Aug 7, 2018 | News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Uganda 2018
By Jofie Lamprecht
As I descended through the clouds to land in Nairobi, I finally understood why Ernest Hemingway called his famous book The Green Hills of Africa. The swelling and shifting cumulonimbus clouds floated over these green hills about which so much is written and romanticized by those who coined and made the word “safari” famous. For me, this was just a layover on the way to a destination referred to by Winston Churchill as the “Pearl of Africa”, the old stomping grounds of Idi Amin.
Fast forward a week. I was overlooking the spectacular vista of the eight Virunga Volcanoes – one glowingly active, the highest volcano towering 15,000 feet on the horizon. A fire was crackling in the hearth to keep out the cold at 7,000 feet, and soothe a sore body after the previous day’s trek – a whole day with the incredible gorillas. It was one of those ‘bucket-list’ items many have on their list and, sadly, few ever realize.
Jim and I have known each other since 2004. With six Namibian safaris, both hunting and photographic, Tanzania and now Uganda. Jim has had the privilege of hunting all of the Big Five, and six of the Dangerous Seven. His excuse for not shooting a crocodile was that “my house is full – and I am NOT moving.” He has fulfilled his African hunting aspirations, and at 69 is still in love with the continent, and wants to explore more of it.
I arrived in Entebbe – the original capital of Uganda – at 22:00 on the first night, sans check-in luggage. The lights of the plentiful bars lit the streets, the presidential palace illuminating the night sky, overpowering and unnecessary. I was happy to see Jim at our guesthouse for a nightcap before the safari started in earnest the following day.
The morning light brought the sound of beautiful birdlife. Birds a-plenty with common names that I knew, but not the specific sub-species. After a hearty and very healthy breakfast we made our way to the airport to fly to our destination.
Our accommodations were high up on the hill with a spectacular view sweeping over the plains and the seemingly endless Lake Victoria below.
“Any hippo or crocs in Lake Victoria?” I asked our driver.
“Yes… there are a few crocs, but if they are seen they are saved and taken to the zoo!” This was not the answer I wa expecting. With my vehement distaste for zoos, I was not impressed that these animals were incarcerated for the rest of their lives just for being where they naturally belong.
A scheduled flight took us over a very rural and agricultural Uganda to Kasese. Jim and I were both surprised to see that all we flew over was agricultural land – small plots cut into the red Ugandan soil with a multitude of different crops growing in the fertile soil, subsistence agriculture supplying most of the food for the population. Forty-two million people inhabit this country, a third the size of my native Namibia. The country is 241,038 km² (150,000 miles2). (Three times smaller than Texas.) On a firm grass landing strip we were met by our driver and guide, Mali.
There are two types of roads in Uganda – bad and worse. The asphalt version has giant potholes in it, and speeding is next to impossible. And then you hit the speed bumps, just to slow you down a little more. Scheduled flights are both affordable and strongly recommended to save you from the worst of these roads.
We spent our first night on the edge of an extinct volcanic crater lake at the foot of the Rwenzori Mountains. I loved the quaint and very different lodge, and understood why it was built where it was, and the vision that the owners had when building it, with the mist, the sun, the clouds, and the view. A real treat was their homemade goats-cheese and locally sourced honey. In the afternoon, we explored the nearby village.
In Uganda one has to pre-book permits to see both chimpanzees and gorillas – and there are two options – trekking and habituation. Trekking simply means a hike in, have about an hour with the primates, and then the hike out. Habituation is a much more intense hike in, finding the primates and spending several hours with them, watching them interact, feed and just being the primates they are.
For both chimpanzees and gorillas we opted for the habituation experience, and bought permits for both trips.
In the black pre-dawn we followed the lights of the Cruiser as we bounced our way down the road to Kibale Forest National Park. The rural subsistence farming world of Uganda was slowly lit with a soft light of the early sun.
Civilization would suddenly stop, and one was immediately plunged into pristine wilderness.
The road improved, and there was evidence of elephant and other animals. In the eerie pre-dawn, the forest looked dark and mystical, waiting to share its secrets with us – but only after some trekking on foot.
We met our armed park ranger for the day, a cheerful Jennifer, an old AK-47 slung over her shoulder as we started our trek into the forest. She occasionally used the weapon as a walking stick, barrel down. With the smells of the wet soil, the drops of water constant like rain, it was like no place I had ever been, a place where fairy tales are set – with trees displaced by forest elephant. Vibrant, colorful butterflies of every variety were everywhere. Unseen birds were vocal in the canopy through which rays of sunshine streamed.
The trees were enormous. At a particularly big tree with a yellow trunk, figs rained down from above – our first chimp sighting. We spent some time looking straight up, catching glimpses of them as they moved about picking fruit.
With stiff necks, we followed Jennifer in a different direction and found a large troop of chimps in low trees. Our habituation started in earnest – as did the photography. It was a thrilling experience to spend time with these interesting animals, especially when the dominant male made a brief appearance by climbing down the tree and walking among us.
The swiftly flowing brown flood waters of the Ishasha River gurgled by our tented camp set on its banks. Topi and Ugandan kob were plentiful. We saw seven magnificent small tree-climbing lions with distended bellies, snoozing in a fig tree,. The bird life was incredible – something I truly enjoy.
