By Richard Lendrum

So, Zambia is the country of my birth and, having left at three years old to move to Bulawayo, Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe), meant I remembered nothing. The sum total of my experience with the land of my birth was a visit to Kubu Lodge just upstream from Vic Falls – perhaps 15 years ago – and swimming in the iconic Devil’s Pools literally a few meters from the edge where the water cascades into the Boiling Pot below. So, the opportunity to go with my great pal and longtime contributor to the AHG, Ken Bailey, for his dream buffalo hunt, was just what I needed. Not only because it is my annual forced ‘get out of Joburg trip’ with Ken, albeit that we usually wingshoot, it was a great excuse to just immerse myself in what Zambia had to offer.

I fell in love. It’s why I will never desert this continent. The ride out to this wilderness area east of the country, was an eye opener. At one extreme, narrow roads with loads of trucks ensure you value life. Then on the other, there is utter poverty with people doing what they can to survive; selling berries they collect in the wild, dried fish, handmade curios and fruit and vegetables in roadside stalls, and essential goods in markets where human life is at its most vibrant.

My pictures will have to do the talking.

The bird life was extraordinary. A cruise down the river – I am not sure how many tourists do this on the Luangwa, and dare I say, I think it has every possibility of rivaling the boat trips down the Zambezi from Chirundu to Mana Pools, which I have been privileged to do. We counted 40 species of birdlife in the morning as we meandered down, and a monkey I had never heard of – Molony’s White-collared Monkey.    

The sad reality of much of Africa, and Zambia is no different – is that strong western, northern, or in this case, eastern powers, either initiate or engage in a partnership that leaves the country being plundered. Indigenous trees are indiscriminately cut by Chinese loggers and by local inhabitants desperate for survival, producing and selling their own charcoal. Bags of once wonderful trees are reduced to 80 or 90 pounds of black blocks shoved into a heavy-duty bag – all for around $3. Cyclists / taxis with two and three of these sacks loaded on to their bikes head to wherever they can sell them on the roadside between the Luangwa and Lusaka, the capital. I didn’t see much of the capital, (thankfully, I believe!) but we stayed in a piece of paradise – Wild Dog Lodge – owned by a tour operator selling safaris across the sub-continent.  Trees, birds, and Zambian hospitality that was just so slow but impossible not to love.  Time means nothing. And perhaps that is one of the lessons there.

Village life for the majority of Zambia’s country folk is something that needs to be seen to believed. We drove around a village near where we stayed – it hadn’t changed probably in hundred or more years. No electricity, no running water, one well for the entire village. Just the Chief had iron sheets on the roof.  And the happiest kids everywhere. Acceptance that this is it…  well certainly while they are so young. Living with and having no option other than to deal with what challenges they face. The village our tracker came from, which was about a day’s road trip north, had lost four people this year so far, from elephant, croc and lion. Four humans, lost in just one village. There are no statistics countrywide to record this. No way right now, that this human tragedy is even recorded, let alone noted. I was stunned. This is Africa.

I managed to bring home a collection of fantastic rocks, driftwood from the banks of this mighty river, some seedpods – all to add to the safari sanctuary of Afton – although it was a little nerve-wracking having to explain to the Zambian authorities when their scanners picked up the round objects on the X-ray – but that is another story.

I met a South Africa couple who had been in Australia for 30 years, huge farmers in the west of Australia, and what were they doing? Wanting to invest in Zambia and start farming there! Sure, they had made money, it was most probably safer, but then what? Obviously, there was something calling them back.

I flew home, thinking. Thinking how I could, in my small way, somehow help this lush, fertile country, blessed with an abundance of so much – vegetation, space, wildlife, people.

It’s starting with sharing this short account … designing the new logo for the Zambian Professional Hunters Association – and there will be more in the times ahead. Of that you can be certain.  

Enjoy the pictures.  

Written by Shiri Castellan 

An experience that forever cemented my love for hunting.

“I’ve been hunting for over twenty-five years and the biggest misconception people have is thinking that hunters are just killers. Whereas, in truth, every hunter I know has the greatest respect and love for animals. We are nature lovers,” Ashlie* confessed.

The year was 2000; I was twelve years old, female, and sharing my first hunting experience with my father. An anomaly of sorts. I walked closely behind him and followed his instructions as I placed my feet directly in his footsteps. I avoided making any sudden movements, kept my voice low, and talk to a minimum. The month was June; the weather was cool, and we were climbing up a mountainous region on a walk and stalk in search of kudu. The trail ran up a hill, and then through thick shrubbery. Eventually, we approached a lone standing tree, and, in the distance, we spotted a herd of kudu, and stopped. My father motioned for me to stand still as he rested his rifle against the tree trunk. His eyes scanned the herd, and he selected a kudu cow. I remember holding my breath as he aligned his eye with the scope of his .375 H&H rifle and aimed for a spot just above the kudu’s shoulder joint. Gently, he squeezed off the shot. The kudu cow jerked on impact and stumbled, mortally wounded, disappearing into the thick bush on the other side of the mountain.

Even though I was standing behind my father as he took the shot, because of my adrenaline, I hardly heard the bang. All I could hear was a faint buzz.

“Missed!” shouted the guide. He was convinced that my father had missed the animal, as he wasn’t accustomed to someone shooting accurately from two hundred meters away. My father, however, knew better.

As we walked towards the area where the kudu was hit, my father used this opportunity to teach me how to use blood and spoor in tracking an animal. Nearing the area where the kudu cow had been standing, we found blood specks and uneven spoor impressions in the soil. The grass at waist height had faint blood markings indicative of a shoulder shot. Twenty meters later, we found the kudu; the shot had penetrated its vitals and exited on the other side. I stood motionless, never having been this close to a wild animal before, and stared at its majestic beauty. Bending down, my father showed me how to age the cow by looking at the wearing down of the teeth. The teeth on this kudu were worn down, indicating that this one was mature.

The guide told the farmer that a kudu had been shot, and a bakkie collected the animal and us and drove us to the cold room, where I watched as the trackers gutted and skinned the cow. That night after we braaied our food on the campfire, the farm owner asked my father to assist him in culling some impalas (in accordance with nature conservation quotas). I sat on the back of the bakkie as we drove, and recall being mesmerized by the green reflected color of the impala’s eyes.

From that day on, I accompanied my father on as many hunts as I could, appreciating nature and taking in every lesson he taught me. It was imperative to him that I participated in every step of the hunting process, from walking and stalking to skinning, and I learned old-school hunting ethics.

It wouldn’t be until I was sixteen that I got to be in a hunt of my very own.

I was an outdoorsy person. Every hunt and stalk I went on, I saw as an adventure. I learned about nature, about animals and I loved every moment. And, when I wasn’t tracking through the bush, I was perfecting my shooting skills at the range. Which is why, when I was sixteen and my father and grandfather went on a Musina hunt, it was only natural that I joined in.

The hunting farm was in Alldays, a six-hour drive from Musina, a beautiful area just outside the Botswana border. We stayed in a tented camp hunters’ style, made use of outdoor showers and longdrops, and cooked our meals over a campfire. Yet, despite the cool June air, it is the stars I remember the most. They shone brightly and covered the night sky. Even as I showered and the water sluiced over my body, I recall looking up and being awed by the luminous constellations.

We had arrived at the campsite in the afternoon and after unloading our car, we sighted in our rifles. The rifle, a 7×57 CZ 550 (using a 7mm 140-grain Remington Corelots) I was to use was my father’s, and I felt honored to have been entrusted with his prized possession, a rifle and caliber that I was more than comfortable having been practicing with it at the shooting range under my father’s tutelage. 

The 7×57 was the first rifle my father bought himself, having always appreciated the history of this caliber, which is why, to this day, it is still a family favorite. The 7×57 was made famous by Walter D.M. Bell, otherwise known as “Karamojo” Bell because of his safaris through the remote wilderness area in northeastern Uganda. He is famous for perfecting the brain shot on elephants and killing over 1011 for ivory (1902). Bell perfected this shot to the degree that he mastered it from all positions. This has been since referred as the “BELL SHOT”.

Furthermore, the 7×57mm offers very good penetrating ability due to a fast twist rate that enables it to fire long, heavy bullets with a high sectional density (perfect for Africa). The 7×57 can handle a wide range of projectile weights, is easy to reload, has relatively mild recoil, and is accurate.

The next day we woke at four-thirty in the morning, the weather was icy, and as we warmed ourselves around the campfire, we drank dark, bitter coffee out of metal mugs. It was decided that while the men would be dropped off at their respective hunting sites, I, as the newcomer, would have to walk accompanied by a young hunting guide, while carrying both my rifle and a backpack. This, they assured me, was only right for a first-time hunter. It seemed that my hunt would entail many firsts, and so far, I’d embraced each one.

That day as we walked, I came upon many warthog opportunities and, while I had every intention of taking a shot, my nerves were alight with excitement as adrenaline pumped through my veins and the rifle shook in my hands. I looked at the warthog through the lens of the scope and my hands trembled, unable to squeeze the trigger, my body overridden by nerves. Teasingly, my guide told me that I suffered from what is commonly known as ‘bok koors’ or buck fever. I didn’t rush it that day. Instead, we walked, as I took in my surroundings and accustomed my eyes to the bushveld.

The next morning, we awoke before dawn. I wrapped my hands around a mug of coffee as I mentally prepared for the day ahead and ensured my backpack had all the necessary supplies including water, fruit, knife and the customary ‘white gold’ (toilet paper). Then, with the rifle slung over my shoulder alongside my backpack, the guide and I left the camp. As we walked, the day grew hot, and I began to peel off the heavy layers I was wearing. I took off my jacket and hung it on a nearby tree branch to collect on our way back.

Despite the weight of the rifle and backpack, I loved walking through the bushveld and being one with nature. It was then that the guide taught me how to gauge wind direction. I watched as he took a sock filled with flour from his pocket and hit it on his leg. A white, smoke-like puff appeared, a trick often used to determine wind direction, enabling a hunter to know if it is blowing into him or behind him, to prevent his scent from being carried through the bushveld and alerting the animals of his arrival.

It was around nine that morning that we saw them, a herd of impala. We made our way towards them, and as we walked, we briefly lost sight of them. However, we were not deterred. The guide then walked ahead of me, and I got down on my hands and knees and crawled the rest of the way. I advanced gradually and as I reached the top of the sand dune, I spotted them in the clearing, grateful that they hadn’t seen or smelled our approach.

With the rifle resting on top of the dune, I lay on my stomach and calmly watched the herd. I stayed in that position for some time until my eyes caught sight of an impala ewe that broke away from the herd. She stood slightly apart; her neck craned as she grazed leaves on a nearby tree. I watched her, transfixed, as I raised my rifle and traced the crosshairs up her leg to a spot just above her shoulder. This time, despite the pounding of my heart, I held the rifle steady as I gently squeezed off a shot.

The impala did a backflip only to land mortally wounded in the same spot. The shot had penetrated just above the shoulder bone, piercing the heart and lungs, instantly killing it. The rest of the herd disappeared as the rifle went off while I remained seated on the dune a safe distance away. Gradually, respectfully, I walked towards the ewe, and then I kneeled beside her and stroked the soft side of her stomach. Closing my eyes, I gave thanks for this animal.

The guide tucked the impala’s legs in so that she lay in a straight position, enabling me to take a photo with her. From a distance, I saw the recovery vehicle approach, knowing that the guide had called the farmer and told him about my hunt. Together we loaded the ewe onto the bakkie and drove towards the cold-room in silence. My father and grandfather, who had heard from the farmer that I’d successfully completed my first hunt, eagerly awaited my arrival. Together, we watched as the impala was skinned and gutted. The liver was removed, and then, to my horror, a slice handed to me. “Eat!” they commanded. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a male, otherwise you’d be eating the testicles,” they joked. And as I bit into the raw meat, I understood this to be my rite of passage.

That night the farmer and guides joined my family around the campfire, and as we braaied meat, we shared hunting stories of times gone by. I was delightfully exhausted, my feet sore from two days of non-stop tracking, but my mood was jovial. Spyker, the farmer’s Jack Russell and hunting dog, lay by my side, and out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow sprint to and from the light. My heart stopped. And then I saw it again, as it followed Spyker’s shadow, its reddish-brown body dashing around in the shadows. That was my first encounter with the Kalahari Ferrari (Red Roman spider).

That weekend, that hunt marked many firsts but not lasts for me. To this day, I still join my father on numerous hunts, my husband by my side as we introduce our three-year-old sons, Hunter and Gunner, to the wonder that is nature and the experience that is the hunt.

By Michelle M. Luba

Dedicated to my husband Dan, who shared his daydream, and who inspired me and encouraged me relentlessly to tell the story.

Thank you…I love you so much!

Also

Dedicated to our Bailey Girl, who gave us unconditional love for 16 years, and who

left her paw prints on our heart forever!

OBSESSION

His African obsession started back…way back…when my husband was 12 years old, he is now 70. He has dreamed about going to the “Dark Continent” to hunt for most of his life.

Sure, there were other great hunts that he managed in his lifetime. There was Quebec, Wyoming, British Columbia, and numerous hunts in Colorado, but none measured up to the African daydream in his head.

As a teenager, he would accompany his father and uncles to the Milwaukee Journal Sports Show at the Arena, then at the Midwest Convention Center as a young man with his friends, and finally at State Fair Park with me, his wife. Year after year, we would walk down every aisle and collect information on any and every outfitter working in Africa. And every year, the daydream continued as he visualized what a hunt would be like in Africa.

Unfortunately, our budget just could not support a trip of that magnitude. But that did not discourage him in the least. Stories of African safaris overpowered him. He lived the hunts through outfitter’s brochures, magazine articles, and African hunting videos on VHS, DVD, and YouTube. His library of African safari authors include, but is not limited to, Theodore Roosevelt, O’Connor, Cabela, Chapstic, and J. Alain Smith. The list is endless.

And it didn’t matter how many books he read, how many brochures he perused, how my videos he watched. His hunger grew larger than life itself.

By nature, I am a very giving person. I always want people to be happy. There is a certain happiness I find in helping others to achieve their goals. I seem to make it my personal mission in life. So watching him pine over everything Africa and not be able to make it happen for him was excruciating. I so wanted him to have his dream.

Finally, the year came. We attended the Sport Show and, as always, we collected the usual information to yet again yearn over. It was that year that we met Mr. James Hensley with Chivic African Safaris. We had never seen this particular outfitter at the show before; believe me, Dan would know. There was just something so friendly and inviting about his smile and demeanor. Of course, we gathered all their information and brochures as usual while we were engaged in a most intriguing conversation. After about a half hour or so, we decided that we were probably monopolizing his attention while others may have had interest. We excused ourselves and continued on…More brochures and more talks as we moved down the line.

Something just felt right about that day, about Jim, about finances, about Africa. We both felt it. We stopped to have a cold beverage and discuss the matter. “Let’s do it!” I said.

“Do what?” Dan questioned me, secretly hoping we were both talking about the same thing.

His eyes lit up when I said, “Africa!”

“Let’s do it! We aren’t getting any younger and the price is right. We are in an ‘OK’ place with finances, so let’s just do it! It’ll be a trip of a lifetime!”

Dan wasn’t going to wait around for me to change my mind. He was off like a jack rabbit. I gathered all of our things and trailed about 10 steps behind. He headed straight for the Chivic Safari booth, where we had spent a good amount of time talking to Jim and his father, Ron. There was just something about them that made the whole experience seem personable…like a family. Chivic offered the best price for the trip, which made the decision just a little easier. We approached the booth with excitement oozing from every pore. Jim recognized us and nodded in our direction.

“We want to book a trip, a safari,” Dan said with exuberance. He could barely spit the words out of his mouth fast enough.

