May 27, 2018 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Namibia: 2017
A Dream Come True
By Michael Clavel
It’s April 2017.
Ninety minutes south-east of Windhoek airport, Namibia, is Bergzicht Game Lodge, a ranch owned by Hannes and Geraldine du Plessis. Three generations of family are there – my wife and I, and two daughters, all at the invitation of my parents-in-law, experienced hunters who have hunted pretty much everywhere in the world.
Today is the third day of our safari. We’re on the road with our guide Steph Joubert and trackers Obed and Fessy, and we are still searching for sable antelope or southern greater kudu. We spot a couple of kudu standing on the side of the mountain before us, but, “Too young,” say the trackers. They could make great trophies for someone in the future. We had arranged with Hannes to only take the most beautiful trophies.
At a bend in the path, we come across a red lechwe, a beautiful animal, its bright tawny coat gleaming in the sunlight. I manage to photograph it just before it disappeared into the bush. Later in the day we would also come across several other species of antelope: hartebeest, impala, springbok, blue wildebeest, black wildebeest, and steenbok. At the end of the morning, we see a herd of sable. Observing silently, we hope to catch a glimpse of the large male we are looking for… but after several minutes of glassing, we find there are only females and young.
At mid-day we return to camp for a delicious lunch and siesta. Having recently bought a drone, I took advantage of the moment of calm to send it over some of the area to look for different species of animals that I could film or photograph.
A mid-afternoon recce had us hoping that today would be the day. We know that time is of the essence, as the sun sets about 5.30 p.m. and so make for the direction of the sable group we saw in the morning. Under a scorching sun, we’re grateful for the slight wind that cools us down. At our destination we begin searching for sign that will help to find a great trophy sable or kudu. We see an impressive warthog, but decide not to shoot for fear of possibly spooking any sable that could fulfil our hopes. Sunset is not far off, and we know that time is not on our side. We have to be quick.
We emerge from the bush to see our trackers indicating a Sable bull right in the center of the plain.
1. “It’s a magnificent male,” our guide Steph says, binos to his eyes. “But we need to be very careful. The terrain is very open, and we are in a bad place with the swirling wind.” With some difficulty, we manage to work our way through the grasses and holes in the ground. We get closer, and judging by Stephan’s smile, this must be a big one. Another two to three hundred yards to go, and my heart is beating hard, my mouth dry. Steph looks back at me. “I’ve lost it,” he says. Had the sable caught our scent? We continue the stalk, advancing slowly. Steph thinks it has settled down for the night… After crawling along for several yards we lift our heads but still see nothing. Nothing, that is, except what I think is a branch above the grass. I point out this large, curved branch to Steph. It’s him! He’s about 90 yards from us, lying down, immobile, obviously relaxed.
We hide behind a nearby bush, within firing distance. The animal is still lying down, unmoving, and I can now make out the top of its head and its back. I’m in position, ready. We’re waiting for it to get up, not wanting to fire on an animal lying down. My heart is pounding. After several minutes of waiting, Steph indicates that it would be better to move to the other side of the bush. As we do so, to my horror we see that our sable is up. In the time it takes me to shoulder my .300 W.M. my trophy is speeding off at a rapid pace, only its rear end and horns visible.
Disillusion. Disappointment. I was so confident that my dream was within reach. But we must continue, even though my heart is no longer in it… It’s difficult to start all over again. Then suddenly, and right in front of us, a majestic kudu bursts into a run. Steph indicates with his stick that I can shoot, as it would be a wonderful trophy. Still upset, with images of the sable filling my head, I didn’t shoot.
We continue through the plain without any sign of the large bull, although we walk in the general direction of its escape. There’s still enough light, and after 500 yards the trackers make a sign – the sable is lying down a hundred yards from us, at the foot of some dense bushes. We’re in position, calm and unhurried. Steph whistles to make the animal get up… but it doesn’t move. After several more whistles, it jumps up and whirls around. I’m ready, and have its back in my sights. It flashes through a bush – I see it, then I don’t. As it bolts out of the bushes I have it in my sights, and take the shot behind the shoulder. I see that it has been hit, but it continues to run, stopping eventually behind another bush before dropping. It was a killing shot!
He’s on the ground, beautiful, his abdomen and muzzle pure white, and the black of its coat shining in the setting sun. An immense trophy. The goal of my trip has been achieved… the dream.
Night has almost fallen and we take several photos to memorize the event. This awesome animal, of which I have dreamed for so long, will take its place of honor in my trophy room, and will remind me forever of this fabulous afternoon that almost didn’t happen.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”14934,14935,14936″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
May 23, 2018 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]South Africa: 2017
Top of my Bucket List – Cape Buffalo
By Dave Brodhagen
Cape buffalo. Big, mean, and unpredictable. Hunting this animal may not be your cup of tea, but I had waited a lifetime.
For as long as I can remember, my heart had been set on hunting one African animal. All the stories I had read of famous hunters like Robert Ruark, and Ernest Hemingway had pointed me in only one direction – the cagey and dangerous Cape buffalo.
Over the last eight years I have travelled to Namibia, and to the Limpopo Province South Africa, escorting groups of hunters while fulfilling my own hunting dreams. In 2015, I attended the African Hunting Gazette show in Toronto, as a customer. Some outfitters I recognized; others were new, and fortunately I could sit with each and review the options for my next trip.
Finally, I ended up at the Hunting Safari South Africa booth, and immediately felt at home. The PHs there answered every question. Some answers I already knew, but I wanted to hear their responses. Although new to the safari industry, this outfitter was well established in game breeding and tourism, and apparently, they had a good stock of mature Cape buffalo.
Our nine-day hunting safari started in May 2017. Five of our group were from central Ontario and two from Nova Scotia, Canada. We met in Toronto for our twenty-hour flight to South Africa.