The river ran red with clay, high on the banks, swollen, its tributaries adding to its girth. Several pods of hippo were submerged in the shallow water.
In the distance, bordering the Congo, lay the daunting snow-capped Rwenzori Mountains with summits reaching 17,000 feet.
On leaving the Ishasha River area we encountered several elephant bulls. It was interesting to see both forest and savannah, in the same herd, interacting and living together – the forest elephant with their smaller physique, straight, almost translucent ivory and smaller heads, and the savannah with their gigantic bodies, curved ivory and massive heads. The transition area for this subspecies, is in the savannah plains of Uganda, and seeing this was one of the highlights of my trip.
“I survived the road up to the clouds”, is what the T-shirt should say. The road up the mountain passes was rough. Very, very rough. Cut into the side of the mountains down to the bedrock, the road was hard and bumpy. When it rained, red soil slid down the side of the steep embankments, making them slippery. We climbed from 4000 feet to over 7000, with sheer drops that looked twice as high as they really were, and there were no guard rails.
Our final lodge for this trip was literally in the clouds. A place of peace and tranquility. A place meant for recovery from the physical challenges of gorilla trekking.
On a misty morning we were given our briefing in the southern end of Bwindi Impenetrable Forest and introduced to our police and military armed escort, guide, trackers and porters. April is the rainy season in Uganda, with ground slick underfoot and many streams to cross. Physically it was challenging with the up-and-down, slip and slide, high altitude and the crossing of streams – all of this exertion to see some of the 850 highland gorillas that remain in the wild.
After three hours of the forest’s slow torture, we climbed a hill covered in foot-grabbing vines, rounded a bush and there was a juvenile gorilla, reclining on a branch looking at me, as if bored, waiting for our appearance. The walk forgotten, camera gear was spread out and covered under rain ponchos, and the photo session began.
I had no idea we could get so close. Being six feet from a 450lb silverback, with its head the size of a colossal cannon ball, is intimidating, I don’t care who you are!
I inched forward, expecting to be attacked at any second. The trekking team was ready, and I settled in to get my shots. Completely habituated, we were able to move as freely as the vines let us around these amazing animals. After an hour a mother with a newborn moved towards the silverback from thick cover. The different interactions were amazing – the tenderness when the baby came close to the massive figure of the dominant male; the reaction of the female when she disapproved of her man’s actions, swinging backhanded at the male, not hitting him, but resulting in him throwing his hands up in the air and falling theatrically on his back. There was another female with a snare-damaged hand.
Plan your trip to Uganda. It is worth the terrible roads and speed bumps, and the multiple police searches at the airport. The lodges and people are incredible, the food fantastic and the scenery truly amazing. The wildlife that coexists in the islands of remaining sanctuary is absolutely worth the trip. These animals exist, squeezed by human over-population into the last areas of this enchanted impenetrable forest.
And this wildlife will not exist if it has no value, so your trip will help keep these wild places wild.
A trip of a lifetime for me. I cannot wait to return.
Namibian-born Jofie is a licensed PH in both plains-game and dangerous-game hunting in Namibia, proud to uphold the traditions of ethical and fair-chase hunting, loving to walk Namibia’s varied terrain, from desert to high mountains to sub-tropical environments. He works hard to get his hunters close to the game, enjoys sharing his country’s wildlife and unique
environment with visitors, and has a special place in his heart for the children who come on safari. Jofie is based in Namibia’s capital city, Windhoek.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”16662,16665,16661,16660″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Aug 6, 2018 | News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Namibia: 2017
A Namibian Eland – a father daughter hunt
By Sydney Pendergast
At the age of thirteen I killed my first elk. That cold November morning, which I remember clearly, began a new, lifelong love for hunting and the outdoors, a “hunting bug” fueled by my father who has enjoyed hunting here in our home state of Montana for over 37 years. His lifelong dream was to take a hunting trip to Africa, and as my senior year of high school came to a close, his lifelong dream would become a reality.
After months of careful planning, we took a father daughter trip to Namibia, to spend eight days hunting with Jamy Traut Safaris. We got on a plane in Montana, and within 24 hours were on the other side of the world. In many ways, I had no idea what to expect. When we met our guide Jaco, he suggested we each make a list of the animals we would most like to hunt. I was open-minded, since we were unsure of what we would see and what we would have the opportunity to hunt. However, when we arrived at our camp and were relaxing in the lodge, I got a better idea of what would interest me – I noticed an iPad set up with a slideshow of some of the impressive trophy animals taken by other clients. I became particularly intrigued with pictures of a massive yellowish animal. Jaco told me that it was an eland. After watching the slideshow several times, and focusing on the eland, I decided that that was what I wanted most to hunt.
It was the fourth day of my hunting trip in Namibia. Eland are the largest antelope in Africa, and I thought that their size would make them easy to spot, but the old bull that we had been hunting had proved to be difficult. Two days previously my father and I shot two animals each – a hartebeest and a gemsbok for me, and a wildebeest and a springbok for him. We felt very blessed to have been able to come to Namibia and experience such great hunting, hunting vastly different from anything that we would experience at home.