“Today!” I said.

Jim’s eyes lit up, and suddenly he only had time for us. All the necessary paperwork was filled out and a check for a $500 deposit was written. We talked a bit more and agreed he would contact us to meet on a future date to discuss details and options.

As far as we were concerned, the 2018 Milwaukee Journal Sentinel Sports Show was over for us. We were on our way to cultivating a seed that was planted so long ago in a 12-year-old’s daydream.

DETAILS

The ride home was filled with silence, then chatter, then silence, then chatter as we wondered if we were being too extravagant by treating ourselves to such an exquisite “Trip of a Lifetime”.

A few weeks later, we arranged to meet with Jim at a nearby coffee shop to discuss some of the finer details of the trip. He, of course, is the American ambassador for Christo Joubert and Chivic African Safaris and has made the trip many times himself and with family members. He shared some of his experiences, which heightened our excitement all the more.

We talked for over an hour. By the end of our conversation, we had decided on the dates for our trip. With Jim’s recommendation, we chose the end of May in the following year, 2019. Africa’s seasons are opposite of ours here in Wisconsin, so May would be Fall there. May is also when South Africa cools off from the heat of summer but before the winter rains of the country’s western provinces — the best time to view big game. That would give us a whole year to “anticipate the hunt”, which, I am told, is all part of the experience.

We also were able to select the six plains game animals that we wanted to hunt for our package price. Of the many varieties of animals offered, Dan chose a gemsbok (oryx), kudu, warthog, Impala, springbok, and zebra. Of course, there are no guarantees when hunting and we were not limited to these choices, but at least the PHs (that is Professional Hunters) would know where to begin.

It was an all-inclusive trip, so Jim explained everything from what to pack, when and how to book flights, gun regulations in Africa, and how to get through customs to our nightly menu and what we would like to drink. Did we want American food, African game food, or a mixture? What kind of soda, beer, or wine, and what liquor was preferred? Jim also went over our arrival in Johannesburg. We would stay the first night at the Afton Safari Lodge, which accommodates mostly hunting parties before and after their hunts. Chivic would collect us in the morning. He told us what to expect on our 7-day hunt, what we may encounter in the bush, and how we would become part of the “Chivic Family”. We also discussed the possibility of side trips to Kruger National Park and Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. Jim assured us that everything would be taken care of in a timely, professional, and friendly manner.

Needless to say, in our minds, it was still all a bit surreal. And with almost a year to prepare, all these things would be discussed at least a few more times, with many questions to follow.

Once again, the ride home sent our minds reeling with chatter and silence. Was this really going to happen???

PREPARATION

Preparing for the hunt is all part of the experience, as I soon found out.

Shortly after our meeting with Jim, I was scheduled for a Medical Mission Trip to Haiti. I was gone for one week.

Upon my return, I found that Dan was already packed for the African trip, which was still more than a year away. He thought I should do the same. Say what? I have always been a last-minute packer and I seem to do OK. To pack a year in advance just seemed crazy to me. What if I needed something that I had already packed?

“Absolutely not!” I exclaimed. “I will pack for the safari next year and I promise to not wait till the night before.”

Dan’s suitcase remained packed for the entire year. Talk about excited! In fact, his suitcase sat for so long that he had forgotten some of the things that he had packed and he began to question whether he had everything on Jim’s list. So, you guessed it; he had to unpack just to assure himself, and then repacked it. This occurred at least two or three times in that year’s time span.

Another part of the preparation was shopping for clothes and “stuff”. Dan has always been a hunter, so his wardrobe was pretty well set with the “proper” colors of green, brown, tan, and gray. I, on the other hand, prefer bright and vibrant colors, so there were no correct colors in my closet. And so, we set out to enhance my attire to include the proper “shades of hunting”. Over a nine-month period, I only bought clothes in OD green or brown. Every time we entered a store, even if it was Walmart for groceries, if we passed the women’s clothing, my eyes only saw the colors of hunting. I think that I now have every hue and tint of green and brown imaginable adorning my wardrobe. To this day, I have to remind myself that the color wheel goes beyond brown and green.

Besides all the clothing, there was the “stuff” that we “needed”. New hiking boots, socks, gators, and let’s not forget the travel pillows. Ammunition, a lock box for the ammo to travel, lightweight flashlights/headlights, mosquito netting…the list goes on and on. We can’t overlook passports, other legal documents, traveler’s insurance, paperwork that was needed in order to take the gun and ammo on an airplane, not to mention to a foreign country, and of course, the currency exchange. South Africa’s currency is the Rand instead of the Dollar. At the time, the exchange rate was about 15 Rands to every one US dollar. We felt like millionaires leaving the bank with 22,500 Rands bulging from our pockets. Not only would this serve for any extra expenses we incurred, but also for the gratuities that Jim suggested we give to those who would work so hard to make our trip everything we dreamed it would be.

We also had to select a taxidermist here in the states to ensure that our trophies would eventually make it back home to us after all the preparatory work in Africa. It would take up to 6 months for the trophies to even arrive in the states*. Before they are shipped, they need to be dipped in chemicals that kill any little “hitchhikers” that wanted free ride overseas. We then needed to select a logistics company that would accept our trophies into customs and finally get them to our taxidermist to be tanned and mounted.

October finally rolled around, and it was time to buy our tickets for the flight. I had never bought tickets on the internet, so my anxiety was high. Whatever happened to leaving that up to the travel agent. She would hand you your paper ticket and you were all set. Now we can’t have a printed copy in our hands until 24 hours before the flight. I hoped fervently that I didn’t screw this one up. We had been watching for good pricing since Labor Day but it seemed the best we could do was $1500 a piece in coach. Aye! Aye! Aye! A 16 hour flight in coach. Lord, help us and our legs. That didn’t even include the 2-hour flight from Chicago to Atlanta. Tickets were bought. Flights and arrangements were made with Jim, Chivic, and Afton.

And so, the daydream was becoming a reality. We could hardly contain our anticipation.

* Footnote – At the time of this writing, COVID lockdown has delayed our shipment of animals almost 1 year to the day. They finally arrived in the states in March 2021. The tanneries are also about 1 year behind, so it will be a long wait for them to get to the taxidermist and then to our wall. Rumor has it, we won’t see them until 2022. By then, we will already have been back to Africa for another hunt.

BAILEY

One thing that we hadn’t figured on in the daydream was Bailey, our 16-year-old Chocolate Lab. We had had her since she was a puppy…a Valentines Day gift that I had surprised Dan with. She had been a good and faithful friend for so many years and was just part of the family…she was our “baby girl”!

Of recent, her body had just started to give out on her.

Some days, she was still playful as a new puppy and the next, she could hardly get up to go outside and struggled to even stay awake. Her bodily functions were failing. We knew in our hearts that she would not make it for almost 3 weeks boarded in a kennel. And with her health issues, it would be unfair to ask any family member to keep her. Certainly it would have been an awful state of affairs had she passed away while we were out of the country.

We loved her so much! With the help of our vet, we made the painful decision that all pet owners dread. So the day before we left for Africa, we made that final trip to the Mukwonago Animal Hospital. Our hearts were heavy knowing what was to come, but we thought that with the trip ahead of us, we would be distracted from the heartbreak. We were wrong! We still miss her to this day. Not that it wasn’t the right thing to do, but she had become so much a part of our life, there would still be that hole in our hearts upon our return.

DAY OF DEPARTURE

At last the day had come…the dream had become a reality.

We were going to Africa!!!

David, our son-in-law, agreed to take us to the airport that morning. Our flight left Chicago for Atlanta at 12:15pm. By 8:00am, we were on our way. Neither of us had slept hardly a wink the night before. Even though Jim had mapped out exactly what we needed to do at each of the airports, “airport anxiety” and sheer excitement got the best of us. Besides, we both knew that the 16 hour flight to Johannesburg would give us plenty of time to catch up on sleep.

We landed safely in Atlanta at 3:15pm and, following Jim’s step-by-step instructions, we collected our baggage and found our next gate of departure. Needless to say, we had time to kill as our flight to Johannesburg didn’t leave until 8:00pm. We got something to eat and hunkered down at the departure gate. We didn’t want to miss a thing! Both Dan and I enjoy the pastime of people watching. Believe me, an airport provides some of the best people to watch.

The plane we were to board finally pulled up to our gate.

My eyes grew to the size of saucers. I had been on planes before, but I had never seen one quite that big, close up and personal.

Wow!!! It certainly made quite the impression on me. Dan too, only he was less conspicuous than me. I was hanging on the back of the seats, looking out the big windows, taking pictures right and left. Each of the jet engines/turbines was bigger than the diameter of a Ferris wheel.

Enthralled with the plane, we kept watching out the window to see if we could confirm that our luggage and Dan’s rifle made it from Chicago and were loaded on the same plane that we were…but to no avail.

We would just have to trust that it would be there in Johannesburg for us to collect when we landed.

At last, the boarding call came over the loudspeaker. We were up and ready to go. “Here we are…Let’s do this!” The inside of the plane was just as large as the outside; each row had 11 seats (in a 3-5-3 configuration). We found our seats and Dan hoisted our carry ons into the overhead compartment and we got ourselves settled. Dan had the window seat, lucky dog! “I get it on the way home,” I called.

Despite the plane’s large size, the seats were pretty tight in the “personal space” department. I had the middle seat and next to me, on the aisle, was an older, rather large gentleman. Yikes! I felt like the creamy center of an Oreo cookie…smushed! Sleep will be intermittent at best, I thought. Ugh!

Finally, the plane was boarded and the flight attendants went through their safety spiel. As we taxied down to the runway, the man next to me introduced himself as Ron. It turns out that he was on his 5th hunting trip to Africa. Once we were in the air, he and Dan chatted quite a bit about what to expect in Africa and hunting in general. I was trapped , trying to follow the conversation as it bounced between them. My head felt like I was watching a ping-pong match…first to Dan, then to Ron, then back to Dan and so on. I knew that I should have sat by the window!

As the flight proceeded, the attendants came around with a snack and beverages. “I’ll have a couple of those, for sure,” I thought. They also passed out blankets, pillows, and earphones. I decided that if Dan and Ron were done talking, I could settle in with a movie. Dan had already put his pillow against the window and was trying to get some shuteye. So I found a movie that I had been wanting to see, “Bohemian Rhapsody” but that Dan had no interest in, and settled back to watch.

Movie over. Time to try to get some sleep myself. I rested my head back on my pillow and stared at the roof of the plane. Very uncomfortable. Side note: Remember those travel pillows that we just had to have for this trip?…Worthless!! I tossed and turned as much as is possible in a semi-reclined position in a seat that was only 2 feet wide, desperately trying to find a remotely comfortable position. But I just could not sleep. My mind was racing. I recalled what a coworker had suggested: take two Advil PMs. I followed her advice and the next thing I knew, I woke up to a beautiful sunrise over the ocean and a flight attendant asking me what I wanted for breakfast.

“Does this mean that we are almost there?” I asked.

“Only about half way,” Ron explained. I wanted to scream as he pointed to the trip tracking screen on his TV. I don’t exactly know what we did for the next 8 hours. I know that there was lunch, another snack or two, and at least one, maybe two, beverage carts that went through. Dan read and chatted with Ron. I think I watched another movie, although I can tell you which one. The Advil PMs were still wearing off, and I was fading in and out of sleep.

“Ahoy, there!!!” Land was spotted ahead. It grew closer and closer until finally we were over Africa. Not at all how I pictured it. Brown and desolate, and hardly any vegetation that I could see from the air. I looked at my tracking screen and the best I could tell, we entered Africa over the Kalahari Desert. It was beautiful none the less. My heart was beating fast in my chest. Dan was pressed against the window. That little boy’s daydream was right below us.

It was inspected, and the appropriate paperwork filed. The office was very small, with maybe 6 employees to process the 50 waiting hunters. It took more than an hour to make it to the front of the queue. I got a little impatient with it all, but when it was finally Dan’s turn, everything checked out and we were on our way.

Mr. X escorted us to a large atrium in the airport. There we were met by a barrage of drivers for different establishments waiting for their passengers. Each held a sign displaying the name or names of the party they were to pick up. Mr. X assisted us in finding Afton’s driver and, sure enough, his sign read “LUBA” in bold capital letters. We bid adieu to Mr. X and gave him a tip for all of his help, then boarded the van bound for Afton.

Afton isn’t far from the airport, and we pulled up to a large gate that opened up into a courtyard that housed several buildings in less than 20 minutes. Security in Johannesburg is taken rather seriously. Afton is surrounded by tall electric fences and reminded us that it was still Africa and caution was always advised.

Serving as a bed-and-breakfast type establishment for hunters coming from all over the world, Afton is indeed an interesting place. There are 16 private rooms with en-suite bathrooms and a common living room/dining room where hunters, veteran and novice, could gather and share their hunting experiences. Each room is decorated with different African themes. Outside, in the garden, there is a fire pit where, over a nightcap or two, more safari highlights are shared. The property also features an in-ground swimming pool along with an outdoor living space for those days when the heat is unbearable. In an adjacent building is a “museum” of African wildlife trophies and artifacts that Afton’s owner has acquired over the years. So much atmosphere to take in.

By the time Dan and I had arrived from the airport, it was close to 7:00pm. We were exhausted and greeted by the devoted staff with enthusiasm. They escorted us and our luggage to our room on the 2nd floor. Our room was decorated meticulously in an African plains-game motif. A queen sized bed stood against the wall to the left of the door when we entered. Adorning the bed were pillows galore representing the hides of different animals…zebra, impala, leopard. Straight ahead of us was a large armoire with a large mirror. An overstuffed comfy chair stood just to the left of it. To our right was the bathroom. A bit out-dated but none the less, indoors…for which I was thankful.

We unpacked our suitcases and went back downstairs to mingle a bit. We were waiting for one more couple to arrive from a different flight before dinner. It was then that Dan noticed the knives by a local artist in the display case at the entrance. Now, anyone who knows Dan knows that he’s an avid knife collector. I knew we were in trouble when he began questioning the manager about the price. A picture of a cape buffalo was scrimshawed on the Giraffe bone handle. Exquisite! When I saw the look in Dan’s eye, I knew that it was just a matter of time before we would have our very first African souvenir. I was right.

Enjoying a beverage, I had a glass of red wine and Dan had a Diet Coke, we mingled with other hunters and their wives. We listened to some great African Safari stories and met a couple from Delavan, WI, just a hop, skip, and jump from East Troy, where we live. Frank and Mary Winingham, who had also booked their trip with Jim for Chivic Safaris, were returning home and promised that we would not be disappointed.

Finally, around 8:30pm, the last couple arrived and we were seated for dinner. Steak, grilled to perfection over an open fire, potato, salad, veggies, and warm rolls. I was in my glory, being the carnivore that I am.

Shortly after dinner, two weary travelers retired to our room. The previous 48 hours had been a whirlwind, and we needed to unwind and rest. Chivic African Safaris was picking us up from Afton in the morning and our journey would take us from a daydream to real life.

SHAKAWA LODGE

Dan and I woke early and could hardly believe we were actually here, in Africa. We showered and dressed hurriedly, as we were unsure about when our Chivic driver would arrive. Our bags were repacked and ready to go. We descended the stairs into the dining area. I was hoping for at least a cup of coffee while we waited. To our surprise, there was a plentiful breakfast buffet with meat (bacon and sausage), eggs to order, cereal, baked goods, OJ, and yes, there was coffee. We weren’t even the first guests to make it downstairs. Others had already meandered in for breakfast, so we sat with them and hoped to get some more insight on what to expect in the bush.

