The Outfitter. The PH. The Hunter. My Thoughts…

This article is not intended to offend anyone, but is merely an offer to inform – and possibly improve – the safari experience for clients, outfitters and professional hunters. I’ll begin by admitting that I am not an expert on anything other than my likes and dislikes I base my observations on five trips to Southern Africa hunting with five different outfitters and three professional hunters for a total of 101 days. The areas I hunted in South Africa are Limpopo, Thabazimbi and Barberton. I have also hunted in Namibia near Otjiwarngo and Okahandja.

The first thing I would like to mention is communication. Before my first trip in 2009 I read somewhere that a safari had three parts: There is the anticipation, the actual hunt, and the reliving it when your trophies arrive. Each phase should be enjoyable.

Outfitters are busy taking care of the hunters on site, responding to potential clients, dealing with business promotion and daily routines. However, you the outfitter, and the PH, should consider your hunter. Stay off your phone or computer when you are with the hunter. I expect all attention to be with me while I am hunting with you. When you talk with others in Afrikaans and I am present, please, translate for me so I am not left out of the conversation. I consider it rude for anyone to talk in a language that others don’t understand without explaining what the conversation is about. The other issue with communication is with emails or messages between clients and outfitters. We are aware of all the things outfitters have to deal with, but please read the entire message and answer promptly and completely. I have waited over a week to get a response from outfitters, and then when I asked four questions only one or two were answered. This wastes my time and yours, as I have to ask again.

Communicate with your clients (especially first-time hunters). Ask if they will be bringing anyone else with them – a son, daughter, grandchild, niece, nephew, neighbor? Plant the idea. Many US people do not realize that young people can hunt in Africa. Sharing the hunt makes it that much better, and it’s an opportunity to introduce someone to hunting. I brought my 10-year-old grandson to Africa where he killed his first animal – an impala. It was the best safari I have been on, and something he and I will share forever. The outfitter applied special rates for my grandson, appreciating the chance to build a relationship with a future client.

My 10-year-old grandson Pierce painted with blood after his first kill

Hunters need to communicate with their outfitter and PH. Make sure you explain how you want to hunt. If you want to spot and stalk make sure you maintain that attitude. Some outfitters will push you to shoot as

many animals in any way possible. More animals = more money. Also state what type of trophy you are looking for. Do you want a record animal or a good representative specimen? We will all shoot a record trophy if the opportunity presents, but do we want to hold out and come away with nothing? As they say: “Don’t pass up on Monday what you’ll shoot on Friday.” Inform your PH of your wish list, but also let the PH know if you might add or substitute another species if a great trophy appears.

On my second safari we were stalking hartebeest that were mixed in with some zebra. Following behind the PH I noticed a duiker that I thought was a rather large specimen. I thought that if the duiker bolted he might spook the hartebeest and zebras so I got the PH’s attention and pointed out the duiker. He waved his hand to let me know that we were not interested in duiker, but we were after hartebeest! A few days later in conversation, I said that I might be interested in a duiker if we found a nice one. The PH replied: “You should have shot that one we saw the other day. That was the biggest duiker I have ever seen.” Now there was a time that the PH should have considered the trophy animal presenting itself and informed the hunter (me) that it was a very nice specimen and given me the choice to shoot or pass. Communication!

The manner of hunting in Africa where you do not purchase a license for a particular species in advance is a concept completely foreign to US hunters. In the US you need a license for every big game animal you wish to hunt. Each state has its own regulations and fees associated with each license, and a license is not a guarantee of success. African Outfitters and PHs need to make sure the client understands the trophy fee system, and that a client can shoot any species he finds acceptable – as long as he has the money to pay for it.

HEAT. What is it with no heat in Africa? Hunters from the US and Europe leave the heat of summer to hunt Africa in the winter. Our bodies cannot adapt to the temperature change overnight. I do not mind putting on layers of clothes to go out hunting but I do not want to wear those same clothes to bed in order to keep warm. But taking a shower in a room that is just slightly above freezing is NOT enjoyable. My wife will never travel to Africa again after freezing for 10 days on a concession that had no heat in our bungalow or in the main lodge. Any future trips for me will include the understanding that my accommodations will have heat. I have seen mornings when the dog’s water dish was frozen solid, the staff were bundled in woolen hats, scarves and coats, but the windows are wide open while they cook breakfast. Why? Is it some macho standard that makes a warm room unacceptable? I slept on plank floors in a lean-to during the dead of winter when I was a young man, but I am well past that now. Think about your client’s comfort.

Understand your client’s overall interests. Some clients’ only interest is killing animals, while some are interested in the entire experience. I find each trip as a means of learning something about a culture, the geography, the politics, the flora and the fauna. My favorite PH is great at spotting game, identifying tracks and getting me on the sticks for a shot. He is also knowledgeable about the flora and native culture which enhances my experience and leaves me with something more than a trophy on the wall.

Make all-inclusive the standard for your clients. There may always be some ‘extras’ that require additional compensation, like side trips or even special diets. Transport from the airport? How else would they get there? Your promoted low price tag may attract their attention, but the add-ons can sour the relationship when you hand them the bill. Believe it or not, not everybody reads the fine print. Don’t forget what they have to spend just to set foot on the continent.

My experiences in Africa have given me a great many positive memories and very few negative ones. Much of that has to do with my bonding with a PH that I trust and enjoy being with. Spending time with him is now more important than just another trophy. Build relationships. Consider your client as more than a paycheck and they will keep coming back. Often the quality of the finished product is in the details.

Be safe and keep on hunting!

