SOUTH AFRICA: First Blood Package With Bushwack Safaris

[Wheels]

Congratulations on your hunt.

Enjoying the detail you are providing.

Looking forward to the rest.

All the best.

 

[ArmyGrunt]

Thank you all for the kind words. Sorry I messed yesterday, but I guess that keeps your suspense up!

 

[Bobpuckett]

Great start to a great hunt nice Wildebeest congrats can't wait to read the rest.

 

[ArmyGrunt]

Day 3 - A Surprise Attack

I got to sleep in a bit today...530! Of course, I was awake before the alarm, yet again. That always seems to happen when I have to rise early. I got myself together, and was downstairs by 615. I might have dragged my feet a little bit...
Our tracker was to arrive at 7, but African time is a little different. It's more of a guideline than a rule. He and the cleaners, three women, arrived about ten after the hour. After a brief discussion between Erik (tracker) and Patrick about the planned animals, we departed. It wasn't about 200m from the lodge area that we spotted the first impalas at the end of a trail to the right. There were 3 ewes and 1 ram. It took me a few moments to identify the ram. With the sun above and behind him, and slightly behind some branches, he was tough to pick out. This one is a non-shooter because he is alone with the ladies, and apparently a good breeder. I forgot all about the camera in my pocket, and missed a really nice photo.
A short while later I noticed two tan animals walking left to right at the end of where I could see. The others had seen them a few meters before I did. Those tan critters were red hartebeests. One bull with two young and four cows. Still no shot, but amazing to see them running wild. I'm starting to think there will be a bunch to see today. Walking farther, twisting this way and that, and changing our course as the wind demanded brought us down into a creek bed. As we climbed back out we all froze at the same time. Standing there, unaware, and not more than 20 yards in front of us is a blue wildebeest cow munching on grass. Off to the left, behind a row of trees are two more, plus one bull. I pulled my camera from my pocket and stole two pictures, grateful for having cut the beep that most digital cameras make when the shutter functions. Patrick told me not to move so fast as I tucked away the digital camera. He set up the tripod, and pointed out the bull. At this point I wasn't familiar with the color of the forehead hair as a difference between gender. As I crept up to my right, and moved the rifle to its rest one of the cows snorted, then ran a few steps. Someone else made the same noise. Then I saw the bull drop his head, grunt, and run away with the rest of the group. The grunt sound is similar to when you blow your nose, and it starts to buzz. That would be the last we saw of them for the morning.
The next thing we walked up on, which was quite a while later, is a herd of impala ewes. I was thinking no one else had noticed them, so I snapped my fingers twice. Probably not the right sound to make, as they all seemed to look right at us. It turned out to be not a bug deal, since the only ram in the group was nowhere near mature. His horns may have been six inches long at most.
We walked on for about an hour more without much happening. I took some photos anyway. The tracker started to seek out a warthog who hadn't been gone from the area for long. His tracks and dung were still fresh. Unfortunately, it went into some thick bush where we couldn't follow. Erik reported all the animals seemed to be heading toward the water hole on the other side of cam. My guides decided to go in for lunch and a rest. Lunch was a warthog burger and fries. Anywhere you go fries are fries, even though some call them chips....it's odd to hear them called that, but I think we're the only ones using the term fries. The vlakvark burger was terrific! We chatted for a bit, then I napped in the wicker chair on the patio.
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Step off was at 3, and we left right on time. They decided we'd take the bakkie, and old Willy's Jeep, and drive around the property until we saw something, then stalk it for a shot. Schalk was driving, and Erik and Patrick were in the back. It was insisted that I sit in the front. I was raised to let the elders sit up front, so again I was feeling awkward. I decided to give a try hunting wearing my FiveFingers shoes. Everyone says they are weird, but I'm not offended. Even my friends often say that. I love these things!

(I may have just bought two more pairs yesterday)
Thirty minutes our, and after spotting several kudu bulls, Schalk pointed out some blue gnus. Looks like these may by lucky shoes... We ditched the jeep, and flanked them to the left. I found it very interesting that the basic Infantry tactics I learned years ago for ambush work equally well for hunting animals. We picked out a bull off to the left, bu he had been looking at us. We were hidden behind a tree. This is going to be a shot through a bunch of branches. As I set up on the sticks he is looking dead on, right in my direction. He turned, and move a ways into the woodline. I could still see his side, but then he stepped away into the tress, and took the herd with him. We tried to follow them, but the group had vanished like a fart in the wind. Lucky shoes? Maybe not.
We drove around a bit longer, but we didn't see much. Patrick spotted another wildebeest behind a bush, but it was gone before I could see it. We walked a bit farther, and found some more blue wildebeests. There was one very young calf, another slightly older with horns straight up, and six or eight cows. We watched for a while, but no bull was found. Back to the bakkie with us. Continuing the roving search we came up to a point where the fence between this property and the next bordered the favorite shade trees of some cape buffalo. There were five of them hiding from the sun. Lovely creatures, but they look perpetually angry. Several cows and one bull were standing in the shade. I took several great photos. Monetary aspect aside, I don't think I want to hunt this animal. It's just not an interest for me.