The first night we stayed at The Afton Safari Lodge close to OR Tambo International. After a peaceful night’s sleep and a full English breakfast, we met our friendly hosts, head PH Louis De Bruyn and dangerous-game PH Wessel Scholman from Hunting Safari South Africa. Excitement was high for the upcoming hunt.
On our way to the hunting lodge, we stopped at Trophy Solutions Africa in Polokwane, capital of the Limpopo Province and met the owner Johan van der Merwe. We wanted to visit the facility where our trophies were to be processed. Dipping, tanning, and packing details would need to be reviewed before our trophies could be shipped to Canada. We were impressed with the professionalism, right from reception to the finished taxidermy area, and left confident our trophies would be in good hands.
Approximately two hours later we arrived at the Hunting Safari South Africa camp. Tucked away in the bush, the lodge is beautifully decorated with hunting trophies and solid wooden furniture. We assembled in the main entrance where the staff welcomed us in true African style. Snacks and a toast to a successful hunt preceded the introductions of our group’s PHs for the week. In the morning, we would be up for an early breakfast and then off to the bush. Having arrived late in the evening we would have to sight in our rifles after breakfast.
Assuming I would have no further need of a big gun of my own, I had borrowed a .450 Ruger Number 1. After a few afternoons at the range I felt very confident. I had heard about the recoil of big guns, and I was surprised to find that it had little more kick than my Ruger .30-06. Zeroed in at 100 yards and equipped with a couple of dummy rounds, I practiced rapid firing from my shooting sticks. I knew I would need to be able to send off a quick second shot. Buffalo usually run when hit, are hard to knock down, and are extremely dangerous if wounded. So, I practiced and practiced. They say that dead buffalo kill a lot of hunters. I did not want to be on that particular list. The remaining six members of my group would be hunting plains game, and set out practicing with their rifles at 100 to 200 yards.
Our plan: Find the buffalo spoor; pursue on foot until I could get within shooting distance; place the bullet into the shoulder triangle, and the old Dagga Boy would drop… Well, that was the plan!
Our first day out, we checked some of the waterholes and roads for spoor. Abel, our tracker said that a very large Dagga Boy had frequently been seen in a dense section of bush to the west of us. Off we headed looking for a first glimpse. Unlike the more southern areas of the state, the bushveld was thick cover with only occasional open grassy areas.
I could see this hunt would be among the thorn bushes, giving little visibility. The uncertainty of what to expect from my quarry, and the fact that I had never used this rifle in an actual hunt situation left me unsure as to how this single shot rifle – and I – would perform. My anxiety grew with each step.
We soon found spoor that indicated a very large bull. The track was wide, and rounded on the front, distinctive among all the others. A pile of fresh dung splattered on the trail ahead alerted us – we were close. Wessel stuck his finger in the center of the dung. The warmth indicated that the bull wasn’t far ahead. Shiny and still warm, it confirmed his presence, and the direction he was headed. Two hours later we closed in on my Dagga Boy, but only once did we get a clear view of the animal. With heavy drooping horns with a wide boss, this lone bull was worth hunting.
Buffalo make a lot of noise as they push their way through the thorny bush, and this old boy was no exception. Occasionally we could hear him, snapping branches as he meandered through cover so thick, we could only catch glimpses of his dark form. I had hunted other parts of the Limpopo Province, but I soon found out that in this area, it is rare to find a bush, tree or plant without thorns.
By a sheer stroke of luck, we were forced to backtrack a few yards because of extra thick bush blocking our path. There he stood, through one of the rare openings in the bush, completely visible, ever so slowly moving away from us. The wind had been in our favor. Undetected, we stepped cautiously into a space between two bushes.
Wessel put up the shooting sticks. “He is broadside, take him on the shoulder,” he whispered. I settled the cross hairs onto the front shoulder. At eighty yards I hoped my typical grouping of two inches would drop the buffalo. As the adrenalin pumped, the recoil from the Ruger .450 seemed non-existent. Squarely, the bullet hit the shoulder. The buffalo turned and ran.
In spite of all the rapid reloading I had practiced, I did not have time to reach for the second shell before the buff turned, disappearing into the thick bush on the opposite side of the clearing.
We discussed the situation, waiting for a safe time before we followed him into the unknown. Excited, I was not sure if he was down, and until I saw him lying on the ground, I could not accept that the hunt was over.
Although with what appeared to be a solid hit, there was no blood. Nothing, except tracks to follow – three hours of slow, cautious tracking, before darkness settled in. I had read how tough these animals are – now I was finding out. We would have to abandon the search and come back in the morning.
As every hunter knows, when an animal is hit and not immediately recovered, the doubts begin. Was the shot good? Too far forward? Did the bull move? Right or wrong, every possible scenario goes through your head. Neels the hunting manager assured me we would find him in the morning.
Tough, this Dagga Boy was. For two full days we followed him through some of the thickest bush you can imagine. With temperatures nearly 30°C, shorts and a short-sleeved shirt seemed appropriate. Maybe not my best decision! My arms and legs were badly scratched, I even wondered if the buffalo, out of spite, had deliberately dragged us through the thorny brush. Many a time we knelt, peering under low-hanging bushes as small groups of buffalo ran by. A shift in the wind, then a flurry of legs and swishing tails would disappear into the dense bush beyond. We were thankful they were running the other way.
Fortunately for us, his track was so distinctive, that even in stony terrain we were able to eventually pick up the trail. Wessel and Abel, with the persistence of bloodhounds, stayed determined. When we thought the buff was lost, that single identifying spoor would magically appear. As the tracks disappeared over a small rise, it seemed our quarry was heading towards a nearby waterhole.
