SOUTH AFRICA: BOWHUNT: Hunting With Greatland Safaris & John Henry Keyser

[BRICKBURN]

Keep it coming

 

[mrpoindexter]

I will upload one day's journal each day. This was just day 2, so I have a lot more to go as I was there for 9 days. I guess I need to upload tonight's when I get home from work.

 

[mrpoindexter]

Africa – Day Three Sunday, August 14, 2016


The day starts extra early – I wake up about an hour before normal and take out my monster safari bow and do some shooting. I realize I have not shot it in a week and I only shot one arrow from my No-Cam bow yesterday. I need practice and it shows.

Monday, we hunt giraffe and I do NOT want to see how far a wounded giraffe can run. Eight miles chasing after a damn zebra was enough for me.

Back to practice – I brought a couple field tip test kits with me to Africa – good thing as I need 150 grain tips to re-sight my bow. I only have two tips that weight so I get to walk a lot between the target and my shooting line.

Now that my arrows have larger fletches and heavier tips, the speed has dropped substantially. Unfortunately, I am using sight tape #40 out of the 1-40 range that came with my sight so I was already on the slowest speed available. I must increase the draw weight on my bow to increase arrow speed to match the speed I had before I left.

I crank the limb bolt a half-turn and it is not too hard, so I go up another half-turn and again am able to draw the bow back without an issue. I bump it up another full turn and struggle to draw it back, so I let it back a half turn and am now up 1.5 full turns. I estimate that I added perhaps five pounds of draw weight and should now be at about 80 pounds. That was actually the target weight I was trying to get to before I left on this safari. I will have to check when I get home to see what my bow is really set at.

The arrows seem to be very close to the speed they were before I left the States. Just before my trip, I checked and my arrows weighed 755 grains and were traveling 233 feet per second, giving me 90.9 Ft-Lbs of kinetic energy and 0.78 slugs of momentum. While kinetic energy is the higher number and is more of the hitting power type of measurement, what really is needed is penetration and that is best related to momentum. Think of it as the difference between a car traveling 50 mph compared to a freight train going 20 mph hitting your house. The car will crash through your living room, while the train will pass through your house, garage and swimming pool and still be moving.

My guess is that I am probably hitting close to 100 Ft-Lbs of kinetic energy and 0.83 slugs of momentum. A chronograph and a grain scale would be awesome and satisfy my curiosity but until I get home, I will just have to wonder. At this point, I suspect my bow is able to down anything smaller than the largest African bull elephants and maybe even enough for those.

With luck (and skill) I might only need to fire this bow twice at targets – the first of them on Monday. At this point, I have fired a lot of arrows and need to take a break. My arm is completely exhausted. I head over to the lodge to get some breakfast and go over the game plan for the day with John.

Yesterday, I saw a beautiful impala for Laci and hope to find him again. He would certainly qualify for the record book so it is worth the effort. A couple hours go by, finding only nyala, warthog and an occasional bushbuck or vervet monkey. I have already got a good nyala and bushbuck. The warthog are all on the young side with smaller tusks and have a few years to go before they are ready to be harvested.

We see several impala – a couple with good horns. John wants to keep a particular one alive so he can come back and dart it to use as a breeder. Unfortunately, I cannot get a shot on the other one. Regardless of me being a client/customer, I respect John, his business and his wishes and do not draw an arrow on the future breeder when the opportunity presents itself. As hunters, we need to preserve the quality of the herds and so we don’t want to shoot breeding stock. I am here for another five days and good things come to he who waits. Also, don’t piss off your bodyguard, especially when you are going to be chasing an animal nicknamed “Black Death” in a couple days.

We see some more kudu bulls, but they are only in the upper 40 inch range. I would like at least a 50 inch set of horns. I know there are some 55+ inch bulls here, but I am not going to insist on shooting only the largest one on the ranch (unless I happen to come across it).

Finally, just after noon, slim pickings turn into a bonanza of options. We get a group of impala with two trophy quality bulls and while scouting them out, not one but TWO kudu bulls with horns in excess of 50 inches walk through the middle of the impala herd.

While there are 4 potential targets, you only get one arrow and then they scatter. Given that this is my third sighting of good impala but my first with the kudu bulls, I opt for the kudu. I pick out the one with the more attractive set of horns on his head – nice deep curls, a good spreading angle making an impressive “V” shape, a strong ridge and very symmetrical. What a beautiful animal. I don’t want to have the same issue I had with my zebra and I take my time to get just the right shot.

Speaking of Mr. Bronson, the trackers tried all day long and could not find him. I fear I have lost him. If I am lucky, he is alive and we cross paths again before I leave. The second best outcome is if John shoots him after I leave and I get a rug in the mail. Worst case is that I do not find him but I still have to pay the trophy fee for what is probably leopard or hyena food at that point.

With a soft twang of my bow, I send an arrow right into the kudu’s chest. He takes off and I see the arrow come out his far side as soon as he turns – a complete pass through! It was a high heart/lung shot and looks like I got both his lungs and his heart. He falls 70 yards away, which he is able to run in about 4 seconds. I am not able to get there anywhere near that quickly. We walk the path the kudu took and the blood trail is so thick that even I can track him through the grass with my color blindness. I am still waiting for my nyala steaks and now I want some kudu.

I tell John that I will keep the animal safe from leopards while he goes to get the truck. Soon, France and Johannes pull up in the truck but no leopards show up. I would like to see one in the wild, although not when I am alone and only armed with a bow. Maybe tomorrow I will get to see one.

After loading the kudu, we head back to the other side of the ranch. I hope to find Charles Bronson, but no such luck. Eventually we do find a lone zebra stallion, but he has no limp. When I can finally get a good look at his right side, I confirm it is not him. This zebra does not have an arrow hole in him – yet.