We had searched for a specific eland bull an entire day without sight of him, but were lucky enough to run into some giraffe. In Namibia, at least at Panorama Camp, it seems almost impossible to go out hunting without seeing such varied wildlife and so much of it.
We start our eland hunt today. Everyone has a good feeling about it. Panda, a brilliant tracker, keeps an eye out for eland tracks at one of the waterholes where we had started bright and early following an eland herd. From the spoor, Panda points out that there is a large bull, the bull that we have been searching for. It is impressive to watch Panda and Stephanis tracking. They know which tracks are from what species and how long ago they were made. They have no problem identifying and following those of the large bull, in spite of the countless tracks from different animals all crisscrossing the trail.
We end up walking quietly along for two or three hours, me wondering what is in store. The eland, because of their size, can travel a great distance in no time at all, and it is obvious that we are far behind. If they do not stop, we won’t be able to find them. Soon the sun is blazing down, and I am sweating, pestered by a fly, its persistent buzzing the only sound apart from our soft footfalls in the red sand. Suddenly, Jaco spots something. We strain to see, peering through our binoculars, and Panda climbs a tree for a better view. We finally see a herd on a sand dune very far away, and decide to take the truck to get closer, and then realize that it is the very herd we have been seeking. The bull is with them!
As soon as we got close enough we began our stalk. There were several eland visible, standing on the top of a sand dune near some trees. We had some cover from trees and small bushes, but there was also a lot of open space. We would have to crawl a long way to get close enough to them, while using the scarce cover to avoid being spotted.
As we began to approach, walking hunched over at first, we realized that there was a lone gemsbok standing under a tree between us and the eland. He stared at us before deciding to run off, fortunately heading away from the herd. We were all relieved – he could so easily have spoilt our hunt. We continued, moving very slowly, and at noon we decided to sit under a bush and wait, hoping that during the hot part of the day, the eland would relax and settle.
I lay back on the prickly African grass trying to calm down. I had sore knees and aching back, and several cuts on my hands from crawling through the bush. I was nervous, but the sun on my face and the peaceful silence helped me unwind. Hunting takes much patience. Finally, after moving along again slowly for a half an hour, we settled behind a bush around 240 yards away from our target. We couldn’t get much closer without being spotted.
Jaco set up a tripod, and I put my gun on it, kneeling for the shot. The bull was massive, with very worn-down horns and a face that had become bluish-gray with age. He stood broadside, then moved behind a tree before I could get a shot. He makes me wait. There was a cow in front of him, and another lying in the shade of a tree 30 yards to his right. The hot sun is in my eyes, and I was covered in a thin layer of sweat and dust. I took some deep breaths and readied myself, waiting to get a good shot.
Through the scope I watched him stand on his hind legs to pick some leaves off a tree. It seemed like ages. Finally, he is in my crosshairs; the bright afternoon sunlight is shining on my scope. I stop breathing. Time seemed to slow down as I squeezed the trigger. I heard the sound that I was hoping for, as my bullet hit him solidly. He disappeared over the sand dune with the rest of the herd. By the time they made it to the other side, we were on the top of the dune with guns ready. He was weakening fast, and the rest of the eland were moving steadily away. Finally, he just stopped, I shot once more, and he fell. The one that we had been searching for was dead at my feet. A picture cannot do such a powerful animal justice. As we took photos in the hot Namibian sun, I once again felt truly blessed to be able to experience such a trip. I could not have been happier with the hunt.
That day, and for the rest of my safari at the Panorama Camp, I was reminded again and again of the impressive beauty and power of nature. In Namibia, a hunter can experience an adventure that is truly unparalleled. Each hunt was a fulfilling experience for both of us. Over our eight days I took a hartebeest, a gemsbok, an eland, and a waterbuck. My father got a black wildebeest, a hartebeest, a gemsbok, a kudu, and even an ostrich. He also had time to bowhunt, taking two springbok with a recurve.
But it was not just the trophies that made our safari so special. On the first day we had met a group of strangers – by the end of the week our hosts felt like family. We spent our days hunting with Jaco and Stefanis. At night we gathered around the dinner table, eating and talking for hours with the family and friends, exchanging stories, getting to know each other more and more.
It was difficult to say goodbye. On our last day in Namibia, we promised all the special people we had met that we would return someday. Although we live halfway across the world, we had started to feel at home hunting on the plains of Namibia. We dream of going back someday, as soon as possible. As I look back on my trip to Africa, I am thankful to have been fortunate enough to have had such a wonderful experience. I hope that one day soon my father and I will have another chance to watch the sunset in Namibia.
Bio:
Sydney is currently a pre-pharmacy major at the University of Montana in Missoula MT. Along with hunting, she enjoys lifting weights, skiing, and (sometimes) going running. She likes to read books and also spend time with friends she made in college. When she graduates from college, Sydney hopes to take her Dad on a trip back to Namibia to celebrate![/vc_column_text][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”16497,16496,16495,16494,16493,16492″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Aug 5, 2018 | News, Rifles
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Zimbabwe: 2016
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[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”16465,16466,16467,16468,16469″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Aug 3, 2018 | News, WingShooting
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Is Southern Africa the New Argentina?