Finally, we spotted a black shape standing motionless about thirty yards away. Wessel glassed the buffalo. It was my bull. Cautiously, we positioned ourselves for what we hoped would be the finale. Wessel raised his Nitro .500 to his shoulder. “Can you see the vitals?”
Repositioned, I set my cross hairs on the shoulder. “Are you ready to shoot?” I asked Wessel. “After I shoot, you fire also.” At this distance I did not want to take any chances. I fired, and almost simultaneously I heard the bang of Wessel’s .500 nitro. Turning, the buffalo headed to his left, stopping even closer now, his head low behind a small bush. We expected him to charge. Slowly, we walked side by side toward the animal, trying to get a better angle. Ever aware, he waited, sizing us up. Wessel stood ready in case the bull charged. Quickly I focused the cross hairs onto the black body, and shot another 400-grain solid into the bull’s spine.
He dropped, and we listened for the death bellow. Confident that he would not get up, we approached. Not taking a chance, Wessel instructed me to put one more into the heart. Four .450 shots and one .500 nitro – who would have believed that one animal could be so tough!
To our amazement, we found that the initial bullet wound had scabbed over in only two days. Except for the droplets of blood leading down from the hole, little sign existed of him ever being hit.
Post mortem investigation showed that the original .450, 400-grain solid, had entered the shoulder, breaking two ribs and deflecting forward into the neck. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected that a bullet of that caliber and weight could be deflected. I am grateful to my PH Wessel and tracker Abel. They have by far been the best team a hunter could wish for, and I stand in awe of one of God’s most magnificent creatures.
An eventful week. Every evening the success stories of the other hunters were told around the campfire, and over the dinner table. For Ralph and Eleanor, their highlight was being chased from the bush by an irate Cape buffalo. For Alvin, it was the diversity of animals and the realization that his childhood dream to hunt in Africa had finally come true. Alvin had, as they say, caught the African bug, already talking about returning. Mike and Freda kept us laughing, and Julian kept us serious, each having successfully taken the animals of their dreams. What more could we ask for?
The experiences and pleasure of hunting with the Hunting Safari South Africa team will last in our memories for years to come.
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May 13, 2018 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Africa – from Canada with love.
By Thomas Schwanke
So you want to go on your first safari to Africa! You have dreamed about this as a small boy, watching “Daktari”, “National Geographic” specials, and the movie “The Ghost and the Darkness”. You built a tent by covering a table with a blanket, and your cat, dog and little brother become your predators and prey in the veld. You searched the horizon for Zulus, and hoped to meet up with the Bushmen trackers and Afrikaans professional hunters who would lead you to the wild beasties that Theodore Roosevelt would have wanted to hunt.
Reality Check: Time to grow up. “I can’t afford to go to the Dark Continent,” you think. “It’s dangerous.” You worry about malaria, ISIS and crocodiles. But let me tell you from experience, if there is a will there is a way! I’m a fisheries and wildlife technician by education and a plumber by trade. I’ve hunted and spearfished in many places around the world, and it can be done by a working man! Maybe you need to save for a couple years to go – but do it!
And this is what I have learned over a few safaris to that Dark Continent. Important: Consider who might go with you. Your wife, girlfriend, buddy or just yourself. If you can, go with someone who has been before. They can show you the ropes. Going with someone you know gives you a sense of security as well as comradeship traveling to a new destination.
First of all, do your research! Read everything you can on Africa, whether in printed form, like the African Hunting Gazette, or on the Internet. Watch hunting videos. Go to the African hunting shows like the one in Calgary, Alberta, and join SCI, Safari Club International. I asked David Little, Calgary chapter SCI president, what would he suggest to first-time hunters going to Africa. He said try to pay for your flight in points; that way your safari will cost about as much as a whitetail deer hunt in Saskatchewan. Don’t worry about jet lag; try to sleep on the plane so you can hit the ground running! Meet the outfitters and PHs at the hunting shows. Go to the SHOT show in Los Vegas, USA.
Talk to everyone, ask questions about everything. How far are you from the airport? What kind of animals might you see? Who are the indigenous people? Why are there bomas around camps? Do I need malaria pills? What caliber do you recommend for plains game, for dangerous game? What are the most challenging hunts you have done? What are the meals like? Speak to people who went there about their experiences. Savour what Africa has to offer. Learn about the different languages and cultures.
Make time for sightseeing and some shopping. I always enjoy going to Cape Town, visiting Two Oceans Aquarium, Victoria and Albert Market for curios, and seeing the views from Table Mountain! I always try to go great white shark diving when I’m in Africa – shark cage diving in Gansbaai near Hermanus, up close and personal! Experience one of the apex predators of the sea – that’s my rush!
Think of Cape Town as San Diego with a Dutch accent. I love hearing the Afrikaans language. Try new foods like sosaties, biltong, boerewors and meat pies. Visit Kruger or any of the other national parks.
Get in shape. Your hunt will be much more enjoyable if you are in good physical condition. I hate running, so I ride a mountain bike to get fit. My hunting buddy and I even used our mountain bikes to get into position far from the roads during our pronghorn antelope hunt in southern Alberta, and bikes can also be used in Africa. Note to self: Stay on the game paths. I had to push my bike back to the bakkie (pick-up truck) a couple of kilometres because of a plethora of cactus needles in the tires. Oh, by the way, everything in Africa has thorns, horns and stickers. If you don’t believe me, let me introduce you to the wag-n-bietjie (wait-a-bit) creeper and acacia tree full of spines!
Shoot. Shoot. Shoot! Are you taking your own gun or borrowing your PH’s?
If you decide to take your own rifle, make sure you have ALL your permits ahead of time before you fly. Know the rules each airline requires and have copies of your documents! There are hunting consultants who can help you through these hurdles.
I heard about a Canadian hunter who booked his flights himself, and when in Europe picked up his luggage from the carousel in the airport and proceeded to carry his cased rifle and luggage to the next flight terminal.
