Part 4 - Hunting Day 4
Today was the day; we had learned that the old bull Giraffe we had spotted was indeed on quota. He was easy to pick out of the herd being the biggest and darkest of the lot. We were going to start searching where we had seen them last and make our way up the valley until we located them.
It was overcast, misty and cold and the area we were searching was heavily forested becoming almost jungle like the higher up the valley walls one went. It made for a bit of an intimidating scenario. The birds and monkeys were ramped up to 100 adding to the creepy feel of the valley.
I don’t often get nervous during a hunt, but I admit I had a few goosebumps on this one. The sheer size of the animal is what was doing it. I was using my .338 Lapua with a 225 grain Barnes TTSX moving just short of light speed. I knew it had the energy and the Barnes bullets are legendary for their penetration and unfailing expansion but let’s face it a Giraffe is a bloody big animal.
After speaking with Chris at length he assured me the .338 would be sufficient but to keep in mind this animal had a massive circulatory system and anything other than a head shot would not likely result in a one shot drop. Keep shooting until it is on the ground was the mantra I kept repeating to myself.
We finally managed to find the herd of Giraffe tucked away in the valley fairly high up on the slopes of the valley wall. It was not a good position. The bush was thick and there was no way to get any kind of motorized vehicle anywhere near to them to get the meat out. We decided we would try to push them down lower and closer to the valley mouth. Sammie and the other tracker went high and we put ourselves in a position to discourage them from going deeper into the valley. The plan worked well and they were soon putting distance between us on their way towards more open territory. We followed as quickly as possible trying to keep pace and find a position to ambush them on their way out.
The herd reached the valley floor and we moved into a position where we thought they might present a shot and set up. The herd emerged from the mist like dinosaurs lumbering through the trees.
No shot, they knew where we were before we did and kept themselves safely tucked behind the trees as they continued to move toward the open grassland.
We continued to follow on foot. Again we set up and they would not provide a shot so again we followed. The herd stopped just on the edge of the trees and the big bull separated himself from the rest of the herd presenting a shot. This was it, I was on the sticks. I was trying to overlay a mental image of the “Perfect Shot” page on the Giraffe as I settled the crosshair in for a heart shot. The trigger broke clean and the shot felt good. The impact sounded like a clap of thunder and Chris called the hit. You really know when you hit one of these animals. I racked the bolt for a second shot but the rest of the herd went left as he bolted right. No shot….
We took off at a dead run, the priority at this point was getting another round in him. After a short sprint I was back on the sticks and let a shot go as he was quartering away heading for the hills. Another hit. The big bull kept going so off we went. Even mortally wounded he was putting a lot of distance between us. The herd dropped down through a washout and out into the grasslands, the bull was pulling up the rear and slowing down. The rest of the herd disappeared over a hill and he was about to follow when he turned head on to us and stopped. I asked Chris for the sticks, it was 400 yards but I knew I could make the shot and he had a really big vital zone. I settled onto the sticks put the crosshair on his chest and let a third shot go. Another hit and still standing. The next round was in the chamber and I let it go center chest. Apparently four was the magic number; the big bull teetered and went over like a redwood at the base of the hill. I have never been so relieved in my life. Images of a Giraffe suffering a slow painful death were beginning to take over my thoughts.
We made our way over to the Giraffe. They are truly enormous to a guy who was used to whitetail deer and moose. It took a while to sink in as we sat on the rocks waiting for Chris and Sammie to find a way to get the bakkie through the rocky grassland.
The people started to show up a little while later, word had spread quickly and a work crew showed up to help with the field dressing and skinning. It took quite the crew of us and the winch on Chris’ truck to right the animal and get him “photo ready”.
The lodge manager and his family all showed up shortly after. Everyone took turns getting pictures with the big fella. I guess Giraffe didn’t often get taken in this area. It turned into quite the event.
Sammie and his crew managed to get the Giraffe broken down and it was around 4 hours later when we loaded the last quarter into the truck.
Since we still had time in the day we made our way over to the North side of the mountain where there was some old San rock art. It was incredible to stand where they stood under the rocky ledge looking out over the grasslands and even after all these years their drawings were clear as day on the rocks.
The rest of the evening was spent taking pictures of the area as the sun set. It was a magnificent end to a magnificent day.