I figure if I shoot this one, I will end up with 1 or 2 zebra on this trip. If we come across Charles Bronson later, I can have both a pedestal mount and a rug, but I do not want to go home without a zebra. This time, I make certain not to hit a bone. I get him right in the crease behind his front right leg just as he is quartering away and he takes off like a Tesla P-90D but doesn’t get as far as Gabriel Iglesias can run. He drops to the ground 80 yards away. I find my arrow along the way – another total pass through, but the nock and about the last one inch was broken off. This is now two arrows shot into zebra that have been broken. When we come up on him, he is still alive but mortally wounded. Rather than wait out the inevitable, I put another arrow in him to finish him off quickly.

We take pictures and load up the zebra then head home. Close to camp with the sun already down, I point off to the side of the road ahead of us and ask John if that is a jackal. Yup!! He hits the brakes and loads the gun. Jackals are free kills for hunters and some places even pay you for killing them because they are a nuisance, much like our coyote at home. Here, they tend to kill off baby impala, so we don’t want it to get away. It is dark, he is running off and already 80 yards out, so I tell John to take him. John’s Win Mag is way overkill for a jackal and the carcass is not at all pretty to look at, but mission accomplished.

I shower and change for dinner – the first time since I arrived that I am not dressed in camouflage for a meal. We talk for a while and suddenly I see this HUGE shape pass by outside the fence line around the yard. I ask if that is their monster loner eland bull I heard about and they tell me it is. Unfortunately, I don’t have my bow and it is too dark to get it and chase him down.

I will have to keep an eye out for this guy – it was dark and hard to be certain of size, but he looked like he was bigger than a rodeo bull. Tomorrow we won’t be at this ranch so the eland will get a short reprieve, but I will be looking for him soon.

John advises that I bring both bows with me tomorrow. Perhaps we will come across some “animals of opportunity” while stalking the giraffe. Luckily, I brought a bow sling so that I can carry one bow in hand and have another on a quick release sling. The giraffe we will be hunting are located on a very large ranch that is an hour’s drive away – all on a dirt road. Wow!! Talk about remote.

Tomorrow will be a big test for me. Giraffe are category 5 animals (along with hippo and rhino) and so far the largest animal I have taken down has been a category 3. This is going to be a big step.

 

[Neale]

I am not a bow hunter but am enjoying your story immensely. Great photos

 

[rinehart0050]

Great story! I really enjoy your writing style... lines like:

he takes off like a Tesla P-90D but doesn’t get as far as Gabriel Iglesias can run.

 

[cpr0312]

Thanks for sharing, enjoyed the latest installment! Nice trophies!

 

[mrpoindexter]

Africa – Day Four Monday, August 15, 2016


Q. What runs longer than a Go-Pro Hero4?


A. A wounded giraffe


So I wake up before dawn and get down to the range with my new arrow/broadhead combo. The Grizzly Stick Silver Flame 150 grain arrowheads rock!! Unfortunately, the local archery shop that had put new, larger vanes on the backs of my arrows moved them too far forward and they are hitting my arrow rest when I load an arrow in my bow. Luckily, I can make it work, but it really shows how many little things need to be in sync on a complex bow and arrow rig. My sights are set but new problems are waiting for me.


We head out on what is actually more than an hour drive to another concession for a giraffe bull. I had actually seen some giraffe on John’s ranch but there was only one bull and he was still a bit young so we are going to head to a much larger ranch that has lots of giraffe. Upon arrival, we enter a 20,000 acre ranch that feels more like a national park. I see a heard of wildebeest stampeding in the distance. Impala are running and jumping across the plains and I even see a white rhino as we drive into the heart of the property.

I have been told that a spot and stalk of a giraffe is incredibly hard, as they can see you a mile away. We spend almost an hour looking for a suitable bull. The older they are, the darker their coats get and I prefer to shoot older animals that have lived most of their life. I find one that I like – his coat is dark and he is the oldest one I have seen out of the twenty or so we have come across. It is time for him to retire and let the younger giraffe take his spot. We start our stalk and find him very hard to close in on.

I have on my safari bow what is considered by many to be the top of the line in hunting sights – one single adjustable pin with a tape running on the side that you set the range. Unfortunately, I don’t see the downside to this until today – by the time we are able to get set up to shoot and range the target, adjust the sight and draw back my arrow, the target has already moved. Even with a slow walk, the giraffe can cover a lot of ground and with the slower arrow speed that accompanies the needed heavier arrow, the distance must be right. I have to let down the bow, continue the stalk and try for another shot.


After numerous attempts, I finally get a clean shot at long range (about 50 yards) and I let an arrow fly, but right as I make the decision to fire, the giraffe makes the decision to turn and run. My arrow misses – almost. I just barely nick his leg. This is not good, as I have now “wounded” this animal with what amounts to his equivalent of a paper cut. I don’t even cut deep enough to make it through his skin, but the rule here is that you pay for any animals killed or wounded, regardless of whether you finish him off or are able to recover the animal or not. This bad arrow could cost me thousands of dollars if we cannot get this animal and I cannot decide to go for another animal if he takes off for the high country where we cannot follow him.

Sadly, I have wounded him just enough to let him know our intentions but not enough to slow him down. It is déjà vu all over again, as Yogi Berra would say. Now I get to chase a large and expensive animal that can run long and fast. One could think I might be hating life but I am not, although I am a bit frustrated.


We make several attempts to get a follow-up shot but to no avail. Eventually, he moves into thick cover and we lose him completely.


John Henry summons the truck and we start riding around the concession sitting in elevated chairs in the back of a pickup truck. This now “feels” like a safari.

Twenty thousand acres is HUGE! It is 30 square miles. For a good idea of how big that is (if you are from Fresno, CA): from Clovis Avenue to Blackstone and from McKinley to Herndon. Actually, that entire area is still not big enough so add all of three Woodward Parks to it and then the entire Clovis North Educational Complex. For people who don’t live near Fresno, another good example would be 1.4 times the size of Manhattan. Cover most of that with trees and then look for an animal that has natural camouflage, is trying to hide from you, can see from a 15-18 foot tall vantage point and can run 35 miles per hour.


We drive for about three hours looking and passing so many giraffe that seem to not even care about us, letting us pass by them and just standing and giving shooting opportunities from any and every angle, as if just to mock me.