“Your EU gun papers, please,” asked the airport police. “No? Don’t have any? Then you will be our guest for a while!” The hunter missed his flight to Africa, was a guest of the state for about a week, and had to pay about $12,000 in fines and legal costs. Needless to say, he didn’t get to go on that safari!
What kind rifle does your PH have for you to use? Do you have one like it or do any of your friends? When I was hunting in South Africa I hunted with my friend Jeff Lister’s rifle, a Musgrave which is a Mauser 98 style rifle in a .30-06 Springfield caliber. We took this fine rifle to the range and I got to prove it and myself on multiple targets! The Musgrave rifle is the alpha and omega to the South African hunter, and I got to shoot it. It was true, and I only needed one bullet to bring down my springbok on a farm belonging to Jeff’s friend. The Mauser rifle is very familiar to me and I own a few of them. I also hunt most of my animals with a .30-06. You can use your favourite elk/ deer hunting rifle and caliber for hunting plains game such as kudu, waterbuck and gemsbok.
If you bring your own firearms make sure you ask your PH what bullets he recommends and practice with them. John Sharp told me he uses tried and true bullets on the hunt. When you want to see what the newest wizz-bang bullets do to your game, shoot the carcass to see the results. Too many time wild game is lost using experimental bullets. To many times wild game is lost using experimental bullets and marginal shots!
Listen to your PH, because if you shoot at an animal and there is a blood trail, then you are paying for that animal whether you retrieve it or not!
Practice. Practice. Practice! Learn to use steady sticks, and practice using them! Learn to shoot kneeling.
Don’t be afraid to learn the lingo – we all enjoy a sundowner or two and a braai after the hunt.
Study the animals you want to hunt, and know the location of the kill zone. The heart is lower on most African antelope. Read Kevin Robertson’s book, “The Perfect Shot: Shot Placement for African Big Game”. Check out africahunting.com for diagrams and targets.
If you can, get animal targets of the game you want to hunt, antelope, lion, etc. Practice shots on these from different positions.
T.J. Schwanky, of Outdoor Quest TV, told me to be careful of your muzzle direction. While you’re hunting, your PH, game scout, trackers and possibly government representatives are all milling about around you. With T.J., firearms safety is very important because he is trying to make a TV show as well as hunt.
Hunting in Africa is enjoyable but will cost money, and you will want to hunt with a reputable outfitter. Mark Zimmermann told me to make sure you talk to the outfitter, ask for references, and find out how much land the outfitter has, and whether it is his property, leased property, hunting concessions or tribal land. See if all the species to be hunted are in one area, or must you travel hours to get one or two animals on your list. Does he have the Big Five on his property? Nothing says “Africa” like the sound of lions roaring at 5 in the morning near camp! You know you are no longer in Kansas!
Outfitters have tons of experience, and you will want to figure out what game animals are a priority and which are the, “if I have a chance at” ones.
Remember you are paying for each animal, so make sure it’s in the budget. Also consider how much it will cost to bring your trophies home. I’ve stuck to hunting a single animal on a trip to save money, up to taking three when I could afford it. You can go on culling hunts and package hunts to save money, or come with a group. Start with one premium animal like a kudu, and add others to get a package deal.
I love to braai, so I try to do my hunting at the beginning of my trip so I can share my game with my friends there. Remember you can’t bring the meat back to Canada! I’ve found that even strangers are very happy to eat some of your venison.
Bring a camera – better two or three! TIA – This Is Africa. You won’t find a Wal-Mart nearby, so when you drop your camera into shark-infested waters, or from the horse you are riding (both have happened to me!), you will still want to take as many pictures of this glorious continent as you can. iPhones, iPads, go-pros, digital and video cameras are light and are worth their weight in memories! With the digital age you can take lots of pictures — you can erase the crappy ones when you get home. I bring a laptop so I can save the pictures each evening after a day’s shoot. Bring extra memory sticks, rechargeable batteries and don’t forget the charger. Remember the electrical system is different over there, so make sure your equipment can take 220 volts, and have the right adapters.
Africa is so diverse, so amazing that you will want to go there more than once. She gets in your blood. You will be back![/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”14908,14909,14910,14911″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Jan 23, 2018 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]The Adventure Re-Lived – Our Mission
At Kanati we help our clients re-live their adventures by providing an elite taxidermy experience.
Kanati – The Name
Kanati: [ka-nah-tee] (Cherokee) guardian of the hunt
Kanati was the first man and guardian of the hunt. He taught people the skill of hunting, and preserved the tradition of hunting. We wish to be a modern-day Kanati, the guardian of our clients’ hunt, to preserve their story by means of careful attention, superior craftsmanship, and utmost respect for their animals.
Custom craftsmanship
With our diverse experience over many years in the industry, we’ve developed a distinctive process that allows us to treat each project as uniquely as the animal itself. We never rely entirely on stock forms that offer only generic sizes and poses. Instead, we resize and re-sculpt our forms to fit the animal and create the ideal pose. Any pose is possible! Muscle detail is added, veins, and eye expressions are sculpted in as well. We utilize an extensive reference library to ensure the anatomy, posture, and expressions are synonymous with the species.
This very time-consuming process of sculpting, fitting, and sculpting again is one of the most vital aspects of what we do, and the difference is very evident in our finished work. This process results in a finished mount that is not only true to size, but is also presented in an artistic and accurate way.
We correspond with our clients throughout the process with regular updates and progress photos, and encourage our customers to engage with us, ensuring they get the completely customized finished mount they deserve.
Creative Design
As designers, we develop comprehensive designs that focus on the impact of the whole composition, as well as the specific details that make a scene unbelievably lifelike and effective. Our services include conceptual sketches, 3D renderings, and scale model construction.