Schalk drove the old Jeep down into the dry riverbed, but couldn't get out the other side. He said the 4x4 hasn't worked in a couple of years. After several attempts to race up and out, he relented and went back the way we came in. We'll have to go around. I took a picture as we started in, but decided not to get the video of it. One of those "shoulda" moments, as it would have been comical to revisit!

At this point I was starting to give up hope for the day. We hadn't seen anything in quite some time. We looked left. We looked right. We looked at the trail ahead. Nothing. Hardly even birds. Are we really just done? I was starting to feel disappointed. We only had about an hour and a half left until we couldn't shoot anymore. The law here says one hour before sunset hunting must stop, with a few exceptions.
Schalk jumped on the brakes. On my right, not 15m off the road, and staring at me was a red hartebeest. I wasn't expecting to shoot off the bakkie, so I pulled up my nearly-dead pocket camera. That aggravating thing took so much time thinking about what type of picture it would take that I couldn't capture his face.

"You don't want to shoot him?" Schalk asked me. "I didn't know we would shoot from the bakkie," I replied. "You can get out," he answered back.
Patrick and I stepped off, Erik in tow. We entered the bush, or jesse as it's called here, and went about twenty yards in. The beast was spotted around a bush to the left. The tripod went up. I shoved my earplugs in place, and swung up to settle on the rest. "Do you have a clear shot?" Patrick asked. "I do. Hit the shoulder, right?" "Yes," he said, and my safety went off. H e was quartered away from me, and looking right. I see no wobble in the sight. The zoom had been set to 6x, paralax about 75 yards. I recheck my safety switch. "Do you have a shot?" Patrick asks again. "I do," I said with confidence. Take it!"
BOOM! The rifle reports loudly. I felt no recoil this time. I think I hear the THUMP of the impact. I step off the sicks, and reload. The spent case finds its way into my pocket as Patrick dashes a few paces ahead. The shot felt great. How on earth can he run away? No wind in the heavy foliage. What the hell?
We look down onto the trampled grass. Blood! Perfect! Another few drops over there. And again. Patrick tells Erik to start tracking. Short work for this one. The large bull only made it about forty yards or less before collapsing. Well done! There is a wound on his left shoulder with blood and bubbles.

He's moving around slowly, agonal movements, agonal breathing: his time is near. This looks like a shot to the heart, and I'm to blame. (For all the Bon Jovi fans reading this). (It literally was a shot to the heart. The top two chambers were missing)
As we position the fresh kill to get picture, we find the entrance wound. It is slightly rear from where Patrick wanted it, but the angle was perfect. One shot. One kill. The Infantry way. Pictures take, we load my quarry into the back of the Jeep, and head to the skinning shed.

A large herd of impala were crossing the road ahead of us in a hurry. They're headed to the water hole. I put bullets back into my recently cleared rifle, and hoped for a ram to walk slowly across our path. No such luck. He's sprinting quickly to his destination. Oh well, good hunt either way.
Erik and his two skinner friends were much quicker than the guys who cleaned my black wildebeest yesterday. Under an hour and the whole task was complete. The head and cape, and the back skin were salted, and rolled up. The carcass was gutted and rinsed. Everything went into the freezer with my other trophy. Time to go back, and get cleaned up for dinner. Potato wedges, carrots, rice and warthog pie. Orange juice and Fanta orange to drink. Marie-Lo, Schalk's wife, is a great cook. She made peppermint crisp tart for desert. I had my doubts, because I am not a fan of mint, but the mint was hardly noticed. Another delicious dish in my belly!

 

[ActionBob]

Nice hartebeest Grunty! Love 4be coloring. Keep filling us in, loving the report, but hate the shoes.

 

[ArmyGrunt]

Don't hate the shoes! It's like going barefoot. I just don't have to worry about getting my feet torn up. Plus, they were far more quite than my Blackhawk boots.