Breakfast was especially tasty , and the conversation was intriguing. Before we knew it, our ride had arrived. There in the doorway stood a strapping young man dressed in a pair of green short shorts and a tan shirt bearing the Chivic African Safaris. He wore a wide-brimmed brown leather hat with one side flipped up and pinned…it reminded me of a bugler in the calvary. His hiking boots were also brown leather and about ankle high. Slouching over the top of his boots were thick green wool socks. A fuzzy beard and ‘stache covered the lower half of his face. Peeking through all that hair was a million-dollar smile that showed off his pearly whites. In a thick, somewhat British South African accent, Johan Espach and introduced himself as our PH. We chatted as he ate his breakfast and drank his coffee.

Finally, it was time to load the truck with our luggage and be on our way. We settled our bill and bid our new friends at Afton a farewell for a week. Dan sat in the front with Johan and I in the back seat behind Dan. Like many countries across the Atlantic Ocean, the driver sits on the right side of the car and drives on the left side of the road. Very hard to get used to, and I was very glad that we were not the drivers for fear we would forget and drive on the right side of the road…which would be the wrong side.

Our destination was about 5 hours away. Before Chivic, we were to make a stop at Shakawa Lodge, where we would hunt for the oryx. We left Johannesburg and on our way, we stopped for gas and snacks for the trip. Much to our surprise, it was a full service station. What a blast from the past for us.

After Johan payed for the gas, we went inside to get the snacks. The store was like our convenience stores. A wall of coolers housed a variety of beverages; there were chips, candy, groceries, and even automotive supplies for sale. We paid for a Coke Zero and a bottle of water and then moved to the next store, which was much like a meat market.

We returned to the car with some soft drinks for the cooler, some chips, and a popular South African snack called biltong. It is much like our beef jerky, thinly sliced, dried strips of meat sold by the pound. Biltong can be made from any animal meat with a variety of seasonings, and most southern Africans have a favorite recipe or supplier. Of course, we wanted to try it…When in Rome, do as the Romans…Right? We wanted to soak up as much “culture” as we could. It was a bit on the chewy side, but interestingly tasty. I believe it was likely beef because it was a little on the fatty side, which Dan was not fond of, but I thought the fat added some extra flavor.

As we sped along the highways and the byways toward our destination, cities faded into farmland and farmland turned to bush. Along the way, we saw goats, cattle, horses, burros, and ostriches. We encountered vultures in the trees along with their huge nests. Johan pointed out a small female kudu alongside the road. In the distance, we saw a large cloud of dust. Johan explained that it was not a dust storm, but a cloud created by a herd of running impalas. Shortly after, we saw 3 of them grazing near the roadside. Impalas are one of the most plentiful animals in the bush, much like our whitetail deer (although some Wisconsin hunters would beg to differ with that fact). Anticipation built with every mile.

Conversation centered around hunting regulations, philosophies, passions, conservation, and poachers. Johan explained that government land that supported bunkers during wartime was now prime hunting land. He spoke of some dangers that we may encounter in the bush while hunting. He warned that some of the vegetation had 1.5-inch spiked thorns on it and that we might come across poisonous snakes. And that baboons were not cute…they were vicious animals with large teeth that could tear you apart. OK, Johan, I get the picture…Africa is a dangerous place. We shared some things about ourselves, too…where we lived, kids, grandkids, etc.

We pulled up to Shakawa Lodge. There was a large sign on the electric fence that read, “BEWARE – NO ENTRY! DANGEROUS ANIMALS – LIONS, BUFFALO, ELEPHANT, LEOPARD, RHINO!” Yikes! We really were in the bush of Africa. The gate was opened by an employee of the lodge and we entered.

We entered the large, heavy wooden door of Shakawa Lodge, in the Limpopo province, not exactly knowing what to expect. The main room was of the open concept with bar, dining, and living room all in one. Three of the walls were dotted with African trophy mounts. Everything from a small springbok to a huge cape buffalo. Above the bar was an elephant mount…it was beyond extremely large. I wondered how the wall could hold such a mount without collapsing. The ceiling was cathedral-esque in nature, and large wooden beams ran the height and length of this main room. A fireplace took up most of one of the living room walls. The dining table was sturdily made of heavy, dark-colored wood with 12 chairs around it. Running the length of the fourth wall were windows that looked out onto a covered living space. There were lounge chairs to relax in and yet another large wooden table with chairs for outdoor dining. Beyond the veranda was a swimming pool and then an electrified fence that enclosed the whole compound.

We were shown to our room to unpack, settle in, and freshen up. We were to meet Johan in the main room later. Our quarters were quite roomy, with a high ceiling and a fan way up there. A queen sized bed was to our left and a large wardrobe to hang our clothes in was straight ahead. We chose not to unpack completely since we were only to be there one day.

The decor was that of modern African motif…nice, but not cozy and inviting like Afton. The bathroom was tiled in black and browns. It was larger than any bathroom that I had ever seen. It echoed. A whirlpool tub and a shower were housed separately from the toilet and sink area. A table and chair to relax in completed the “parlor” area.

In a timely fashion, we readied ourselves to meet up with Johan. We found him out back talking with an older, somewhat burly gentleman. They were both smoking a cigarette as we approached. Johan introduced us to his father, Andre’ Espach. Evidently, he runs a business that organizes and guides hunters on safaris. He doesn’t own land himself, but he works with other outfitters to arrange hunts on their property. Which is what he was doing for us at Shakawa. He was working with Johan for us to hunt the gemsbok (oryx) since Christo did not have any on his properties.

Time was ticking by swiftly and if we were to get anything done today, it was time to move. Dan went back to the room to fetch his gun. A 300 Weatherby that he had bought for his trip to British Columbia years back. It was a trusty rifle with a good scope on it. After some “sighting in” of the rifle to make sure that the travel didn’t skew the aim, we boarded Andre’s vehicle. I believe it was an old Land Rover type truck. There were two front seats for the driver and the hunter. And two raised back seats for shooting or spotting. Dan and Andre’ sat up front, Johan and I sat in back. Behind us, there was enough room for 2 or 3 spotters and trackers to stand and a flatbed to carry any animal that we may kill. It was then that we met Andre’s little dog, Tiger. He looked like a miniature Boxer or Frenchie. His coat was brown and white and brindled with black streaks.

He didn’t exactly look like a typical hunting dog, but Andre’ swore he was the best tracker. We will have to see about that! A friendly little fellow, none the less, and of course Dan and I took to him immediately, remembering our own Bailey Girl back home. Finally, we set out to do a little driving, stalking, and walking to see what we could see as far as game went. The roads were all dirt and red sand…full of rocks and potholes. Oh, and those thorn bushes that Johan warned us about…Holy Moly! He wasn’t kidding. The thorns were about 2 inches long and the bushes were loaded with them. We encountered waterbuck and impalas, which are the most prevalent plains animal. We saw a herd of wildebeests and thought we saw the butt-end of an oryx.

Perhaps the most memorable sight/feeling for me was the giraffes that decided to run alongside the truck while we were driving down the road. Amazing! I got goose bumps just watching these elegant creatures. And then there was the sunset. The African sunset that I’ve only seen in books or pictures…It is 10 times as magnificent. I took so many photos, first with the phone and then with the good camera. You would have thought that I was in a photo shoot with a famous model.

By this time, it was almost dark, and we headed back to the lodge. We joined the other guests, most of whom were from Brazil. We spent the evening around a huge open fire where we ate warthog kebabs and eland sausage while socializing with the other hunters, many of which did not speak any English. However, communication seems to be universal amongst hunters. While the others carried on for a while after dinner, Dan, Johan, and I excused ourselves to our rooms. After all, we had a big day ahead of us tomorrow and tonight was full of dreams.

On our way back to the main lodge, we could see the shadows of animals in the spotlights just beyond the pool on the outside perimeter of the fence. It seems that the owner of the lodge feeds the animals nightly so that they kind of “hang out” for a while.

THE “GRAY GHOST”

Dan and I rose early, before the sun, the next morning. We were finally going to be off on “the hunt of a lifetime.” For a little while, we were the only ones awake except for the chef and hired help in the kitchen. They offered us some coffee while we waited. I could tell that Dan was “over the top” with excitement. We sat on a huge leather couch in front of the fireplace. There was a zebra-skin rug on the floor at our feet, which just didn’t seem right to walk on.

Finally, Johan and some of the others joined us. We all sat at the long wood table for breakfast. It was a huge spread, with pancakes, eggs (done to your preference), bacon, sausage, biscuits, potatoes, fruit, juice, and coffee. Wow! That is more than I can eat at the Grand Geneva Sunday Buffet. I probably could have crawled back into bed again after that. My tummy was oh so satisfied.

Once again, we tried to communicate with the Brazilian hunters. There were a couple of them that spoke some English and served as translators. We found out that some of them were hunting for eland and another group for waterbuck. Each had their own PH.

At last it was time to meet Andre’, Tiger, and his crew out in the yard. We bid adieu to the others and wished them luck in the field. We piled into the truck again and set out to find the elusive oryx, also referred to as a gemsbok. Quite frankly, I think an African animal of any variety would have suited Dan. So we traveled the property on the dirt roads. The rocks and ruts from the night before hadn’t smoothed the ride out any this morning. About mid-morning, Dan and Johan tracked a Wildebeest. Johan had Dan use his shoulder as a brace for the rifle. Unfortunately, the animal didn’t present an opportunity, and Dan was not able to get a shot off. We followed the animal, but to no avail. We looked for other tracks but came up empty-handed. Later, on our way back to the lodge for lunch, we saw a warthog way off in the distance…too far to shoot and for me, it was even too far to see…I totally missed it.

We ate lunch under the canopy in the outdoor living space at the lodge. Our lunch was sausage, French fries, fresh vegetables, fruit, and pudding. Small, but regenerating for the afternoon hunt. After lunch, we hit the road again and set out to find an oryx to fill Dan’s request. No oryx, but late in the afternoon we sighted some kudu. Mostly females, but out from behind came the male. A nice specimen, with beautifully curled horns protruding from his head. Kudu are also known as the “gray ghost”. The herd was running across the road at an exceptional pace. Dan wasn’t sure that he had a shot, but everyone in the truck said “Shoot!” He took the shot. The kudu turned to the right and disappeared into the brush. He definitely wounded the animal. According to Johan, “It looked like a good shot,” and we immediately began to track it. Andre’ called in some reinforcements to sight and track the blood trail. Between Johan and the trackers, the search was phenomenal.

Even just a drop of blood in the sand or on the leaf of a branch was enough to push on. I could not keep up with the “boys”, so I fell back and went to the truck where Andre’ and Tiger were waiting in the jeep. We drove to the next crossroad, then the next and the next. Each time hoping that they had found the wounded kudu. We tracked for miles, almost 2.5 hours’ worth, but to no avail. Dusk was setting in and we finally had to call it quits for the night. The plan was to resume in the morning where we had left off. The hope was that it would be overcome by the loss of blood and that it would eventually fall to the ground. So, a second night at Shakawa was in store for us.

As the previous night, the hospitality was extraordinary. It was an awesome place to spend another night. Again we joined the Brazilians for dinner. Outstanding food and company. Shortly after dinner, we retired to our room. To say the least, we were pooped! It had been a long day, and the next proved to be the same. We showered and hit the pillow. Was “the dream” turning into a nightmare?

ARRIVAL AT CHIVIC

I told Dan that he had exactly 3 hours, the length of time that it took to get to Chivic, to “move on” from the kudu incident. I reminded him that there were other animals to hunt. Before getting on the road again, we stopped for gas. Johan bought some more biltong and drinks for the road.

Our drive was very scenic. The terrain reminded me of the foothills of the Rockies. We had just been there the year prior.

There is something about mountains…sometimes they seem to “call” my soul. As our trip continued, we enjoyed local history and spectacular views. Johan was quite knowledgeable. We passed Dragon Mountain, named for the shape of its outline against the horizon…a sleeping dragon. We drove through a “frog crossing” where, at a certain time of year, frogs aplenty would cross the road from one wetland to another. Miles and miles of avocado and orange groves covered the valleys. The rows of trees gave the appearance of soldiers in green and orange uniforms marching in rank and file. Along the sides of the road were sidewalk vendors each selling their wares. Hanging on the side of each hut were mesh bags of the oranges and avocados. I would have loved to have taken some home, but it is against the rules of customs to bring produce into the US from foreign countries. Mmmm! What a feast it would have been.

About half way through the trip, we stopped for a late lunch. We stopped at a fast-food restaurant called Steers – the African counterpart to our McDonalds. Dan and I had a good laugh and even took a picture of the menu, reading that the equivalent of our Big Mac Meal sold for R69.95. Remember that 15 Rands are equivalent to $1.00. So, the meal was about $4.66…not too far off, I guess. Just an odd observation.

On the road again, I kind of got a kick out of observing all the “crossing” signs…there was an elephant crossing, a warthog crossing, and an impala crossing. Monkeys swung playfully from branch to branch. Oh, and then we saw 4 baby warthogs running alongside the road. They were such cute little piglets.

the two of them, the buffalo and the goat, are inseparable. We think that Biltong thinks the goat is his mother, as he seriously doesn’t know any better.

Protruding out from the side of the goat’s belly was a basketball-sized hernia. Possibly the buffalo stepped on the goat in the past. The two of them looked pretty goofy together, but they obviously loved each other. As we pulled onto the property, the two of them sauntered over to the truck to investigate. Johan got out of the car to greet them. He patted them on the head and then, out of the blue, Johan mounted the buffalo as if he was riding him in a rodeo. Crazy! Now there was truly a lot of mutual love between Johan and these two misfit animals, however, it seems that Biltong was beginning to “feel his oats” as a wild animal. He evidently was not fond of Johan’s fiance’, Karen…Perhaps a little jealous. He was becoming more and more dangerous. Johan explained that Biltong’s days were numbered. That will be a hard thing to do, I am sure, and what will become of the old goat when she loses her best friend…her child? Thoughts of our Bailey flashed through my head. I don’t envy Johan for having to make that decision.

As we drove up to the lodge, the road had no shortage of rocks, ruts, and bumps. Johan explained that the rains had created the ravines and “pot holes” in the dirt road and that he and Christo would have to work on filling them in, as they do every year, in-between clients.

We continued to the lodge where were met by Christo Joubert. As he opened the glass door with the emblem of Chivic painted on the glass, he exclaimed in an exuberant voice, “Welcome to Chivic. It is our pleasure to have you here. We have been waiting for you to arrive!” Boy, I just love their South African accent. Thank goodness they spoke English, even though Afrikaans was their native language.

Inside was a receiving line of people who had been awaiting our arrival. We met Hendric, our chef for the week. Sharon and Agreement were our environmental, laundry, and kitchen staff. Lieutenant and Lovemore were there to lend their services as tracker and skinner. On a side note, Lieutenant and Agreement were married to each other.

Sharon and Agreement showed us to our quarters. They took us through the main lodge, which wasn’t extremely large, like Shakawa Lodge, but it was quaint and had everything we needed. Along the left wall was a bar with 6 bar stools. A large boulder was incorporated into and served as part of one wall of the bar area. On the right was a living space with an overstuffed couch, two chairs, and hide covered throw pillows lined each. There was no carpeting, just a zebra throw rug on the tiled floor under a coffee table. Like Shakawa, the walls of this area and above the bar were tastefully decorated with taxidermied mounts of animals, along with African wall hangings and art.

