trip because, in her words “we keep seeing stuff” and she wants to get a picture or two.

We head for the north side of the mountain again and work the drainage a lot harder and then we are certain that “the one” is not here. We shift further around the mountain for the next attempt. As we head down we see some crested Guinea fowl and it is time for a stalk for the bride. I try to circle around and push them past her, but she does not know how to hide very well and the fowl run off without the close encounter I was trying to orchestrate. Back to the vehicle.

Now just as we start to drive, THAT call comes in from Mfanus, via cell phone that Richard had a 29 inch Nyala in the salt. Kemp reacted instantly and was shocked and was obviously a little deflated. I registered with some surprise myself and then reassured Kemp they were lying to jerk our chains and I would not believe them until I saw it myself. Kemp smiled and relaxed a bit and we kept hunting for “the one”.

Now, there was certainly some pressure being felt in our Bakkie. It is evident that Kemp likes competition and he likes to win.

We moved up to look at another mountain drainage that was full of the thickest crap I have been in since Namibia. The bloody Buffalo were in lighter stuff than this. It strikes me that perhaps big Nyala bulls hide just like big Whitetails! Hmmm. Maybe I am catching on to this African hunting stuff.

Moosa was dropped off on the north side of the mountain high up and would walk around and push this drainage from above while Kemp and I would make our way up the mountain to a position that would allow us to watch the escape routes that would run parallel to the contours of the mountain.

Well, part way up we heard some crashing going out over top of us from inside the thickest little off shoot gully. We see nothing, nothing. Who knows what it is. Well two minutes later Kemp gets a call from Moosa. Guess what, “the one” has run out above us and straight up the mountain side and is standing on the ridge above us out of sight at least four hundred yards away. I was not made privy to the phone call and I do not know this little fact until after we return to the bottom.

I have had way too much fun making my way through this over grown, low hanging maze of thorns. Little people can just duck underneath this crap I cannot as I have to bend in half and I almost always get caught on something. More fun for the money in all the tough spots for me.

We head back to the bottom while Moosa is still on the hill and has “the one” standing on a lovely rocky ridge as far from everyone as he can get. Standing in the open just like a Big Horn Ram, feeding, waiting and watching. We drive to pick up with Moosa and plot a plan. We drive north and go part way up the mountain where Kemp and I get out of the Bakkie and begin to circle the mountain at the approximately the same contour level as the bull. Moosa and Jenn continue in the Bakkie to the top where they will work down the ridge and spook him toward us.

Kemp and I are now laying on the side hill slope in the grass watching this guy and trying to get an idea how big he is. Well, he looks decent, not huge, decent. Nice shape, but it is hard to tell how big he is from this distance. He was 310 yards away across a wide drainage a little over a ridge with some rocks covering his lower chest. I kept ranging various points in the drainage for sniping practice for the inevitable flight when he was spooked slowly into to closer range for the shot. We keep an eye on him and keep assessing his size. It becomes obvious to me that Kemp has seen this guy before many times because there is no way that he is telling me that this is “the one” from the look we are getting at him. We keep the discussion going and he says that you have to view the “S”. It dawns on me that he is talking about a side view. Of course, you cannot tell how long the horns are from a long-range frontal view.

I range the bull again and I tell Kemp that if he showed himself above the rocks I would be more than happy to lay him down from here. I had the bipod on the rifle and had carried it on the rifle every day for this exact shot. When I began to actually consider the shot, I decided that the wind was too strong and swirling way too much for my level of shooting skill. No wind, no problem. He’d have to get closer before I would chance a shot.


It turned out that this was all a moot discussion in about 2 minutes. When Moosa started down that ridge from above ever so slowly we know exactly when they hit the first crackling branch or aloe leaf. That bull bolted down that mountain like he was shot out of a cannon. Gone! Not just out of sight behind a tree or a rock, out of the country gone. All the imaginary plans for his exit closer to us were up in smoke.


We head back across the mountain and then drive down the mountain to take a look back up into the bush where we hoped he might have stopped. We walked part way back up the brush filled slopes in the deluded hope of seeing him. Well, that was as dream. We ran into Reedbuck and spooked them off. Moosa was off following the Nyala’s track trail and when he neared the road to the east behind us the text came and then the verdict was in. The bull had not even begun to slow down when he crossed the road, tracks still splayed wide and running like mad, heading east as hard as he could go. He was indeed a combination of a White tail and a Big Horn. Another one! This was a very smart animal. Maybe he learned from the Whale himself, they were on the same mountain!

A satellite image of the draw. That darker green area in the lower left quadrant is the impenetrable junk he was hiding in.

We drove around for the last half hour on the roads to the east and near the river trying to see if we could bump into him. More buffalo tracks, Giraffe, Impala, Reedbuck, no Nyala bull. It was now another “tomorrow day”.

Jenn was thrilled she did not have to move from the vehicle and got all kinds of pictures from her stand. It was worth it all round.

I knew for certain that we would be going back to the mountain or those eastern flats in the morning.


More importantly we had to go see about that “lie” we heard earlier. We dropped by the salt shed to see if there was anything there. No tape was required, they were not lying.

Oh, well, a friend had a great trophy and provided very good proof that they grew them big here.

Tomorrow.

 

[BRICKBURN]

The Boks, play the All Blacks in the Tri Nations Cup today. The game is on the television and kick off is at 0900 locally. This is all in the lead up to the Rugby World Cup in New Zealand in September 2011.

So, the last game July 23 Australia handed a loss to South Africa in a 39-20 contest. All with loud bellowing in the media how South Africa did not put their best foot forward, etc. (That means they kept starters out of the line up in prep for the World Cup.)




With all the pressure to perform I was hoping I might witness a win first hand with South Africa meeting the All Blacks this morning.

In true supporter style, I put on my best camouflage; My Springboks jersey, a lovely deep green with gold borders. That scheme will surely fit in the bush when stalking Nyala Bulls of trophy quality.