Finally, we see him and he starts to run. We drive ahead of him, get out of the truck and walk back to meet him. John sees him as he passes on the back side of a stand of trees. I run up to the end of the trees and see him as he emerges. I am finally able to get a clear shot and put one into his chest from straight on, hitting him just left of dead center and bury the arrow to the fletches. It sounds like a tree crashing when a giraffe falls, although looking back, it is likely the sound of a tree getting knocked over by the animal. When you get up close to one, you get a true sense of how enormous they really are. John remarks that it is just unbelievable how deep the arrow went into the giraffe. I look and can see from the little bit sticking out that I got 27 inches of penetration.

I think he is being honest and not just trying to be kind to make me feel better after this crazy chase. I do feel much better though. We have the beast loaded up onto a trailer with the help of NINE (!!) Africans and a winch from John’s truck as the winch of the truck at the game reserve cannot pull the giraffe onto the trailer.

By the time we arrive home, it is after sunset. I am exhausted but need to fix my sight to something with fixed pins at all regular intervals. I will NOT wound the buffalo.


I change my sights on my bow and go to the range, stick an arrow with a lighted nock in the target so that I can see it, turn a light on for my sight pins and shoot in the dark. I dial in my 20, 30 and 40 yard distances that night. My arrows are burying deep into the target and given the performance on the giraffe, I am confidant that as long as I get good placement, I have the power needed to get the job done.

We were up before dawn and basically hunted from sunup to sundown today. I am exhausted. I get a delicious steak from my kudu I shot the day before and head to bed. Tomorrow, we start even earlier and then it is game time.

CAPE BUFFALO HUNT: T-Minus 10 hours.

 

[Nyati]

Great story so far, congrats !

 

[mrpoindexter]

Thank you.

 

[BRICKBURN]

I am enjoying your write up.

 

[mrpoindexter]

Africa – Day (Big) Five Tuesday, August 16, 2016


What a day and what a hunt!! We set out early to a large (ten-thousand acre) concession an hour drive down a dirt road the entire way. I am beginning to realize there are a lot more dirt roads than paved roads in this part of the world. On the way down, we drive past a bull elephant – a big tusker. We talk about elephants for only a minute or two and the conversation goes back to buffalo. Although we drive for an hour, it doesn’t feel like a long time in the truck.


Once we arrive, I see a large cage with about eight to ten lionesses. As I walk past the cage, their eyes follow me. I don’t think they see a person but just a large T-bone moving just out of reach. I stumble slightly and their instincts kick in and they leap towards me. The only thing keeping them from pouncing and devouring me is an electric fence. Even with them on the other side of the fence, it is scary. I look past the end of their cage and see another one full of male lions. What a regal looking animal – and also frightfully powerful.

Enough of seeing some of the Big Five – it is time to hunt one of them. We drive into the ranch and must pass through a gate that separates the portion of the ranch with dangerous game from the smaller part near the working areas that do not have dangerous game. There are actually four types of dangerous game in the area we will be hunting: Cape Buffalo, Rhino, Hippo and Croc. As with other areas, leopard are present but not counted as those are completely free roaming and cannot be contained by any fences. I call it five and we are only missing lion and elephant. They do have lion here, but they are bred to be released and hunted in the Kalahari Desert.

I have often heard people deride the farm raised lions as “canned hunting” but before I can even bring up the subject, John just offers a little bit of opinion on the topic off the cuff. “I will take a hunt on a free range lion over a hunt of a farm raised one any day” he tells me as we are getting our gear ready for the buffalo. “These ones are far, far more dangerous – they have completely lost their fear of man.” We are supposed to be the top of the food chain but I cannot imagine man losing his fear of lions.

We drive for a while and finally locate a herd of old bulls. They are VERY impressive – a sight to behold. We park the truck a ways off and walk back to where we saw them to start the stalk – myself, John Henry and another PH named Dewald who works at this ranch.


There is a saying I have always liked: “Beware the old man in a profession where men die young.” I think this applies equally to these buffalo. They are NOT dumb and are long gone by the time we get there.


We follow their trail, checking the moisture level of their dung when we see it to gauge how long ago they were there. While I cannot tell how “fresh” it is, I can see we are getting closer but it is not easy because the buffalo do not walk in a straight line. They meander all over but always staying together as a herd. I learn the hard way that there is reasoning to what at first seems like a random path.


Buffalo will walk upwind, then walk cross wind and then walk downwind and bed down shortly. If anything is tracking or stalking them from downwind, they soon find themselves upwind of the herd and then the buffalo will smell you. Suffice it to say that they can move faster than we can track.


We cover so much ground and are thwarted time and time again. Finally, our luck seems to change and things go our way. We have gotten ahead of the herd and they are coming our way. They stand out in the open for maybe 10 minutes but they are over 80 yards away – way too far to take a bow shot unless you are dead certain you can hit within two inches of your intended placement from more than 240 feet away with a full second of flight time for the animal to possibly move. I am not so confident – especially after my experiences with the giraffe and zebra. If I was using a rifle, eight bulls would have been running off and I would be posing over my buffalo for photos already. Alas, I do not have a rifle – I have a bow and six arrows.


Having so much time, I scan the herd over and over and pick out my bull as I hear John whispering in Afrikaans to Dewald. I ask John what he thinks about the bull two in from the far left bull, facing away but looking to his left. He tells me that he and Dewald were discussing the herd and picked that one as the best trophy. They are not as wide as some of the younger bulls as they have worn down from years of fighting for dominance, but I am more impressed with the boss – the hardened horn on top of the head that is fused with the skull. This animal spent years as an alpha of a herd but is now an older, dethroned bachelor that is wiser and much harder to hunt.

The herd starts to move. They round a tree and one bull walks straight towards us, stopping 40 yards away. He is in range but there is no recommended frontal shot from a bow that can kill or even mortally wound a buffalo. Plus, he is not “my” bull. I watch the buffalo and think. There actually is a spot you can hit – straight into the heart, but it does not instantly kill the animal and given it is a straight on shot – he both can see it coming and will see you and won’t even have to turn to charge.