As we moved through the living space, it opened up into the dining area, with the kitchen on the right and a breakfast bar that separated the two. The outside walls of both rooms were all windows and sliding glass doors. The views of the mountain in the distance and the pond below were spectacular. Just outside the glass door to the left was a canopy with a large wooden table and chairs for outdoor dining. Beyond the dining area, the space opened up into the yard…A pool on the right and a fire pit to the left. 

with the concession before dinner. We drove the rutty roads throughout the property. Impala herds were of no shortage. We passed several…or I should say that they passed us. We came across a herd of cape buffalo peeking out amongst the trees near the watering hole. Massive animals, kind of cute to look at, but very dangerous. They’re nicknamed “Black Death” for good reason. One guy was kind of curious as we slowed to look. He left the herd and slowly moved toward us, sniffing the air. He was an old mister, maybe “leader of the pack”, with a huge, gnarly boss. A true dugga boy that we had read so much about. We moved ahead slowly as he just watched us leave.

Terrain on the property varied from one high bluff (I wouldn’t call it a mountain) to flat prairies and bush. Several watering holes dotted the topography. “What are those high mounds of dirt that are everywhere?”? I asked Johan. They were made of dirt and what appeared to be a red clay. Some of these mounds were 3 feet high or more. Johan explained that they were termite houses, and they had quite an intricate tunnel system inside of them. Yuck, that gave me the willies.

Heading back to the lodge for dinner, we saw some ostriches strutting their stuff near one of the ponds. There was also a floating piece of wood that appeared to be a table. Johan explained that when the water was lower, a man proposed to his fiancé over dinner out there in the African bush. Very romantic! A huge impala bull appeared from out of the brush. Sweet! “We’ll be back to get you tomorrow,” I whispered to myself.

Dinner was waiting for us upon our return. We had grilled impala roast with couscous, spinach, and salad with homemade dressing. Wine topped off the dinner along with ice cream for dessert. Oh my goodness, I thought I might be able to slim down a bit here in Africa, but after that dinner I can see that it is a lost cause. Hendric is a phenomenal chef! Mary Winingham from Delevan had gotten some of his recipes and promised to share them with me after we returned.

After dinner, we made our way to the fire pit, where there was already a small bonfire. We sat with Christo and Johan, getting to know one another and discussing the plans for the week ahead. A couple of hours into the conversation, we all agreed to turn in for the evening to get a good night’s sleep, as it had been a long day and tomorrow would bring more of the daydream to life.

THE HUNT IS ON

We arose later than usual, after all, it was a Sunday.

Breakfast was at 6:30am and simply out of this world. Can I take Hendric home with us? We had omelets made to order, bacon, potatoes, fruit, and coffee. After breakfast, we all climbed into the truck. Johan drove, Dan and I sat out in the back seat, and Lieutenant stood behind us in the spotting position. We did some good stalking and tracking of several impalas and a blue wildebeest. Lieutenant has the eyes of an eagle. He is persistent in his stalking. He wants Dan to get an animal “First Blood” in Africa. Dan was able to get a shot off at an impala, but evidently not a good one. Just missed him.

The morning flew by. We saw so many beautiful animals. Ostrich, zebra, giraffe, and lots of different multi-colored birds. Johan pointed out a small but very hard working creature…the dung beetle. He was rolling a huge ball of “poop”, twice his size, along the terrain. “Inside the ‘ball’ is where the females lay their eggs,” explained Johan. “Some of the adults feed on the dung, also.” Yuck! It gives new meaning to having “crap” for dinner.

We encountered herds of wildebeests, impala and cape buffalo just roaming or running in the wild. So awesome! I had a hard time believing that we were finally in Africa and seeing animals that I have only read about in books.

Upon returning to the lodge for lunch, we found out that Johan would be leaving us to join up with Karen, who was with Jim and his family on another concession. Christo would take over as our PH for a few days. What an honor to have the “big guy” along with us. Lunch was delightful; chicken salad with lettuce and tomato, along with French Fries. An odd combination, but none the less delicious. Hendric tried to keep lunches on the lighter side.

After a bit of rest, we bid Johan adieu and climbed back into the truck, this time with Christo driving and Lieutenant stalking and tracking. Christo also had to go into town today, so as a change of pace, he dropped us off at a blind where we sat overlooking a waterhole. Dan was at the ready with his rifle and Lieutenant was being watchful with his trusty binoculars. We were hoping that some animals, any animals, would be parched enough in the hot, afternoon African sun to wander over to the waterhole for a cool drink. To no avail though. There were plenty of impala herds off in the distance, but too far to do anything except watch them.

We drove around for a couple more hours looking for some of the animals on Dan’s list. Unfortunately, we returned to the lodge for dinner without any animal cadavers in our possession and a bit discouraged, to say the least.

Once again Hendric out did himself with dinner. Cape buffalo lasagna was the menu’s headliner, along with a lettuce salad, homemade bread, and a glass of wine. To tickle our tastebuds, fresh fruit topped with custard completed the meal.

We adjourned to the fire pit where Christo, Lieutenant, Dan, and I finished our drinks while recapping the day and planning for tomorrow’s pursuit. Both Christo and the Lieutenant were trying to encourage Dan and talked up the thrill of the hunt. “We will go here or there and hunt them down. We will get you animals. They are out there. Do not be discouraged!” they both coaxed.

Dan knows in his mind that hunting is really a gamble, but in his heart, he was beginning to wonder if perhaps the dream was fading. “Tomorrow will be another chance,” I assured him. We turned in early that night so that we could put the pedal to the metal the following day and hunt hard.

FIRST BLOOD

Early to bed and early to rise. We began our day at 5:00am. Dan and I sat under the canopy in the yard and sipped on coffee that Hendric had left out for us the night before. We sat in the coolness of the morning while we waited for Christo and Lieutenant to rise and shine. We watched the sun peek over the mountain in the far off distance. The sky glowed with the pinks and golds of the soft morning light. Simply stunning!

Once Christo and Lieutenant joined us, we went inside to indulge in another of Hendric’s fine feasts. Eggs to order, sausage, toast, and juice. With full bellies, we set out on the day’s adventure. We drove all over the property, hitting what felt like every pothole, rut, and rock that we could find. I am not sure that my innards will ever be the same.

Apparently, I make too much noise while hunting and tracking. Christo asked me to stay back at the truck with him while Dan and Lieutenant did some stalking on their own. They’re looking for the big impala that we saw the other night or the blue wildebeest bull noted earlier as a “big boy”.

Conversation with Christo took up a lot of the time that they were gone. We were parked in a dry river bed under the trees. I picked up a huge snail shell and Christo explained that the meat of that particular snail was poison. I was looking up and admiring the trees that were around us. Christo taught me how to tell the difference between some of them. The Mopane tree seemed to be the most prevalent in this particular area.

Evidently, at a certain time of year, these trees shed worms called Mopane worms. He said that they fall from the trees and are so numerous that they form a carpet-like covering on the ground. The natives collect them, dry them, and eat them as a snack. High in protein, but I cringed at the thought.

Then there is the Marula tree. Also called the elephant tree or the marriage tree. Its fruit looks like elongated pods that hang from the branches. When mixed with sugar and cream and fermented, it turns into a popular South African liqueur called Amarula. It is so good, much like our Baileys Cream. Of course, then there was the Baobab tree or the “tree of life”. I got quite the education. Christo is a wealth of information.

He and I talked for hours about kids, his daughter’s upcoming wedding to Johan, grandkids, and how fun it was to have them. We discussed Donald Trump as our president and what that meant for South Africa. I believe Christo was in favor of and supported Trump as someone who was helping South Africa in the long run. Anyway, we contemplated the world’s problems and how we would “fix” them..Ha! Ha! He shared with me the trials of being a landowner/outfitter, and the hunting, poaching, and conservation issues that have plagued South Africa for ages.

I asked him how he was able to tell what tracks were from which animals and how, at 25mph in a truck, they could tell if the tracks on the hard-packed dirt roads were fresh or not. I must have asked the right questions because Christo talked enthusiastically, sharing more of his knowledge. As it turns out, fresh tracks have sharp, defined ridges while tracks that have been there for a while have rounder, less defined lines. Older tracks will also have leaves and bugs in them. As far as which animals make which tracks, he said that just comes with experience.

Just before lunch, Dan shot a nyala bull. A what? As a novice in the bush, I can’t say that I have even heard of a nyala, but none the less, it’s a beautiful animal. A Nyala’s coat is grayish brown and short. He has a mane on the top of his head that is long, dark, and course in texture.

Dan was beaming with pride. His ear-to-ear smile said it all. Technically, first blood was the kudu that he shot at Shakawa Lodge and although it was unfortunate to lose it, I guess we’re counting this nyala as first blood. We loaded the animal into the truck and went down by the pond for pictures. The scenery was better for the background down there, Christo said.

I was amazed by the process of the picture taking. The animal’s head is propped up with a stick and the photos are taken from a laying position so that the animal looks a little larger than it really is and is the main focus of the picture. It was an “aha” moment for me.

On our way up to the lodge for lunch, we dropped the Nyala off at the skinning station at the bottom of the hill. There, the skinning and quartering of the animal takes place. The horns and skull cap are saved, along with the hide for the hunter. It is then salted for preservation and the primary step in the taxidermy process. The meat is stored for distribution to the local people, the staff, and some of our dinners. Lunch was light again…a beef brat with salad and fresh lettuce and tomatoes.

Out again with Dan and Lieutenant. They continued to track the impala buck and I wait by the truck…alone… Hmmm. I hadn’t heard a shot yet, so I was still hoping that they find it. Well, I guess my hearing isn’t very good. Evidently, Dan did take a shot at a wildebeest bull and missed. Killed a tree, though. Perhaps that will be something that I will put on his gravestone.

Returned to camp and was greeted by Christo with a glass of whiskey for me and a cigar for Dan. We had another lovely dinner…stuffed warthog roll(much like our meatloaf), potatoes, salad, mixed veggies, and garlic bread. Pudding and fresh fruit for dessert.

I had another whiskey by the fire while Dan smoked his cigar. Of course, I bummed a puff or two. And as usual, conversation was great around the fire. Not sure how we got on the subject, but taxidermy was the topic and the process that the horns and hides need to go through before they are shipped to the states. Christo told us how worms can get into the horns of mounts and eat away at them from the inside, making small burrowing holes. We talked about some of the other clients that came to Chivic and some of the experiences they had while visiting. We talked about dogs as pets and, of course, our Bailey Girl came up in the conversation. There was a full moon in the sky and Christo told us to keep our ears open because it is often possible to hear the lions and hyenas in the dark of the night.

We turned in early. Tomorrow was to be an early start. We planned on sitting in the blind at the waterhole again, but we had to get there before dawn so as not to disrupt the animals too much. We were both hoping for better luck in making the dream come true.

BLACK  MAMBA

We were up early, 4:45am to be exact. We wanted to get into the blind before sunrise so as not to disturb any animals that might come to the waterhole for a morning drink. It was kind of eerie being out and about in the dark of Africa. I really didn’t want to run into any of those lions or hyenas Christo had talked about. We sat for a couple of hours until the morning light turned to full sunshine. Not much happened, although Lieutenant and Christo had spread a bundle of feed outside the blind, possibly to draw in some animals. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending how you looked at it, all we got was a visit from some mighty curious giraffes.

The blind was totally enclosed with a few windows to shoot from. Each window was covered with camouflage burlap. We could see out, but they couldn’t see us, so I am not sure how they knew we were even there in the blind. But, they hung around for quite a while and I was able to get some magnificent pictures. They are such an elegant, beautiful animal.

On our way back to the house for breakfast, we came across a beautiful impala ram, all alone in the bush. Christo explained  that he was an old fellow and they usually don’t hang with the herds at that age. Dan and Lieutenant stalked the animal while Christo and I watched from the truck. The ram just stared at us as if daring Dan to shoot. Boom! The rifle went off, and the ram fell to the ground.

“Nice one, Dan,” I congratulated him. Of course, we had pictures taken with the animal again. Hendric and Lovemore heard the shot from the lodge and came running. They joined in the photo session, too. It looked kind of silly with the chef in his white apron posing with the dead impala, as if to taunt the animal. Guess what’s for dinner? All that he needed was a butcher knife in one hand.

An impala is a very sleek animal, much like our whitetail deer. He has a beautiful golden cinnamon-colored coat with some variations in color on

his side, which is more of a tan color and fades into a white belly. His buttocks is defined by two vertical stripes of dark brown or black fur with a small fluff for a tail. There is a tuft of that same dark fur on each of his 4 legs near his feet and in the middle of his forehead. Again, like the nyala, his long slender face gives way to somewhat large ears. Just above the ears are the horns that originate at the top of his skull. They go up and out and up again, like high handlebars on a motorcycle or bike. They are dark brown in color and have rings around them, all the way up to the tip.

Once the impala was loaded in the truck, we dropped it, Lieutenant, and Lovemore off at the “processing plant” to begin the skinning, butchering, and salting. It seems that the king of the area was having a party at his home in the city and had asked Christo for some impala meat. So our impala was going to the king for his feast. We were honored. He did ask for two, so if we come across a female, Dan would have carte blanche to shoot another impala without charge.

Finally, we got back to the lodge for some breakfast. While we waited for the Lieutenant to get back and have his breakfast, Dan, Christo, and I sat outside under the canopy to have our coffee. Sharon busied herself with her chores. She helped Hendric with the dishes and then went into our hut to tidy up a bit and get our laundry. We had fresh clothes every day. Christo explained that after they wash the clothes by hand, they hang them out to dry in the sun. The heat of the sun not only dries the clothes, but it also sanitizes them from any bugs…especially the flesh eating types. Whoa! Did he just say “flesh eating bug”? I got the willies again. After the clothes are dry, she irons them, folds them, and puts them on our bed. She’s a really sweet lady.

News of Johan was not good. He had to go to the hospital for some tests. Karen was there with him, and Christo had to leave later that day to be with Jim and his family. Johan’s cousin Wian would be our PH for our last day of hunting.

Lieutenant finished his breakfast, and we climbed back into the Rover… in pursuit of the blue wildebeest. For some reason, Lieutenant thought that it was a must.

Damn! We weren’t far from the house before the Rover sputtered and then quit. Out of gas. And Christo had already left to run his errands. Lieutenant called him on the cell phone and explained our predicament. Christo promised to bring gas. In the meantime, the three of us walked to the blind that we had sat in earlier. It wasn’t far to walk, but the sun was already high in the sky and it was very hot. We got to the blind and out of the heat to wait for fuel for the truck.

“Well”, Dan thought, “We might as well make the best of it. Who knows, maybe some animal will appear at the watering hole.” So he sat at the ready with his rifle and put a swivel on his head. Lieutenant was reading something on his phone. I started writing about our trip. I’d look up from my writing every once in a while just to see what I could see out of the burlap covered windows. Once I looked up and saw the outline of gecko or some type of lizard on the other side of the burlap…made for a cute picture. All was going well, nice and peaceful, when I heard Dan whisper to Lieutenant while he was tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey, look,” Dan said calmly. Lieutenant looked up from his phone, and there, staring him in the face through an open window, was a snake. Not just any snake. A black Mamba. It is one of the deadliest snakes in Africa, even more so than the Cobra. To be bitten by a black Mamba is certain death. Well, the next thing I know, Lieutenant was just about in my lap. Dan had watched it slither along the burlap, but didn’t know what it was. It was gone just as fast as it appeared. Whew! That was a close call. A shout out to God on that one. From then on, I was very aware of where I was walking.

Shortly thereafter, Christo showed up with the gas for the truck. After we said our goodbyes and thank yous, we were off again. Lieutenant parked me in the shade and he and Dan marched off in search of something to shoot. I stayed in the truck and settled in with my book. An hour went by and the little sweat bugs were driving me crazy. My butt was numb from sitting. I started looking around. Heck, maybe I’d see my own animal.