 

The Hunt Is On

As the world knows, 2020 was unlike any year ever before experienced—and that was true for life at Eastern Cape Bowhunting. When the government implemented the lockdown, we refocused our efforts on our hunting grounds, staff, facilities and animals to elevate every experience for future guests.

Thriving Populations

The rainfall in the 2020 season was so much better than the previous seven years, which led to thriving animal populations and record new births. Because there was no hunting in 2020, the prospects for success have truly never been better. With the improved rainfall and feed availability, we’re seeing some truly impressive bulls. This hunting season is going to be remarkable!

New Hunting Blinds

We built two new bowhunting blinds to provide guests with new opportunities. Dassie Blind is set into the side of a kopje (stone outcrop) and has a rugged feel, unlike the concrete blinds on the property, making it an ideal spot for baboons, kudu and waterbuck. Cliff Blind is situated along the Tarka River on a remote part of the property, where we’re seeing nyala, kudu, sable and golden wildebeest.

Pop the Cork

With the help of our head sommelier in Cape Town, we’ve acquired some very exciting wines for our guests. The cellar is stocked with prize-winning South African wines, as well as a few new selections to keep things interesting. If you’re new to South African wines, fear not—we’re always excited to host wine tastings for your group. And, of course, when the occasion calls for it, we happily open a beautifully chilled bottle of champagne!

Caring for Staff Families

During the lockdown, all our staff’s children came to stay with them on the farm. Because we feel so strongly about education, we’ve been supplementing their learning with educational materials and games. We built a community vegetable garden to supplement food through the year for our families and created a sports area for the children to play netball and soccer. We even hosted a proper South African Christmas party with all the kids!

Ready for the Hunt

The start of 2021 has seen all our rivers flowing, our dams full, and we’re irrigating our newly planted crops with strategically collected rainwater. There’s plenty of green grass and the animals have had a bumper birthing season. The excitement, trophies, camaraderie and friendships forged in the pursuit of the hunt are all starting up. The firewood has been prepared and the campfires are eagerly awaiting your return to the starry African skies. The hunt is on!To learn more about Eastern Cape Bowhunting and make your reservation for 2021, visit easterncapebowhunting.com Password: hunting.

Bow, Arrow, and a Common Reedbuck!

By Frank Berbuir

 

Previously, we were lucky and happy to finally take a nice mountain reedbuck after four days of intense hunting. Now the next challenge awaited us – a common reedbuck.

 

It was the end of August and I had made it back to South Africa to hunt with bow and arrow again with my PH Izak Vos from Vos Safaris.

We were on a property close to Bela Bela in the beautiful Limpopo province.  Deriving its name from the geothermic hot springs around which the town was built, it was called “Warmbaths” until 2002.

 

After arriving and settling in, we wanted to do a game drive to get familiar with the area, the terrain and the game, especially where to find the common reedbuck. Even on game drives I always take along my bow and arrows because you never know what can happen.

 

In the early afternoon we slowly made our way through the bushveld. The first animals we saw were some nice nyalas and warthogs. Suddenly, as we rounded a bush, four Cape buffalo bulls where standing in the path just about 10 meters in front and they were not really amused to see us. We stopped and kept dead quiet – you could hear a pin drop. The gang of four were moving and shaking their heads and sniffing to catch our smell. Fortunately the wind was in our favour, and after some bluster and showing off, the bruisers turned around and moved slowly back into the bush. That was an exciting encounter!

Common reedbuck’s home.

Equipment

Bow: Mathews Z7x @ 70 lbs

Arrow: Carbon Express Maxima Hunter 350

Broadhead: Silverflame XL 2-Blade @ 125 grain

Optics: Zeiss Victory Binocular & Nikon Rangefinder

Release: Scott

Camo: Sniper Africa

We continued our drive. Suddenly, “Stop!” I whispered to Izak. “I can see a pair of horns sticking out above the grass.” We checked with our binoculars. Bedded down in the grass was a good specimen of a common reedbuck. Carefully we sneaked out of the car to try stalking closer because the ram was lying about 80 meters from us. As quietly as possible we tiptoed from bush to bush. We managed it to shorten the distance down to 50 meters when suddenly the buck stood up.

 

Unfortunately at that moment we were in the open between two bushes, but luckily the antelope did not look in our direction. Quickly I pulled an arrow out of my quiver and put it on the rest. I was at full draw and ready to release the arrow when the reedbuck turned his head and stared at me. Not good. In the moment I released the trigger to send the arrow, the ram ducked down – string jumped – and the result was clear: I overshot him. What a pity, but that’s life.

 

“Don´t worry, the buck was just surprised to see us,” Izak said. “Probably he will not go far and we might have another chance when we follow him slowly as long as he is in sight.”  No sooner said than done, we found the arrow, and watched to see where the reedbuck was going. We checked available bush cover, keeping an eye on him. Fortunately he did not run, and we could follow him slowly through a bushy area. About an hour later we arrived at on open plain and saw him standing calm and relaxed 65 meters from us across the plain at the edge of more bush.

 

Only problem was, just grassland between him and us and no cover to hide and sneak in closer. It was a far shot for bow and arrow, but I had practiced far shots. I’d give it a try. I put an arrow on the rest and pulled the bow, aimed a bit lower in case he might string jump again – and undershot him! The arrow flew directly behind his front legs, under his chest, into the bush. He jumped and vanished into the bush.

Izak looked a bit disappointed while I was more than upset and was swearing at myself.