We work closely with our clients to make sure the piece will best utilize their display space. Extreme care and thought goes into the presentation and composition of that animal to ensure that it is exhibited in a way that enhances its natural strength and beauty, and looks good.
Scenic Environments
We believe taxidermy is more than just animals, and crafting a carefully thought-out environment is essential to enhance the presentation. Whether we are placing a leopard in an acacia tree, or setting an ibex on a rocky outcrop, each one of the scenic dioramas we create is accurate, lifelike, and vibrant. This gives the wildlife environment an authentic feel with an outdoor backdrop.
Our scenic and themed environment capabilities are constantly expanding as we innovate and create new proprietary products and techniques. These capabilities include rockwork and indoor mountains, replicated trees, foliage and ground, water features, animatronics, lighting and sound.
Team
It all started over 20 years ago when founder and president, Wes Good decided to try taxidermy as a hobby by working on small mammals he hunted himself. Driven by his passion for design and art, he hasn’t looked back since.
“It’s our team that’s our secret source, these guys are incredible!” he says. “Their desire to provide a better taxidermy experience and care for our clients is what drives us forward.”
This talented team of 18 experienced artisans and customer-support personnel work together to make the magic happen! Each team member has a specific area of focus and expertise, ensuring consistent results.
Studio
The studio, located in Eastern Pennsylvania, has a far-reaching footprint. Our in-house logistics team regularly ships Kanati works throughout the entire United States and around the globe. We work extensively to coordinate a smooth, worry-free journey for our clients’ trophies all the way from the field to the trophy room.
The current 14,000 square foot facility has space to house projects from the biggest African species to full-size trees and large indoor mountains.
How we can help
We are driven by our simple mission: “To give our clients the best memories they can have from some of the greatest experiences they ever had, so they can re-live those adventures again and again.”
For us, it’s more than mere taxidermy. It’s the craft, the art, the design—the things that make our trophy displays memorable.
To work with us or ask questions, give our team a call at 717-933-4828 or email info@kanatistudio.com. Check out kanatistudio.com for more information and a catalog of our works.
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Dec 6, 2017 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Namibia (Caprivi): 2014
From Broomsticks to Buffalo
by Roger Wiltz
“Doug, take him!” snapped professional hunter Karel Grunschloss, “and remember the broomstick!” Doug Koupal eyed the approaching bull elephant as it closed the distance between them, and brought his rifle up to the off-hand position. “The broomstick” had been a discussion item during the previous two days of elephant hunting, when numerous elephants had been encountered and discussed. If the elephant is facing you, place an imaginary broom handle across the tops of both eyes. Then put the bullet directly between the eyes and just above the broomstick…
It was the third morning of Doug Koupal’s trophy elephant hunt in the Kwandu Conservancy in Namibia’s Caprivi Strip (now known as the Zambezi Region). It was a hunt he had booked for August of 2014 with Jamy Traut Hunting Safaris. The first two days of the hunt had been spent watching elephants, studying their behavior, and developing a plan.
Karel “Kabous” Grunschloss, Bristow the tracker, and Gift, the government game scout, had set out that morning along the Kwando River. They hunted into a barely perceptible breeze as they stepped cautiously through the stressed Namibian habitat. The elephants had already depleted much of the flora on the Botswana side of the Kwando. The hunting party had gone perhaps three miles when they began to hear squeals and trumpeting ahead, every indication of an elephant quarrel in progress.
As an approaching bull rumbled toward them through the intermittent bush that dotted the floodplain, the elephant didn’t see the partially concealed party of four behind a lone tree. When the bull closed the distance to 15 yards, Doug aimed and fired, sending a 400-grain solid from his .411 caliber bolt-action through the animal’s head. The big tusker’s hind legs folded under him as his trunk rose skyward, indicating a perfect brain shot – the slug had passed through 18 inches of skin, muscle, and bone. Doug scurried to a position behind the elephant and put a second slug between its ears. A final shot went into the spine. 15,000 pounds of bull elephant lay dead on the ground. It was 7:30 a.m.
Within minutes of the rifle shots, meat-craving locals bringing pails, dishpans, and homemade knives, began to assemble at the scene. Karel ordered the growing crowd to wait until the skinners, who hadn’t yet arrived, had done their work. By 8:00 that evening, nothing remained but bone.
By choosing the Kwandu trophy option, Doug’s pair of 60 pound tusks could be legally exported to his South Dakota home. Had he chosen a non-trophy hunt, the ivory would become the property of the conservancy, and the only part of the elephant he could have kept would be its tail. Now, the ivory, along with the elephant’s right ear, a near duplicate outline of the African continent, would someday grace the Koupal trophy room.
Doug had four more days to hunt before they broke elephant camp, so they headed down the Chobe River for Cape Buffalo camp, and hoping to have time to take both a crocodile and a leopard. Though they set leopard baits and checked for feeding activity, leopard sign was all but nonexistent. None of the baits had been hit. Crocodile became the primary quarry, and an aluminum outboard motor boat was now their principal means of transportation.
Karel located “slides,” places where crocodiles had slid down the bank into the water. Pre-measured reeds were placed on the slide areas so crocodile length could be estimated. Blinds were built across from active slides. They tried baiting crocs with elephant trunk and blood. Locals were asked where they had seen big crocs. The closest Doug came to taking a big croc was a shot at a skull and eyes protruding just above the waterline. His shot was high.
They had previously seen a large herd of red lechwe as they rounded a river bend. Doug hadn’t considered one, but Karel told him that he couldn’t believe the size of a ram he had spotted. “You can’t pass this up!” As they approached the herd, the lechwe appeared to run on the water surface with their large splayed hooves! The men exited the boat on the nearside shore and made a stalk through ankle-deep water. From cross-sticks Doug dropped the record-book lechwe with a single shot from his Ruger #1 in .308 Winchester caliber.