I had to dish it back after the big bull being taken yesterday. To be absolutely cocky, at breakfast with my comrades I said “We would be back in time for the game”. All the while thinking to myself that there is not a hope in hades that would happen.


Rusks, coffee and into the Bakkie we go. We are off early and Kemp thinks this Nyala is going to be making his way back up the mountain to hold up in his hiding spot in the thick stuff after a night of feeding near the river.

Well, here’s hoping. I am not so sure, in fact extremely doubtful after I saw the way this guy lit out yesterday.

We swing east out of the Lodge to take a gender at where he might still be hiding. We encounter Reedbuck, Impala, Giraffe, Nyala ewes and two medium size bulls, no big guy. Does this sound repetitive?


Starting the northward trek along the unfenced border with the neighboring reserve we run into that very familiar scent of Buffalo. Riding in the rear of the Bakkie does have its’ privileges. These Buffalo have been out all night and have been up very early fertilizing the road. No sightings as they have faded back in to the bush.

The sun is starting to climb over the Lubombo mountains and it is time for us to make our way up the mountain to head this Nyala off at the pass, as it were.

We start the climb and we have made it only two hundred yards into our ascent when we almost run into him, on his way up to his hiding spot. I hear that all too familiar hiss. The tire is not punctured it is Kemp saying “that’s him”. My reaction is simple. I can only say “Holy Crap!!” That sure is a very big Nyala I am looking at. Funny how everything grows when you find yourself almost on top of them.

From the rear of the Bakkie and I bent over to nod my affirmative agreement to Kemp and we are slowly backing down the mountain. In Natal, it is illegal to shoot from a vehicle. (Not that I was about to anyway) The reserve has a policy in concert with the law; You cannot be within two hundred yards of the vehicle. It is a sound policy and keeps the game calm around vehicle traffic for game drives.

I am on the near side of the truck and I am now convinced that the Bull was blinded by the green and gold Boks jersey flashing in the morning sun. He was stunned and could not believe someone would be out here hunting in a color like that. He stood still momentarily while we backed away down the mountain.

He was making his way further up just as Kemp thought, amazing. I thought this guy was gone for good.

We back out of sight to the bottom of the mountain and we all jump from the vehicle and I load my rifle instantly. We start the traverse along the base of the mountain to get into the same drainage the Nyala was climbing. He has been out of sight for several minutes and I am excited and nervous that we might have pushed him into hiding. With the sun now at our backs we come around some cover and there he is acting like a Big Horn ram again. Standing higher up the slope on an outcrop, feeling safe and secure or is it still distracted with laughter at the fact someone is in the bush in a Boks jersey?

Well, I do not want to miss the 200 yard uphill shot and I start the search to find a tree to lean on. Kemp is nervous he will bolt as I try to get to a tree. There is too much bush in the way. Not enough that he cannot see everything we are doing, just enough to deflect bullets.

I am breathing hard and trying not to panic. We finally settle on me leaning on Kemp’s shoulder again. (You never practice this one at the range) We readjust our position and move very slowly up and across the slope diagonally to try and get some bush out of the way of the shot. I am determined not to repeat the Kudu experience and will not take any chances.


Kemp moves into an uphill position to be able to make “longer shooting sticks” of himself, and I still must bend over to shoot. The Bull has continued to move up the drainage and is almost ready to disappear into very thick cover when he stops momentarily and looks back over his shoulder. I finally see an opening that will present the shoulder and ribs, I get set and squeeze.

Down he goes like a stone. I reload and keep my eyes glued on the spot waiting for this animal to take off into the cover. After a couple of minutes’ wait, we start to make our way up the mountain toward him.

I sure like this Leopard Omen.

We make it over the last lip of rocks and see him. He is a monster. Beautiful shape and the mud on his horns shows he has been to the river and he has been showing everyone who the boss on the block is.

Moosa and I set up for pictures on the slope and move the Nyala onto the rocks that represent part of his hiding spot.

The fact that all these animals do not all break their legs when they run through this place is astounding to me.

We set up the pictures, and get the ones we want.

Now time to move this beast onto the tarp cradle and then off across the mountain to the trail where the Bakkie will be loaded.

The load is lightened.

This is where I almost tear my knee to shreds while assisting in carrying this beast to where Kemp has moved the Bakkie, further up the mountain on the nearest road access to the fall. I fell only once and twisted my knee and from this point on I watched my feet much more carefully and moved much more slowly. Luckily I did not cause major injury.

The Nyala is loaded in the Bakkie and down we go to the skinning shed.

We backed into position for unloading in the skinning section of the abattoir and I immediately proceeded to mosey off to the salt shed and grab my friend Richard’s Nyala horns.
My Kudu on the left and Richard's Nyala on the right.

You know the Nyala is big when.....

I bring them over and set them side by side on the tail gate and quickly discover they are twins, slightly different shape, but twins. Initial measurements have him beating me out by 1/4 inch. The picture shows how close they are in size.

This picture was taken at 08:33

Back to the lodge and guess what time it is? Boks time.



Enough time to get coffee and rusks and sit down for the pre-game on top of it.
That Leopard Omen is working for me. It did not transfer to the Boks.


Kemp made a dire prediction about the Boks possibilities for success, as soon as he saw the day’s roster. Again, the coach held back the best players. “No Chance.”

Well, I did my best to help them out and gave the Nyala every chance to escape by wearing my Jersey. I was ecstatic, the Boks, not so much: New Zealand 40 - 7 South Africa.



After watching half the game and eating lunch and having a siesta, it was my turn to have a look at Warthog Alley. As the entire group gathers for each meal you get to hear the tales from everyone’s morning adventures. As I am finishing up I notice out of the corner of my eye Kemp surreptitiously motioning me to come quickly. Clueless as to why, I get up and grab my stuff for departure. As yet, I have not had to use the ferryman across the Pongola River because we were able to drive across the Pongola where I was hunting. This was not the case this afternoon. This ferry is a single vehicle barge that slowly crosses the river and everyone has to wait in line, just like every other ferry crossing in the world. Loaded up, we rushed off early to be the first across and avoid the line-up. One more tactic learned.