First described in 1785 by Pieter Boddaert, a Dutch physician and naturalist, common reedbucks – or southern reedbucks (Redunca arundinum), are very similar to their mountain reedbuck family members, with a few slight differences between them. The southern reedbuck is larger than both the mountain reedbuck (Redunca fulvorufula) and the bohor reedbuck (Redunca redunca). The horns of common reedbucks are angled outwards, which have a distinctive forward curving arc from the ridged bases to the smooth tips. Forming a “V” when viewed from the front, the horns typically grow 25 to 45 cm long. Only males have horns and they grow to be slightly larger than mountain reedbucks’ and lack the distinctive hooked tips of the bohor reedbuck.

 

The common reedbuck body is overall bigger and more muscular, with a larger neck and shoulders. Their neck and face is a lighter shade of brown, something the two species share. The coat of the southern reedbuck is fawn or buff in color, with some grizzling gray and brown. The undersides are white, including the bushy lower surface of the tail. All four legs have a dark stripe on their lower fronts. At the base of the pointed ears lies a gland that, when active, appears as a black circle of bare skin. Aside from this, there are no distinctive facial markings, although the lips, bottom of the jaw, and area around the eyes are often pale or white. This antelope has an average mass of 58 kg and a body length of about 134 to 167 cm. They prefer to lie in grass or reedbeds in the heat of the day and feed during sunrise and sunset, or sometimes even at night. Old reedbucks are permanently territorial.

We decided to leave it for the day and trudged back to the car to return to camp. I also wanted to check if it were probably just buck fever, or something wrong with the bow, sight or arrows. Back in camp I did a bunch of shots on the practice block and decided to take the sturdy German Kinetics Silverflame broadhead instead of the mechanicals I had used. Their flight and shooting result was more precise.

Izak handed me a beer and told me to relax at the campfire.

 

“We will find him again tomorrow. Don´t worry. Relax. He is an old buck and they are territorial,” he stated. Sitting around a nicely burning campfire under the African sky with a tasty South African beer – yes, indeed that is relaxing, and on top of that dinner was different.  Usually we liked to braai around the campfire but this was a different specialty – Spaghetti Bolognese, but instead of the usual ground beef, it was made with wildebeest – unbelievably delicious. It was so good that I overate!

Delicious black wildebeest Spaghetti Bolognese.

Next day – new chances! It was an early morning when we started, and not that we were superstitious but both of us skipped shaving this morning in the hope of better luck. We drove the bakkie close to the place where we had seen the reedbuck the day before. At crawling speed we moved forward checking the area with the binoculars. Then we spotted him bedded down in the grass in front of a bush about 200 meters away. He did not notice us. We stopped, got quietly out, and started our stalk. It was quite challenging moving forward between the bushes and grassland so as not to spook the ram. But silent and slow, step by step we shortened the distance down to an incredible 32 meters.

 

He was lying calm and relaxed, unaware of us, maybe because it was early morning and still a bit crisp. Meanwhile I was totally different as I could feel my heartbeat rising rapidly when I drew the bow in slow motion and aimed at his chest cavity. Suddenly he stood as I released the arrow, hitting him hard. The reedbuck jumped and bounded off at full speed. We watched him out of sight and gave it a break for 20 minutes. It also allowed me to calm down and get back to normal blood pressure.

Above: Common reedbuck range.

Left: Nice common reedbuck, a happy hunter and his PH.

On the spot we found a good blood trail and followed it for about 50 meters before it abruptly stopped. That was strange. We called Jacob, the tracker of the farm to help us in following the tracks. It took us three hours before finally Jacob found him slipped under a dense thick brush. These trackers and their abilities to read the signs are amazing.

 

We all were relieved to find the reedbuck and I was more than happy to have taken a common as well as my southern reedbuck. Again, it was an awesome and challenging experience with bow and arrow. Again I had a tremendously good hunt with unforgettable impressions and memories with my friend and PH Izak Vos from Vos Safaris in South Africa.

 

Shoot straight, take care, always good hunting, “Waidmannsheil” and “Alles van die beste”.  Frank

 

Bio

German hunter Frank Berbuir is passionate about the outdoors and hunting – especially bowhunting, which he has practised for more than 19 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.

Facing Down (a different) Fear… a South African Chippendale in Reno

The Naked Truth at Harrah’s 2019 as related by Joe da Silva

 

I have been in the hunting industry for over 30 years and I have been in many different dangerous situations in my life, and just got on with it. But in all those times, and those of many other PHs who have also experienced similar situations of fear, normally you have been taught and trained how to handle them. And always you have something in your hand, like a firearm, to protect you. But when you have nothing to hold onto and no one to turn to, then this is “FEAR”, and you know you are in the biggest trouble of your life.

 

After a long flight from Cape Town into Reno in January 2019 for the SCI show, I arrived at my hotel at 7.30 p,m. This was my first time staying at the Harrah’s hotel in Reno. Normally I stay at Legacy, Circus or Atlantis but I had change of mind in staying somewhere different this time.

 

After booking in, I dropped into the little convenience store across the way to buy my supplies for my room – orange juice, bananas, and my bottle of Crown Royal. I do it every year, and I also go in search for the nearest Starbucks for my morning start before the show begins. After settling into my room, going through my emails, I poured myself a glass of Royal with ice, spent an hour working on emails, showered and got into bed. I didn’t switch on the TV as I don’t enjoy watching it in the US – 98% adverts and 2% movie. I prefer to read. The last thing I saw just before falling asleep at 9.15 was the bright red electronic clock.

 

About 12.30 a.m. I woke up to do my usual early morning whiz in the toilet. Getting up, I felt like I had almost lost my mind (not from alcohol, just lack of sleep).

As I opened the door, it did not register that I never open the toilet door as it is always open in my room – my brain was in slo-mo – and what I was opening was the front door of my room. I walked down a little way away from the door and heard it close behind me. That’s when my brain started to light up. I immediately went for the door handle and heard “click”, and I was locked outside my room. My mind was in wake mode now and the realization hit me like a lightning bolt. This person was totally naked as I don’t sleep with any clothing.