**********
Meanwhile, six months earlier, Doug and I had booked our Namibian hunt with Jamy Traut Safaris during the 2014 Safari Club International Expo in Las Vegas. Although we wanted to travel to and from Africa and spend some camp time together, our hunts would be different – partly because of cost, and partly because my debilitating tremor made dangerous-game hunting prohibitive.
Other than wanting a good springbok as well as upgrading the red hartebeest I had taken on a 2007 Namibia hunt, I had tiger fish in the back of my mind. Jamy said my hunt could be kept affordable by hunting camp meat and non-trophy animals, and my friend Jim Paulson of Mitchell, SD joined us for plains game.
Jamy met us Windhoek’s Hosea Kutako International Airport, and we spent the night at House on Olaf Palme, a very comfortable B&B – also the Traut’s home. In the morning Doug flew to Katima Mulilo for his elephant, and Jamy drove Jim and me to his Panorama camp where he would guide me for the next seven days. Jim’s PH was Donnie Botha, a talented hunter and gentleman who was great fun to be around.
The Panorama Ranch lay in a game paradise 90 minutes’ drive southwest of Windhoek. Bleak and desolate mountain ranges separated the broad expanses of red sand dunes, camel thorn trees, scrub brush, native grasses, and rocky outcrops. Springbok, unhampered by high fences, bounced across the trail at every turn. The desert was alive! The winter night-time temperatures hovered around freezing, while day time temps reached the eighties.
Jim, my eighty-year-old partner, shot well – a red hartebeest, blesbok, kudu, waterbuck, springbok, gemsbok, Burchell’s zebra, and blue wildebeest. If my hunt was stressful for Jamy Traut, it didn’t show. Apropos my tremor, I had explained to Jamy prior to the hunt that I was the only one who knew whether or not I should touch the set trigger on my bolt-action Steyr-Mannlicher .30-06 carbine. I would need a rock-solid rest such as a tree limb, and if I never fired a shot during my hunt, I could go home happy.
On my first morning, Jamy and I headed into the wind in an area of thigh-high grass and numerous trees, moving as quietly as possible with Jamy using hand signals to communicate. Perhaps a half-mile later, Jamy held up two fingers. He mouthed “springbok” and pointed to a tree in front of me that had a chest-high branch parallel to the ground.
Minutes later two springbok rams moved into view. Jamy flashed a thumbs-up! With my rifle snuggled into the fork of the branch, I dropped the larger ram. Jamy pointed at the second one and wiggled his trigger finger. The second “camp meat” ram was down. In the end I took five animals, including a gold-medal springbok. None were lost, and each was taken after a fair-chase stalk on foot and hands and knees.
On Day 8, we flew to Katima Mulilo, Namibia’s most northeastern point and the east end of the Caprivi Strip and were met by Doug and his PH, Karel “Kabous” Grunschloss. After a fine lunch, Karel drove us to Camp Chobe, a comfortable tourist lodge on the bank of the Chobe River. From the open-air restaurant deck that evening, we saw herds of elephant across the Chobe, and later heard the deep guttural sounds of a lion. The next morning we would cruise down the Chobe for Cape Buffalo Camp and a crack at tiger fish.
It was a highlight, with different waterfowl, mile-long herds of Burchell’s zebra, and impala herds dotting the banks. As the river widened, we began to see hippo, elephant, and Cape buffalo. Crocodiles skittered from the banks as we cruised past.
We pulled up to a tented camp on the sandy bank of a Chobe inlet, home for the next three days.
As Karel and Doug prepared to embark on their buffalo quest, Jim and I were met by our fishing guide, JG Gericke. Jim and I had two-piece spinning rods in our gun cases, and lures and reels in our luggage bags. From JG’s boat we spent most of our fishing time trolling brightly-colored lures up and down the numerous channels for tiger. Strikes were vicious, and 90% of the time the tigers threw the lure on their first jump. While our Chobe tigers averaged one to four pounds, we sometimes had bigger fish.
Doug’s Cape buffalo hunt nearly ended in tragedy. The party included Karel and Chris – the required government game scout, Cassius the tracker, and Doug. They were hunting in open expanses of knee-deep water that concealed much deeper water through the main channels. Tall reeds blocked the horizon in all directions. The area was also home to elephants, crocodiles, and domestic cattle.
On their first full morning of hunting, the men spotted a grazing herd of 20-25 buffalo a mile away. They left the boat and began a two-mile trek that would circumvent the buffalo and put the light breeze in their favor. All went well until they came to a channel too deep to wade and too foolhardy to swim. Luck was with them as they spotted a mokoro (a dugout canoe) tucked into the tall reeds. One at a time the men were deftly poled across the 60-foot expanse by Cassius.
Cautiously they continued for a half-mile until Karel signaled a halt. The herd was grazing peacefully 65 yards out, and a bull with a very impressive boss was broadside and isolated from the rest. Karel whispered to Doug, “Take that one!” as he set up the sticks and stepped aside.
When he was comfortable, Doug squeezed off a shot that delivered a crashing blow to the buff’s left shoulder with his .411 caliber Winchester .458 wildcat. The buff reeled to his right, staggered, and headed straight away toward the reeds. Doug sent a second shot directly up the bull’s rear end, hearing the telltale whumpf as the tall reeds enveloped the buff. Doug felt the shots were good.
The herd, mostly cows, had gone to the left at the first shot. Now they were 150 yards out and looking back. Karel put his hat over the end of his rifle barrel and raised it into the air as he yelled and whistled, and the herd retreated into the high reeds.
Karel called for a 20-minute break before trailing the wounded bull. He hoped they would hear a death moan or bellow, a sure sign that old nyati was dead. But nothing. They would have to follow the old buff into his own lair where he would wait in ambush… if he were still alive.