As I turn my head a little more to the left, I notice the large jaw bone of some critter laying in the sand. My thoughts were crazed. I was sitting in the middle of lion territory. Alone! All I had was my purse and a bottle of ice water to defend myself with. What would I do? Perhaps I could get under the vehicle, I thought. My mind played lots of tricks on me. I only got through one chapter in my book. Finally, the men returned. Praise the Lord, they found me and not just my shoes. Ha ha Ian. (On a side note…Before we left for Africa, my son, Ian, told me a story of three poachers that were eaten by lions. The only reason anyone knew there were three of them is because they found their shoes all together under a tree.)

We started driving again and followed a herd of impalas, looking for that female that the king had requested for his party. They came to a stop just up over a ridge. Dan and Lieutenant creeped quietly along a tree line. Slowly, Dan raised his rifle so as not to make any sudden moves. He got himself all squared away and shot. Killed another tree! I have decided to call him the Great African Tree Hunter. To be fair, it was at least a 200 yard shot.

Driving again, we saw a herd of wildebeests run across the road to the left just ahead of us. Lieutenant stopped the jeep in the middle of the road. He and Dan decided to head them off. No sooner were they down the road to the left than the herd went back across the road to the right. Very clever, I would say. I had no way of letting Dan and Lieutenant know that the animals had fooled them into going the wrong way. So I waited in the parked jeep again. It was ten minutes after 4 and I hoped they would be back by sundown. I’d hate to be sitting here in the dark. No telling what I might encounter. Upon their return, I told them the story. The boys were pretty tuckered out from their long walk in the wrong direction. Lieutenant laughed and said that they were pretty smart creatures. Pooped from today’s adventures, we returned to the lodge for some dinner.

Oh, Hendric out did himself yet again. We were greeted with a patter of grilled impala tenderloin (ours from the morning) for an appetizer. It was so tender. We met our next PH, Wian. Very nice, young fellow who introduced himself and offered us some biltong as a second appetizer. I, of course, jumped at the chance to have some again. After all the “appetizers”, we sat down to dinner.

Oh my god, I was in carnivore heaven. T-Bone steak, mashed potatoes and cheesy broccoli/cauliflower. With raspberry roll cake and ice cream for dessert. Afterwards we retired to the fire, I with my whiskey and Dan with his Coke Zero, Wian had a beer.

Conversation centered around getting to know Wian a bit better and discussing today’s hunting and the plan for tomorrow.

Dan would go with Lieutenant to hunt and I would go into town with Wian to deliver the impala to the king for his party. We would also go to the local school to pass out some items (toys, personal care items, mosquito netting and some candy) that Dan and I had packed for them through the SCI Blue Bag Program.

It is only 8:30pm but Dan is pooped and has a bit of a headache. He turned in for the night and I followed shortly behind. It hardly seemed possible, but the dream would be coming to an end tomorrow.

UNEXPECTED SUCCESS

So in retrospect, our African safari has given us a lost kudu, a nyala, and a common impala. On Dan’s last day of hunting, He and Lieutenant left early in pursuit of the “Wild Beast” (wildebeest) as Lieutenant calls it, or an eland. I got up to have coffee with them before they left. “Good luck, honey,” I proclaimed while waving goodbye.

As I sat in our room writing, I heard noises on the roof. It sounded like someone was about to fall through the thatched grass roof. I opened up the drapes to find 5 monkeys staring straight at me. I couldn’t grab my camera fast enough. Perhaps they called all their friends, because in a matter of minutes there were monkeys everywhere. Large and small ones alike, swinging from tree to tree and back to the roof again. So very fun to watch. Very entertaining!

Later that morning, Wian, Hendric, and I climbed into the Toyota that Christo’s wife had let him borrow and off to town we went. Hendric had a Dr.’s appointment and Wian had agreed to give him a ride to town. He would catch his own ride back to the lodge. We dropped Hendric off at his home in a part of town that did not look welcoming to the outsider. The houses were very close together and it reminded me much of Haiti. He was a man of simple means and his house was no different. It was a small but a well kept little house with a fence around the yard and he was proud to show it to us. We dropped him off in front and continued on our way to meet the king.

Wian and I pulled up to the king’s home at the other end of town. There was a tall brick wall surrounding the house with a large monogrammed gate. A balcony protruded from the top floor of the brick house where the occupants could look out over the wall at the magnificent view above the city. Plush grass covered the yard that sported beautiful, mature trees. Exotic plants and flowers filled the beds around the house. I’m not sure if being married to the king made his wife the queen, but gardening was a pass time of hers.

The king was an ordinary kind of guy. A big burly man, dressed in shorts and a fine linen shirt. And no, he did not wear a crown. He greeted us in a very deep voice. For just one second, I was almost afraid of him. We sat at a table out in the yard under a shade tree. It was an honor to meet him. We chatted a bit about where in the states I was from and how I liked Africa. Of course, we had to have our photograph taken beside such royalty so I would be believe back home. We also gave him the impala meat for his party that night. Servants whisked it off to the kitchen. Unfortunately, we had only shot the one, so it would have to do.

The king’s sister was a teacher at a nearby school, St. Patrick Mathibela Primary School. She had set it up with the principal for us to take the “Blue Bag” items to the children at the school. We got to visit with some of the children in the classroom and hand out a few of the toys and candy that we had brought. Smiles and hugs were our reward. The rest of the items, mosquito nets and personal care items, we left with the principal so that she could make sure they got distributed to the children with the most need. Again, we had our picture taken with some of the students and the principal. A memento for us to remember our visit.

Our trip to the city was an adventure. Wian took me to a shopping mall where we walked around to get a feel for the kinds of stores they have. “Game” was a store much like our Walmart, kind of a variety store. Then we went to a department store called “Living Well”. They sold everything from clothes to furniture and it was quite high end if you ask me. Wian and I just looked around for a bit. At the opposite end of the town was a mine. I asked Wian, “What do they mine? Gold? Diamonds? Tanzanite?” He said he wasn’t sure but that we should go check it out. I am usually a pretty cautious person when it comes to doing something that might not be “kosher”, you might even say I am a “goody two shoes”, but something inside me said to “Go for it! You only live once and you may not ever get the chance to come to Africa again.” Dan would say go for it, I thought to myself. And so we did! We drove all the way to the employee gates, ignoring all the signs to turn around along the way. I thought for sure somebody would have stopped us.

Obviously we couldn’t get into the employee gates, but we did find out what they mined there. Iron. How boring is that?

Dan’s morning was also adventurous. About 10 minutes after we left for the city, Dan shot a blue wildebeest. Dan said that he hunted hard, stalking and tracking and trying to keep up with Lieutenant. “It was a good hunt!” He and Lieutenant have a newfound friendship. I noticed a mutual admiration and respect for each other. Dan even gave Lieutenant his camouflage shirt that he had worn that day as a token of his appreciation for his hard work. “Bravo, my love! Nice job!”

A wildebeest is an oddly shaped animal, smaller in the back end and much larger in the front. A deep chest and a large hump-like feature in the shoulder area of his back makes his shape much like that of the American Buffalo. Light gray, so light that it appears blue, is the main color of his coat with darker, almost black brindling along his upper torso. A black mane reaches from his head, down the back of his neck, all the way to his mid spine. The mane stops over his hindquarters, but then continued at the buttocks to form a long, thin black hairy tail. Like a cow or a steer, his face is long with a broad snout. And just above his large ears are his horns. They left his skull almost straight out to the side and then made a sharp curve forward and upward. A wildebeest is sometimes referred to as “the poor man’s buffalo” (cape buffalo, that is) by hunters.

After and delightful lunch, we all climbed into the truck again. That would be Wian, Dan, Lieutenant, and I see? Our target was either an eland, a black impala, or a sable, which ever one presented itself first. Driving down the road not more than five minutes, Lieutenant spotted a lone black impala off in the distance. Wian slowed the truck to a stop. He and Dan quietly stalked the animal from the back side of its position so that the wind would not make their presence known. Lieutenant and I waited at the truck. We lost sight of the other two in the bush. Bam! The gunshot rang in our ears.

Wian ran back to the truck to get us. “Black impala down!” he announced.

“Say what? Are you kidding?” I could not believe it. Lieutenant and I ran to see. Sure enough, there lying on the ground at Dan’s feet was a black furred animal. Its coat shimmered like black silk in the sunlight. The black impala is very much like the common impala, except a bit smaller and, well, black.

However, much like the common impala, his horns are shaped in the same “handle bar” configuration with the rings that run their length. It is the horns that identify it as part of the impala family. What a beautiful animal. That made two animals in a single day, Dan. Wow!

His belly was split and all the guts lay in a pile. Blood trickled from the animal onto the cement floor and then down a drain in the center of the room. Lovemore and Sharon were in the process of skinning the hide off of the animal. Muscle and bone were exposed to us. The animal will then be butchered and stored in a large freezer for later distribution amongst the locals and staff. Hide and horns are “salted” and tagged with our name.

Later they will be taken to a taxidermist in Africa that will then dip them in chemicals to kill any bugs and prepare them for shipment to the States. It will take almost 6 months before they will be shipped. We might forget what our animals even looked like by then.

Because we had dropped off a second animal so close to the first one, Lieutenant offered to stay back and help with the processing. Dan was a bit disappointed with that decision. He and Lieutenant had formed a bond. But it was what it was, I guess. Wian took Dan and me out in the truck again in hot pursuit of an eland or a sable. After an impromptu encounter with a tortoise, Wian parked me in the shade while he and Dan left on a stalk of some kind. They did spot some sable tracks around the watering hole, but ultimately returned empty-handed.

Dusk was almost upon us, so we decided to return to the lodge. Besides, we were low on fuel and we didn’t want to go to that party again, especially in the dark. As we turned the corner to head back to camp, there he was. Right there in the middle of the road…the most beautiful animal by far, a huge sable ram.

He sported an all black coat with white underparts. A long, erect mane ran from the top of his head to his shoulders. Oddly, his ears were a light golden tan. But, perhaps the thing that made me fall in love with this awesome creature was the distinct markings of white that ran the length of his nose on both sides from the bridge of his nose at eye level all the way to his mouth.

And his horns…so very impressive! They started at the top of his head, rather close together between his ears and curved up and back, forming a large arc that pointed toward his back. His horns were textured with deep rings that covered their entire length.

Wian slammed on the brakes. The sable looked straight at us for what seemed to be a long time and then, as if to taunt us, he sauntered into the trees and disappeared. Dan and Wian slowly and quietly got out of the truck and entered the tree line just down from where we had seen him. Evidently, he was still there because the next thing I knew, Dan had his rifle up and has taken a shot. Bam!

Down he went. We all cheered. Suddenly, he was up again and running…”Oh no, it is getting too late to track it”, I thought. Bam! Shot him in the shoulder to prevent him from running. He went down again. The animal was still breathing and trying to get back up. Dan raised his rifle again. I plugged my ears. Bam! One last shot into the lungs to put this poor, beautiful animal to rest. It was exciting, yet very hard for me to watch. By this time, Lieutenant and Lovemore were through with the other two animals and heard the shots. We were not far from the lodge, so they came running. The sun was sinking fast, so we commenced with the picture taking ritual promptly.

Loading this monster on to the back of the truck was a sight to see. Try as they might, 4 men could not hoist this beast in to the vehicle. Finally, it was decided that they would have to gut him then and there in order to lighten the load.

“Does anyone have a knife?” Lieutenant asked. All that they could come up with was Dan’s pocket knife. It was dark now, so Lovemore turned the truck around so that we could see what we were doing with the headlights. Lieutenant made the incision along the midline of the animal’s belly, taking care not to puncture the intestines, which could contaminate the meat. With his bare hands, he reached inside and sort of scooped out the stomach and intestines, the liver, and other internal organs. Liquid grass came oozing out of the animal’s watermelon sized stomach. I couldn’t believe how big it was.

Back to the situation at hand. It was still a struggle to lift the Sable into the truck, but mission accomplished after many moans and groans. Once it was loaded, Lieutenant and Lovemore took the Sable to the processing building, where they stayed to skin, salt, butcher and tag our Sable. Before they got there, though, the Land Rover ran out of gas and Wian had to take them some fuel. The rest of us headed back to the lodge to get ready for dinner. Behind us, we left the insides of this poor animal amongst the wild grasses of the African bush where he had lived for so many years before.

Back at the lodge, celebration was in order. Dan showered before dinner and I had a whiskey by the fire with Wian. We mulled over the events of the day. Finally, dinner was ready. Our final dinner was fish, rice, pumpkin (it tasted like squash), a salad, and for dessert was fruit and chocolate pudding.

After dinner, we all gathered around the fire…Wian, Hendric, Sharon, Dan, myself, and by this time, Lieutenant and Lovemore had returned and joined us. We recounted the day’s activities, thanked everyone and handed out some monetary gratuities to show our appreciation for everything they had done for us while we stayed with them. We had to say goodbye to all of our new friends in the Chivic family. We retired to our hut and began to pack up our things for tomorrow’s trip to the Kruger National Park. Our heads hit the pillow that night without hesitation. What a day! What a perfect end to a little boy’s dream!

EXPLORING THE KRUGER

The morning began early. We were up by 5:00am, showered, dressed, and finished our packing. We went out to sit under the canopy at the table to wait for Wian. We enjoyed a cup of coffee and reflected on the last 7 days. It certainly had been a trip of a lifetime. One that a little boy dreamed of, oh so long ago. Dan smiled; I knew he was “good”!

Just peaking over the mountain in the East was the sun. It was going to be another beautiful day. Wian joined us for coffee at 6:00am. There was some last minute legal paperwork to fill out for the South African government, such the outfitter, the PH, and the animals hunted and where they were going. Strict records need to be kept in order for Chivic to operate. We loaded the car with our belongings and were saying goodbye to this small but welcomed oasis that we called home for the last week. We departed at 6:30 am. There was one stop to make before we drove to the Kruger National Park. In the small town of Hoedspruit, which means Hat Creek in Afrikaans, situated at the foot of the Klein Drakensberg (Small Dragon Mountains) in the Limpopo province, we were finally able to meet Karen Joubert. This was part of the business end of the trip. It was time to pay up the rest of the balance due for the animals that we had harvested.

Wian introduced us to a blonde woman, Karen, and a Jack Russell Terrier, Mila. We chatted briefly and got an update on Johan’s condition. He was “out of the woods” so to speak…Hallelujah! Karen said that he was doing much better and just taking it easy these last few days.

Wian reminded us that we needed to move along if we were to enjoy some time in the Kruger. Dan took out his wallet and handed her the “plastic money”. She ran the credit card while we stood there. Everything checked out. We said our adieus as she loaded up her traveling companion and pulled out of the parking lot. Wian, Dan, and I proceeded into the store to get a few snacks for the road.

Kruger National Park was much like any of our national parks. There were gates where you had to pay your admission fees and just off to the side was a small souvenir hut that sold trinkets, snacks, and maps of the park. We used the restrooms, bought a remembrance pin, some mints, and a map. We were on our way to see whatever Kruger offered to us.

Winding roads gave us some spectacular views of the African bush. We were able to see so many animals in their own natural habitat. Elephants were abundant through out the park. They looked enormous. It was heartwarming to see the females caring for their offspring. So very cute, however, you would not want to get between a mother and her calf…things could get ugly for you. Giraffes sauntering here and there, roaming the park free range. You could see them above the tree line with their long, slender necks. They too had their babies with them. We saw herds of impala, zebra, wildebeest, and kudu running off in the distance in the same direction as the vehicle, just as I have seen on TV and in the movies. There were hippos and cape buffalo bathing and trying to keep cool in the watering holes along the way. Baboons were everywhere along the roads. Wian explained, as Johan did earlier in the trip, just how vicious they could be. Their teeth are long and sharp like fangs. It would be nothing for a baboon to tear a man apart.

Yikes!