 

[woods1126]

Excellent report. Thanks for sharing, and thank you for your service. Kevin

 

[huntermn15]

Great report, I'm really enjoying the read and photos. Your giving me something to strive for in my report next year.

 

[ActionBob]

BTW, great pics of those buff! Just Wow! Do you know how special it is to get that close?

 

[ArmyGrunt]

Thanks, ActionBob. Those are my two favorite pics of the buff. Tho, it didn't feel that special to get close. It happened the different days, and there was a fence. They seemed more like cattle to me, but the tracker (Erik) wanted to walk a path behind a row of trees instead of directly adjacent to them! Also, one of the skinners said they charged him while he was driving by in the Jeep. I guess they really don't give a f***! Bunch of meanies...

 

[ActionBob]

Grunt;
When you speak of cape buffalo being cattle, it makes me think of Johnny Cash's song, "Ghost Riders in the Sky".... Red eyed cows of the devils herd!

 

[enysse]

ArmyGrunt, I feel the same about cape buffalo.

 

[accipiter]

That is a fine Hartebeest. Waiting for more ...

 

[ArmyGrunt]

Thanks! I'm most proud of that one, both for its rack and the shot placement.
And sorry for the wait. I've had to do that annoying work thing again....more this weekend!

 

[accipiter]

I wrote an executive summary hunt report for my first safari, but I prefer your writing style because it puts the reader into the shoes of the hunter.

 

[ArmyGrunt]

Thank you. I enjoy reading the first person style fiction books the best. I think that is where my style is derived. Plus, the reports I have to write at work multiple times daily almost HavE to be done that way. For this, I thought it wold be much more enjoyable for you all to see things from my perspective.

 

[Sable123]

Great report @ArmyGrunt really enjoy reading it and a fantastic Haartie congrats!! Its so nice to get the perspective and inside thoughts of a hunter coming to Africa for the first time. These types of reports are invaluable especially the detail you have included because Outfitters and other PHs read them and can learn from your highs and lows and will ultimately offer a better service because of it. I am hoping to have my own Outfitting business one day and I draw as much information as possible from these posts, so thanks again for such a good report and attention to the fine detail. Keep it coming!

All the best
Jono

 

[Sand Rat]

Love the horn shape of your hartebeest, keep it coming.

 

[bluey]

nice bell on the hartebeest ,grunter .
them bigfoot wanna be stalking boots ,leave a bit to be desired ,give me thorns in my socks anyday .

 

[ArmyGrunt]

Day 4 - Good times and bad

Wake up is at 530 again, and I managed to sleep until the alarm sounded. Indeed, I recall I was dreaming about hunting a baboon, and the alarm cut rudely through the dream, pulling my into reality. I laid there with my eyes closed, hoping that sound wasn't real. Maybe if I stayed really still it'll just go away. No such luck. The second tone of my alarm went off, signalling the end of my rest. Finally I started moving, my eyes still dry and heavy. I realized I hadn't moved at all during the night, except to pull up the covers. It was a very good rest earned after a hard day of hunting. I got dressed, and checked my lucky shoes, but they were still wet from the washing last night. Looks like desert boots it is. Breakfast is bananas, mango juice, orange juice and another delicious warthog burger. So good!
We were back in the bakkie at seven. Today it's a small Suzuki. It didn't take a half an hour before I spotted an impala ewe through some trees. I called for the truck to stop and reverse. Now Patrick could see it, too. We ditched the truck and started to stalk up. Schalk took my digicam to get video of the hunt. He did this several times this morning. We hid behind a bush, and then started our approach. These impala have remarkably keen vision, and spotted us early. The herd took off in a rush toward the left. We only saw one ram in the whole bunch, but it was a young one. Back to the truck with us.
Further up the trail about a half mile, Schalk somehow saw a blue wildebeest through the VERY thick foliage. Cautiously and quietly we stepped out of the truck. Patrick tried falling out instead, but caught himself partway out, preventing an embarrassing meeting with the dirt. Following Erik's lead we made our approach. We sneak around to the left. Then to the right. The back to the left. The wind isn't playing very nice today. Patrick spotted a bull standing in the open. I'm behind a thick tree, but we set up the tripod. The bull is looking straight at me.