The men lined up – first PH Karel, then Doug, Cassius, and Chris. Ankle-deep water had swallowed any possible tracks. The men came to a chunk of lung tissue floating on the water – surely a good sign. They continued with new confidence. Karel strained to peer into the reeds ahead, and threw up his rifle and fired at a fading black silhouette of hind quarters and testicles he had glimpsed for a millisecond. The sound of a large animal or animals running, splashing ahead, gradually faded after the rifle shot. They continued.
Suddenly, without warning, an adult cow buffalo, head down, charged PH Karel from his immediate left! She might have been eight feet away when her head and horns appeared. He fired into the back of her lowered head, breaking her neck and severing the cortex. The buff piled up against his legs. “Let’s get the hell outa’ here!” cried Karel.
They returned the following days to salvage the cow meat and look for the bull, but found nothing. They hoped to see vultures, but vultures need to see their prey. We left the Caprivi without Doug’s buffalo. Jamy Traut offered a significant reward for the bull in an area ravaged by poverty, and weeks later Doug received an email with a photo of his Cape buffalo skull.
On our last day and a half we hunted in the desert. Doug took a record-book sable, and book quality blue and black wildebeests. Jim added an ostrich to his collection. I hunted sand grouse near a waterhole, but cooler, damp weather affected the flight paths.
Doug’s elephant trophy, buffalo skull, and lechwe were quarantined in a Katima Mulilo locker for almost two years for alleged foot and mouth disease, till released to his Namibian taxidermist. It was in August 2016 that he finally received his Caprivi trophies.
Born in 1942, Roger spent his working years in South Dakota public schools as teacher, coach, administrator, and guidance counselor. He and his wife of 52 years have three married daughters and six grandchildren. An avid hunter-fisherman from his earliest years, Roger has penned an outdoor column, Rog’s Rod & Nimrod, for the past 45 years. Hunting trips have brought Roger to Africa, Alaska, Alberta, the Arctic, Argentina, British Columbia, New Zealand, and Newfoundland, often with Betsy and friends. They have endeavored, notably in Africa, to see the country rather than limit their adventures to round trips to hunting camps.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”12665,12664,12663,12662,12661,12660″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Dec 3, 2017 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Buffalo in Bushmanland
By John P. Warren
“Either shoot the buffalo today, or shoot me,” my wife Joyce said to me – only slightly jokingly – when PH Jamy Traut, his trackers, the conservation officer, and I came in from the morning hunt on the third day.
It was a hot, dry camp over east of Tsumkwe, Namibia. There were no leaves on the trees. There was no shade. There was no breeze. The ice was gone and the drinking water was warm. You could see between the sticks that were supposed to provide privacy for the bucket shower. The tents heated up in the day as only tents in full sun can. Definitely not a complainer, Joyce just voiced what we were all thinking – that whenever we squared away the buffalo, we could pack up and get out of Bushmanland. Do not get me wrong. I love Bushmanland, have lived right off the western edge of it twice, for months at a time, doing game counts, management plans, and culling, between Grootfontein and Tsumkwe. But I have to admit, this was uncomfortable.
We had seen buffalo almost from the beginning – the very first afternoon we tracked and caught up with a good-sized herd as it moved toward water in the evening. A couple of bulls had offered possible shots, and although they sported impressive “helmets,” none of them would go even 36 inches. That, along with outstanding bosses and strong back curls, was the minimum I had set for myself on this first buffalo hunt since I had lived in Ethiopia and hunted Nile buffalo as a youth when Haile Selassie was still in charge there.
We had lived in Namibia for over a year, and love its people, its game, and its spectacular scenery. We bought a bakkie, and know our way around. It was important to me to get a Cape buffalo in Namibia, so I had turned away from chances in Zimbabwe, Mozambique, and South Africa. In 2008, we were living and working for three months near Grootfontein, and while having dinner over at Eden with our neighbor Jamy Traut, he told me about a problem buffalo cow in Bushmanland. I was keen to go, but the timing didn’t work out (and I guess she’s still there).
Planning for 2009 with Jamy, I ended up with a permit for Bushmanland. We were living in the area at the time on a private reserve – a wonderful place – strictly a game reserve with no domestic livestock. Most of the staff members considered themselves Bushmen, and we developed wonderful friendships among them. We participated in their delightful, tri-lingual church services in the tractor shed every Sunday morning. I worked almost every day with at least one of the three unbelievably skilled trackers (Simon, Joseph, and Mische), which was always a wonderful experience for an old ex-schoolboy-trapper/skinner and lifelong hunter like me. Joyce helped the two Marias and Monica learn how to prepare and present meals suitable for European and American clients that had already started coming to the beautiful new lodge and bungalows that the owner had just finished.
As an aside, late in that 2009 trip, but before we went with Jamy to Bushmanland, I was presented with the opportunity to hunt a problem leopard. My good Namibian friend, Heiko, had done me a huge favor when he procured my 2009 hunting permits, and had gotten for me one of the extremely few last available leopard permits, since Namibia had declared a temporary halt on leopard hunting due to some questionable tactics allegedly having been brought in by some foreign PHs. I had taken two leopards years before, in Ethiopia, with my old sporterized 1903 Springfield, and had been in on others, but I had no idea I would ever hunt one in Namibia.
We had several leopards on the property, but this big old tom had been feasting not only on eland calves on our “home” reserve, but had periodically gone outside the high fence – presumably through warthog holes – and had feasted on some of the neighbor’s young cattle. One neighbor threatened to put out poison, which would have indiscriminately killed all kinds of carnivores in the area if we did not stop this big old cat, and I was asked to take care of the problem with our wonderful tracking crew. After two weeks of baiting with warthogs without a hit, we got lucky with an unseasonable pre-dawn rain and a very fresh track of the old tom. We took up that track, and in three hours we found him near a fresh eland calf he had killed and partly consumed. I had an easy shot, and we had the beautiful old cat.
