Nov 15, 2017 | Hunting News, News
Leica’s Flagship Magnus Riflescopes Now Available In Non-illuminated Verson
Leica has launched three non-illuminated versions of its highly successful range of Magnus riflescopes: Magnus 1.5–10×42, Magnus 1.8–12×50, and Magnus 2.4–16×56. This new line is priced at a lower entry point than the illuminated version, making it one of the best value European premium riflescopes on the market.
Magnus non-illuminated riflescopes boast proven optical and mechanical systems as well as innovative features, such as turret scale zeroing without tools. Excellent light transmission of approximately 92% and extraordinarily high contrast enables dependable sighting under even the most challenging light conditions. Magnus non-illuminated riflescopes are extremely reliable and versatile companions, and provide razor-sharp and crystal-clear resolution, thanks to their legendary Leica optical performance.
The Leica Magnus non-illuminated models join four illuminated models in the Magnus line, ranging from the safari-ready Magnus 1-6.3x24i to the powerful 2.4-16x56i.
For more information, visit www.leica-sportoptics.com
Oct 31, 2017 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]In the Eye of the Beholder
By Ken Bailey
Kudu were not on my “want” list. But they invariably become part of conversation whenever you’re in kudu country, for these regal spiral-horned antelope have a way of capturing the imagination like few others. And so it was, that Aru Game Lodge’s PH Stephan Joubert and I talked kudu as we sat high on a hill glassing the vast bushveld below, while searching the thorn bush for eland!
The truth is that I had no intention of shooting a kudu. Having taken a respectable bull on a hunt years earlier in South Africa, on this Namibian hunt I was focused on the kudu’s big brother, the eland. (Also high on my list were springbok, steenbok and caracal – the ubiquitous lynx-like cat found across much of Africa, although given how few caracals I’ve seen over several safaris, I am not convinced that they’re as widely distributed as the range maps suggest.)
The icons of hunting writing that popularized kudu wrote about their experiences in East Africa, largely in what is now Tanzania. Perhaps it was Hemingway’s Green Hills of Africa that jump-started the kudu mystique, or maybe it was Jack O’Connor’s assertion that the kudu was the Dark Continent’s top trophy, and his coining of the term “the grey ghost” that inspired all those who followed in his footsteps. At that time, kudu were decidedly uncommon, undoubtedly contributing to their reputation as a trophy in high demand. Today, however, kudu are thriving, particularly in South Africa, Namibia and Zimbabwe.
From our hilltop vista, Stephan and I carefully and methodically identified a great diversity and abundance of game. A mixed herd of zebra and blue wildebeest, two separate groups of gemsbok, clusters of red hartebeest, numerous springbok and a sprinkling of warthogs, ostriches, waterbuck and steenbok. But – no eland. So, we settled back more firmly against the rocks and began to sweep the landscape all over again.
Ten minutes later, in the typically understated manner of all African PHs, Stephan leaned over and said, casually, “There’s a pretty decent kudu bull down there. He only has a horn and a half, but the intact side looks pretty good. Maybe 55 inches. Are you interested?”
Decision time. I’d arrived with little interest in taking a kudu, but 55-inch bulls don’t grow on trees, especially in this part of Namibia where kudu, especially the bulls, had been hit hard by an epizootic outbreak of rabies, and the population was only then beginning to rebound. However, this was a one-horned kudu, irrespective of the length. Not generally a trophy animal.
“Let me give it some thought,” and we both settled back to continue glassing.
The whole notion of what constitutes a trophy has been undergoing a metamorphosis in recent years. In an effort to ensure that hunters are targeting only the oldest animals as a means to help ensure the health and sustainability of populations, there have been numerous biological and social initiatives aimed at educating hunters and the professional hunting community alike. In 2006, sponsored in part by Conservation Force and the Dallas Safari Club, a paper on ageing lions was released describing how various traits, including facial pigmentation, could be used to select older, post-breeding animals. A few years ago, and championed by noted veterinarian, author and PH Kevin Robertson, the importance of selecting past-their-prime Cape buffalo bulls was reinforced. Hunters were encouraged to choose the oldest and ugliest bulls. Today, what should count is age, not size.