We came across a number of vehicles parked alongside the road, much like when a bear is spotted in Yellowstone. There must be something that everyone is looking at. So of course we had to stop, too. There, off in the distance, you could barely make out, because her coloring blended so well with the grass that she was laying in, a lioness and her cubs.

They had just finished feasting on a fresh kill that wasn’t too far from where they rested. “A rare sighting indeed,” Wian mused.

Time for lunch! We stopped at one of the many cafeteria type restaurants inside the park. Dan ordered a cheeseburger and fries. I had a salad, and I don’t remember what Wian had, but it was something kind of fancy that you wouldn’t think of ordering at an establishment of that sort. After lunch, Dan and I walked around the little park that they had there. There were tables and benches scattered about and several trees there that had greenish yellow trunks. They looked out of place and a bit odd. I asked Wian about them when we got back to the table and he told us they were called fever trees. Evidently, there was a king that had a son who was deathly ill with a fever and the tea that was made from the leaves of this tree were what brought his fever down, or so the legend goes. I have found Wian to be a wealth of knowledge, much like Johan and Christo.

The afternoon was spent sighting more animals within the park. So many beautiful birds of all sizes and vibrant colors also call the park home. Some as big as ostriches all the way down to the little oxpecker that sits on the backs of the large animals and eats tics, fly larva, and other parasites that could invade the mammals. We drove over a bridge and there, right under us, was a huge crocodile. Of course, we had to stop and get out of the car to take a closer look. He had to be about 12 feet long, just sunning himself on the bank of the river. So cool!

Later, we were able to see another rare sighting of a cheetah off in the distance in a tree. Wian sure does have good eyes. He is young yet, that will change. Back in the car and driving on, we saw something in the road up ahead. Upon closer examination, from the car, of course, it was a Puff Adder snake slithering across the road. Wian said that it is one of the deadliest snakes in Africa. It can kill a man in less than 30 minutes. Unlike the Black Mamba, the Puff Adder is much more prevalent in the bush. What luck, we were able to encounter both of these deadly vipers in one trip. Aye, aye, aye!!! Karen had made arrangements for us to stay one night in the Kruger.

There were different campgrounds within the park. Our reservation was at Pretoriuskop Camp. Once we reached the camp, we checked in at the office. Wian showed us to our cabin. It was a most interesting little hut amidst what looked like a neighborhood of the same kind of dwellings. Round in shape and made of concrete. A thatched type roof that came to a peak in the middle and crowned the top of it. We were told that the camp was built for Queen Elizabeth and the royal family’s visit to South Africa years in the past. Inside, the walls remained round and along half of the room was a ledge that we could put our things on. The square bed was against one part of the round wall, with a nightstand on either side and a window. A small closet enabled us to hang a few things. We were only staying one night, so we didn’t get carried away with the unpacking. Opposite the bed was the vanity with a sink and large mirror. To the left was a small bathroom with just a toilet and shower in it. Oddly enough, this small abode had a second door that led out on to a meager back porch with a sitting area. In the yard was a grill and a picnic table that could be used for outside dining. As you rounded the side of the circular building, there was an alcove that housed a full kitchen complete with a refrigerator, sink, and stove. The cupboards and drawers were all stocked with cooking and eating paraphernalia, such as pots and pans, plates and utensils. I guess that people book the cabins for a week or so, much like our campgrounds in the national parks. It was kind of cozy. Wian stayed across the yard from us in a single room that was part of a motel type building.

While Wian rested and took a short nap, Dan and I moseyed around the “neighborhood”. Little monkeys swung from tree to tree, trying to get a scrap or two of food that someone may have dropped. Likewise, on the ground, guinea fowl birds would scurry around at your feet. They are a beautiful bird about the size of a pheasant, or a bit larger. Their feathers are grayish brown with white polka dots, and their heads are bright blue. Both Dan and I were amused. There was a small museum on the grounds that we visited, depicting the Queen’s visit and other trivia information about the park.

Soon it was time to meet Wian for some supper. We ate at the fast-food joint in the campground — Wimpy. All I could think of was the cartoon Popeye and his friend Whimpy, who always said, “I’ll gladly pay you on Tuesday for a hamburger today.” Much like a McDonald’s or Burger King, this establishment sold the usual burgers and fries, etc., but unlike the US, they sold beer and wine. What a concept.

After dinner, we boarded an open bus-type vehicle for a night safari. We were hoping to see some of the nocturnal animals that roamed the Kruger after dark, like a lion or leopard or hyena, maybe. It was a chilly night, and we wore our jackets, but they offered us blankets as well. “How cold is it going to get?” I thought to myself. I am so glad that I said yes to the blanket. For about an hour or so, we drove around the roads of the Kruger in the dark as the driver narrated the journey for us over the loudspeaker. Unfortunately, we did not see any lions or leopards or hyenas, but we did see an owl or two, a couple of porcupines, and a Civet Cat, which is kind of like a lynx or small Bob Cat. There was a kudu in the bushes at one point and lots of rabbits darting here and there across the road. We returned to camp around 10:30pm. It had been a long and exciting day. Exhausted, we turned in shortly after. I don’t know about Dan or Wian, but I slept like a rock!

We met Wian early the next morning at the Wimpy again for coffee. It was at least a 5-6 hour drive to Johannesburg. We were really in no hurry except that once we got there, except that Wian would have to turn around and head back to Chivic, which would be another 6 hours on the road. But the day was young yet, and we planned on doing some sightseeing on the way. Just for fun, we took the long way out of the park, off the beaten path. There were a few more animal sightings. A mother elephant crossed the road in front of us and then turned and seemed to motion to her calf to follow. Wian stopped the vehicle to let the little fellow follow his mother…as he had said yesterday, you don’t want to get between a mother Elephant and her young. The road wound around a large rock formation, and up and over. As we peaked over a hill, we came across a lone cape buffalo in the middle of the roadway. He was staring us square in the face. His nose was up, sniffing the air in order to get a handle on our presence. Wian thought that he was most likely an older dugga boy, with a fairly large, gnarly boss and some old scars from doing battle with predators. He explained that once a buffalo gets to a certain age, they are mostly loners and do not hang out with the rest of the herds. We decided that it might be better if we waited to move forward so as not to get his guard up. Charging Christo’s wife’s car would not have been a good thing for us or the vehicle. Slowly, the buffalo moved across the road and disappeared off into the high grass. Whew! That could have been a dangerous situation.

So, now we have seen all but one of the Big 5, as they are called by the hunters. There were elephants galore, lots of cape buffalo, a leopard (well, maybe not, but a cheetah is close), and a lion (a lioness to be exact).The only thing missing was the rhino. I was on the hunt, the photo hunt, that is, for a rhinoceros. Kruger National Park offered up none on this trip. The rhino is on the endangered list due to poaching. Poachers kill the animal for its horn for monetary purposes. Very sad, indeed!

Once we were out of the park’s perimeter, it wasn’t long before our stomachs were talking to us. “We need food,” they said. It was already late morning, so where ever we stopped would count as both breakfast and lunch. We found a place in a small town about a quarter of the way to our destination. “I’ll have steak and eggs”, I announced. After all those meals that Hendric had made, the carnivore in me was speaking loudly! After we ate, we walked around a bit, but then got back on the road.

Street vendors lined the roadways with all of their wares. We stopped at a few just to see what they had. I was looking for a brightly colored tablecloth and Dan bought a wood carved figure of a Kudu. I guess it was still bothering him that he had lost his in the bush.

Back on the road to Johannesburg, the scenery was just incredible. There were times that, if I didn’t know that I was in Africa, I would have sworn that I was in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains or hunting with Dan in Colorado. Other times, there were farmlands as far as the eye could see, and I could have easily been in Wisconsin or Illinois. Some highways were lined with bright flowering trees and plants.

About three quarters of the way, Wian surprised me with a stop at a wayside that not only had gas, snacks, and shopping, but it had a wild game preserve out back on about a 100 acre piece of land. So many varieties of animals could be seen from the viewing deck. They had elephants, elands, oryx, kudu, sable, waterbuck, impalas, and yes, they even had a rhinoceros, but without a horn. Wian explained that the rhino’s horn was removed on purpose so that poachers would not break into the preserve to kill the animal and take his horn. After we had had our fill of the animals, and we had taken as many pictures as imagined, we stopped in the souvenir shop. Dan and I bought a few things for ourselves…a hat, some pillow slips made from hides of an impala and a zebra, and of course, little trinkets for the grandkids. We got ourselves some snacks for the rest of the journey and proceeded to make our way back to Afton.

AFTON

ROUND TWO

We arrived at Afton in the late afternoon. Wian helped us get our luggage out of the truck and into our room.

This time we were in a first-floor room in the same building as the museum. Our view overlooked the yard and outdoor living space. This room’s motif was all about the elephants. Even the wallpaper depicted different scenes of elephants. We unloaded our belongings onto the beds, locked the door behind us, and headed toward the main house.

Past the swimming pool, past the fire pit, under the canopy, and into the main dining room. There, we shared a last cup of coffee with Wian before he headed back to Chivic. It would be a long trip back and it was already five o’clock. The mom in me was worried about his travels into the night. Dan and I had become quite fond of our guide, PH, and traveling companion. We watched him pull out of the parking area , go through the gate, and disappear down the street.

Afterward, we joined a group of people, mostly hunters and their wives, at the fire pit. We listened to their stories and told a few of our own from the last 7 days. Some of them were coming to Africa for the first time, and some had been there before. We met Richard Lendrum there, who is the owner of Afton and the editor/publisher of the African Hunting Gazette. A most interesting gentleman. He was “very down to earth,” as my mother would say. Bizarre as it may sound, he is not a hunter himself. He just enjoys providing an oasis for hunters to gather and tell their stories, some of which he shares in his magazine.

Once everyone had arrived from the airport, we again enjoyed a phenomenal carnivore’s feast of steak, chicken, and all the fixings. We met another couple from WI that Jim had recruited and chatted with them as if Africa was old hat for us and we were now seasoned safariests (Is that even a word?). After dinner, we ventured out to the fire pit again for some more camaraderie. We didn’t stay long and turned in shortly after. Tomorrow we would catch an early flight to Zimbabwe for a little sightseeing and to see the Victoria Falls, one of the most spectacular waterfalls in the world.

Certainly, since we were in Africa, we needed to see at least part of the country besides the bush. Jim and Karen worked together to make this part of the trip happen for us. It was to be the vacation part of our trip.

THE THREE “Z’s”

ZIMBABWE, ZAMBIA, AND THE ZAMBEZI

Before breakfast, we repacked our suitcases so as not to have to take anything but carry on luggage to Zimbabwe. Jim had made arrangements for us to leave two suitcases and Dan’s rifle locked in the safe at Afton until we returned for our trip home. Breakfast was the usual spread of eggs to order, potatoes , bacon, sausage, fruit, and pastries, with juice and coffee on the side. We shared our breakfast with a delightful couple from Milwaukee who had also booked their trip through Jim at the Sports Show. And although we did not know each other, we felt we had a common bond. Turns out that the woman of the two-some, worked at Froedtert Hospital, as did I. The world is certainly smaller than one would think.

Mr “X” met us at the Johannesburg Airport again and made sure we got to where we needed to be for our flight. Thank You!

We arrived early, so we had some time to find our gate. As we went through security, they pulled me aside to check my bag. My heart sank! I had to visit Zimbabwe with bad breath, as they confiscated my Listerine. How rude!

After that little fiasco, wandered around a few of the stores in the airport. A friend of mine had given me $200 to buy her a pair of Tanzanite stud earrings. Oh my gosh, they were way pricier than she had thought. The $400 price difference (yes, the earrings were $600!) meant that I needed to consult her before I made the purchase. So, we went to the departure gate and enjoyed our pastime of people watching.

Our flight was short, maybe about an hour or so. However, the line to enter the country, get a visa, and pass through customs was quite long. Finally, after much todo, we found our driver, the one holding up the sign that said “Luba”. We climbed aboard the bus that he had waiting for us and we were taken through the streets of the city of Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, to our hotel, The Kingdom. A kingdom it was…Waterfalls, ponds, a pool, outdoor dining room and bar area. There were towers crowned by elephant tusks (fake, I am sure), bridges, balconies, and walkways through beautiful green gardens. In the lobby, we were met by a group of tribal dancers dressed in ornamental costumes welcoming the visitors with the sound of their drums.

At the check-in desk, we each received a warm, moist towel washcloth to use on our hands and face. I am not sure if it was for our pleasure or for their safety, but it was welcomed after a morning of travel. It was at the desk that we met Brian, our “Porter” for the duration of our stay at The Kingdom. He was a nice young man who escorted us to our room and helped to get us settled. He informed us of a number of activities available to us as guests. Before he left, he gave us the usual low down on the air conditioner controls, the TV remote, coffee maker, fridge, and “Oh by the way, if you leave the room, make sure to close the windows so as not to let the monkeys or baboons inside”.

“Say what? No problem there,” I thought, “I’ll just use the air conditioner.”

We thanked him, gave him a tip, and he said that he would see us tomorrow.

After settling in, we took a walk around the grounds. It was simply gorgeous. Out back, behind our room, there was a small stream. Amarula trees lined the banks. Where there are Amarula trees, there are elephants. Sure enough, wandering about the backyard, were several elephants. A sight never to forget. A crowd had gathered to watch, and the elephants disappeared into the brush. How many people can say that they have elephants and monkeys in their backyard? We were truly honored and blessed by their presence.

We found the bar and a gin & tonic and Coke Zero. We marveled at the surroundings, both manmade and natural. We visited both of the gift shops on sight, just to check it out. Dan found 2 antique statues of Zulu natives…spear and all. They were pretty cool looking. I inquired about Tanzanite earrings for my friend, thinking that maybe they would be a bit cheaper here than at the airport. Nope! $650 for a pair. Definitely needed her go-ahead before spending that kind of money. She answered my message with a “No thank you! Just a wine bottle stopper will do.” She didn’t think they would be that much. I guess I could have tried one of the local shops, but I had read that there were no guarantees that they would be genuine Tanzanite.

We stopped by the front desk and booked a helicopter ride over the Victoria Falls for the next day. I was so excited! The last time that Dan talked me into a helicopter ride was on our honeymoon over Glacier National Park. It was beautiful, as I was sure this would be as well. Before heading back to the room, we grabbed a bite to eat at the hotel restaurant. The special was pork ribs, potato, and a veggie. Nothing special. In fact, I can’t even remember what veggie it was…It made me long for Hendric’s cooking. I was spoiled at Chivic.

We returned to our room for the evening and watched a little TV for the first time since we had left home. CNN came on the tube. We listened for a bit, then switched it to Fox News… Nothing new in the world and we surely didn’t miss all the nonsense going on politically. We settled on a movie, but we were out before we could even find out the name of it.

Rise and Shine…We slept a little later because we weren’t hunting, but the bus was coming at 10:00am to take us to Elephant Hill, where we would eventually catch our helicopter ride over Victoria Falls, the gorge that separates Zimbabwe from Zambia, and the Zambezi River and National Park. After a buffet breakfast in the outdoor dining room, we slipped into the casino part of the “kingdom” where one of the gift shops was.

Dan had talked me into buying the Tanzanite earrings for myself as a souvenir. Unfortunately, they did not open until 11:00am, so we would have to shop after our trip to Victoria Falls.

Our tour bus awaited us at the main entrance of the hotel. We met Brian in the lobby and he made sure we got on the correct bus. The bus rambled down the narrow streets of the town. Each side of the street was lined with vendors selling their wares. Everything from soapstone statues and textiles to tasty treats to eat. Women were carrying water on their heads in basket type containers, called jerrycans. If I hadn’t seen this while I was in Haiti last year, I would have been surprised that this actually was a way to retrieve water for households and not just hearsay. “What strength, coordination, and poise these women have,” I thought to myself. “Surely by the time I got home, I would have been soaking wet with no water left in the container.” Like Haiti, the essential modes of transportation were bicycle, motorbike, and taxi. Other than that, traffic consisted mostly of the buses from the various hotels in the area carrying sightseers.