 

I will always remember many years ago a friend of mine, Ron Crous, shot a charging lion in Botswana with Johan Caltiz. One of Johan’s clients had wounded the lion and Ron shot it from a kneeling position, shooting it in mid-air between the eyes with his .458 Win. Mag. open sight rifle. He gave me the video, and when I saw him at Reno some years later, he said, “You will know you got balls as a PH when you face a charging lion… Ron, I am afraid you are wrong. I’d rather be facing the lion charge than standing naked at 12.55 a.m. on the 11th floor of my hotel.

What went through my mind at that moment as millions of neurons were sparking all over my brain? While standing naked in front of the door of my room I soon realize that I need to figure out help, hoping nobody would come or leave rooms near where I was standing. I spotted a fire escape sign about five doors down to the left side of my room and immediately ran towards it and opened the door into the fire escape. Just remember I still needed to go the toilet for a whiz – the urge to go and still to concentrate was not easy at all.

 

I walked down from the 11th floor to find something that I could possibly use to open my room door. On the 9th floor I saw a bunch of hard carbon cards on a wire ring, which the Fire Inspection Officer adds on when he finalizes his checking that the fire hoses are in order. It was a bunch of cards from years back, and I struggled to remove the wire loose so that I could take a card off the wire. Eventually, I did get it loose and took two cards to my door. (Many years ago I was fascinated by a person called MacGyver and I used to watch his weekly programs which were great for mindless thoughts and quite entertaining at the time, and I guess the Swiss army knife factory could not keep up with the demand – good marketing.) Unfortunately, I did not find any Swiss Army knife like MacGyver had, but I took his idea to use the card like a credit card to try to slide open the latch of my door, like MacGyver did in his movies. What I did not realize, I was outdating myself by 35 years – MacGyver could do it in those days, but now all doors on hotel rooms have a metal safety device to stop anybody from entering by using a credit card, so plan “A” did not work.

 

I ran back down the fire escape to put the cards back so that the next inspection of the fire chief would not be lost and he would not be worried about his cards missing. My urge of wanting to relieve myself increased, so a thought came into my mind – should I just whiz down the fire escape stairways? But I could not let myself to do such a terrible thing. As I slowly walked further down the staircase to the 8th floor I saw two empty Corona bottles on the stairway. I immediately grabbed one bottle and started urinating into it, but one did not do the trick and I filled the other one…What a relief. One less thing less to worry about now. I left the two bottles in a corner well-hidden, hoping no one would see them and think he got himself two full Corona beers.

 

Walking my way down slowly I came to the 5th floor and I heard someone talking. It sounded very foreign but I could not clearly understand what language it was as it echoed up the stairway. As I went further down I saw a very young man sitting on the steel staircase and talking into his cell phone and enjoying a beer. He did not notice me at all.

 

I finally decided I needed to approach him. As I got nearer to him he glanced up and saw me one floor above him. He looked at me strangely and put his hand up, telling me to stop. I froze, but he just continued talking on his phone and drinking his beer as if I did not exist. Maybe he was talking to his girlfriend, far more important than some crazy old man walking naked towards him. I guess I was not part of the Chippendale group. I stood there waiting for his attention but he just ignored me and continued to speak on the phone.

 

I realized he was Spanish as I could hear a few words. I decided I needed to get some reaction from him and I walked down closer and he finally stood up, telling me to stop in Spanish. I asked if he could speak English and he said no. Then I had to work quickly on my Spanish as I do speak Portuguese. I tried to explain that I needed help from security – this took some doing as you can well imagine. With much persuasion I finally got him to go look for a security person of the hotel. After about 15 minutes I was standing there still waiting for him to come back to me, which felt like a lifetime. I was hoping he was going to return.

 

Finally he arrived back and said he had spoken to the security. How he got the message to security as he could not speak a word of English was another thought that went into my brain, and whether this security guy understood him and if he would come. After almost 20 minutes waiting I started to converse with him. He said he was from Salvador so I named him Mr Salvador, hoping he was going to be my savior. He said he had just finished working as a dishwasher at the kitchen of a restaurant in the hotel.

 

After some time I asked him to go and look for the security guy again. He hesitated, but I said I would pay him for his help. I don’t know what went through this guy’s mind when he and I were talking – he probably thought I was crazy. He asked if I was on drugs or drinking, and lastly enquired whether a woman had kicked me out of my room. I suppose these things happen in Reno hotels.

 

Finally a 6.5-foot tall security person came and I explained and said there was not anything sinister, that he could check at reception on my room number and my name to confirm. He was very understanding and said he’d help. “Just follow me,” he said. What a relief. I asked if “Mr Salvador” could come with us, as I’d like to give him a donation for helping me. “No problem,” said security, so Mr Salvador took an old black T-shirt out of his bag and gave it to me to wrap around my body. Unfortunately, it was so small it just covered my private parts.

 

From the 3rd floor we followed my security guard up the fire stairway. As we got to the 5th floor, he said we could now use the service lift to take us to the 11th floor, and pressed for it to arrive. It would not open. He then contacted his other friend via his two-way radio. “What’s wrong with the service lift not opening on the 5th floor?”

 

“It’s damaged,” was the reply. Wonderful. “We have a challenge now,” said security. “What challenge?” I asked. “For us to get into the 6th to catch another service,” he explained, “you have to get out the fire stairway and get into the passage of the hotel rooms and run to the other fire escape stairway and then catch the another service lift to the 11th floor.”