Cape buffalo charges are famous, exciting, terrifying and deadly. Looking at this bull and just imagining it is scary. I can feel a cold chill go down my spine. Wait! What is going on? Damn it. Damn it!! DAMN IT!!!!

The cold chill is the wind hitting my back. The wind has changed direction. And now so has the herd. They are on the move and we cannot get in front of them before sunset and have to give up for the day.


We do have a little light left and decide to look for hippo. Although I did not file for a permit early enough to get one to hunt hippo, this PH here already has one. Daylight is fading and we scour all the areas they might be. Earlier in the day we came across hippo tracks, but no luck now. We head home empty handed but determined to try again tomorrow.


On the ride home, I see something small in the grass on the side of the road and ask John what it is. “Young leopard” is the quick reply. Awesome – this is the first time I have seen one in real life in the wild.


Shortly after, we are driving along the fence line of Marakele Park and see a MONSTER white rhino. He is just OMG level of massive. I am still thinking of him when we see something run out in front of us. John swerves to avoid it and he thinks he hit it but I think he missed.


We back up to see who is right and see something lying dead in the middle of the road. Getting closer and nope, not dead but apparently with its back broken – it is a civet. Wow, it is beautiful. I ask if we should put it out of its misery. John says yes, but he is not allowed to take the shot because we don’t have a permit.


Within twenty seconds, the animal recovers from what I guess was just him having his bell rung. A minute later, we are driving and watching him run along the road ahead of the truck. Everything here apparently can run a lot faster than I can. We lose him when we see the lights of an oncoming vehicle – an anti-poaching patrol truck. They are out in force when the moon is full, as that is when poachers are most active.


I learn that last week, two white rhinos were killed by poachers at the ranch we were coming home from. They snuck onto the ranch, killed the rhinos, chopped off the horns and left the carcasses – all so they can sell the horns to the Chinese for use in Chinese medicine. I wonder to myself why the Chinese don’t just buy a few rhino and start breeding them to get a stable supply of horns.


That night at dinner, we are discussing the day’s events and John’s daughter Ivon points out that I saw all of the Big Five today. I finish my food and head to bed. As I am lying in bed, reflecting on the day, I remember seeing a couple crocodiles. Suddenly I realize, had we found that hippo, I would have seen the entire dangerous seven of Africa in a single day of hunting. What an amazing part of the world I am in.


I am utterly exhausted physically. I also realize that I have not watched TV in a week; same thing for using the Internet. To be honest, I don’t even miss it. I do miss my family though. John’s two girls, Ivon and Petra, are very close to Laci and Lauren’s ages and they remind me of how much I miss them. I need to get some sleep. I must get my buffalo so I can call home and let Lauren know the buffalo didn’t get me.


I still need Laci’s horns, but I need mine more.

 

[mrpoindexter]

Sorry but not too many exciting photos on Day 5. I spent most of the day with my bow in my hand and left the dSLR in the truck and rarely pulled out the iPhone.

 

[BRICKBURN]

Funny how that happens.

 

[gillettehunter]

Wow. I just found this thread. Glad you were able to get your bow problems sorted out. Some nice trophies so far. Hope you find the zebra. Loving your tail. Bruce

 

[mrpoindexter]

Africa – Day Six Wednesday, Aug 17, 2016


I saw a game show once called “Are you smarter than a fifth grader?” and know for a fact I am. Am I smarter than a buffalo? On that, I am not so sure.


We start the day with a little work on smaller game that is also somewhat dangerous even if it does not look so – the bushbuck. Oddly, I learn that the bushbuck injures and kills more hunters than any other animal in Africa except the Cape buffalo – Mr. Black Death himself. It is strange to think that this little 80-ish pound deer-looking animal can kill more hunters than lions, leopards or hippos, but it is small, hides easily in any bush and is aggressive. Because of its smaller size, is often just wounded as the vital triangle, the kill shot zone, is so much harder to hit. I suppose a couple 12 inch horns coming at you at nearly 40 mph is easily enough to put you in dire straits given how far away medical help is when hunting out here.


A couple hours after we start, we spot a male bushbuck, large for his species but still rather small – maybe 75 pounds with twelve to fourteen inch horns. Given how fast they are and the wonderful time I had chasing zebra and giraffe across the country, I am determined to have no more of that.

I get a good broadside view and put an arrow right into his back, severing his spine. That will limit his running, but I have to worry that he may now lose his balance and roll down the hill and into the mud. Quickly, I nock another arrow and shoot him right through the lungs and heart and at the same time, pass through him and into a tree, effectively pinning him in place. He expires in less than 30 seconds, but I have broken another arrow and also lost the broadhead, as I cannot extract it from the tree. He also rolls down the hill and into the mud anyway and we use our drinking water to clean him up for the photos.

Something that John Henry has not mentioned directly, but I begin to understand is that with the drought, all these animals (except the Zebra) are thinner than they should be. There simply isn’t enough food for the animals to forage and survive and so there must be some substantial feed cost these ranches are bearing as they keep their herds alive through the drought. I file that thought into the back of my brain and get back to scouting for other game.


There are no signs of impala and so it is time to break out the big bow and get back to the buffalo.


We locate the herd and get ahead of them, and decide to set up an ambush. We know where water is and they will be headed that direction. We get a pop up blind – effectively a tent without a floor and some slits to shoot out of and set it up where we think they will pass by. We are in a good location, well hidden and downwind of their path, but I will now have to shoot sitting down. John asks me to practice shooting while sitting. Holy crap, it is a lot harder to draw back a bow while sitting. I am able to pull it back, but it is much more difficult. Once I have drawn, it is easy to hold on target – maybe even easier than standing as there is less sway in the body from this position. I fire off a couple shots and am good to go.