By Ken Bailey
For years, dedicated dove and pigeon hunters seeking high-volume shooting opportunities have descended annually en masse to Argentina. Just uttering the word “Córdoba” brings knowing grins to the face of legions of enthusiastic wingshooters. And why wouldn’t it, as that province in north-central Argentina is the acknowledged capital of dove hunting, where daily bags of 1000 birds or more per day are possible, if not common, for those willing to put in the time, energy and investment.
I know firsthand how Argentina garnered its reputation, having visited and hunted there a few years ago and experiencing the best of that country’s dove and pigeon hunting. Stopping in for “a quick little shoot” on the way from the airport to the lodge, as one example, I knocked down 340 Eared doves in just a couple hours. I must say, it was an exhilarating beginning. The next day I shot 800 or so, with several handfuls of squawking, green parakeets, another agricultural pest, thrown in for good measure. Had I been so inclined to extend my shooting, 1000 on the ground for the day was a definite possibility.
As much as I enjoyed my hunt in Argentina, however, I found it do be a “one and done” experience; I have no burning desire to go back. After three days of shooting, with the novelty having worn off, I’d lost my edge. I wasn’t leaping out of bed to get back on day four. In fact, by then I was actually getting a little bored with it all. And I’m not alone in this assessment. I’ve talked to others who enjoyed their Argentina dove hunting experience but who harbour no urgency to return.
Still, Argentina remains the world’s most popular dove and pigeon hunting destination, particularly among North Americas. Slowly but surely, however, South Africa, and to a lesser extent Namibia, are gaining a dedicated following of hunters seeking a more diverse and rewarding dove and pigeon hunting experience.
To be sure, there are both remarkable similarities and stark differences between Argentina’s and southern Africa’s dove and pigeon hunting. Let’s examine a few of them.
Shooting Volume
When you visit Argentina, it’s all a numbers game. A bird boy sits beside you as you shoot, ensuring you always have your next box of shells at the ready while he keeps a running tally of the birds that fall. 500+ bird days are pretty standard, even for average shooters. 1000 doves is just a matter of putting in the requisite hours, as the birds don’t stop flying through the daylight hours. And for those hell bent on running up the score, I suppose 1500 – 2000 birds isn’t out of the question.
By those standards, South Africa can’t compete, but 300 – 500 birds per day is certainly possible, and for most of us, that’s enough. Robbie Stretton of Stormberg Elangeni Safaris (www.sesafaris.com) says they’ve had several pigeon/dove hunting safaris this year and have averaged 750 – 1000 birds per day for their groups. Similarly, Reiner Linde of Legelela Safaris (www.legelelasafaris.co.za) says that eager hunters at his camp will shoot more than 750 rounds daily. If you assume a 50 – 60% success rate, that’s 375 – 450 pigeons.
Species Diversity
If there’s one word that summarizes Africa’s wildlife, it’s “diversity”, and their doves and pigeons are no exception. Cape Turtle doves, Laughing doves, Red-eyed doves and Namaqua doves are the most common, depending upon where you hunt, although there are another four or five dove species present in the region. As to pigeons, Rock, Speckled and Rameron species are most common.
Argentina doesn’t boast as broad an assortment; you’ll shoot Eared doves exclusively, along with Rock and, possibly, Picazuro pigeons. If variety turns your crank, southern Africa certainly has the upper hand.
Get beyond the dove and pigeon family and you’ll find both Africa and Argentina have excellent waterfowling that can be added to your hunt. It’s tough to make a distinction between the two, actually, as both offer great abundance and diversity of species, but one of the great attractions in African waterfowling is the Spur-winged goose, generally acknowledged as the largest species of goose in the world. To some, size matters.
For upland bird hunters, Argentina offers perdiz, a partridge-like bird that comes in several varieties. Renowned for exploding suddenly out of the grass and getting beyond range quickly, seasoned shotgunners love this little bird.
The African counterpart to the perdiz is the francolin, or spurfowl; again, several different species are present and all offer gunners an exciting and challenging experience. But Africa being Africa, it doesn’t end there. Those seeking upland birds also have their choice of a handful of quail and buttonquail species. Sandgrouse, which are more pigeon that grouse, are numerous where they’re found, with Namibia a popular destination. And the pièce de résistance is the ubiquitous guineafowl, a bird with an odd mix of characteristics. For North Americans, think equal parts wild turkey and pheasant, with both the best and most challenging attributes of each. It’s an absolute “must-do” hunt, either walk-up or driven.
Other Hunting Opportunities
This is simply not a fair fight. No part of the world has the number and variety of big game animals found in Africa, period. Better still, most African bird hunting outfitters will gladly tee you up for a crack at a springbok, impala, kudu, zebra, or just about any other species of common African wildlife you care to hunt, generally on the same properties – or very close by – to where you’re hunting birds. It’s only the Big Five and a small handful of other species that are somewhat difficult to add to a bird hunt. Trust me on this – if you’re an avid big-game hunter who’s not hunted Africa previously, you won’t be able to stop yourself from carving a day or two out of your bird-hunting activities to pursue one or more of the many iconic species you’re sure to see.
Argentina has some excellent big-game hunting, but in comparison the number of available species is significantly fewer. Further, most often you’ll have to travel a considerable distance from the prime dove hunting grounds to get into quality big-game country.