At this point I decided to have some fun with my friends in the following vehicles. When we were getting close to the other side of the river trip I paid the “ferryman” $10 to return very slowly waiting until we were out of sight or if needed to fain a breakdown. I still don’t know if my buddies were really delayed, although I never did see them. We sure had a good laugh and went hunting.

We dropped Moosa off along the bluffs overlooking the river to watch for Bushbuck. We set him up in a likely spot with binoculars and instructions to call when the monster came out of hiding later in the afternoon and off we drove to look for Warthogs.

Now since I had taken a Warthog already in Namibia. In actuality, the Warthog I took was the fifth trophy Boar that I had seen in two days and could not take it anymore. Rough measured at 14 inches I would allow me to be pretty darned picky here on Warthog Alley. It was a hunt where you wait for the hogs to head toward good eating and water in the Alley way, coming from all over the bushveld. It looks like a migration of Wildebeest you see on TV.

They line up out there on the green grass for miles. We moved along stopped and spotted and would decide on a stalk if we found a worthy trophy.

On our Tiger Fishing excursion, a few days ago I had seen a Boar from the water that should go 15 or 16 and I was quite willing to work to try to find him. Along the trail we stopped at a fresh midden. It looks just like a huge dog scratching spot in the dirt, along with the requisite dung. Since the flies were thick and the smell was high, the donor, a Black Rhino, was not too far away in the brush.

That little set of facts makes you very aware of the wind direction and what might be hiding in the nearest thorns.


We stalked along and tried to get close but the Reedbuck were not cooperating.

They were sending a telegraph down the Alley that something was wrong. Why, couldn’t these two young guys not just hide like the rest of their brethren. This started the fascinating, but frustrating, cascade of animals running to the bush while the Reedbuck ran straight away down Alley bordering the reservoir letting everything know we were there.

It was a long walk back to the chariot, across more open country without any shot opportunities. We also made it back without any more middens.

We moved along further to the peninsula at the end of the Alley. I glassed the entire country looking for the big guy to no avail. Oh, well, Warthog season was now over for me.

We slowly made our way back toward the lodge taking in the various species running about from Nyala, Duiker, Steenbok, Wildebeest and Zebra and those pesky Kudu kept jumping out in front of us too.

Back to the lodge the long route to make sure we did not disturb anyone else’s hunting. We arrive as the bluffs to join Moosa in the last half hour of light to see if a Bushbuck would come out.

There was not a Bushbuck in sight and none had been seen all afternoon.

I had brought my rangefinder along and when I sat down I started to range the various points of interest in the valley bottom, and various other marks just in case something came out. Kemp kept asking what ranges were to various things, so I obliged and kept ranging points of interest. He had been a little off on an estimate or two, apparently even the local PH can have a hard time with distance in open valleys. They are just as tough to judge in Africa as they are on the prairie at home. At this point Kemp told me that a very nice Nyala had been missed from this spot on an earlier hunt. This peaked my interest. This was a perfect vantage point for the bipod to come into use. We glassed until dark and no opportunity was afforded.

We made our way back to the ferry across the flood plain that provided the Bush TV for the lodge (no hunting zone). We found a big porcupine starting to meander in the twilight. We made it across the river without incident and waited for the other crews to show up with their tales.

I rustled some tenderloins for dinner, breakfast and lunch and I can tell you Kudu, Nyala, Buffalo, Impala done on a grill or the Braai are unbeatable. Medium rare without sauce or spice, beyond a very little salt and pepper are delicious.

 

[Neale]

Fantastic Nyala, I hope I can get one like that (bigger of course) when I am in KZN this year.

 

[dory]

You should of been wearing an All Black jersey silly !
That Nyala would of knocked on your door at the Lodge and surrended !

 

[BRICKBURN]

Fantastic Nyala, I hope I can get one like that (bigger of course) when I am in KZN this year.

Dude, if you get one bigger than him you are the luckiest SOB in Aus. Go for it though.
29.25 inches.
I'm still searching for one bigger. The illusive 30 incher.

 

[BRICKBURN]

You should of been wearing an All Black jersey silly !
That Nyala would of knocked on your door at the Lodge and surrendered !

I figured shock and awe would work better. Shock that some idiot would be running around in a bright green jersey out in the bush and awe, was really "Ah, that poor fella!"

 

[Roan]

You should of been wearing an All Black jersey silly !
That Nyala would of knocked on your door at the Lodge and surrended !

Dont start something now Dory!

No Bok not even a four legged one will surrender to an All Black.

PS, AWESOME NYALA!!

 

[BRICKBURN]

............

No Bok not even a four legged one will surrender to an All Black.
.........

 

[BRICKBURN]

There are only so many places for Bushbuck to hide and Nyala and Bushbuck don’t like to share the same territory. Nyala tend to push the Bushbuck out if the competition heats up. So, the river valley cliffs and those small feeder creeks that are choked with cover is where these little guys are going to be hiding out. This place has NYALA, so I did not expect Bushbuck to be leaping out of every bush, but there are some here.

We started from the crossing and we walked the river edge slowly stalking through the cover underneath the overhanging rock ledges.

At one point I decided to look up and I got to be the flat tire today, as I hissed “there he is”, as a medium size bushbuck escaped from above us. He must have been watching us approach and only decided to leave when we were well within 40 yards. It was exciting to spot one of these little guys although it was to late to see him standing. As Kemp had not really gotten a good look, the discussion started about his size. I said that he was not huge and Moosa thought he was rather straight, obviously meaning young. I thought he had the start of a small bell but not more than 9 inches. To try and get a second look we climbed up on top of the rock bands for a look, but he is gone. He was left to grow up some more.


Time for a drive to the far side of the property for a stroll up the thick creek bottoms. We see four nice Nyala bulls drinking from the river on the way over, then Mountain Reedbuck and some more Nyala bulls.