Now that we are completely situated, inside the blind, ready and waiting for the buffalo, we find a couple unsettling discoveries. First, there is some dung on the ground in our blind – I ignored it while we were setting up the tent as it was not so wet that the smell was overpowering. Dewald informs me that it is hippo dung and we are unfortunately located on a hippo trail. Umm, great.


Whatever can go wrong will go wrong. Also, things can always get worse. I hear a bunch of roars in the distance. There are a pack of lions feeding on something just a couple hundred feet from us – downwind from our location.


If the wind changes direction so that the lions cannot smell us, the buffalo will. I am informed something I already know but being reminded doesn’t exactly settle my stomach. The fences along the property are electrified on the inside, not the outside, so lions can pretty much hop the fence as they please.


I do have the good fortune of having two very talented and well armed professional hunters with me and so I try not to worry.


I see some blue wildebeest come through, as well as one of the less common and way more ugly/goofy looking black wildebeest. He is average size and so I opt not to take a shot at him. I hear they are the marathon runners of Africa and so I guess they can go a good distance before they drop even with a good fatal shot in the vitals.

There are some blue wildebeest in range and they are good looking specimens, but we decide it is probably best not to disturb the scene now that the buffalo are due to be coming our way soon. Any minute now, so we wait. And wait. And wait. And wait. And… wait…

As the time passes, I get an increasingly sinking feeling in my gut. We know they should be here by now, but no sign of them. It is too late in the day to relocate. Dewald calls some of the other hunters out with different clients on the concession and get the bad news – the herd has been spotted and they have already passed us. Apparently, they were able to spot us before we could even see them. Oh well, they didn’t get this old by being stupid and they are not one of the most desired hunting trophies for being easy.


We head back on foot to find the jeep, passing some hippo dung from the day before. I still have not seen a hippo on this trip, something I am hoping to rectify soon. I would rather get the buffalo than the hippo, but if the hippo shows up, we will start tracking it.


I am starting to worry a bit. I have scheduled for an eight day hunt. My return flight is already booked. At the end of day six, I have no buffalo, no hippo. I fear I might fail in my quest for the big prize. Heck, I don’t even have Laci’s impala horns. I must focus now.

 

[mrpoindexter]

Africa, Day Seven Thursday, August 18, 2016


After breakfast, John gives me some numbers. Maybe he wants to cheer me up, maybe he just got them and wanted to pass it along, but the bushbuck I shot the day before had fourteen inch horns. Those will easily qualify for the safari club record book for African hunting. Also, the nyala I shot on the first day had twenty-five inch horns, which should qualify. And the kudu had horns that were fifty and one half inches long. All three should make the bowhunting record book. It does cheer me up a bit. (There are no records for zebra or giraffe so these are the only ones that would qualify).


We start the day warming up on plains game. I still need Laci’s impala. We don’t see a single one, but we do see a bushbuck. It is smaller than the one I shot yesterday and I already have one so I ignore it, but John tells me he would like me to shoot this one. He says it has an abscess and can tell it is sick, so he wants me to put it out of its misery. No charge for the animal.

I watch him trying to take a drink of water. His left ear is very droopy even while his right one is alert and I have never seen a bushbuck or any other plains game animal take so long to drink. I had set up a camera earlier in the day and he just happens to be three feet in front of it. I pull up my phone and look at the video streaming from the camera and can see he is struggling to swallow. (Given how close he is and how long he is there trying to drink, if you think the video is amazing, you are not mistaken and I will have to upload it to YouTube when I can get an account that doesn’t have my name on it). He will be dead within a couple of days anyway, if not sooner, but I do not have a clear shot. Although I can see him, there is a branch in the way that is blocking the path of my arrow. As soon as he moves to the left, I will get a clear shot and that will likely be on camera as well.


While I am waiting, I am thinking of my kids. Laci wants some impala horns and if I get her some, I know Lauren will then want some but her gentle soul went as far as to make me promise not to shoot any bunny rabbits on my trip. Lauren might not want me to shoot an animal for her, but this is a mercy kill and she might be OK with these horns.


I am so very close to the bushbuck that I realize I don’t have a pin set for this distance and targets closer than ten yards can often be hard to hit because the arrow path crosses the sight line early, then as the arrow drops, it crosses the sight line a second time. Inside ten yards, you might need to use your twenty yard pin or you might need to aim as though it is eighty yards out and you cannot really know unless you have tested it out beforehand. I am only six yards away from this animal and have to guess the proper elevation. The target zone is small and as this is a mercy kill, I would like it to be quick. I have no desire to let this animal suffer any more than it already is. I will have to use the force to aim.


He moves left and I get a broadside shot right through his lungs, passing out his body on the other side. He doesn’t even run very fast or far, passing away very quickly. His horns measure out at twelve inches. I will have to re-measure them when I get back in the States because they will shrink a little bit when they fully dry out, but that is something for another time. I have a date with a buffalo that I intend to keep.

We find the buffalo at a water hole, cooling off, drinking and wallowing in the mud. They are very suspicious. They smell us but cannot see us, so we step out into the open, showing ourselves but staying well outside the limits of their comfort zone and walk parallel to the herd. They stand and watch us but do not run. My bull is in the back of the herd, so this will be tough.


Back and forth, we disappear from sight and close the gap only to have the winds shift and thwart our efforts. If I was using a rifle, I could have shot any bull I wanted out of this herd on multiple occasions, but with my bow, I have only been in range of a couple younger bulls all day.


Finally, the herd has had enough of our shenanigans and splits, stampede style, out of the area. It is late now and we decide to call it for the day. We will try again tomorrow, my last full day to hunt and my last chance at the buffalo.


We head back to John’s ranch. He has a massive eland bull that has been dethroned and kicked out of his herd by a younger bull. This eland is big, older and won’t breed any more now that he is out of the herd. France tells us he has seen the eland on the corner of the ranch frequenting a water hole that is also a bit of a mud bath. We have hunted that area of the ranch before and I think I can get him. Eland are hard to track, much like buffalo, but if we know where he will be and roughly what time of day he likes to go there, maybe he can come to my house and hang on my wall.