Food and Lodging
My personal experience is limited to one trip to Argentina, while I’ve been to more than a dozen lodges in southern Africa, but it’s clear to me that the Argentinians have borrowed from the African playbook.
I’ve never had a bad experience as far as food and lodgings go in Africa – quite simply, they look after visiting hunters at a level that sets the bar for hunting lodges around the world. Invariably the food is both plentiful and superb, the local wines are exquisite, the beer eminently drinkable, and the rooms are always immaculate and comfortable. I should live so luxuriously at home! Daily laundry service is one of the great pleasures of most camps, and the staff are generally friendly and helpful to a fault. In short, African hospitality is near impossible to top.
If any destination comes close, however, based upon my experience and discussions I’ve had with others who’ve hunted there, it’s Argentina. Once again, the food and lodging are first-class, and their malbec wines need little introduction to those who enjoy the grape. So if you enjoy being pampered, you’ll get more than your share of attention whether you hunt Africa or Argentina.
Getting There
For most North Americans, whether travelling to Argentina or southern Africa, at least two long flights are in order. I live in Edmonton. When I hunted Argentina I went via Minneapolis, then Atlanta, on to Buenos Aries, then another two-hour flight into dove country. A day and a half all-in, however you cut it. I’m flying to South Africa later this week – Edmonton to Calgary, then to Amsterdam and, from there, down to Johannesburg. Again, a day and a half.
There’s simply no escaping the fact that both destinations involve considerable travel for many of us. From some parts of the U.S., a long day may do it to either destination. The perception among many, however, is that southern Africa is a lot further away than Argentina, or at least takes a whole lot longer to get to, but that’s not the case. Pack a book, your iPod, a pillow and some patience, and you’ll be in either place before you know it.
Costs
On a dedicated bird hunt, costs are pretty similar between the two destinations. Daily fees are very reasonable in both – not much different from lodging and dining at your local Hilton. Shells tend to be the greatest expense whenever you’re high-volume shooting. Fortunately, quality ammunition is available in both locations and you can expect to pay about the same, somewhere in the $12 – $14 per box range.
Summary
When you compare Argentina to southern Africa as a high-volume dove/pigeon destination, you’ll find that travel, service, food and lodging, and overall costs are very similar. You’ll likely shoot more birds in Argentina, important if numbers are your primary objective. Where Africa shines is in the variety it offers – the number of species of doves/pigeons is greater, the array of additional game birds is broader, and the other hunting opportunities are immeasurably more. Further, there’s no substitute for the African backdrop – when you’re hunting birds it’s not unusual to see any one of a dozen species of antelope or other recognizable African wildlife. For my money, the natural sights and sounds of Africa are unequalled anywhere in the world.
Africa has not been marketed as a bird-hunting destination to the extent that Argentina has, and today is considered by most knowledgeable accounts to be one of hunting’s best-kept secrets. If you’re a passionate wingshooter, you owe it to yourself to hunt southern Africa. But be forewarned: nothing in Africa bites quite like Africa herself. You won’t go just once.[/vc_column_text][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”16486,16487,16488,16489,16490,16491″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Aug 2, 2018 | News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Crouching Lion, Hidden Hunters…
By Thomas Newcomb
I had always heard that you are never afraid when a lion charged you! It happens so fast, you react instinctively and won’t have time to get nervous. I had been charged by several Cape buffalo, and chased by more elephants than I can count, but never by a lion, so I had no reason to argue. In all previous encounters, the faster they happened, the less the stress. To me, there is nothing worse than waiting outside a hopeless tangle of vegetation for the buffalo you’d just shot to weaken or die before you go look for him. It’s the waiting that is hard.
My wife Vickie and I had traveled to Tanzania. There we met up with my old hunting partner Natie Oelofse. We had been on many safaris with Natie. We met him in 1990 on our second safari, a rhino hunt in South Africa, followed by an exploratory hunt to Mozambique in the Marromeu Delta. We were the first hunters to be allowed there after the war between the Frelimo and Renamo factions had finished killing each other. With all the excitement and danger we faced on that hunt, we became fast friends. When we weren’t hunting together, Natie and his wife Corné would spend time at our house in Tennessee, and we would visit at their home in Arusha.
I didn’t keep track, but we had probably been on at least 10 safaris together. We had killed the Big Five and many buffalo. Now we were on the track of what we hoped was a big bull elephant. Natie had bought the Wengert Windrose Safari Company. As the owner and the boss, he could do what we wanted as long as we obeyed the Tanzanian game laws. And what we wanted was a good adventure to spend with our wives, and both Corné and Vickie were accomplished big-game hunters and wing shots.
We set off in our Land Cruiser with our wives, Kariba, Natie’s fearless hawk-eyed tracker, a cook, and a skinner. We were traveling light and fast. Our Land Cruiser was full of fuel, a drum of water, rice, and cornmeal, beer and Scotch. We would shoot game for meat. Robert Ruark would be proud. My wife had a 21-day license. At that time you could shoot three buffalo, a leopard, a lion, and an elephant among all the usual plains game. We had hunted for 10 days or so, gradually getting used to the 10-15 miles a day you put in tracking and running from elephants. Anyone that has hunted elephants probably knows what I’m talking about.