No sooner did I get my eye in the scope and lock on, someone let out a grunt on the left, and the herd ran away yet again. I turned and looked over my right shoulder as a large one went dashing past u s at the sixty yards range. Crap...foiled again. We followed some tracks for about twenty minutes, but no signs of moving animals could be found. We retreated to the bakkie once more, and continued the drive.
We spotted another bull standing off in the distance. The truck stopped again, and I glanced at my watch: 812. We're doing well this morning. Hiding behind a bush we sneak up. Someone got alerted, and what we thought was a lone bull, which I was told to shoot if I found a shot, turned out to be the herd we spooked earlier. They again run away to me left. I went ahead and shot anyway. I shot at several of them. I shot a video!! One more trip tho the bakkie.
A short distance later we spotted them again. 828. Erik got to work on following the herd, and we quickly found them. Schalk stayed with the truck. This time, it seems like they have forgotten all about us. Patrick sets up the tripod behind a branch. The sun is overhead behind us. I can see three blue gnu grazing in a clearing. Another one starts to walk from left to right. The walker is a nice bull. Tho two with their heads down, tails facing us are suspected bulls. Two of them disappeared behind some cover. The one male suspect remains, but his tail is still facing me. He's keeping his head down. 849. We've been watching this beast for seventeen minutes. Finally he raised his head, and turned slowly broadside. Patrick says, "Nice bull. Good spread." I ask, "Do you like it? Take the shot?" "Yes," he replies, giving me the go ahead to complete my Beest slam. This is about to make the third beest on the third day.
Safety off. I adjust the rifle to put a little more pressure against the sling behind my left elbow. My target is still in sight. No more wobble is seen in my scope, even at 10x magnification. Cross hairs are holding at the perfect position, a third of the way up the torso, directly above the front leg. One last breath, in and out. Squeeze slow and smooth. BANG! The 30-06 reports once more. I quickly reload, and put my eyes back on the bull. I saw him stumble, then get up and run to the right. The herd passed left and right a couple of times. Two stop in the clearing an look around. I can read their thoughts, "Where the hell did that come from? Where do I run?!" Finally, they settle on an exit, stage left.
It was almost four minutes before the herd departed the scene. Erik takes of in the direction of the spot where I shot my prize. Then it's Patrick, and me in the rear. My eyes hardly moving from the spot where it happened. My bull's ground zero. We got close to the area, and split up. Erik walked right, Patrick left. I went straight in, getting closer to the sport where he was shot. Scanning left and right I'm not finding any signs of blood in the grass. "Over here!" Patrick calls out. He found my bull lying twenty yards or less from where he was hit. It's another small bodied bull, but he has a wide spread and big bosses.

Erik went back to the lodge to get two helpers and the jeep, while Schalk, Patrick and i set up for pictures. At the skinning shed, I found out I hit its stomach and one lung. It's strange to find out that its stomach is large enough to take up the majority of its abdominal cavity. The time of the shot was 851. We were finished at the shed, and back at the camp by 1030. Erik said he was hungry, so he cleaned up the heart and went home to cook it. Patrick and I had eggs on toast with minced beef. Another great meal.
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We were back in the game by 1430, in the Jeep to search from more critters to hunt. Stephen is driving this time. We started by taking the trails around the perimeter, but he decided to drive straight through the middle of the jesse to get us closer to the impalas. Slippery little devils with their keen eyes, they spotted us each and every time we came anywhere close. Setting up a shot is nearly impossible, and always futile. Getting into the jesse is a great benefit though. I was able to get some nice pictures of kudu and blue wildebeest. They all seem fully unconcerned with our presence, and we were very close several times.

The impala ewe herd we kept finding with some regularity. At one point we could see two of them standing broadside, staring us down. One could never ask for a better shot.