They all needed a few more years of good food before I would get excited, but it was testament to how good the population was here. It is still relatively early and the Bushbuck should still be moving about. Some sections of the creek bottom were still wet and we moved around them as we stalked up the creek bottom. Bushpig tracks, Warthogs tracks, Bushbuck tracks, Red Duiker spoor were seen while following along until we finally arrived at a small dam. The seed pods on the ground were an obvious favorite of all critters concerned. Another good confirmation of the book learning. Fresh spoor, but no Bushbuck. We spook a Kudu bull, only his tracks tell us what happened. I pick some giant snail shells with Moosa’s help. I know they will be popular keep sakes on my return to the lodge.

It is now 0830 and we are headed back. We bump into a small Bushbuck in the creek bottom as we drive out. Definitely small, but a ram.

We are crossing the river at the one drivable crossing when the Elephants show up in their ongoing tour of the larger conglomerate reserve. I recall that one of our party has not been close to these mighty beasts yet and it was her sole motivator, animal wise, for coming along on this trip.

I have already been literally eye to eye with two adolescent bull that needed to show their ears spread wide, tusks and trunk waving. I found that eye balling an Elephant is quite an experience.

It sure sounded like a good idea to create an encounter of these beasts for my fellow travellers. I stopped my hunt and called back to the lodge and told them to get ready for pick up. We hurriedly returned to the lodge grabbed the group up and took them out on an Elephant tour.

The new addition

Practicing his Bluffs. He was hilarious.

Another curious member of the herd.

We moved into the herd slowly, in the vehicle, and encountered a cow that showed how close we should come. She had limits and to demonstrate it she “snapped an Aloe tree” at us and just stared.

I took that as a sign. After this stand-off, we watched as the entire herd move passed us, slowly meandering and feeding.

Once this passing occurred it was time for another encounter. Kemp moved the vehicle into their projected path. We got my friend some very close encounters and everyone was now able to say they saw Elephants. I learned quite quickly that Elephants have definite limits for their tolerance of our proximity and if you cross that line and they are coming at you. Submit and back up they stop the advance. Press it, and you may just get a closer encounter than you’d like. These approaches were a great learning experience for me.

With everyone sated on the big E’s we were off to breakfast.

At this point, there is not much more Bushbuck cover for me to survey and we would decide where we were going to look after lunch. I am not sure where though.


Sitting on the deck at the lodge watching wild TV I decide to lay the binoculars down on the railing and try some long-distance spotting. I looked as far down river as I could and examined every last bush with the 10X Pentax. Having the perfectly steady rest helped to make the viewing possible.

Through my efforts I did manage to find a Bushbuck, likely one we had already seen earlier. The colour was likely to prove to be a female, but when Kemp arrived we set out for the opposite river bank to determine what was there. It turned out to be a female. We watched for a while then headed to crossing to move south into the high country across the river. On the way we passed a neighbouring Sugarcane field and Moosa was sent across to grab a treat. I had never tried fresh sugarcane before. I have tried the refined version in a Rum bottle once or twice though. I won’t go jumping a fence for my own but I can see why the kids are chewing on the inner pulp for sure.

We made our way southward along the river and started to climb and as soon as we gained some elevation we stopped to view a large drainage (coulee). We parked the vehicle and began to move around the contour and finally took a seat on the side hill in the grass and rocks and started to glass.

Not long after sitting down Moosa pointed out a Bushbuck female and we found the Mountain Reedbuck up the slope near the mountain crest in a small bowl.

Shortly Kemp beat me to the punch this time and pointed out a Leopard.

He was only 200 yards away and moving slowly down the slope. I immediately decided to put the rifle down and make my way to the Bakkie for the Big White gun. The Leopard hunt was on and the afternoon was used to observe a wild Leopard stalk my Bushbuck (female). I quickly and quietly retrieved my camera and made my way back to our vantage spot in the grass and rocks to watch this Leopard hunt.

The stalk was incredibly slow and methodical. One step at a time, testing the wind, looking, peering really.

He made it to less than thirty yards from the ewe.

At this point he just sat down. He then did something so typical of cats; he feigned indifference and acted as though he was merely present to watch traffic go by while he lazed in a cafe. However, you knew he was still interested as he would look down the slope in the direction where the Bushbuck was still feeding.

After some time he yawned and then got up and started to stroll back the way he’d come without any apparent purpose.

This egress from his stalk took him at a slight angle downhill away from his perch to a spot about 150 yards away from his last position above the ewe. During this egress he came very close to a Warthog and showed no interest and continued slowly walking until he abruptly reversed direction and came toward us on our side of the drainage. This was fascinating to watch.

Apparently, he had not forgotten his bushbuck at all. He was coming from a different angle to try it again. The Bushbuck had not moved at all and was still feeding in the same spot.

We lost sight of him when he was immediately below us on our slope. From the first picture to the last this had taken 90 minutes.

Leopards are incredible hunters and I could stand to learn some patience from the example.

I decided the show was over and I was not getting a Bushbuck this way. We left and finished the day surveying the rest of the cover along the river.

We found another female Bushbuck in heavy cover that had twins.

When we were sitting in the sand along the river I heard some movement in the reeds beside us and went closer to investigate. We ended up with a herd of Kudu at 5 yards inside the tall reeds. We backed away and they bolted when they caught our scent.

Nyala along the Reeds.

As we moved through some of the reeds I pondered the Crocs we had seen earlier sunning themselves on the sand banks just down stream. Kemp assured me they would not be up this far. Very shortly I came out of the reeds and there was a Crocodile that did not know the rules. Just a small guy, but a close encounter as he bolted in to the shallow water. Incredibly agile for a short legged lizard.

We got to dodge the adolescent bull Elephants again, as they moved past in the reeds. We made certain we stayed down wind. Another life lesson occurred when I realized the reeds are thick and tall when you can’t see an Elephant walking within thirty yards of you in the reeds.
We ended the day saying goodbye to the new twins and an old Reedbuck.

There was not enough light to take pictures of these little guys. It was really enjoyable to just watch the family group undisturbed.