I considered this as I continued to scan the Namibian veld, returning repeatedly to scrutinize the lone kudu bull browsing in the camel thorn. He was alone, not a herd bull, as one might expect of a breeding-aged animal. Given the length of his one intact horn, he had some years on his hooves. He definitely appeared old.
I pondered my own hunting ethics together with where the hunting community is headed in defining trophy quality.
“Let’s do it.” Without another word the two of us, along with our two trackers and Stephan’s constant companion, a friendly Rhodesian Ridgeback, made our way down the little mountain.
Height is a strategic advantage in pinpointing game. By the time we’d made it down and onto the flat veld, we found our perspective had disappeared with the altitude. We were now staring at a sea of thorn bush and although we’d identified a landmark or two, it was difficult to know exactly where the bull had wandered out of our sight.
Stephan sent one of the trackers up a fortuitously positioned windmill to see if he could spot the bull. Five minutes after scaling the rickety structure the tracker signaled that he’d spied our kudu. After scrambling down he excitedly relayed its location – only a few hundred yards distant among the scrub. A quick confab between the three of us to discuss tactics, and we were on the hunt.
From the direction we knew the bull to be heading, Stephan guessed that it was feeding towards a watering hole, so we set out on a trajectory that would intercept the bull along his path. Keeping the wind in our faces, we hunched over and began quickly duck-walking, always wary of the needle-sharp spines of the camel thorn and black thorn trees along the path. Eventually Stephan and the trackers got right down into a catcher’s-stance waddle. Too many years of basketball has left me with knees that have all the flexibility of rebar, so I was on my hands and knees, scurrying along behind as best as I could.
A hand raised is the universal sign that game has been spotted – at Stephan’s signal we all froze. Staring intently to where he pointed, I eventually made out the bull moving slowly through the dense cover, feeding as he went. He was headed toward a clearing, and I got into position to be ready for when he stepped out.
Breaking into the open, the bull did as he was hard-wired to do – stopping to check that the coast was clear. That hesitation was all I needed, and at the shot he was down in his tracks.
It’s always a bittersweet moment when you first approach a downed animal, and that feeling was only amplified when we realized what an ancient warrior this kudu truly was. In many places his hair was abnormally thin or worn away, and he had obvious cataracts in both eyes. His “good” horn was broken, battered and splintered, and stretched the tape to just shy of 54 inches. The wear on the stub side made it obvious he’d been handicapped for quite some time, likely from having performed double duty, given that the other horn was little more than an 18-inch remnant.
Stephan estimated the bull to be 13 years old, well past his prime and considerably older than the eight- and nine-year-old bulls that are typically taken. With his poor overall health and impairments, it was unlikely he’d have lived another season – more probably destined to become dinner for one of the local leopards.
Despite folks having asked several times why I’d willingly shoot a kudu with only one horn, when I look back on this hunt, it’s without a smidgen of hunter’s remorse. In fact, it is just the opposite. Among the many animals I’ve been fortunate to take over the years, this bull is among those I’m most proud of.
Rather than only evaluating physical attributes, age should be an important consideration when defining what constitutes a trophy. My one-horned kudu more than meets trophy standards by any measurement.
Ken Bailey is an outdoors writer from Canada. When not hunting big game or birds, or fly-fishing, he’s writing about his experiences. And when the bills need to be paid, he is a consultant in the wildlife conservation industry.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”12671,12672,12673,12674,12675″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Oct 23, 2017 | Bowhunting, Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]“Virus Africanus”… Springbok and Dassie Bowhunting
by Frank Berbuir
I was back in the Dark Continent – and back in Namibia – thanks to the “Virus Africanus”.