My wife’s rifle of choice was a Winchester Model .70 African .375 H&H with which I have seen her shoot a running guinea fowl. My rifle and Natie’s were always the same. We each had .470 SxS from Austria, .416 Remington Mags from Conco Arms, and SxS Browning 20 gauge shotguns for sandgrouse. In the States we each carried a Glock 23. We thought if something went bump in the night we could grab whatever weapon was closest and know how it worked.
It was a typical day in the Selous, cold first thing in the morning. We got up from our fly camp, had a breakfast of ugali (a local porridge) and coffee, and headed off to find a big bull elephant. Riding in the back of the Land Cruiser we wore gloves, sweaters, and scarves. A couple of hours later we were down to T-shirts. We had stalked probably 10 bulls in the first 10 days, only to get in a good shooting position and decide they were too small, hence illegal. Very exciting, but very frustrating. When we very close to elephants, Natie made us take off our shoes, and stalk closer in just socks. My first thought was if I had to run I would get thorns in my feet. And I was right, but I never noticed them until I was safely seated back in the Land Cruiser, after running madly from enraged cow elephants.
It was while we were stalking what we hoped would be a good bull elephant that we saw a large lion dart off into the high grass about 100 yards from us. We were so intent on seeing the tusks on the elephant, we had not seen him until he ran. We made a mental note to check out the lion if the elephant turned out to not be a shooter – which he wasn’t – so we went back to where the lion was when we last saw him. And in the high grass we found a dead buffalo cow the lion had been feeding on.
“He’ll be back, we’ll wait,” said Natie. We backed up from the dead cow across a little clearing. We couldn’t see the buffalo, but we could see most of the angles the cat would have to approach from, so we sat in the shade under a tree to wait. Once we sat down, we couldn’t see anything – the grass was too high! What to do?
“I’ll climb the tree,” Natie said to me. “You wait at the bottom with the girls, and when the lion comes back you stand up, put up the shooting sticks, and Vic can shoot it.” OK, there was no other way. Natie’s .470 was at the base of the tree, with him squatting in the fork like a big baboon. Vic, Corné, Kariba, and I were lying in the grass at the base of the tree. We waited about an hour.
“Thomas, he’s back,” Natie hissed from above. I looked at my wife.
“Are you ready?” She nodded, her eyes shining with excitement. I have never seen her afraid. We stood, and I put up the shooting sticks. She rested the .375 on them.
“Can you see him?” I asked. The lion was facing broadside and tearing at the buffalo hide. She nodded. “Yes, should I shoot?” “Wait until he is still, then fire.”
She waited a few seconds. Then the lion had his two front paws on the side of the buffalo. We could see him clearly, his chest and shoulders fully exposed. He turned his head toward us and it seemed as if those yellow eyes looked right at us.
“Shoot him,” I said. The .375 boomed and the cat jumped straight up in the air like a frightened house cat. That’s when I made a mistake. I fired my .470 at the lion while he was in the air, and missed. When the cat hit the ground he knew where we were, and who had hurt him. He was now coming for us.
My wife’s first shot had broken his left shoulder. He hit the ground running straight to us, growling with every bound. Natie was in the tree yelling, “Wait Tom, wait!” He knew I only had one round left in my double and it would have to be our last chance when the lion was on us, but my wife’s .375 cracked again. The lion kept coming. He was charging toward us, but fortunately his left leg was flopping because his left shoulder was broken. Again the .375 went off while Natie was still yelling, “Wait, Tom, wait!” Vic had hit the lion, but he was still coming.
All our practice and experience was paying off. Vic never took the rifle from her shoulder and was working the bolt. Again the .375 went off and this time the cat faltered, turning on his side, and Vic hit him again. It was over. Natie jumped out of the tree and the three of us cautiously approached the now still lion. He was gone. We all heaved sighs of relief.
I remember reading a story once where at SCI an old PH was listening to new PHs discussing where you shoot a charging lion. One young boy said you aim at the bottom of his chest, while another said no, you aim at the black of the nose. The discussion went on and on, until the old PH, having heard all he could stand, walked over to the new guys and asked, “Have either of you ever seen a charging lion?” They both sheepishly said, “No.” The old PH smiled. “When the lion charges, you aim at the front and keep shooting,” he said.
I think he was right. We recreated the event from the tracks in the sand. Vic’s first shot was at 60 yards and she made a perfect shoulder shot, breaking the left shoulder. When I shot and missed, the lion came for us on three legs and covered 10 yards per bound. He made four leaps towards us and dropped at around 20 steps from us. Vic had hit him twice as he charged, the first around the edges of the hips, and the second was a good frontal chest shot. When he rolled over the final time, I had shot him through the spine for insurance.
The whole event may have taken 10 seconds, if that. Vic’s hands never shook until we started to take pictures. The adrenaline pump, was over and now she could relax. We all could. Natie summed it up: “The best day of your life you never want to do again.”[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”16648,16647,16646,16645″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Aug 2, 2018 | News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Free-Range Hunting in the Eastern Cape
By Vanessa Harrop
You never know what kind of hidden gem you will find, until you expand your horizons.