Now it was time to ask, what next. I was not changing quarry, we needed other options.

An age old strategy that has been employed around the world and would soon be adapted to Bushbuck in Africa; dialing for Bushbuck. Kemp had started phoning around earlier in the afternoon to see if anyone he knew might have quota on a concession or neighboring property. He was still awaiting some calls backs when we arrived at the lodge. We would have to wait and see.

After dinner, the calls had come in. It turned out a new neighbor happened to have two on his personal quota of a private property within a half hour drive. Nothing like good relationships in the community to aid your hunting opportunities. We had a destination and it would require awakening very early the next morning to make sure we were to the property on time.

Neither Kemp nor Moosa had been to this property before and that provided some novelty and excitement. I found out about an added bit of entertainment on this property; It has free roaming lions on it along with huge herds of Buffalo. I hope to stick to Bushbuck sightings.

Dinner tonight Roast Warthog.

 

[gillettehunter]

So what is it about you and leopards? some strange affinity? Just think like one? I got to see essentially 2 bounds while tracking eland last Nov and felt exceptionally fortunate see that much of a leopard in the daylight. Love your writing as always. Bruce

 

[BRICKBURN]

Bruce, I can't find a damned Lion to save my life, but I can find Leopards anywhere I have gone. RSA, Botswana, Namibia, Mozambique.

 

[BWH]

I loved my experience in KZN. My only regret is I didn't stay/hunt longer in one area. We had to cover too much ground too quickly.

 

[BRICKBURN]

I loved my experience in KZN. My only regret is I didn't stay/hunt longer in one area. We had to cover too much ground too quickly.

That is the nice thing about hunting with a local property owner with a big chunk of land.

Still nice to see the countryside. Next time you'll just have to add some days!

 

[BWH]

Yep.... Pros/cons.... It was an amazing experience. Getting to see 1500 miles of Africa. From the Drakensburg Mtns to sugar cane crops in the Midlands to the beaches of the Indian ocean to the thick tropical bush in Hluluwe to battlegrounds of the Boer war. Pretty vast place.

 

[BRICKBURN]

Yep.... Pros/cons.... It was an amazing experience. Getting to see 1500 miles of Africa. From the Drakensburg Mtns to sugar cane crops in the Midlands to the beaches of the Indian ocean to the thick tropical bush in Hluluwe to battlegrounds of the Boer war. Pretty vast place.

I agree. It is amazing to actually go for a drive across so many Biomes. Not just to travel in the dark to the lodge.
I got very comfortable driving myself around and have logged a lot of miles viewing southern Africa.

 

[BWH]

Yep..... @PHOENIX PHIL has agreed to me my chauffeur next time!

 

[BRICKBURN]

The first go at driving on the "Wrong side" was interesting.
In the dark on a 6 lane overpass is where I encountered a failure to communicate. Thankfully, the other drivers were patient when I decided to take over an opposing lane for a minute.
Definite improvement in the skill set since then.

 

[BRICKBURN]

Off into the very cool morning. Moosa and I were hunkered down in the back behind the cab in hopes of fending against the wind and cold as we make our way at 100 km/h in the rear of a Bakkie.

You might ask why I was not up in the cab? I don’t fit all that well in these Toyota’s and I enjoy the fresh air and the spotting competition with Moosa.

Today I had all my cold weather gear on for what was the coldest ride in Southern Africa to date. What amazing countryside, all seen at astronomical sunrise. With the sun thinking about creeping up over Swaziland and the Zululand hills starting to show themselves in the early morning light.

We found our way to the property and eventually the gate where Kemp chatted with the farm manager and we were shown the lodge and kitchen area to be used for our lunch time comfort.

My first inkling that there were lions on this place was the snap from the electric fence surrounding this camp area. The gate was electronic and controlled by a button easily reached from inside the vehicle. Hmmm, apparently, this is more serious than I first thought.

As is typical in South Africa we were assigned a resident farm worker to accompany us while we were on the property.

His name was “Happy” and he apparently knew where the Bushbuck were hiding and would lead us around the place on our hunt.

I saw a great Steenbok trophy in an area where we were not allowed to shoot. It was very nice to see one though.

For this hunt, we would work many creek drainages that were filled with thick cover.

Red Duiker were the first game spotted and they just disappear so quickly in this type of cover.

We walked behind Happy and it did not take me long to determine Happy was not a tracker, he was a farm worker. No idea of the wind, broke sticks, pushed branches, etc.

Back to the vehicle to move on to another section of creek bottom. We work up the next drainage until Happy says we cannot go further. The discussion in Zulu is lost on me. From the gesticulation I witness it is apparent that we should not go any further up the drainage. Kemp explains the Lion(s) are known to be a bit further up the way.

In your mind, you wonder if this is BS and then you gather than one last piece of information and know it is a little more serious. Your PH loads his big bore rifle. Hmmm.


We head away from the Lions, back toward a small dam, where sit and watch for a while. Soon enough, a small group of Kudu came in and drank and they never knew we were there. It was nice to just watch them file away into the bush. I did not have the camera along, as I knew nothing about where we were headed or eventually end up.

We move off again, with Happy leading the way down the drainage, quite happily scaring everything in the country.

We walk another drainage and scare Wildebeest, Zebra and Impala but no Bushbuck.

We go to look at one more drainage that is thick with grass. We cannot see the Nyala that we just watched walk into it a few seconds ago.

We stop this silliness and decide not to disturb any more countryside.

The plan is to go have lunch now and we will lead the way in the hunt this afternoon.


After lazing by the pool on a sun chair for 2 hours or so and having our sandwiches for lunch we are going to set out again to find our quarry.


We walk a drainage again. We are having the same result and that is when Kemp decides to ask Happy how and when he is seeing these animals. The answer; he is driving when he sees them. This is not a surprise because Happy could not sneak up on a wooden post the way he walks through the bush. It is so bad it is laughable. I just smile and laugh to myself.

Kemp adapted to the new revelation and we started the afternoon hunt for bushbuck.