We hustle to the area and stay out of sight, downwind and totally silent. We see warthogs, nyala and kudu come but nothing else. No eland, no impala. Suddenly, the entire menagerie splits. We have been completely silent, the wind hasn’t changed, so what the hell?! Then, I see it; this MASSIVE BEAST comes to the water. He is as big as a Cape buffalo, except for a smaller, more deer-like head.


I think to myself that I should have brought the heavy bow, but I only have my no-cam with me as we swapped in camp. I didn’t want to use the safari bow on impala because they can “jump the string” (jump as soon as they hear the bow go off and actually move before the arrow arrives) and so I need a faster arrow speed and my arrows are about fifty feet per second faster with my no-cam bow. Now I am here with a bow that is able to complete the task but on the low edge of what is recommended, shooting the largest antelope in the world.


The eland presents a nice broadside shot and I take it – a dead on perfect hit, but I only get about twelve inches of penetration. I am certain I hit a lung, but only one. He is thick, tough and full of muscle. He takes off up the hill. We give him 20 minutes then start to track him.


He has left a good blood trail, but it is getting dark. We find him laying down, facing away from us. I don’t want to leave him overnight but don’t want John to shoot him either or it won’t be a “bow kill.” I will have to close in on him to shoot him again, but I don’t want to spook him into running. I tell John that I can get right up on his left flank but he is concerned the eland might run. It is getting dark and I decide it is time to put my old paintball skills to work.


I am able to close a large distance using only a few small trees as cover, keeping them between myself and the eland’s eyes. I ready myself and wait until he looks to the right. As soon as he does, I step out from cover to the left and hit him with a high lung shot and a downward trajectory. The arrow buries to the fletch! The eland tries to get up and run but he just cannot get up. It is over – all we have to do now is wait for the inevitable.

John measures his horns. I don’t get the circumference at the base, but given the length of twenty-nine inches, this would be another animal that qualifies for the record book. I am not really interested in being listed in the record book, but the outfitter, hunter and ranch are also listed and I know having animals in the record book is good for John’s business. Earlier, John had mentioned how a client on his ranch a few years back shot a Duiker that actually broke the world record. The hunter said he didn’t care about the record book and never submitted the photos or measurements. I could tell that disappointed John.


I tell John that I also don’t care about getting in the record book personally but know it is good for his business to get entries in the book and tell him I will submit all my animals that qualify for the record book. When I get home, I will have to join the Safari Club and submit the measurements. Getting “John Henry Keyser / Greatland Safaris” listed will become a goal to achieve when I get home. Unfortunately, I don't know how any of my animals will score because all the SCI records use the horn circumference and length and all I got was the length - something they use more for Rowland Ward which apparently is more used by people in SA.


We head back to camp and Nico is there with two others from Golden Macs, Heinrich and Werner. I think them profusely and let them know that this bow hunting safari has been by far the best gift I have ever been given.


We have dinner and sit around the fire, swapping stories until nearly midnight. Finally, I tell them that I must go to bed because I still need my buffalo and Laci’s impala.


I also must never forget the story of John Henry and the milk jug. I will not put it here – you will have to hear it in person so ask me or John Henry to tell it to you if you ever see either of us.

- A great story (and yes, it really happened!!)

 

[mrpoindexter]

And just for those who were wondering and would like to see the Bushbuck video, I have it uploaded here:

 

[mrpoindexter]

Africa – Day Eight Friday, August 19, 2016


I wake up very early. I know this is my last full hunting day. I will have a few hours Saturday morning, but today is my LAST CHANCE for the buffalo. I get ready like it is the finals of a major sporting event. In a way, it is. I have progressed through all the other animals to reach the final bracket for the championship. I am facing off against my opponent: Cape Buffalo. He has the home field advantage.


We do not start hunting the buffalo so early in the morning as the wind is not steady. We look for an impala. They were so plentiful the first four days and now it is like they went on vacation. I don’t see a single impala, but I did see a bunch of blue wildebeest. This animal is often referred to as the poor man’s buffalo. Maybe this is the best I will get? I look for the best one in the herd and when I have a good view, I hit him broadside. I know I got him right in the lung and I watch him run off, demolishing a tree stump that is three feet high or at least it was until he obliterated it, leaving a large spray of blood from his wound on the ground nearby.


We leave him alone for about 20 minutes to expire and then start to track him. He is not down, but we can tell he is hurting. He sees us and runs. We don’t have all day to track this animal and so John fires a shot with the rifle and then the wildebeest disappears from sight. I know John is a good shot and don’t question his ability with a gun, but I think he missed because that ‘beest didn’t slow down and I don’t see a lot of blood.


When we get to the tree stump, I can see part of my arrow. It broke off with the broadhead still inside him, but I have seen that movie before and it didn’t have a happy ending for the hunter. From the shaft, I can tell I had about twelve inches of penetration. Had I used my monster safari, I would have blown out the other side and the blood trail would have been thicker and probably a lot shorter too. I mention this to John and during the discussion, I learn he thought my no-cam I am using for plains game was a 70lb bow, not a 60lb bow.

I decide that the next time I come to Africa, I will have a 70lb bow for my plains game animals because I am tired of having to run these creatures down. I want a cleaner and faster kill.


We track the blue wildebeest for maybe two hours. I get separated from John and Johannes and double back to the road. Eventually, I hear two rifle shots. Apparently the poor man’s buffalo also has a temper and he cornered our tracker Johannes, who needed a tree to keep him safe. John shot the wildebeest to protect Johannes. I know some people get frustrated when the PH has to shoot an animal, but safety first and it is my fault for not downing him. I make a promise to myself to not put John in a position where he has to fire again.


Later, as we examine him, we see my wound was fatal, but we didn’t give him enough time to expire. These animals are freaking tough as hell. Lessons learned. I am glad Johannes is safe. Now we pack up and head to the buffalo.

We have one advantage this year and that is the drought. Coming from a farm in California, it is hard to say that is an advantage but for hunting it has its perks. Aside from the animals needing to drink more often because the grass and leaves are so dry, there simply isn’t enough food for them to eat and they are hungry. I bet they can smell some alfalfa. We position ourselves between the herd and a waterhole.