TJ and I had already experienced and enjoyed several typical plains game safaris, but we now wanted something a little different. We just didn’t know what it was until, at the Africa Hunting Show in Calgary, a small picture of a hunter with a Barbary sheep caught our eye. We stopped, and Raymond Kemp and Edward Wilson of Lalapa Safaris introduced themselves. After speaking with them for a while, we got really excited. Not only did they offer hunts that were a little different, they had some totally unique hunts that we’d never considered.
Lalapa specializes in free-range and indigenous species, and also offers hunts for all 40-plus species in the Eastern Cape. We ended up booking a hunt for Vaal rhebok, mountain reedbuck, Barbary sheep, blue duiker, caracal, bushbuck and bush pig. It would start at Lalapa’s main lodge near Cathcart and then move down closer to Grahamstown to finish our adventure. And what made us even more excited were some of the unusual hunts Ray planned for us. He suggested blue duiker over a small pool deep in dense forest; caracal with hounds; bush pig with infrared, and spending a few nights in the mountains for Barbary sheep. Hunts all new to us, and all free-range.
All our previous South African hunts had been in the heart of the Kalahari in the North West Province. We never expected the Eastern Cape to be so incredibly diverse, with landscapes ranging from the dry and desolate Great Karoo, to the lush forests of the Wild Coast and the Keiskamma Valley; the fertile Langkloof, renowned for its rich apple harvests, to the mountainous southern Drakensberg region. From the endless beaches and craggy bays of the coastline, the province gradually crosses an interior of grassland, rivers and dense forests to reach its northern boundary in the majestic Drakensberg. And the animals available to hunt were no less diverse, each carving out their own niche in this varied landscape.
The Eastern Cape region was settled by the British in 1820 and one only need drive through the countryside and chat with the locals to see that British influence is still very strong today. Sometimes it’s hard to believe you are in Africa when you look out over the lush, green, rolling hills dotted with sheep and cattle. Although there are fenced hunting ranches in the region, there are vast areas of open farm and ranch land where wildlife still flourishes. Those that believe there’s no free-range hunting left in South Africa have never been to the Eastern Cape.
Our first few days were spent hunting Vaal rhebok and mountain reedbuck, and TJ managed to take very respectable animals of both species. It was a great way to acclimatize to the elevation before heading to the more rugged Stormberg Mountains to scout for Barbary sheep. It was Ray’s plan to check out the area and, if need be, return with camping gear for a couple days of spike camping. Barbary sheep were originally brought to the Stormberg from Chad in the early 1960s. They were kept behind a high fence until 1994, when the property was converted to a cattle ranch and the fence fell into disrepair. The Barbary sheep rapidly expanded their numbers and range, and now there is a large herd of approximately 1,000 free-ranging sheep in that area.
As we headed up the mountain behind the main ranch buildings, the terrain became very rough and rocky. Vegetation was sparse, but to my surprise there was some water, with flowing creeks in several of the draws. After ascending the steep terrain in the Land Cruiser for a couple of hours, we parked and headed off on foot. A couple of trackers spotted a large herd of sheep right away, so we went for a look.
The rut was just kicking in and there were several large rams with the ewes. Ray picked out what appeared to be the best one and we made a hurried stalk. At 80 yards I put a big ram down with the .338. As they headed off toward an adjacent mountain, Edward counted 87 sheep in total.
Ray had a good idea where they were headed, so after dealing with my ram, we drove another hour or so and then headed off on foot over two more mountains before spotting the sheep again. They’d split into two groups and we were looking at about 20 and there was one exceptional ram in the group. Directly between us and the sheep were blesbok, black wildebeest, mountain reedbuck, fallow deer, Vaal rhebok and about a dozen Cape Mountain zebra. Ray decided to drive around the mountain and meet us near where the sheep currently were. We would continue on foot and try to get to the sheep. It would take several hours to drive around, and would be nearly dark before he got there. We figured we had little chance of scoring on two rams in one day, but Edward and the trackers were keen to give it a try.
As expected, the zebra spooked as we topped the final ridge and scattered the sheep. They headed over the next mountain, and with the truck now gone, all we could do was follow, in the hope they stopped. We descended into a deep canyon and as we were coming up the far side, we ran right into the sheep that had at some point returned. Spooked by our sudden appearance, they ran across another valley and started up into the cliffs. We scrambled to get up above the creek and TJ found an ant hill to rest the rifle on. The big ram was at 460 yards and he was still climbing. As TJ pulled the stock to his shoulder, the ram was now close to 500 yards. He settled the crosshair on the ram’s shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The big ram dropped right on the spot and tumbled a hundred or so yards down the hill. Our three-day sheep hunt had turned into one day. For all the hunts that never work as planned, you learn to take luck when it comes your way.
We had a few extra days to kill before we headed south for the second half of our adventure. It had been my birthday a couple days previously, so TJ asked me what I’d like to hunt for a birthday present – I chose a black springbok. So, early the next day we headed to a neighboring farm, and after playing hide-and-seek with one exceptional ram for much of the morning, around noon I finally got in position on a high point above him. The ram was standing in the shade under a tree at 240 yards and, once comfortable on the sticks, I gently squeezed the trigger and the ram was down – my best impromptu birthday present ever.