True to my nature, I had to torture Happy a bit, as pay back for our morning stomp. I made motions of shooting from the truck, purely as a joke. Happy shook his head vigorously and frowned. I smiled and made it plain I would not shoot and he relaxed quickly.


We made our way back to the very thick drainage we had abandoned earlier. It was now later in the afternoon and the perfect time for the Bushbuck to be moving about and feeding.


We had just moved past the earlier point of retreat and as we crossed the drainage, Moosa and I both noticed a Bushbuck that was good enough. I tapped on the roof and then realized what I had done. I quickly bent over to hiss into the window to have Kemp keep going. I nodded reassuringly at Kemp that we had found a decent Bushbuck.

We drove for another 300 yards and parked.

I got down from the back and explained that I thought it was at least 12 maybe 13 inches. A decent Bushbuck. Moosa thought it would go 12 inches. I told Kemp it was good enough for me to go after. At this point Kemp politely asked Happy to stay and guard the Bakkie from the Lions while we hunted the Bushbuck. Happy agreed and stayed behind, thankfully.

As Kemp, had not seen the Bushbuck at all, Moosa led the charge. I was quite aware of where he was hiding and as we very slowly approached the area on a trail through the tall grass a Reedbuck doe shrieks (whistles really), as only they can. We never even saw her in the grass. I think we are busted for sure and my exclamation to myself is not a pleasant one.

I take the lead from my tracker and we wait. I don’t know how many minutes before we begin to move again, and then another Reedbuck shrieks alarm. After watching an entire area clear out from spooked Reedbuck the other day, I am assuming we are in for a repeat performance right here. Now my exclamation is physical and verbal; I hiss “S**t!”. We have got to be busted because that Bushbuck is within eighty yards now. Moosa continues the stalk with confidence, so I gamely follow and choose to trust him. Moosa sees the Bushbuck first and the ram is in precisely the same place we originally found him. Thankfully. Maybe he is deaf or something.

Now I get the punctured tire instruction again. A hissed “hurry up and shoot” from Kemp. I don’t think he wants us stalking in any closer as we are within 50 yards of the Ram now.

The sticks are up, and I find there is bush in the way.

I state the case and my concern. Kemp says “shoot through the bush”. The Bushbuck is only 5 yards past the bush in question and he is quartering away. I lean on the sticks and choose the best possible passage for the bullet. Oh, well, trust the PH and here goes.

That Ram has no clue that we are there I take my time and wait a few moments and ensure I am steady and can effectively use the path I have chosen. Soon the trigger is squeezed and down he goes with the shot.

We wait a moment and then move up. Making sure, yet again, that he is not going to get up and leave.

He is a nice trophy, as far as I am concerned, and I am very happy with the stalk and the shot. The entrance hole is huge, confirming the bullet hit bush on the way to him, but the bullet travelled true to where I was aiming.

Another lesson learned; When the bush is close to the animal deflection will not be an issue.

We moved the Ram over into the open glade for some pictures and then took him back to the camp for initial processing.

No gutting in the field at this place, as they do not want to train the Lions what a shot is and its effect on potential dinner time.

Apparently, the Lions stole an Impala out from under someone last week. It dropped and the Lions claimed it shortly thereafter. With this news, I have zero problem with us removing the animal and retiring to the camp before we gut it. “Happy” is happy we were successful and all smiles and helpfulness.

The Bushbuck is hung in a tree by wire and then gutted. The camp did not want to keep the meat, it was ours. In to the Butchery it will go for processing at Leeukop. “Happy” kept the entrails and made sure the liver went to the manager.

We were off “home” and a successful hunt was completed with another scenic drive through the Natal hills.

A month earlier I had not planned on chasing all the Spiral horns in the areas I would be hunting. Now, I had a successful completion of the first phase of the Spiral Horn trophies, or the Small Slam. I was very happy with the result of everyone’s very hard work to get this done. All the trophies were taken by fair chase from self-sustaining populations. The Eland was taken in Namibia while stalking and using a borrowed rifle, but the other three dropped to the .270 that I have hunted with my whole life. A true pleasure to hunt these incredible animals in their endemic environments.

We bumped into a few things on the way in.

This was the cover we were dancing in the other day with the Bulls. Note the height of the reeds with the Elephant standing in them..

Tomorrow I start stalking bovines.

 

[BRICKBURN]

Now onward to the last animal on “the list”; Cape Buffalo with the Bow. Although we had really been stalking them since day one, taking pictures and walking in on the herds while out on every other species hunt and assessing which ones might be best to pursue.

I decided on a bull that was not off on his own or in a small group he was still with a larger herd. This would make things slightly tougher with all those eyes and marginally more dangerous due to the cows being grumpy but, I had time.



The day started a little later. There was no need to rush out in the dark, thank goodness.

Now to make things more interesting SAA had decided to leave my bow in Washington on the trip over. This meant that I went to Namibia and off to PH school without my bow, not the greatest situation to lead up to this hunt. Nothing I could do about it though. SAA never emailed me, nor telephoned and they knew the physical address of the outfitter where I was scheduled to use it and failed to deliver it over weeks of time.

I set my Outfitter on the task of finding it on my behalf. After contacting SAA, Kemp found out that they had delivered my Bow to Durban for some reason. It turns out that when you explain that their repeated mistakes over three weeks are stopping your hunt and I suggested they could refund my day’s fees they started to dance. When the CSR then suggested that I should come to Durban and pick it up, I shared that “if I came to Durban I would be hunting him instead. It was his choice.” I handed the phone back to Kemp and went to the lounge to continue the cocktail hour. SAA decided the Bow would be best delivered to me at the reserve. I was in full agreement with their decision, I would wait and see if the bow actually arrived. I did not hold my breath.

It did arrive the following day. This was yesterday.


This morning started with a leisurely trip to the archery range for sight in and some review practice.

I marked off twenty, thirty and forty yards.