 

”Are you joking? Is there no other way?” He wasn’t. “OK, I have no option.” “But you have to cross the whole passage to get into the other side,” he added. Holy Moses I can’t believe this is happening to me. “Ok,” I said to him, “but you must walk to the end of the passage to see if anybody is going to come out of their rooms, and me and Mr Salvador will run together and meet you at the end of passage.” So we popped our heads out of the fire escape door and he gave us a signal to run to him.

 

Well, Usain Bolt would have never caught up to me. We managed to get into the service lift up to the 11th floor. Once we arrived there was another obstacle to conquer, another passage to run through to get to my room. I did another Usain Bolt run to my door – what a relief it was. The security guy took his master key to open the room… Guess what? It did not work and there I was standing, still naked, in front of my door, back to square one… Security had to radio his other friend to come and open the door as he had the wrong key. While waiting there he went out to the other side of the passage and managed to collect a used towel from the service room. Not naked anymore. Finally his friend came and opened the door. Before we entered the room he asked me to describe anything in the room to prove it was mine. I told him on my bedside table you will find a notepad written with word “Suitcase”, and my mobile phone is 7s IPhone with a black cover. He checked and said good to go. They got a nice tip from me to thank them for all their wonderful help.

 

The red light clock said 3.45 a.m. as I got into bed again. As I was lying down I wondered if it all really happened or was this just a dream. I phoned my wife as I could not sleep at all as the whole saga was running through my mind all over again and I needed just to talk to someone. She was quite surprised that I was phoning her at that time. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” “Yes,” I said, “but I just wanted to let you know there is a new member of Chippendale in Reno, and he is here in Harrah’s Hotel in room 1146.”

 

And every night for the duration of the show, I assure you that I put a chair in front of the front door to make sure I did not go through that door to the bathroom.

 

Joe was born and based in Cape Town, and is the owner of Cape Town Hunting Safaris and Tours. He has had over 36 years in the hunting industry, and has been an International Firearms instructor for over 25 years, as well as owning his own gunshop for 30 years. Joe is a qualified and registered tour guide and auctioneer, and conducts hunts into Zambia, Zimbabwe, Mozambique, Namibia and South Africa. He is also a qualified knife maker in his spare time.

 

The Ghost of the Darkness

By Dan Hendrickson

 

Africa calls. Within a few weeks after my fourth safari, I was already dreaming about going back. Because of my success in hunting with Stormberg Elangeni Safaris (SES) in the Eastern Cape of South Africa in 2017, and the wide variety of game there, I decided to return in June 2018. This time, I planned to take my 12-year-old grandson, Austin, for his first safari. His older brothers, Cole and Cade, had both hunted with me in Africa when they were 13 years old.

 

Now it was Austin’s turn, and he had a wish list. Mine included klipspringer, Cape grysbok, bushpig and caracal. Planning a year in advance, I applied for an oribi tag. SES went out of their way to get me an oribi permit, and just two weeks before I left, I received it. I had also included blue duiker in my list, hoping to add to my collection of the Tiny Ten pygmy antelope in Africa.

 

We were met at the Port Elizabeth airport by PH Juan Greef and tracker/skinner Silas. Silas, a very jovial fellow, was from the Shona tribe in Zimbabwe.

 

The SES team had planned our hunt extremely well. We were to begin with the klipspringer hunt in the Cape Fold Mountains referred to as the Karoo area, where there were also some quality springbok, especially the copper variety, and some very good steenbok. We succeeded in just two days, taking a very nice klipspringer, steenbok, and a copper springbok that should be in the top 20!

 

Day 3. We traveled to the Stormberg Mountains and settled into SES’s quaint, historic Bufflesfontein Lodge owned and operated by Robbie and Angela Stretton. There, in one day Austin took a nice springbok, a huge blesbok with 18½ horns, and a gold medal mountain reedbuck. At another historic lodge about 50 km from Port Alfred we took blue duiker, oribi, caracal, Cape grysbok and a huge 30” waterbuck.

 

We spent the final three days hunting blue wildebeest, blesbok, impala, warthog, and bushpig in the Kat River Conservancy at the Manzikhanya Lodge, owned and operated by John and Isabel Sparks. Hunting the bushpig was quite a challenge. In 2017 Cade had a shot at a bushpig on the last day there, and missed. Apparently, his nerves got to him as the pigs passed just five yards from him going to the bait. As he was about to shoot, the automatic lights malfunctioned. Juan turned on his flashlight, but Cade shot too fast.

 

This year, we had two baits out with game cameras at each place. There were different big boars coming into both baits on a fairly regular basis. When they became accustomed to eating the carcasses at the bait site (bushpigs love eating carrion), Juan added the automatic green hog lights that were infrared activated. A hole was dug for their special corn-based pig bait.

 

Bushpigs don’t have very good eyesight, but their sense of smell and hearing makes them a challenging animal to hunt. They are very wary nocturnal creatures, seldom seen in daylight. Juan half-jokingly referred to the elusive bushpig boars as “the Ghosts of the Darkness” – quite a fitting name!

 

We planned to take at least one of the huge boars that we had seen on the game cameras. After checking the wind, we marked a trail through the brush to help us navigate in the dark. The bushpigs were hitting the bait after sunset between 6:15 p.m. and 8:00 p.m. After dusk, Juan and I left the vehicle and made our way to the bait, about three-quarters of a mile away. Wearing headlamps, we worked our way through the hills and creek bottoms until we got to the foot of the final hill. The bait was about 100 yards past the top of this hill. We slowly and quietly made it to the top without using any lights, and stood on a large flat boulder at the edge of the slope, and watched a dark clump of brush close to where the bait was.