too bad, they didn't have horns...After a few moments, the herd ran again, with one ram passing briefly. This was likely the ram I saw on my first morning here. We saw three warthogs running through the trees across the river bed. No possibility to get to these, or even ID them as male or female. As we continued I saw them once more, but still running. The search continued....
The first night I arrived there were some kudu feeding from the hay stands across the fiver bed from the lodge. They show up each night. That night, they were joined by a single waterbuck bull. I was told that there is a big bull on the farm that has been giving the other bulls trouble. They say this mean bull has been sought after for some time, but he always escapes. One hunter spent two weeks looking for him, and had zero luck.
While driving around seeking impala we saw this troublesome bull standing just off the trail. He didn't seem to care we were there, ans slowly moseyed into the foliage. Patrick told me this was the mean one. I turned around and said, "How about we trade what i have left for this one?" as we continued on the path. I could see the numbers being crunched behind his furrowed brow as he considered the idea. Stephen slowed down as Patrick replied, "Okay, sharp. Let'd do it."
Quickly, we slipped out of the bakkie and made a plan to stalk him. I could still see his silhouette behind a bush and some branches. Slow and steady we creep in closer. He's very tall. Between him and us are some waist-high patches of grass, and one dead bush. Patrick and i sneak up to the the bush. My thought is to leave him and high crawl around just a little more to open my shot some. As I wait for him to consider if we should more, I continue looking through my sights. And thin it happened....Murphy showed his ugly mug, and my bull bolted off to the left into the trees. Erik saw him come back to the right, so we tried to catch his tracks. That sneak bastard went down into the river bed, and up the other side. Another animal has evaded me. Our discussion afterward made me even more frustrated for several reasons: my heavy 180 grain bullet likely would have gone past the branches and made contact. I'm told the waterbuck isn't a very tough animal, and if shocked in the body in the right spot (the shoulder, which I could see very well) it likely would have fallen. Patrick says they don't run far when hit. Then the biggest frustrating detail of all. The land owner wants this mean bull to be eliminated, but in seven months no on has been able to get close to it.We did, and I didn't take the shot. Plus, we didn't try to chase him more than five minutes. I was bitter and angry for some time after. This truly is the one that got away, but we set a plan to try and catch it again tomorrow.
So the search continued. We drove around to a place where there are ruins built with only large stones, no mortar. This place is as large as the lodge area with all the small chalets. The history lesson revealed that the women of the Matabeles tribe carried the stones all the way to this site. The Matabeles tribe spanned a range of 400 miles, all the way up to Zimbabwe. Patrick is full of historical knowledge. Today, the ruins are NOT full of the warthogs that frequent the area.

Some time later, Stephen noticed some warthogs off to the right about 200m. Up went my scope as my butt hit the dirt beside the bakkie. Zooming in all the was to 10x, I could see three pigs. It's easy to see why some have posted on this site about being mistaken about the tusks, and shooting juveniles. The white hair on their cheeks looks like tusks in the glare of the sun. No shooters here, bu t I stowed my rifle, ans stalked closer to get some clearer pictures.

It turned out to be a group of five pigs. It's funny to watch them on their knees rooting for food. The sun is going down. Not much longer before we have to stop hunting.
Stephen spotted an impala ram on the left. Se stopped, and I placed my earplugs. For some reason, I went around the front of the jeep, left of the tripod. Crap, he saw me. Another escapee. A few minutes later another ram saw us and fled. We only saw him as he jumped over a shrub and into the thick stuff. A few more minutes, and maybe a half mile, and we saw the last herd of the day. This time, I went around the back of the truck. The bush was at such a height I had to take a knee to see the impala. I didn't wrap my sling behind my elbow this time."Do you see them?" Patrick asks. "Ewe. Ewe. Ram!" I answer back. "If you have a shot, take the shot," he says with authority.
Click, click. My safety goes off. I can see the wobble in my scope. "Why didn't I wrap the sling?" I ask myself. I see an ewe beside my ram. She speeds up, and goes to the right. She's behind the foliage. My ram is just about out of sight. I don't want to go back with empty hands, so I squeeze the trigger faster than i should have. BANG! goes the rifle for the second time today. My first thought was not one of confidence, but disappointment. We rushed over to where the ram was standing. Searching to and fro, and through the high grass we found no trace of blood. My disappointment was confimred. I missed the shot altogether.
We loaded up on the bakkie, and head toward the lodge. We had to pass by the skinning shed. Waiting for our arrival to see my latest kill is Schalk, Christian, and Leon. When I saw they were looking my way, I hung my head. My face was covered, and I said, "Don't look at me. I missed it." Of course, they laughed at me, but who wouldn't? We gave them the short story of the waterbuck, and Schalk said they saw that bull not 45 minutes prior at the waterhole by the skinning shed.
Dinner was a minced blue wildebeest dish with onions called "boboti,"rice and bread made with corn in the dough. All in all, very tasty. I don't care for corn, but the bread wasn't bad either.
After dinner, we set out in Patrick's truck with the .22 rifles looking for a jackal and rabbits. Apparently, they don't eat rabbits around here, so I'm going to make hare brai (bbq rabbit). We never saw any jackals, but did bag one rabbit. Christian was interested in learning how to clean it, so I gave a lesson. At the same time, I learned how to remove the skin, if you want to keep it. I typically just toss the fur and head, and keep the meat.
Shower at midnight, wake up at 530. We're planning an early attempt to find that pesky waterbuck bull. I hope it plays out well. I'll be wearing my "lucky shoes."