This time I bowhunted during April down in the south of Namibia near the village of Maltahöhe close to the Swartrand escarpment, about 110 km west of Mariental in the Hardap Region. Mariental used to be a center for karakul sheep farming, but this branch of agriculture has been shrinking. After the end of the German colonial era in South West Africa the settlement became a small hub for tourism, serving as a gateway to popular destinations like Sossusvlei, Solitaire, Sesriem, and Duwisib Castle.
The hunting areas and farms in the south of Namibia are all very large – the one where I hunted was 20,000 hectares. Christian Otto, PH and owner of Kachauchab Farm, picked us up at the Windhoek airport and during the approximately 300 km drive southwards I enjoyed the diversified landscape as I settled in to be back in Africa again.
On this trip I was specifically after springbok, this medium-sized slender antelope with long legs and neck, which is mainly found in the dry areas in southern and southwestern Africa. Its common name comes from the Afrikaans words spring (jump) and bok (antelope or goat). It was first described by the German zoologist Eberhard August Wilhelm von Zimmermann in 1780. The scientific name, Antidorcas marsupialis is interesting: anti is Greek for “opposite”, and dorcas for “gazelle” – stating that the animal is not a gazelle. Marsupialis comes from the Latin marsupium (pocket), which refers to a pocket-like skin flap that extends along the midline of the back from the tail. In fact, it is this physical feature that distinguishes the springbok from true gazelles.
Immediately after our arrival and welcome at Kachauchab we wanted to go out for the afternoon hunt.
I dressed into my Sniper Africa camouflage and headed out in the old bakkie to the area of a fixed blind.
Due to the rough territory and open veld, stalking was not an opportunity on this species, so we decided to hunt from two available blinds that had been set up the year before.
We parked the car behind a bush and walked the last kilometre. After we settled in and enjoyed the warmth of the afternoon sun, some small warthogs and different birds visited us. Nothing else came, but we took pleasure in watching the amazing Namibian sunset. It did not matter to me, because I was happy to be back again in Namibia.
We returned to the farm when it became dark and, especially for me, Christian had made for dinner a “lekker” (yummy) gemsbok roast with pumpkin and mashed potatoes which we washed down with a South African lager and with a Scottish single malt as a digestif. On top of everything we had this wonderful and magnificent view of the African sky with billions of stars, the Milky Way, Magellanic Clouds and the Southern Cross.
After a peaceful sleep, the next morning started early. The wake-up call at 3.30 got me up. A good hot coffee and a rusk was enough before we drove to our determined hunting ground for the morning. The previous days had showed many tracks of springbok that gathered frequently in that area near a natural water source. After our arrival and getting out of the car with our stuff, the walk to the blind was a bit tricky when one is a bit sleepy and has to walk in complete darkness. But excitement soon woke us up when we reached the blind and heard the snorting noises of some springbok that were close by. Unfortunately they heard us and moved slowly but surely away. At sunrise it got warm and more cosy in the blind. Early birds came to the waterhole, and guinea fowl clucked around.
All of a sudden, nine springbok appeared from nowhere and stood on a rocky outcrop to our right. Unfortunately, only ewes and young males or females, but it was delightful to see the youngsters bouncing around – pronking. Beside the enjoyment, it made also some good video footage. Because the wind was in our favour and we were dead quiet, they headed down to the waterhole, drank, and stayed there. Some of them felt so comfortable they lay down about 50 metres from us.