 

We stayed until 8 p.m. but nothing ever activated the green lights. We checked the bait and saw the rotten corn was untouched. Juan didn’t think the pigs would be coming that night, so we left. But next morning as we began hunting, Juan received a call from John Sparks to inform him that the pigs had hit the bait at 8:45 p.m. the previous night and stayed there 45 minutes!

 

It was Day 9. We searched for a trophy blue wildebeest, glassed some nice bulls, but nothing worth pursuing. However, we saw herds of Cape eland, black wildebeest, springbok and blesbok in that wide valley. Juan spotted a huge blesbok ram in a group of at least forty animals and we decided to go after him. We bumped them three times before the big ram stopped at 250 yards with three other sizable rams. As Juan described the location of the ram within the group, I found him in my Leupold V6 scope, but another ram was behind him, making the shot too risky. He moved and then another ram walked in front of him.

 

“Aim a little bit back because of the wind,” Juan said. As that one cleared, Juan called the shot. I took a breath, steadied my Remington Model 700 7mm Magnum straight up his front leg to the center of his chest, and squeezed off the shot. I didn’t think that the 160-grain Barnes TSX BT bullet would drift much at that distance and I was right. I hit exactly where I had aimed, and he went right down in his tracks. His 17½” whitish horns were impressive – quite an exceptional trophy.

 

After lunch, we headed to another property, searching for a warthog or impala for Austin. Juan glassed a valley and found a herd of impala, as well as a very nice mature kudu bull below us. We made a half-mile stalk, located several rams, but Juan decided to look for a better one, and we eased through the valley, working our way behind the acacia trees. We spotted a nice ram about 225 yards and Juan put up the sticks, but Austin said that he wasn’t steady enough to try the shot. Then suddenly a kudu bull appeared in front of us about 250 yards, and we let him get out of sight before Juan and Austin moved forward. Baboons on the hillside barked their alarm as we moved slowly ahead, but eventually, we gave up and we headed to the truck as the sun was sinking. That night, the bushpigs did not visit the bait site.

 

Day 10. This was our last day to hunt, and we woke up to a light rain. John and Juan said that the cold, damp weather would hinder Austin’s chance of getting a warthog. However, I felt confident that we would have good luck. We drove to a property that was seldom hunted as indicated by the faint tracks, and made our way through the fairly thick acacia trees on the hillside. Within 30 minutes we spotted four nice impala rams to our left, one of them with exceptionally long, thick, black horns. To be honest, I really wanted to take that one, but it would thrill me more if Austin did.

 

Austin tried to get set up for a shot, but the four rams ran to the right. It was raining softly then, so I remained in the Toyota pickup, while they continued the stalk. They were gone about 30 minutes, when I saw two nice rams running toward me. They stopped about 80 yards away in almost the same place as before. One was the big ram! I grabbed the radio.

 

“Juan, two of the rams ran back to the same place. One is the big ram.”

 

“We are stalking them,” Juan answered. I watched as the two rams looked behind them and ran, and eventually Juan, Silas, and Austin arrived. The two impala had joined another group of four, and Austin tried several times to connect with a shot through the dense trees, but couldn’t seal the deal. I could tell that his nerves were getting to him.

 

Then we found a nice mature ram with a herd of 15 females, and Austin was able to get a shot. We heard a thud and knew that he had connected. We got on the track, Juan and Silas going to the right and Austin and I searching further north. Juan and Silas were 150 yards from us when we heard a shot. When we joined up with them we saw a beautiful ram with thick horns lying on the ground. Austin had shot him too far back, but Juan had put him down for good.

 

Our shoes and socks were pretty wet by then, and the cold made it uncomfortable, so we headed back to the skinning shed, an old British soldiers’ headquarters during the Boer War. On the way we spotted some warthogs near a dam, and our luck held out, although it was still wet and cold. Juan, Silas and Austin went through some goat pens and worked their way to the dam. Before long, I heard a shot, and it sounded good.

 

Soon Juan came walking back. “He got him!” he smiled. We drove across to find Austin beaming. He finally got his warthog, and it was a very nice one with two long matching tusks.

 

After lunch and dry clothes, it was time for bushpig, as the sun was going down.

 

We approached the area from a different road because of the southwest wind. It was 6 p.m. Fifteen minutes later, from where we were sitting we saw the green glow of the hog light illuminate the hill on the skyline! It was pitch-black with no moon. I told Austin to stay in the vehicle. Juan said to play it safe and use no lights as we began walking pretty fast toward the green glow about three-quarter of a mile away. I focused on Juan’s long pants legs and walked where he did. We trod carefully to avoid disturbing a rock or breaking a stick.

 

It was very difficult for me, but Juan had no problem. It seemed like an eternity, but we made it. We just needed to get a little closer to make out the dark images below the light. Juan moved to the right and motioned for me to get my rifle in place on the tripod, but I couldn’t see a thing. I reached out, located the apex, and put my rifle in the cradle.

 

“Shoot the one in the middle, it’s a big one!” said Juan. I saw three shapes in my Leupold V6 scope, and put the illuminated red dot on the largest one’s shoulder, carefully took aim, and squeezed off the shot.

 

“Did I hit him?”

 

“I think so. The pigs ran to the right after you fired.”

 

We eased our way up to the spot where the pigs had been before the shot, and didn’t see any blood. All of the sour corn was gone, so they wouldn’t have stayed there much longer. We walked slowly and very cautiously to the right along a game trail. Juan had showed me ghastly photos of a man’s thigh, the result of a wounded bushpig attack, so I readied my rifle and listened carefully as we inched forward. We walked about 100 yards to the edge of a small canyon and stopped. Juan decided that we needed to go back to camp and get PH John Sparks with his .375 H&H backup rifle, and his tracking dogs. Good idea! As we were walking back to the pickup, we came across a large animal track in the sandy road. Juan asked me if I knew what it was.