Earlier, during preparation for this hunt, I had to change the fletching to compensate for the German Kinetics broadhead pushing the arrows around. I had them dialed in before I left and now we had to see if I could replicate the great shooting I had done at home.
Not to start with for sure.

I settled down and started making good groups. Good enough results that we all finally relaxed. I moved out to forty yards and took some shots and felt good.
One more thing to do before letting loose, as the broad heads had been into some targets and needed the edges touched up. Off to the butchery to find a very fine stone to do some sharpening.
Moosa took a couple of the broad heads and unfortunately without understanding ran them onto a machine knife sharpener. Not the thing to do. Changed the angle completely. Oops. Sharpening knives on rocks came to mind immediately!

Niel showed up with a broad head sharpener. I did not think about it at the time. This sharpener was actually set up for a lighter broad head than the 210 grain German Kinetics. They ended up reasonably sharp, but were not factory sharp and I would have to make due.

Shortly, we were off for the late morning Buffalo hunt.


The radio came into play for the spotting exercise at this point. The Game Rangers responsible for security knew where the various herds were located on the other side.

There are multiple camps of locals out hunting on this side, so we had to coordinate and make sure that everyone knew where each group was hunting.


We spotted a group of bulls as we rounded a mountain and sat and watched them for a while and decided they might be more approachable. We went into the bottom land to park and went in to see what was present. This is certainly where a spotting scope would save you some walking.

We stalked in on this group of three and quickly determined that these three were far too young for my liking or for Kemp’s. So, we backed away slowly keeping an eye on each of them and made our way out through the bush to the Bakkie.



A couple of days before we had done a stalk in the same area, we made our way deeper into the Leeukop side with a report that there were Buffalo near a water source. We were pointed in the right direction by the rangers and we started to stalk down a trail toward the water source where they were thought to be drinking. I followed along behind Kemp with my friend Jack along for this part of the hunt as an observer. He wanted to see this idiot go after a Buffalo with a bow.

We approached the water hole along the brush lined trail that fell away into a small ravine. The Buffalo knew we were approaching and they busted us and started crashing into brush. I can tell you I jumped one step to the side and one step back at the sound of breaking brush. Only one though. That gets your heart going. Stalking these animals in cover is interesting work. All those eyes and they obviously feel exposed at water sources and are quite skittish.


Mfanus joined this part of the stalk and I now had two PH’s along. Four of us kept moving along this trail following in the direction the herd had gone. Keeping a look out in all directions as we moved along as Mfanus was talking about one of the bulls in this herd being very aggressive and he would not hesitate to charge. I guessed this was a warning.

As we proceeded forward along the same trail I was in behind slightly and watching my side of the trail intently, oscillating from forward searches back to the side constantly. I must have been a little nervous as I belched and stifled the noise slightly with my mouth closed. Mfanus jumped a little and nervously looked behind and I nervously laughed being somewhat embarrassed. Mfanus was a little embarrassed at being startled and the nervous look turned to a glare and he said that “this Buffalo would wipe the smile from my face”. Evidently, I can do a very good imitation of a Bull Buffalo grunt. Who knew.


On we went and we snuck in on the younger bulls that remained in the trees guarding the herds retreat. They melted into the brush and we left them be as they were just getting more irritated and riled with our repeated approaches. We were only succeeding in pushing them and I was not getting better views for the effort. We would come back later with a different approach. Lunch time.



It was 14:30 when we left the lodge and headed for the other side. We drove to the dam where the Buffalo had watered earlier and proceeded along the dirt track and started to walk in the direction the Buffalo had disappeared. We approached, down the track, moving slowly forward as the brush thinned out into small stunted acacia thorns. The cover was not thick enough to approach without being seen but, I did not want to sit in a blind. I wanted to stalk up on this guy.

All the stealth in the world did not help with a swirling wind and very little cover. They had us locked in their sight and just moved more into the open and then thankfully stopped.

We worked in closer, moving around those thorns and tried to close the distance. The bull I wanted was there somewhere. We hunched down and watched the herd to find him. He was not on our side, so we backed away and circled the herd. Approaching again from a different angle, hunch down, look, try and see him. Finally, after multiple approaches we see him in the middle of the herd. We were getting within 60 yards each time and with each approach he moves into the rear of the herd. It is like he knows what is up and stays safely away from our advances.

That behaviour, in and of itself is problematic, but even more so, is the fact that the same two animals came to the forefront each time we approached the herd. An old cow and a young bull that were more than happy to start the curious prelude to charges. You have seen the video of the behavior. That nose raised to smell the threat and possibly see it better and then the slow step by step marching advance toward the danger. Part threat, part investigation.


One more time. As we circle I keep my eye on the closest cow and am not looking at those damn stunted thorn bushes and I get caught in them. Not a good thing to do. As I am extricating myself my gaiters drag across a thorn acting like a phonograph needle being pushed across a vinyl records’ grooves.

That zip sound is evidently not a good sound to Buffalo. Heads jerk up and they bolt away. Great!

The thorns release me and we move further around and again the unhappy pair move toward us. Finally, this cow is starting to appear a little too curious. Kemp kicks dirt toward her and she startles momentarily and then holds steady. It is now apparent that we are acting like lions, probing the herd and it is not going to go well shortly.

We now backed off completely and had a cool drink and did some pondering on the issue at hand.


After waiting in the sun for a while I could see Kemp formulating the plan in his head. I was just calmly watching back toward where the herd was last seen. I could see a few black objects through the bush as they were slowly browsing through the bush oblivious to us.

The plan turned out to be a little different than I thought. Totally creative, as far as I was concerned: Jump in the Bakkie and make a frontal assault. Now, before you jump to conclusions, I would not be shooting anything from the Bakkie. It was just going to be a tool. We slowly drove in a wide circle, moving around the herd and then proceeded to sit straight up wind with all the windows rolled down and let our scent drift into the herd, letting them smell us for a good long time.

They all managed to get a snoot full while I finally figured out how to discern my desired bull from the other big bulls.