“Buddy, keep your hair on, it is getting serious,” said Otto, when all at once a good springbok ram came over the hill approximately 180 metres away from us. Unconcerned, he trotted towards the water, ignoring the others. In slow motion I rose to my feet. After having sat for the last two hours, my legs felt like wobble pudding! At a snail´s pace I moved to the shooting slot to get in position when the ram was at 80 metres and still heading forward. I nocked in the Carbon Express CX Hunter 300 Advantage arrow equipped with the 125-grain G5 Tekkan II Mechanical Broadhead. The ram was still on his way, completely unperturbed. At 33 metres he reached his destination and lowered his head to sip. That was the time for me to draw back my bow. Within seconds I had the pin of the sight on his vital area. He stood slightly quartering towards me when I fired the arrow from the 80 lb Mathews LX bow, and I heard the arrow crashing through the shoulder and penetrating the lungs before it flew out of the springbok on the other side. Instantly the ram whirled round and away, and at about 40 metres in the direction he came from, he went down on his knees and expired within seconds. What an incredible experience. Only when the other remaining antelopes saw him falling did they get up and bound off. We waited for about 20 minutes until they all had left before we moved out of the blind and walked to the ram. He was a stunning trophy, and both of us where more than happy about this outcome, and we arranged him for some dignified photos. It was still early in this wonderful morning when we headed back to the farm for a good bacon-and-potato omelette breakfast. What a marvellous day.
After a visit and sightseeing of Maltahöhe and the Maltahöhe Hotel which was founded in 1907 and is the oldest country hotel in Namibia, and the town of Mariental and the nearby Hardap Dam, I wanted to try my luck on walking and stalking a special bowhunting challenge – a rock hyrax. These live in one of the two kloofs (canyons) on the farm.
The rock hyrax Procavia capensis, also called rock badger or Cape hyrax and sometimes rock rabbit, is commonly referred to as dassie in Afrikaans. Like all hyraxes, it is a medium-sized, approximately 4kg terrestrial mammal, superficially resembling a guinea pig, with short ears and tail. The closest living relatives to hyraxes are the modern-day elephants! The rock hyrax is found across Africa and the Middle East in habitats with rock crevices into which it escapes from predators. Hyraxes typically live in groups. They have been reported to use sentries: one or more animals take up position on a vantage point and issue alarm calls on the approach of predators.
Once before I had tried to bowhunt them, but without success. These small animals have great eyesight. They can even look directly into the sun, and when they spot you and feel in danger, they directly hide in the many cracks and caves within the rocks. Now I was stalking in an area called Swartmodder along the banks of the Hudup River which runs through the premises of Kachauchab. Along the river bank there were some trees and bushes suitable for ambush. From time to time I glassed the rocks on the other side of the river. By the way, the river had plenty of water, and between the riverbank on my side and the rocks on the other side was a distance of 30 meters. Behind a tree I sat down and glassed again the rocks when I suddenly saw one of these little critters sitting in the shade of a rock. I took my video camera and zoomed him in for some nice footage. He still had not seen me, and I ranged him at 31 metres. Dead slow, I pulled up my bow and put my palm around the bird’s eye maple Gripwerks grip of my Bowtech Tribute, and nocked in the Carbon Express Maxima Hunter arrow with the 125-grain G5 Tekan II Broadhead. The dassie was still sitting under the rock and now facing into my direction, but he seemed to be more curious than frightened. Not to spook him, I drew my bow very slowly and set the pin on his body under the head. My heart was pumping when I pulled the trigger of my Scott release and sent the arrow on its journey.
A second later I heard a high “queek” and the dassie (Klippschliefer in German) and the arrow was gone. Through the binos I could see blood on the stone and that he must have fallen down into a gap below. I packed my stuff and had to go along to find a place where it was possible to cross the river via a dam and get to the top of the rocks where I had to climb down to the place where the dassie could be.
Fortunately l was able to pull him up out of the gap by means of the shooting arrow which had penetrated him, and luckily he was still in perfect shape – horrido!
Besides the dassie and the magnificent springbok ram, I later harvested two springbok for the kitchen and a quail as well, but that is another story – and I still have Virus Africanus!
Take care and always good hunting – Alles van die beste.
Frank
German hunter Frank Berbuir is passionate about the outdoors and hunting – especially bowhunting, which he has practised for more than 17 years. Although he’s bowhunted in several countries, he’s become addicted to hunting in Africa since his first safari in 2004. Frank is a mechanical engineer and risk manager in the automotive industry.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”12493,12492,12491,12490,12489,12488,12487,12486,12485″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