 

“Leopard?” He nodded, but said it was not very fresh. That was a relief!

 

John Sparks was waiting outside with his dogs, Jasper, a Belgian Malinois cross, and Zinga a Rhodesian Ridgeback. We didn’t bring Juan’s dog, Chappie, because he was injured. John, Silas, and the two dogs went ahead of us as we made our way back to the bait area. John brought his dogs out on leashes and walked slowly to the right of the bait. Within 15 yards, the dogs put their noses to the ground.

 

“Blood,” said John. There was one drop of blood there. I knew that I had hit him! They went another 20 feet and did it again. This time there was more blood. He turned the dogs loose. Jasper started quartering ahead, then ran straight for 30 yards and stopped, licking something in the grass.

 

“They’ve found him!” said John. We were all very excited to see if it was the big boar that John had regularly seen on the game camera. As I walked up to it, I was relieved and shocked to see that it was huge and wild-looking, covered with long white hair – quite a demonic specimen with long, flesh-gnashing tusks and ears ragged from fighting.

 

Our 10-day safari couldn’t have ended better. Austin and I completed our wish lists, all spectacular trophies. The “Ghost of the Darkness” hunt had added another layer of memories to our magical days on the Eastern Cape of South Africa. The experiences that we shared on this incredible journey will be with us forever!

 

Once again, the SES team surpassed my expectations. Special thanks go to my PH Juan Greef; tracker/skinner Silas; Robbie and Angela Stretton; John and Isabel Sparks; Murray and Yvette Danckwerts; James and Viv Quin, and the entire SES team.

Bio

As a boy, Dan Hendrickson began hunting on Dixon Creek in the Texas Panhandle. His love of quail hunting led him to raising, training, and competing together with his English pointer bird-dogs. He and his wife, Glenda, founded Phantom Kennels in Abilene, Texas. His favorite pastime was hunting whitetail deer and exotics in Texas, and elk and mule deer in New Mexico until he discovered Africa. Africa changed him forever! He founded Hendrickson Hunting, LLC in 2011 and began helping other hunters as a hunting agent. He and his clients have numerous animals in the SCI and Rowland Ward record books.

On the Spoor of the Spiral-horned Kudu

By Simon K Barr

 

If I were going to take a shot at the kudu we’d been tracking all day, it would have to be now.

 

And it was going to be like threading a needle. There was no way of getting closer – swirling wind and, after cover, open ground. I’d have no choice but to find a path for my bullet through the dense scrub. Time was not on our side: the area was teeming with wildlife, and at any moment we’d be scented. We had already heard a large group of buffalo bounce around to our immediate east, just 100 yards away beyond the cover where we were. Moving slowly and silently, I identified what I thought would be a good enough window through the arid mess of vegetation not unlike a roll of barbed wire. I could see the animal clearly, and steadied the rifle forend on sticks. As I did so, the kudu, though still unaware of our presence, turned to walk away. It was now or never.

 

Of all the spiral-horned species, the kudu is one I’ve longed to hunt, and I was fortunate enough to be with the MD of Rigby, Marc Newton, in the Savé Valley Conservancy in East Zimbabwe, where the wildlife has free range over a total of 800,000 acres. This extraordinary place, my veteran PH Butch Coates explained, is a product of the late 1980s, when 18 landowners decided to pull down the cattle fences and make the change from farming to safaris: “They realized it was vital to the wildlife and the ecosystem, but also that it would be more profitable. When the area was farmed for cattle, the wild animals were persecuted. Not only did they take up resources by grazing, but there was foot and mouth disease that they were spreading. So they had to be shot to maintain healthy cattle herds.” Zebra and wildebeest were both targeted, and buffalo were wiped out in the region. Kudu, eland and impala remained, though in smaller numbers than today, and of course predators were also trapped, shot or poisoned. The latter, Butch said, made an astonishingly fast recovery, and the Conservancy now has to ensure that they do not become too many in number, as that will affect prey species.

 

Butch works at various reserves in the valley as a freelance PH, but often hunts with clients from Sango. Sango Lodge, at 160,000 acres is the largest property in the conservancy. Butch makes no bones about the fact that the lodge is a business, so has to make money: “The lodge takes a lot of investment to run, with over 100 people directly employed, but in the end, if we don’t have healthy, sustainable numbers of game animals, there would be no business, so it’s in our interest to maintain a healthy population. There are anti-poaching units on each property, as well as a specific rhino anti-poaching unit, which is run independently. The rhino unit can go anywhere on the Conservancy. They also protect elephants from ivory poachers.” Poaching, it seems, is still an issue, but, Butch says, it is more for meat, and varies from year to year: “This year we had poor rains, so locals are struggling to get by, which means the bushmeat poaching is higher.”

 

The Conservancy is still suffering from the effects of the notorious “Cecil” incident, despite the fact that both the hunter and the PH were found innocent in court of any wrongdoing. Today, every lion, leopard or elephant hunt in Zimbabwe has to be accompanied by a National Park Ranger, the expense of which is passed on to the hunter. The Conservancy works on a strict quota for certain game species. Six elephants a year, six lions and 23 leopards can be hunted over the entire area, with the individual property’s size dictating their share of this.

 

Marc and I were also shooting bait for leopard for another member of our hunting party who had booked to shoot leopard, elephant, buffalo, crocodile and hippo, all of which are totally free-range in the Savé valley. Sango is responsible for providing the entire Conservancy with leopard bait.