With our wish list filled and still two days remaining before heading for the coast, we decided to add a couple more species to the list with bows. We fixed up a blind and sat at a waterhole for a day. Though many impala, eland and mountain reedbuck came in, we opted not to take anything the first day.
The next afternoon we went back to the bow blind. Eventually two big warthogs appeared. They drank for several minutes then shuffled off to eat grass. Finally the larger of the two offered a broadside shot at 36 yards. I slowly raised my bow and let the arrow fly. But the boar jumped the string and the arrow caught him quite far back. I was devastated, but we picked up blood immediately and called in the reinforcements. Penny and Mechanic, two incredible blood-tracking dogs came to the rescue, and before long I had my big warthog.
The following day we headed toward the coast with our new PH, Ross. Our destination was an amazing tent camp perched high above a waterhole that had lion and elephant and loads of plains game as regular visitors. After dinner we headed out to hunt bush pigs. Ross had two baits going, both with huge boars on them. Bush pig was on my wish list, and we were going to be hunting with a rifle equipped with infrared technology. The first evening, at about 10:00 p.m. we heard a group of pigs starting to make their way to the bait, but at the last minute, the wind swirled, and they got our scent, sending them scurrying away.
The following morning we sat at a blue duiker blind. A good male made a brief appearance but offered no opportunity for a shot. We hunted bushbuck at mid-day and ended up passing on a great male at about 30 yards, a decision that would later haunt us. We saw large numbers of kudu, impala, eland and zebra, and some truly spectacular waterbuck and nyala – we are still wondering why we didn’t decide to add those last two to the list. That afternoon we sat at the blue duiker blind again but had no luck. They had been coming regularly into water before we arrived, but some unseasonably hot temperatures seemed to have interrupted their schedule.
Back to the lodge for a quick dinner, then out to the bush pig blind. We’d been sitting for about an hour when I saw Ross point to his ear. I heard nothing, but Ross said he could hear the pigs crunching corn, about 70 yards away. I quietly reached up and switched on the IR scope, and there were seven pigs at the bait. Much to my chagrin, the big boar was hidden behind the piglets. It took every ounce of patience not to shoot, but eventually I had a clear shot and dropped him on the spot.
I enjoy hunting cougar with hounds in Canada, and when I learnt we could hunt caracal with hounds in the Eastern Cape, I was beyond excited. As with cougars, hunting caracal needs an expert houndsman with a skilled pack of hounds, and that’s where Jeff Ford entered the picture. Jeff has run two packs of hunting dogs for almost 20 years in the region. The hounds were controlled by two dedicated houndsmen, Tim Mbambosi and Maron Fihlani. Jeff uses his hounds to hunt both caracal and jackal in the dense bush and often extremely rugged broken terrain.
Jeff’s dogs head out with their handlers each morning before sunrise. Typically, they will receive a call from local farmers who have either lost livestock to predators or have heard the bark of a bushbuck in the vicinity, and they will begin the search there. As this is all dry land tracking, the handlers must work meticulously through the area until the dogs strike on a scent. Because of Jeff’s success in controlling these predators, small game species such as oribi, blue duiker, Cape grysbok and Cape bushbuck have flourished in the area.
As the morning sun was just starting to rise, a blanket of mist shrouded the lower-lying areas and we got a call from Jeff that the hounds were on a caracal. We raced to the meet location, only to be told that the caracal had jumped from the tree and been killed by the hounds. But, Jeff’s other houndsman, Maron, was out looking for a scent so we headed toward his location.
We could hear the hounds in the distance, working the trail in the bottom of a very steep canyon. The footing was treacherous, and I fell on my butt several times on the way down the steep slope. It was more of a controlled slide, with branches and vines slapping my face as I skidded down. Once in the bottom, we hit a rocky creek that was surrounded by a nearly impenetrable wall of thick vegetation and vines. Dropping to our hands and knees and squeezing our way through the heavy bush, I could hear Jeff and Ross further down the ravine, with Maron and the hounds off in the distance. I pushed myself harder to shorten the distance, my breath running ragged and the sweat pouring down the sides of my face and my back.
By now, we could clearly hear the dogs barking, followed by a deep baying that sent chills up my spine! I finally caught up to the group and was quickly prodded on. Ross whispered that we had to get there quickly before the cat jumped the tree. The noise from the dogs intensified into a crescendo, and I knew the cat was treed. We needed to sneak in unnoticed or the cat would jump for sure, so we crawled on hands and knees until I could just make it out high up in the tree. Ross handed me the shotgun and I managed to catch what little breath I had left, took aim and pulled the trigger. Hunting a caracal had always been a dream and doing it free-range with hounds was more than I could have ever imagined.
We realized that the more we hunt South Africa, the less we know. I had just assumed that all South Africa was the same as the North West Province, but I now know that South Africa, in particular the Eastern Cape, is incredibly varied both in terrain and huntable species. If you want to have a truly unique and diverse adventure, you need look no further than the Eastern Cape. And, if you believe that there is no true free-range hunting remaining in South Africa, you have obviously never been to the Eastern Cape.
For more information, check out Lalapa Hunting Safaris at www.lalapasafaris.co.za[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”16627,16628,16629,16630,16631,16632,16633,16634,16635,16636,16637,16638″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