Jamy had sent a camp crew ahead to set everything up. We got to the hot camp just after noon, had a light lunch, and settled in. It was very hot. Joyce suggested setting up a fly under which she could sit and read while the rest of us were hunting. Then, seeing how unbearably hot it was in our un-shaded sleeping tent, we put another tarp over it to provide a bit of shade. Joyce had brought a little plastic pump-spray bottle, and we kept it full of water and periodically sprayed ourselves with it, hoping for a cooling breeze which almost never materialized. Nobody had been assigned the ice detail, and we had none from the outset, because what little there was had been dumped in the cooler with beer and soft drinks, and was already melted. Each time we opened it to get something to drink the temperature went up a degree or two. By the second day, everything in camp was about the same temperature.
The first evening, Joyce went with us on a scouting trip. That was when we caught up with the first herd of buffalo and looked them over. Joyce had been sitting reading under the fly, and decided at the last minute to join us, forgetting that she already had taken off her walking shoes and put on house slippers. When we saw fresh tracks and then with our glasses saw that there were buffalo, several of us (including Joyce) got off the hunting car and began a stalk. After a few hundred yards through the sand and thorns, I looked back, and there was Joyce, in her house slippers, gingerly but stoically following along!
We left Joyce in camp on the second morning and walked maybe 12 miles, following the tracks of first one group of bulls, then another. By mid-morning we were hot and tired, but each of us had a bottle of water, and we kept on. At one time the Bushmanland conservation officer was walking in front of me, when “wham!” Something heavy hit the sand right in front of me. It was his .416 Rigby rifle. A beautiful, genuine Rigby – and he had dropped it!
We tracked one group of four bulls very carefully, right up to where they joined a herd of cows in thick bush, complicating everything. We were very close – about 30 yards. I could see parts of several cows but was never sure of a bull. One of Jamy’s trackers went up a tree, but that did not help much, either. Finally, the light breeze swirled, they got our scent and went rumbling off. We followed them for a mile or two, but they either heard us or got our scent again and we gave it up.
Back to that third day and Joyce’s ultimatum… In the afternoon we hunted hard. We drove to cover vast areas, looking to cut a fresh bull track. We walked and walked. We checked several waterholes. We saw a lot of buffalo sign. We followed several bull tracks until some fickle breeze ruined it for us. Just before dark, we were heading back to camp when one of the trackers saw just a wisp of dust. We stopped, and all of us focused our glasses on that small cloud of dust a mile away across Bushmanland.
The sun was low, but we picked up four Cape buffalo on the move – all bulls. After carefully studying these bulls through his spotting scope, Jamy said that the two in the middle were good ones. They were quite far away and unaware of us, so we planned a strategy. We immediately started off on foot through the thorn bush to intercept their path, making a wide half-circle to come up with the breeze if they kept to their current direction. There was not much cover. Everyone but Jamy and me stayed way back. After maybe half an hour, Jamy told me to sit down behind a very small and flimsy bush and to be ready with the .458 loaded with a 500-grain Hornady soft point in the barrel, followed by solids.
Within maybe three minutes the first bull came, crossing from left to right in front of me at 20 yards. He stopped for a heartbeat, looked briefly at us, and moved on. He looked HUGE to me, and threatening. We were motionless. Then, the second bull came. He looked at me and did not like what he saw. He immediately jumped a half-step to his left and at the same moment, Jamy whispered, “Take him – take that one.” I found the perfect spot on my scope, set at 2x, and fired. I was having trouble loading my second shot for just a moment when I heard the guys behind saying “He’s down! He’s dead.” It was a raking heart-lung shot. He was dead after running 40 yards, and we heard his somehow hauntingly sad death bellow.
I did not want a wounded buffalo at dark, so I was delighted that we had him. Ecstatic. He was a beautiful bull, dead from one shot, and here I was, in Bushmanland, in Namibia, with MY buffalo! He had the perfect head that I had dreamed of, with massive 14-inch hard bosses, great dips and curl-back tips. His width was not tremendous at 38-39 inches, but he was very handsome, and earned a silver medal from NAPHA. As I type these words he is above my shoulder on the log wall in my 1840 log cabin office here at Deer Lodge Farm in Virginia, between the biggest gemsbok I ever saw and a wonderful gerenuk from Ethiopia.
We worked hard till dark to get photos and then to load him in the back of the hunting car. It was a half-hour to camp. I enjoyed every moment of the trip, riding in back under the night sky, with my .458 and the Bushmanland buffalo. Arriving at camp, we were all cognizant of Joyce’s earlier ultimatum regarding me shooting either her or a buffalo that day, and although we did not take it that seriously, we decided to give her a bit of a hard time when we got in. We acted a bit dejected, and started talking about needing the rest of the week to find a bull. But then, in the flickering fire-light, she saw the head of the huge buffalo hanging out of the back of the Land Cruiser truck. We spent a good time looking over the bull, and then sat down to sundowners around the fire, gazing up at Namibia’s billions of stars, and waiting for our tents to cool down a degree or two. It was all good.
Today I had shot the buffalo in Bushmanland.
John Warren, a native Texan, has a Ph.D. in economics. He worked three decades as a natural resources economist and project manager in Latin America, the Caribbean, the Middle East, and Africa. Recently, besides consulting in the Caribbean, Ethiopia, and Panama, he has made six trips (totaling 13 months) to Namibia. He and his wife Joyce live on a farm in Virginia. Their two daughters and 14 grandchildren (four adopted from Ethiopia) live in Canada and Spain.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”12678,12679,12681,12682,12683,12684″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