 

“Zebra is by far the best,” Butch explained. “There are plenty of them, and it’s fat, soft meat.” Meanwhile, another party of hunters were out hanging bait that Marc and I had shot with Butch’s colleague Thierry Labat. While doing the rounds, the group had spotted a huge old warhorse of a kudu bull, the likes of which are very rarely seen in the wild. The call came on the radio: “Butch, he’s a giant, 57 inches at least. If you want a decent kudu come now!”

 

The decision was easy, despite knowing that the tracking would not be, for we were at least two hours’ drive away from Thierry’s position. With a piece of white tissue on a thornbush, so we would have a starting point, Thierry had marked the place he’d seen it disappear into cover. But it would need to be a masterclass in tracking. A good two hours after the bull had been seen, we locked in on the tissue, and the challenge ahead of us. Luckily, our tracker Ringisai or Ringi, was one of the most skilled I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing at work. Ringi was immediately able to read sign that was visible only to him and not to my unpracticed eyes. There were no snapped branches, no tracks, turned stones or rocks at all as far as I could see, but he kept on intently following the spoor.

 

Initially, we covered the ground fairly fast, and it was clear the wind was in our favor, but it was also clear that we had a lot of catching up to do.

 

“It’s in a group,” Ringi said. “They’re feeding.” It seemed to me like some sort of magic as we worked our way through thick bush in pursuit of an animal we hadn’t yet laid eyes on. The area was the real deal. True, Big Five country, with elephant, buffalo, rhino, lion and leopard all in residence, and all of which could jeopardize not just the hunt, but our lives as well. The thickness of the bush meant that we might not realize danger was upon us until it was too late. At one point, the sounds from nearby told us we were in close proximity to a herd of buffalo, one of the most dangerous of animals. Tensions rose, as not only were we worried about being charged, but also that the animals might spook the bull.

 

Two-and-a-half hours of following an unseen quarry in an area that carried a high density of dangerous game takes its toll on the nerves, so when we first spotted the kudu, a behemoth of a bull, my heart pounded in my chest. At 200m away, we were in thick brush, and the kudu was below us in a patch where the ground opened up a bit more. We needed to get closer for a shot with the open sights, and crept through the brush to get within range, trying to be as silent as possible. At 150m, I knew it would be very soon.

 

Finding a gap through which to shoot was no easy task, and to complicate matters even more, the animal was now facing away but lower than us, its back and spine the only real target I could see. The bull started to move off. I focused, trying to push the intensity of the moment to one side and not think about all the effort that had gone into tracking, or the kudu’s daunting size. Taking the best shot I could manage, I dropped the bull on the spot – it was one of the best I can remember taking under pressure. The 400-grain DGX had punched though the cover and landed between the spine and scapula. We wasted no time in approaching the awesome creature. He was huge, and old. The front of his horns were worn smooth, almost to ivory, and the “bell” which is formed by the first curl at the bottom of the horns was enormous. Butch thumped me on the back. He estimated the bull at eleven years, well past breeding age.

 

Marc and I waited by the kudu. Butch also left his rifle with us – this was predator country, after all. He warned that it might be an hour or two before he came back.
“I’ll have to cut a path to get the bakkie here, so sit tight.” While the wait for Butch’s return was tense, and every crack or sound set my mind leaping, it also gave me time to reflect on the day: A pure masterclass in tracking, and the experience of conservation at its best that had culminated in a kudu bull of a lifetime – something I’d not forget in a hurry.

 

Simon K. Barr has been a photojournalist since 2005. His fascination for wild places and heady adventure has taken him from the peaks of the Himalaya to the thickets of the African bush. He is now the CEO of global communications agency Tweed Media International, which he founded a decade ago with his wife, Selena. Simon is a dedicated outdoorsman and conservationist. When not involved in business or sport, he enjoys spending time outdoors with his daughters, Ptarmigan and Skye. Simon now lives with his family in the Scottish borders, where he can indulge his lifelong passion for fishing whenever time permits.

 

Tragelaphus strepsiceros, or greater kudu is listed as of “least concern” on the International Concern for Conservation of Nature, unlike its cousin, the lesser kudu of Tragelaphus imberbis, which is “near threatened”. With an estimated population of 480,000 occurring in eastern and southern Africa, the kudu is currently rising in numbers, particularly on conservancies and private land. Classified as an antelope, Tragos is the Greek for “he-goat” and elaphos the word for deer. Strephis is the word for twisting and keras for horn, which is where the scientific name comes from.
As with many of the antelope species the males tend to be solitary, though they can live in bachelor groups. Males only join the females during the mating season. Calves grow quickly, and are almost independent of their mothers at just six months. The bulls tend to be much larger than the cows, and are very vocal, using grunts, clucks and gasps. The horns start to grow when the bull reaches six to 12 months old, producing one twist at two years old and the full two-and-a-half twists at six years old. Very occasionally, they will have three full twists to their horns. One of the largest species of antelope, bulls can weigh up to 270kg or more, and can be 160cm tall at the shoulder, while cows are much smaller at around 100cm high at the shoulder, and are hornless. Also, the cows don’t possess the white strip across the nose that bulls have. Like all antelope, kudu are extremely hardy, but unlike many antelope do not have the speed or stamina to escape predators in open country. They are athletic and nimble, however, and can leap over shrubs or bush to avoid being caught – hence a favored habitat being thick bush.

Kit box

Rigby London Best in .416 with open sights
www.johnrigbyandco.com

Hornady Dangerous Game
400-grain DGX
www.hornady.com

Courteney for Rigby Selous boots
www.johnrigbyandco.com

 

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