The buffalo will be coming our way soon and I hope to ambush them. We set a trap for them like we tried before, but this time, we are going to make it better. We cut down all the tree branches we can find and make a nice bit of cover. It is not that tall and so I have to attempt to shoot from a sitting position again.


We wait and our patience pays off, as I can see the herd coming into visual range. The buffalo smell us by the time the point bull gets into shooting range. Now it is time for the surprise. We have a second PH upwind of them. We quietly alert him on the radio and Carl steps into view. He throws some alfalfa on the ground and moves away. They watch him intently, but he has his rifle hidden from their view and stands about a hundred yards upwind. At this point, I know they must smell us, but maybe we all smell alike to them. They smell humans and see Carl. At first, just the lead bull eats, but eventually they all come in to feed. Ever alert, there is always at a minimum two bulls watching Carl intently.


John and I are hiding in some cover that will obscure the buffalo being able to see us, but our cover would not stop a paintball, let alone a pissed off buffalo. I am not a boy scout, but I am prepared and already have a tree picked out just in case something goes awry.


Finally, I see my bull and he is now close enough to shoot. I draw back my bow but before he turns to give me a good angle, another bull gets between us. Now I have already drawn my eighty pound bow and I cannot let it down without making enough noise to spook them. I just have to hold it. The younger bull does not move and John softly whispers to ask if I can hold it this long. I tell him for this beast, I will hold it as long as I have to.


It feels like forever, but eventually the bull in the way moves. Unfortunately, now my bull is facing directly towards us - and much closer now. A frontal shot on a buffalo from a bow is not fatal for the buffalo, but can be for the hunter – especially at close range. Before they came in, I had ranged all over the area to be prepared and I know the bull is now just FIFTEEN YARDS AWAY!!That is much closer than I had wanted to be to this animal given his propensity for just being ornery and vindictive. My preference would have been about 30 yards, but you get what you get.


He sniffs at the alfalfa and takes a bit in his mouth and then looks right at me. I cannot tell if he sees me or not. I hold my breath, but maybe he can hear my heart beating. I know I can. I can see his nostrils flare as he exhales. I don’t feel any cold chills running down my spine, but I can feel some burning in my arms. I sit and wait, holding the pain and keeping as motionless as possible, knowing that the slightest movement will draw his attention and alert him to my presence.


Without moving my head, I scan the area as best I can. I count FIVE buffalo that are closer than 20 yards to me. Not a single bull in the herd is more than 30 yards away.


Finally, my bull turns to his right and I get a slightly quartering away shot. The instant his head glances to the right and I am no longer in his peripheral vision, I let go of the string. I see the arrow hit him low in the left side and disappear. I panic, thinking that I shot him too low, forgetting that I am shooting from a lower vantage point as I am not standing and the arrow was actually going parallel to the ground instead of at a downward trajectory. John flashes me the thumbs up.


It runs 65 yards and lays down, surrounded by the herd. The other PH heads over towards the herd and I hear a single gunshot from his rifle. I look at John, obviously not understanding what is going on. John listens to the other PH over the walkie-talkie and then tells me “Carl shot your bull.”


My jaw hits the floor. I stagger a bit from the shock. John looks at me and decides he has had enough satisfaction in my reactions and continues, “No, your bull is dead – he shot in the air to scare off the other buffalo.” If I wasn’t so happy, I would be mad but he got me good.


He was the dominant bull of the group and Carl worried that one of the other bulls might take advantage of the situation and challenge him, damaging his hide or horns in the process. Carl shot into the air to disperse the rest of the herd. Now it is time to go and see my buffalo.

We find my arrow on the ground about 25 yards from where the animal was shot. The back 6 inches or so are missing. All three of us assume the rest of the arrow is still in the bull. We see the bull lying down on his side and before we approach, John wants to make sure he is dead. If we get close and the bull gets up, John or Carl will have to shoot it for real and none of us want that, so John asks me to put another arrow into him to make sure he is dead. I bury one deep into the middle of his back and he doesn’t even twitch. John sneaks up and touches his eyeball but he doesn’t even blink. He is dead. We call in the crew to help turn him over and clear an area to take some pictures.

John and Carl estimate he weighs about 800kg (1,760 lbs) with about 36 or 37 inch horns. This is short of the forty inch target people try to hit, but I am satisfied. There were bulls in the group with longer horns – many of them over 40 inches, but this was the dominant alpha bull and the oldest of the group. I would still rather have him than any of the others in the herd.


John phones his best friend, Dana, to tell him about the kill. I know that the Cape buffalo is a tough animal. In twenty-five years as a professional hunter, sixteen years specializing in bow hunting, John Henry had never seen a pass through on a Cape buffalo. Although Dana is not home, he wants to see this buffalo killed with a pass through shot. He tells us not to leave the ranch – he will be there in 40 minutes. We take numerous photos and then load the beast into the truck. With five men and a winch, it is still a struggle.

On the way back to the skinning room, we drive to Dana’s ranch, which is next door to John Henry’s. We pull in front of his house and turn off the engine and I hear a noise in the distance. I turn to look and see an airplane banking and coming in to land right in front of us, pulling up just short of the truck. It is all very surreal that a big time hunter wants to fly in to see this animal I shot. There are discussions flying back and forth between John Henry and Dana and I hear the word unbelievable many times. We all shake hands and invite Dana and Carl over for a barbeque tonight. What a day!

We get the bull back to the slaughterhouse and I break out my bowie knives to help skin him. Earlier, when I shot him in the back, I was unable to remove the arrowhead and just unscrewed the arrow and left the tip in him. I pull that broadhead out from the inside where it broke through a large rib and then John steps in with a Ziploc bag and cuts out a huge fillet and puts it in the bag. I am getting a great dinner tonight. I laugh and tell him this will be the most expensive steak I have ever had. We get further down inside the bull and I discover the fletches and back part of my arrow are not there. Originally I thought perhaps the arrow broke inside him and both parts still came out, but on later reflection and some watching of the video I shot, the arrow came out and I guess it was trampled by the herd, breaking the end off and I do not recover it. Maybe one day they will find it out in the field, but I will be long gone by then.