The breeding bull was not the largest horned beast but his shoulders, neck and hind quarters were massive and almost steroidal in their muscular distinction.

When you get a chance to compare them you notice these distinctions. Before this, the buffalo had transformed from black masses with horns to cows, calves and bulls. Then hard and soft bosses and finally that last breeding bull dominance display among the big boys. Interesting learning curve.


After the herd habituated to our scent and the herd decided the cologne was not to offensive, we made our move. Kemp and I did our vehicular egress and “hid” behind some light cover and Moosa took the Bakkie onward through the clearing. Now I got the plan.


Moosa from this point had moved off and provided a secondary point for distraction and it worked well. This time the daring duo in charge of the protection detail did not come toward us and proceeded to guard against the big threat, the Bakkie. I am now at the back of the herd and we are very slowly making our way in closer.

My bull was close now and he was still managing to keep two more younger bulls between us and himself. We slowly closed in to twenty yards, exactly twenty yards. I knew this because the arrow was knocked and I had the range finder out and was using it to full effect.

I now had tunnel vision and that cow could have stomped me into the dirt and I would not have known until I was flattened.


I was breathing like a steam train going through the Rockies.

I recall watching a video of a guy bow hunting buffalo and had thought to myself “That is a hunting video!” He was breathing exactly like I was now. Kemp noticed and suggested that I should slow my breathing and calm down. I came out of my trance and concentrated a bit and followed my PH’s suggestion and chilled out.

We were within twenty-five yards of some animals that had quite happily demonstrated that they were willing to run toward you or away, depending on their mood. Without any trees, large enough to hold my tiny frame between us and the buffalo coupled with the comparatively long distance run to trees large enough, I was a little tense about that reality, as well as the excitement that this was a trophy animal of a lifetime.

As we came slowly upon the twenty-yard mark again, the two younger guard bulls decided it was time to fade away, which left my bull quartering away at a slow walk following the guards. At the realization of the opportunity finally presenting itself, I slowly drew the bow and started to follow the departure of the bull in a swinging motion with the twenty-yard pin. The moment had arrived..... I squeezed the trigger on the release.

Afterward I realized my mistake; I did not move out front and stop and wait for him to move into the shot, I had moved with him. My shotgun training and then my archery training took over and the shot was taken from a rigid position into that solid black expanse of hide, while looking into a setting sun. Well, this entire combination resulted in my arrow driving into the buffalo from back ribs and quartering forward. Not the best shot, to say the least. Penetration was about 3/4’s of the arrow. Oh, well, I had taken the shot.


I watched the bull react. The red and white fletching remained visible as he moved away. Kemp immediately reacted and we started to fall away from the herd and we moved quickly toward the thick brush to the west of the large clearing, the obvious egress route for my buffalo. My bull went around the back of the herd, just like he had been doing all day and was heading for the heavier cover.



After all the reading on “Buffalo follow up” that talked about the “dead buffalo are the ones that can kill you” and Kemp repeating the quote verbatim, it would be a very slow move forward to ensure he had expired.

Kemp threw the first small rock from our position directly behind him and we thought the bull twitched.

That was enough for both of us. We backed away quietly and circled around him in a wide arch and did not speak or make a sound as we did so. I put one between his front legs. We decided to withdraw and wait for the audio confirmation.


After some time and while returning from retrieving the camera from the Bakkie I heard a very small “bellow”. At this point I proceeded to move up beside the beast and we determined that he was done.


What always strikes me about Buffalo is their size and this guy was no exception. I attempted to move his head myself and it became obvious that was a non-starter. Then I just did the first pose for the photo shoot right where he lay until the posse arrived. I just knelt and stared in amazement at the sheer size of the beast and reviewing what had taken place over the last ten days.

Soon enough, a lot of pictures were taken. A number in direct relation to the respect this trophy deserved. He is exactly what I wanted; a look alike for the 100 Rand note I had stared at for a year or so. It’s good enough for SA money, certainly good enough for me.

Inevitably, Moosa’s tape came wandering out and the bull rough scored 42 inches wide. It just put a number to something I already knew. He was an incredible trophy of my choice.

It took eleven people to get this beast processed and then loaded into the Bakkie!

During this process, I got to see one of the quintessential African experiences; seeing a knife sharpened on a rock. The real meaning of honed on a stone. I knew the stories had to be true but could not quite reconcile it until I bore witness myself.

Well, I had bow hunted a Buffalo. If you want an adrenalin rush, this will do the trick!!! I will certainly consider hunting Buffalo again. Perhaps, one of those older, run down monsters in some very tall grass. Something different.



An aside:

Currently there is a mountain of video on the internet showing Cape Buffalo being hunted and I wanted to see if one of these “wild area” bow hunts had similarity to my hunt in RSA. Incredibly, it had a lot of similarities. (No, not just the species being hunted)


I grabbed this one video for an example.

Not because it is something outstanding, or the epitome of hunting, it merely showed the process. Spotting, approaching, waiting, getting an adrenalin rush and how a vehicle was used in obtaining the result.

The Buffalo in both scenarios herded in the same fashion and vacillated between appearing tame and oblivious and finally, when spooked, thundered off to a safe distance in much the same way as my Buffalo hunt. I am only pointing out some similarities I noted, it is not a justification of the type of hunt or a judgement of what is better.

The biggest difference was the lack of a fence. We all know that there is little chance for escape in a high fence area, but that does not mean you cannot have a fair chase hunt in a large enough area. (You could come away empty handed)

It was noteworthy to see that you can shoot a “wild” Buffalo in the Zambezi delta from the rear of an Argo just like you could in a high fence area in RSA. It’s a choice how you conduct your hunt, no matter where you go.

 

[Roan]

It was noteworthy to see that you can shoot a “wild” Buffalo in the Zambezi delta from the rear of an Argo just like you could in a high fence area in RSA. It’s a choice how you conduct your hunt, no matter where you go.

So true! High fence doesnt mean easy/unethical hunt. You are the deciding factor not a piece of wire.

Great report thanks for sharing!