Upon our arrival on Elephant Hill (I am not sure how it got its name), we unloaded the bus. Obviously, we were not the only ones that had booked a helicopter flight over the Falls.

There were buses and vans from many other hotels in the area whose patrons had also thought it would be a good idea. So, when we arrived, we had to put our name on a waiting list. In commission, there were 2 or 3 helicopters running and each could take 2-4 passengers, depending on their weight.

While we waited for our turn, we watched each helicopter come and go. They would leave with passengers that were reserved in their anticipation and return with excursionists filled with awe and excitement.

Finally, it was our turn. We were pulled aside with another couple who was from Germany, I believe. We were each interviewed for a personalized video that we could later purchase, and given the lowdown on what we would see from the air. Then came the weigh-in. Thank goodness all the good eating that I had been doing didn’t ban me from the trip. So on the way out to the helicopter, we each had to wave to the camera for the video. I got the front seat next to the pilot. I had windows on three sides. It felt like I was flying like a bird.

Dan and I thought “what the heck, let’s have a refreshment and watch.” Dan had an apple juice, and I chose a Zambezi lager. “Why not,” I thought. “We were on the Zambezi River and ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans’!” It was the best beer that I had found in Africa so far. It wasn’t my usual IPA, but it was darn good.

Our video finally came up on the screen. We kind of looked like dorks, but we decided to buy the video, anyway. It had some spectacular views of the Falls and the National Park along with some history of the place. We did a little shopping in the gift shop . We didn’t buy anything too elaborate. I think all that we purchased was a pin for Dan of the Zimbabwe flag.

As we headed out to the van to take us back to the Kingdom Hotel, we were summoned over to an area that one of the employees had set up with wood carvings from his family. Dan’s eyes lit up as he scanned over the merchandise. There were so many items…Carved animals, Africa outlines, the “big 5”. Dan zeroed in on a cane with some native carvings on it. Supposedly, it was carved from one piece of wood. It was beautiful and exceptionally intricate. The man said that his brother had carved it, which I am a bit skeptical about since I had seen some of “his brother’s” work in several other places…such as the airport, street vendors, and the hotel gift shop. None the less, Dan was impressed and paid the man his asking price. We boarded the bus back to the hotel with our treasures.

Once we had returned, we ran into Brian in the lobby and asked him if he had any ideas on how to get the cane back to Johannesburg in one piece. The plan was to put it in the gun case once we were in Johannesburg for the trip back to the states. “No problem!” Brian said. “I will call for you tomorrow at 10:00am and help you with your luggage. At that time, I can wrap the cane so that it is secure for the flight back to Johannesburg.” Our ride to the airport left at 10:30am, so that sounded good to us. We thanked him and then headed back to our room to freshen up.

While waiting for our sundowner cruise on the Zambezi River, we had a liquid refreshment and then set out to town just to experience some local life. We weren’t a block out of the hotel’s compound when we were approached by a young street vendor to buy some of his wares. Much like Haiti, the locals make a living selling to tourists on the streets — wood carvings, jewelry, pottery, stone sculptures, etc. Well, we had stopped to marvel at the intricate serpentine stone sculptures when this young man approached us with a small stone sculpture of two giraffes with their necks intertwined and their faces looking at each other. This could be ours for $10 US dollars…Unlike South Africa, Zimbabwe uses USD instead of their own country’s monetary dollar, which wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on, evidently.

Financial trouble was evident throughout out the small town of Victoria Falls. Streets were lined with vendors, women were carrying essentials, including water and produce, on their heads, bicycles and taxi were a main method of transportation for the locals, and there were extremely long lines at the gas stations. Hardship was obvious. Anyway, we bought the giraffe statue, as I am a sucker for male/female love statues of any kind. As soon as the purchase was made, the young man motioned to a group of other vendors as if to say, “we got a sucker, I mean potential buyer, here”. Soon, and I do mean soon, another young man approached us with a stone soap dish and a small statue of a hippo. I was not interested, and I told him so. He insisted that I could have both items for $20. I said “No thank you” and kept walking. “But Madame, I am poor”, he pleaded, “ and must feed my family! How about both items for $10?” I was still not interested and Dan helped me out by saying “No!” again. We continued on our way to town, where we stopped at many of the small shops. I was on the hunt for that wine stopper for Diana, my coworker, and any other little trinket we might find. A brightly colored tablecloth was still in the back of my mind.

Each shop stocked much of the same items, wood carvings, stone carvings, native jewelry, baskets, beaded items, and textiles of all sorts. One shop had a lot of silver items and that is where I found “it”…A silver elephant, with his trunk up (that is supposed to be good luck) on a rubber stopper that tapered to a point.

“That’s it!” I exclaimed. “That is the one I want for Diana.” All the other stoppers I had seen up to this point were cork and looked a bit on the cheap side. “How much?” I asked. From behind the counter, the clerk, a most interesting “dude” of a medium to large build with long dread locks in his hair, a mustache, and a pair of “man-boobs” said in a rather high-pitched girl voice, that it would be $65. “Because it is real silver,” he added. “We’ll take it,” I announced. Before wrapping it up to survive the trip home he meticulously shined it up and removed any tarnish. I paid the man in US dollars and we were on our way. We passed several other stores and a restaurant called The Carnivore. My kind of place! Wian had told us about it, but neither of us was hungry enough to try it. We returned to the hotel to rest a bit before our cruise at 3:30pm.

On our way back to the Kingdom, we were again approached by the young man selling the stone soap dish and hippo. Persistent fellow! Now the story is that he has 2 young children at home that were hungry…yada, yada, yada! Say no more, Dan and I are suckers for kids (and dogs). I really didn’t want the soap dish, but the hippo was kind of cute. Dan gave him $5 for it and the young man was very grateful. We felt kind of foolish that we had dickered with him previously.

We stopped at the casino’s gift shop. Dan finally convinced me to buy those Tanzanite earrings. They were simple but very elegant stud earrings made of a Tanzanite stone and white gold. The man behind the counter rang it up and, for some reason, our credit card didn’t work on his register. He tried a second time in another register, but no luck. Finally, we went into the hotel and the card was run through the register at the front desk. Still not working. “I hope that this isn’t an omen,” I thought to myself. “I know that there is room on it.” We had to break down and use a second credit card that we had been saving to pay for the shipping of the animals back to the states and part of the taxidermy. By this time, we were sweating bullets that perhaps the one card wasn’t working. Whew! Success at last. Finally, the earrings were mine. Beautiful, sparkly blue, so very pretty and just perfect. “Thank you Dan, for being so persistent with your love!”

We started toward our room to drop off our new wares that we had gotten in town, but not before checking out the hotel gift shop to admire the two native statues again. It was at that moment that I realized one of those Zulus was going to make the trip back to the states with us. It was only a matter of time.I fervently hoped it would be the smaller of the two. I had no idea how we would get the larger statue home. Anyway, back to the room we went to freshen up and get ready for our sunset cruise on the Zambezi River.

Good news came to us via a text from Jim who was still with Christo at Chivic…Word was sent from Andre’, Johan’s father, that the kudu that Dan had shot was found. Alleluia!! The horns were still intact, but the cape was pretty torn up from other animals. We were elated and had even more reason to celebrate. Dan was all smiles!

The Wild Horizons bus picked us up in front of the hotel, along with about 30 other people, at 3:30pm. We traveled through the city of Victoria Falls and out into the rural, poorer areas of the town. Culture differs so much throughout the world. Tin shacks that people called home, and vendors selling everything from produce to jewelry lined the streets.

We arrived at the boat dock a little after 4:00pm. Being Fall, sunset was to be around 5:00/5:30ish. We boarded the double-decker tour boat with tables and chairs, a kitchen, and a bar. We chose a table on the upper deck so that we could take in all the beauty that the trip had to offer. Other couples had scattered on both levels. Finally, we were on our way…cruising the Zambezi River. Along the way, we passed many other tour boats traveling up and down the river. We even passed a paddle boat named the African Queen. It reminded us of the movie with Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn of the same title. The sun was still a bit high, so the sights along the shores were exquisite. We viewed a herd of hippos frolicking and bathing, having a wonderful time. Very picturesque, with their mouths wide open as they surfaced and then dove under the water again. So up and down the river we traveled. Drinks were served along with quite tasty appetizers. I had 2 gin and tonics and Dan enjoyed his Coke Zero.

After dinner, on the way back to our room, we stopped at the bar for a nightcap. I had a glass of wine and Dan had, you guessed it, a Coke Zero. We both hit the pillow and were out cold. We had filled the day with a lot of adventures and we were exhausted. Besides, we had an early morning planned, with a walk down to the Falls for an up close and personal experience before breakfast and our flight back to Johannesburg.

We rose early, around 5:00am I believe. We showered, dressed, and headed out for our walk. Victoria Falls was literally just down the block. As we were leaving the compound of the hotel, we were reminded by several people to “Beware, the elephants may be out and about!” There were other people in the streets at this early hour. Daylight was just breaking, and the vendors were just setting up and opening their shops to sell their cultural wares. No elephants were encountered, thank goodness, but definitely evidence that they had been destructive over night. Fence posts were smashed, trees were down, grass fields were almost bald, and there were large footprints in the mud. An almost daily occurrence, we are told.

We moved on down the road, paid our admission to the Victoria Falls National Park, and entered the gateway to what has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. Rain Forest surrounded the Zambezi and lined the paths to the Falls. Each path was numbered 1-12 and each scenic view point of the Falls was better than the last. Absolutely breathtaking views.

The water spilled over the sides of the gorge in cascades of grandeur toward the river at the bottom. A mist rose like a thick fog that swallowed the colors of the sunrise like a watercolor painting. Rainbows appeared in the mist as the sun rose in the sky and the intensity of light increased. Several times, the mist rose from the bottom and showered us with a refreshing spray. It was a good thing that at the park entrance we spent $3 a piece on a thin plastic “rain coat”. A garbage bag would have been better protection.

It was still early and quiet except for the roar of the falling water. We encountered a few brave souls on the paths, but far from what I would call crowds. On the last path that we took, we came across a larger than life-sized statue of John Livingstone. He was an interesting character, clad in a uniform of sorts. His face was long and narrow with a somewhat pointed nose…he kind of looked like Dan. At the base of the statue, his biography was chiseled in stone…He was an Englishman who discovered the Falls and named them after his queen…Victoria.

Departure from the Falls area left us feeling refreshed and renewed, as if the water falling into oblivion had cleansed us in some manner. We headed back to the hotel for breakfast. The world had begun to wake up. The lines at the gas pumps had resumed. Men were on their way to work on their bikes, women were carrying their allotment of food and water upon their heads, and the vendors had already started to sell their trinkets and wares. Even the baboons were up and about. They paced alongside us as we walked the sidewalks, looking for handouts of food. Babies clung to their mother’s breasts and the males just stayed back in the grass and watched our every move. As I have said before, the word is that these are viscous creatures with large teeth that could tear a man apart. I was a bit skeptical to walk alongside them, but they didn’t seem to mind us as we passed. My guess is that these were baboons that had gotten used to being around humans and the food that they give them.

As we got closer to our hotel, we were approached by a man who wanted to sell a Zimbabwe million dollar bill. I can’t remember how much he actually wanted in US dollars for it, but since their government had gone to the US dollar and Zimbabwe money wasn’t really worth anything, I think that he would have accepted any money that we would have given him. We refused him at the time, but in hind sight, it would have been cool to brag that we had a million dollars.

Outside the front of the hotel, we were greeted by the native dancers who were welcoming new guests and saying farewells to those leaving. Brian met us as we entered the grand lobby, with his usual politeness and cheerfulness. Dan wanted to go to the gift store one last time to view the native statue again. “There is that look in his eye again!” I thought. “When he gets it, I know that he is going to buy it no matter the cost.”

Heck, I knew that the Zulu was going home with us 2 days ago already. We should have just bought it then and been done with it.” Anyway, Brian followed us into the shop. I think Dan thought that we might get a break on the price since he was with us. Ha! Ha! Not so! The price remained at $360. “SOLD! To the guy from Wisconsin!” Brian took it after we paid for it and said he would wrap it up for us and bring it to our room at 10:00am when he came to retrieve us and the cane that he promised to wrap for the journey back to South Africa.

We went to the breakfast buffet. Each of us had an omelet, fruit, sweets, grains and, of course, coffee. It was very satisfying and would hold us over until dinner. We went back to the room to finish packing and Brian knocked on our door at 10:00am, wrapped Zulu in hand. He escorted us to the lobby, where we waited for him to wrap the cane. What a nice young man…we made sure that he knew we appreciated everything he had done for us during our stay with a notable gratuity. He walked us outside, and we boarded the bus to take us to the airport.

AFTON

ROUND THREE

Our return flight back to Johannesburg was short and uneventful. We arrived late in the afternoon and Mr. X was there to greet us and send us on our way for one last stay at the Afton House before going home to Wisconsin the next day.

Our room was on the 1st floor, this time in the main building, and it was more of a suite with a small kitchenette, a sitting room, and a bathroom. Simple, but none less elegant than the other two rooms that we stayed. We situated ourselves and retrieved our other suitcases and gun case from the safe. Then we repacked our things so that we would be ready to depart the next day. We were not scheduled to leave for the airport until 3:00pm, so we wanted to do a little sightseeing before we left.

Since this was “my part of the trip”, I chose an elephant sanctuary, where we could have close encounters with the elephants and maybe even ride them. It was a half-day trip and fit into the schedule very well. Elise, Afton’s manager, made the arrangements for us and we were to be picked up at 8:00am. There was nothing left to do but wait for the other guests to arrive in time for dinner.

Slowly, one by one, other hunters arrived. Some of them were on their way to the bush and some were on their way home. Camaraderie abounded! We enjoyed sharing our experiences with them before dinner over cocktails and a bon fire.

Dinner was the usual — steak, potatoes, and veggies — but I wasn’t complaining. Dessert was simply heavenly…a scoop of vanilla ice cream with Amarula sauce drizzled over the top. We gathered at the fire for one last nightcap before bed. Tomorrow proved to be another long day for us, filled with more adventures.

As we readied for bed, the electricity went out. I guess that is how South Africa deals with energy conservation. They randomly choose certain “grids” to go offline for several hours. Luckily, we had our trusty camping headlights, and each room was equipped with a gas lantern. Odd by our standards, but none the less, their reality. After all the hoopla and lighting the lanterns, things settled down, and we all went back to our rooms. The evening was pretty much over. Dan and I climbed into bed and laid there in the dark, recapping our African adventures. It was our last night in Africa and although we were sad, we realized the inevitable and we looked forward to getting home and back into our routine…Not really, but it was bittersweet. We closed our eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Sometime between then and 1:00am, an intruder entered Afton by way of an open window. He had climbed a tree in the neighbor’s yard and came over the wall into the compound. The 5 foot electric fence that surrounded the top of the wall around the yard had gone out with the electricity that night. No one was aware that it had not come back on. In fact, the loss of electricity debugged everyone’s routine, including ours. In the confusion and hullabaloo, I thought that Dan had locked the door to our room, and he thought I had done it. Needless to say, our room was not locked. So whose room do you think the intruder came to settle on? How bold!!! While we slept, he had come into our room and taken our backpacks, our phones, Dan’s wallet and watch. Just as the shadowy figure was leaving the room, Dan woke up.