Now that we have the buffalo opened up for an informal autopsy, we can do an analysis of the shot. I hit and broke a rib on the way in, went through both lungs, shot right through his heart and broke a rib on the way out. I could not have had a better shot. We head back to the lodge and I go shower up and try to do a little packing in advance of tomorrow so that I might have a little bit more time to hunt. I still don’t have Laci’s impala, but it is hard to not feel like I have already accomplished what I set out to do here. All cleaned up, I head over to the lodge for some dinner.

They bring me the fillet, some salt, pepper and spices. I have not cooked once since I arrive here but I want to do the honors on this fillet. It is absolutely delicious. I love steak, but this thing is so big that I cannot possibly finish it and I share with everybody else.

We talk, we swap stories and tell jokes for hours. It is a wonderful way to cap what has been the best vacation of my life. I do still need some horns for Laci, but hope to get them in the morning.


Later in bed, I am looking over what I have done here and adding up the numbers. It looks like I will have donated five thousand pounds of meat to the poor in Africa on this trip. The poor don’t have refrigerators and freezers for long term storage of perishable food, so it must be made into jerky. The meat is taken to a local church that handles that part of the process and many of the members of the church donate time and energy to make and distribute the food. Unfortunately, I will not be able to get pictures of this. I suspect that if every hunting photo on Facebook also came with photos of all the underfed children in Africa getting free food, there would be a different opinion of trophy hunting back home. This is one side of hunting that the anti-hunters just don’t see or understand and that is really unfortunate. The giraffe alone provided 1,985 pounds of meat. That is nearly twenty thousand McDonald’s hamburgers, if you convert it into McUnits of food.


It is very easy for me to see how much hunting has contributed to South Africa. The revenue, jobs created and food provided for the locals are all substantial. It has also done a remarkable job of preserving these magnificent animals, whose populations have exploded in South Africa as so many more acres have been put into conservation efforts to support the industry. I also feel that it is difficult to truly appreciate some of these animals like the Cape buffalo until you try and hunt it for days on end. Although I have a couple hours left to hunt in the morning, I can sense the finality of this trip and am beginning to miss it before I have even left.

 

[mrpoindexter]

OUT OF AFRICA – Day 9 Saturday, August 20, 2016


I sleep like a brick but am still up at 6:30 and wide awake. I finish packing as quickly as possible. I still need Laci’s impala and want as much time as possible.


I head to breakfast and Trish tells me Tannie Pikkie has made something special for me. I wonder what it is as I walk through the door and Wow! Swedish pancakes. I had mentioned the other day they were my favorite. She made them a little bit different than my mother’s recipe, adding cinnamon but they are still delicious.

Mouth full of pancake, I look to my left and just over the bar in the lodge is a thatch roof inside the room and there are dozens of arrows in it. Each client has left an arrow from their trip as a thank you tradition and so I take the second arrow I put into the buffalo and sign the fletch and put it in on the far end above all the others. I laugh and tell John he can always find my arrow because it is high and to the right.

We head to the water hole to see if we can find impala. A couple hours pass and kudu, nyala and warthog come by, but we see only one impala – an old female past her birthing years that is blind in one eye. Female impala have no horns but I have no more time – we have to go very soon.


John asks me to put her down (no charge for this animal, of course) and I nock an arrow. As soon as I draw, she rotates and I have to wait. Eventually I get an angle and shoot her. She makes it about thirty yards and quickly dies. I pose for a photo. This is not a “trophy” shot but documenting the wildlife management that comes with responsible hunting. Even old impala are excellent meat and this one will go to the staff at Greatland. It should provide a lot of meat for France, Johannes and the two maids who I saw but never got to talk to or learn their names.

We load up and I leave tips for the maids and then say my goodbyes to France and Johannes personally and give them their tips. I say my goodbye to Trish and had said my farewells to the rest of the family the night before.

Before we go to the airport, we stop by Cambanos & Sons in Johannesburg for souvenirs. I see the type of mount I want to do for both the zebra and the giraffe but don’t know if my animals were skinned properly for that kind of mount. I take a picture to research later, buy some trinkets and head to the airport. I have something for everybody now but unfortunately I did not get impala horns for Laci. Then again – maybe I can get her a better gift. I am coming back to Africa next year for another safari. Maybe I can let her get her own horns.

At the airport, I tell John it has been a pleasure and was a first for me as I had never hunted before and I had the time of my life. John tells me “It was a first for me too” and I look at him with a puzzled expression on my face as he continues, “I have never had a client who has never hunted before in his life.” He says the reason I did so well is that I listened – so many hunters come out and don’t listen to the advice from their PH because they have hunted before and assume that Africa will be the same as hunting deer in America.


I look forward to hunting with John again in the future. He tells me he will come out to Eland Safaris next year to say hello and meet my family. And I got one more trophy that I was not expecting to on this trip – a lifelong friend.


I check my bags, get through security and sit down to look over what I did on this trip. I bought my first bow on March 16 of this year. Five months later, having never hunted before and never having been to Africa, I came and took down one of the Big Five with a single shot from a bow. I ate wonderful food, met great people and learned new customs. I also spent ten days without Facebook, texting, email, the Internet, television or even a phone aside from a couple calls home to let my family know I was safe and tell my daughter not to worry – the buffalo didn’t get daddy. I chased wild animals for miles and miles through rough ground, donated meat equivalent to fifty thousand McDonald’s hamburgers to the poor and had the time of my life.


As I sit on the plane, I wish I had somebody to talk to about my adventures. I look around but everybody is wearing headphones and either immersed in a TV screen or a game on their phone, tablet or computer. I guess I am back in the real world now, but how real is it? I already miss Africa and can’t wait to come back.

 

[cpr0312]

Thanks for sharing the final installment, I have enjoyed it!