At first he was a bit dazed and thought a member of the staff had entered, intending to wake us up for the morning jaunt to the elephant sanctuary. As he reached for his phone to see what time it was, he quickly realized that both of our phones were missing off of the charger. By this time, I had woken up and Dan was putting his pants on to go after the guy. That is when he realized that his wallet and watch were missing too. “Our phones are gone and so is my wallet and watch!” He announced.

“What?” I exclaimed. Dan was out the door that had been left ajar by the burglar, and I was right behind him. I am not exactly sure what we would have done if we would have caught him. What if he would have had a weapon of sorts? Hind sight is 20/20 I guess. In our frantic state, we tried to wake the staff.

It was 1:30am by this time. We spoke to the two security guards on duty for the gated community that Afton is a part of. They said that they did see a man with a back pack not too long ago but had just missed him by the time Dan had gotten to them. At this point, Elise had come from her quarters and thought it best to call the police. We just had to wait. While we waited, we tried taking mental inventory of the items that were taken…

Dan’s wallet – US cash, credit cards, and license.

Dan’s backpack – 2 travel pillows, headphones, flashlight, a hat, passport, key to the gun case.

My backpack – camera, headphones, binoculars, silver bottle stopper, tanzanite earrings, a book, paperwork to get the gun home, $200 cash.

Not to mention Dan’s watch and both of our iPhones. Luckily, my purse with my passport was hidden under my jacket on the couch. Our thoughts quickly turned from “We have absolutely no pictures of our trip!” to “How the heck are we gonna get home?” I began calling the credit card companies to cancel our cards, and US Cellular to cancel our phone service. It was only a 7/8 hour time difference, so it was only 7pm in the states.

This is where I think the story gets weird. Dan found his backpack in the living room and all that was in it were the 2 travel pillows, which, by the way, we found to be worthless on so many levels. No flashlights, no headphones, no passport, and no key to the gun case (which was in the passport holder). All this means is a trip to the US Embassy to get a passport, but first we need to have a police report.

By 5:00am, not a single police officer had showed in response to our call, so we went to the Police Station to file a report so we could go to the Embassy. I guess the elephant sanctuary is a no go for today. Elise called and canceled for us. We returned from the police station to have some breakfast with the other guests, who had no idea that any of this was going on. Discretion was asked of us in mentioning the circumstances so as not to frighten or upset anyone else. I’m sure it would not be good for business either.

That was really hard to do.

While we were gone, Elise was outside smoking when she noticed something in the bushes…It was Dan’s wallet with everything intact except the cash. Hallelujah!! The gift bag that held my earrings was also found, but no earrings. Breakfast was over and the hunters began to embark on their various trips. We went back to our room for a while to organize our thoughts.

Dan started rifling through his backpack. Low and behold, there was his passport. It was in a different pocket than he had left it but none the less, we wouldn’t need to go to the Embassy after all. And in that passport case was the key to the gun case. We finished packing and went outside to sit for a while, when Elise called us into the office and showed me some items.

“Are these yours?” She held in her hands the multi pocket folder that held all the paperwork we needed to get the gun home. Not to mention my book and Dan’s hat. Hallelujah x 3. Now we could get home without too much hassle. The only things still missing were all the electronics and ALL of the pictures we took. But, we were safe, and we were thankful for that. Things could have been so much worse.

From that point on, our day proved to be a little boring, but seriously, who needed any more excitement? We had been up since 1:00am but I did not want to take a nap because I just wanted to sleep on the plane home. So, Dan and I sat around and watched the security company add 5 more feet of electric fence to the wall around the Afton House. The staff tried to make us comfortable, but by this point, we were just ready to go home. Our lodging was free that night, which Elise said was the least they could do for us. We were so thankful for all of her and her staff’s help that we left a large tip for them all in the form of Rands. I can’t say exactly how much that was, but we left it for them. Dan had had a pocket full of South African currency, but the robbers had just taken the US money.

3:00pm finally rolled around, and we loaded up the van and headed for the airport. On a side note, the police never did show up. Very interesting. Mr X met us at the airport and got us situated with the gun and all. We checked our luggage and went shopping. I was able to get another pair of Tanzanite earrings since I would file an insurance claim when we got home, and I bought some Amarula Chocolates for the girls at work.

We boarded the plane. I got to sit next to the nicest young lady from Wisconsin…go figure! We chatted a little, but both Dan and I were exhausted and I don’t know about him, but it didn’t take me long to fall asleep after dinner. No need for any alcohol or Advil PMs this time.

HOME SWEET HOME

We landed in Atlanta after breakfast. I think that it was about 5 or 6 am. We got through customs, but as Dan was going through the metal detector, something in his pocket set it off. Dan reached down to his pocket while he was in the scanner to see what it was and they must have thought he was reaching for something like a weapon, because all of a sudden, they whisked him aside to pat him down. Yikes!

Well, we made it back to Chicago in one piece. David, our son-in-law, was there to pick us up. Unfortunately, to top off the whole trip, Dan’s gun case did not make it from Atlanta to Chicago. The airline said they would get it to the house that day. About 11:00 at night, we had a knock on the door. It was Delta Airlines with the gun case.

Our house seemed empty without our Bailey girl. I guess the trip couldn’t fill that void. On a lighter note, I filed a claim with both our travel insurance and our home owners insurance and we got a fair settlement for the stolen items. When we went to get our new phones, we were pleasantly surprised when some of our pictures filled in from the cloud. While it wasn’t all the pictures we took, it was a good representation. Between the cloud and the photos that Chivic sent us, I was able to make a wonderful photo keepsake for that 70-year-old little boy who once daydreamed of an African Safari.

By Bob Halbritter  

3 Generations on Safari  

 Dawn arrived with a cold, crisp sting in the air. A heavy frost covered the tall, sweet grass growing in the valleys and on mountain slopes, coating the landscape with an eerie white luminescence. A thin layer of ice formed across waterholes and ponds. I was not expecting such cold temperatures, but then, this is typical of July in the Eastern Cape Province of South Africa. A windy cold front had passed through during the night, greeting the morning with an abundance of sunshine and little or no wind to start the day. By midmorning temperatures would rise into the 50s. Perfect for stalking our quarry – the Cape buffalo.

Dave, our tracker, had received news that the herd we had been seeking was close by. Several huge bulls, or Dagga Boys, with one real giant, were seen trailing the herd as they grazed through the thornbush. By midmorning my PH Grant Acton, Dave and I had caught up with the main body of the herd. Using the thick acacia thornbush as cover and, keeping the wind in our faces, we maneuvered into position to intercept the buffalo as they passed by.  The shooting sticks were set in place to provide a clear broadside shot at the big bull if he should trail the herd into the opening. The buffalo emerged from the thick thornbush at a distance of 80 yards and continued grazing on the succulent grasses while constantly moving to our right. The herd of around 50 buffalo, consisted mostly of cows, calves and young bulls. However, even at 80 yards these buffalo looked formidable.

Our attention was focused on the herd as they passed in front of us in small groups. Grant and Dave continued staring intently through binoculars, waiting to locate the big bulls we knew were trailing the herd of cows. Off to my left, I thought I had heard a slight rustling between the thornbush as my peripheral vision detected movement. When I turned to see what caught my attention, two huge bulls emerged from the brush, walking towards us. Although they could see us, the wind was in our face so they could not smell us. At first the bulls seemed curious as they steadily walked towards us with their noses in the air and heads laid back.

However, at 40 yards, they showed no sign of stopping and I could tell by the raised tails these guys were rapidly getting agitated. I whistled to get Grant’s attention and pointed at the two bulls. He quickly repositioned the shooting sticks and said I must shoot the big bull in front, aiming just under the chin, for a frontal shot.

Our sudden movement caused the bigger of the two bulls to pause momentarily, allowing me time to set up on the sticks. The first shot from the .375 hit the bull squarely in the chest, spinning him around into the other bull before he galloped away. My second and third shots hit him hard on the shoulder slowing him to a walk. It was vitally important to keep the bull from reaching a nearby impenetrable papyrus swamp where tracking a wounded buffalo in the thick tall reeds would prove extremely dangerous. My fourth shot finally broke him down and the great bull collapsed next to an acacia thornbush.

As we approached the downed bull, we heard his death bellow, which, according to all the hunting stories I have been told, means he was finished. However, this was a massive old Dagga Boy, and we were not going to take any unnecessary chances. After several moments, there was no movement, and Grant decided to approach to within three feet to check for any signs of life by poking the bull’s eye to see if there was a reflex response. At this stage, the bull suddenly raised his massive head, struggling to regain his footing for one last final charge.

I was prepared with a round chambered and safety off and rushed in to place a finishing shot in the bull’s neck. They aren’t kidding when they say” it’s the dead ones that kill you.” The bull let loose with one final death-defying bellow, and all became silent. Thankfully the herd had run off after my first shot and did not return to aid the bull when he sounded his death bellows. It was hard to believe the bull absorbed so much lethal lead into vital areas and yet still had the resolve to play dead in order to finish the hunt on his terms. In the heat of the hunt, I did not have time to think much about the circumstances, I just instinctively reacted to the situation. Now that the huge bull lay dead before me, my legs began to wobble forcing me to sit and consider just what had happened. That’s buffalo hunting for you.

The bull was indeed a giant and an obvious fighter for he wore many scars and carried tattered ears indicating battles won and lost over the years. His hide was caked with mud from wallows. The bull’s boss was incredibly solid and his horns spanned an impressive 42 inches, a true monarch of the African bush and a great trophy by any standard. A proper buffalo!

We were fortunate to see his awesome kudu hunt high atop a mountain. Kyle, while prone on the ground, made an incredible 640-yard, one-shot kill on a magnificent old kudu bull from one mountain, across a deep valley, to the next mountain. That will always remain the highlight of our hunt. My son Mark collected a hartebeest, blesbok, sable and waterbuck to round out his safari. His waterbuck hunt took him up one mountainside and down the other and had some comical moments when the bull ran down the mountain after being shot and unbelievably sauntered in front of the safari truck acting like nothing happened. Everyone believed it to be a different waterbuck bull and not the wounded one, so no one paid too much attention until Mark and the trackers came down from the mountain following the blood trail in front of our vehicle. Then the chase was on once again and lasted well into the day before Mark finally caught up with the bull and finished the hunt. I’m certain he will not forget that hunt anytime soon.

Good friends also accompanied us on this trip. For twin brothers Terry and Jerry, this would be their first experience of an African safari. It was enjoyable to listen to their tales of the hunt at the end of each day while sipping sundowners next to a warm crackling fire. My dear friend Bill and his companion Nancy also joined the safari as did our friend Laureen. Bill also took an outstanding Cape buffalo bull on this safari as well. It was a good feeling to know everyone was having the time of their lives.

Unfortunately, like all good things, our safari ended much too quickly and before we knew it, we were boarding the plane for our return trip home. But we were taking with us many great memories and lasting friendships that will remain with us forever. The consensus from our group was that we all cannot wait to return to enjoy the hospitality and friendships made at Hunters Hill and to once again become a part of the African experience.

A special thanks goes to Greg and Simon Harvey, the staff at Hunters Hill and our PHs Grant Acton and Richard Bridger for an exceptional and unforgettable safari experience.

By Enrich Hugo

A look out of the side window of the Qatar airline’s Boeing Dreamliner lets my anticipation run wild. I look at the highest mountain in Africa. Since we are already on the approach to my destination airport, the bird’s eye view of the Kibo, which is located in the Kilimanjaro massif, is a terrific experience. The destination airport is Kilimanjaro Airport in the East African country of Tanzania. On the coast of the Indian Ocean with around 56 million inhabitants, it is one of the fifth-largest countries in Africa by population. Often described as the cradle of mankind, but for me Tanzania means much more. It is one of the most beautiful hunting countries with breathtaking and diverse landscapes, incredible biodiversity of fauna and flora and the myth of hunting in what is probably the most famous big-game area in Africa. Tanzania really offers everything a hunter can dream of… savanna with pronounced bushland and wide, open grass areas, densely forested hills and mountains that put a hunter’s fitness to the test. Wet savannas, swamps and semi-deserts characterize this unique country. Names such as Selous, Rungwa, Lukwati, Ugalla, well-known to most hunters, but one name is deeply rooted in Tanzania: Masai! The people of that name who live there, with their eye-catching clothing and their habitat around the national parks, probably belongs to the most famous East African ethnic group.

Serengeti, Lake Natron, Ngorongoro Crater, Mount Meru and Kilimanjaro are the main attraction of every travel diary of visitors to northern Tanzania. And that is exactly where our hunting trip takes us this time. The typical gazelles and antelopes representative of the dry savanna are part of the program of my hunter Alexey who I will accompany on his hunt and who will capture them photographically.

My partner on site had received all the information for the import of weapons from me before the trip and had applied for an import permit, and all went smoothly. Our professional hunter Div met us and helped with formalities and the luggage. We were off, and after a three-hour drive via Arusha to Longido, we reached our camp. On the way my hunter was amazed to see zebras, Grant‘s and Thomson‘s gazelles in large groups, and the whitebearded wildebeest almost everywhere, with Kilimanjaro in the background. We had the view of this mountain range directly from our camp. Welcome to the heart of Masailand! The accommodation was a typical East African tent camp with 5-Star comfort and with meals a culinary priority. It was not for nothing that my partner and outfitter is one of the best what Tanzania has to offer. After moving into our tents and a pleasant, refreshing shower, we met for a briefing with our professional hunter Div for an overview of where we would hunt for the next few days. We could also enjoy the luxury of satellite Internet in the camp and use breaks between trips to answer our emails and keep our loved ones at home up to date.

My hunter’s wish list included Grant‘s and Thomson‘s gazelle, Kirk‘s dik-dik, eastern white-bearded wildebeest, and the three very special game species – fringe-eared oryx, gerenuk and lesser kudu, all representatives that can be found and hunted almost exclusively in the north of Tanzania. And all of these species can be found around the Longido Camp.

Because of the Covid situation and the resulting cancellation of many trips in 2020, the government of Tanzania created a special regulation for hunting times. The normal hunting season is from July to December, but was extended so that hunting was still possible from January to June in 2021. April is a rainy month and therefore not recommended, but May is perfect for hunting. And we were in the second half of May here in Masailand. Temperatures drop to a pleasant 15 degrees at night and reach a maximum of a pleasant 25 to 28 during the day. Absolutely no mosquitoes and no tsetse flies here. Because we were hunting at an altitude of around 1200 meters, sun exposure is very intense and it was essential to use a high factor sun protection. Sunrise is around 7 a.m. at that time of year and we slept until 6 a.m, and after breakfast the first game drive started through dense, green bushland and although the rainy season was just over, the surface was already dry.

right. We waited for a few minutes before we went to where the gerneuk lay.

Everything was carefully examined. Shot placement, trophy strength, age rating. Then the obligatory photos. The gerenuk was loaded and we returned to the camp. The two skinners were already waiting and while they got to work, we indulged in a tasty lunch. After a short rest, we left again at 3 p.m. As in the morning, the journey lead us first through densely overgrown bush before we reached the open grassy plain. Div was heading for a hill. Once at the top we had a fantastic view and Div said we were only 40 kilometers away from Kenya, and very strong old elephant bulls move here again and again, but they are not allowed to be hunted so close to Kenya. The hard work against poaching, which has been strongly promoted by all outfitters in Tanzania in recent years, is showing fruit. Very rarely are poachers caught and apprehended; hardly any snares or other traps. They have come to terms with the Masai population and have been able to convince them of the necessity and importance of hunting and game management.

There is plenty of space and feed for game and farm animals, and any damage to arable crops and arable land caused by game is covered by the outfitters. In our hunting block, too, there are frequent encounters with shepherds and their cattle and goats. Another proof of the importance of ethical hunting for a healthy and growing game population. Here in Tanzania, too, the removal and shooting of old male animals is the top priority. Even if these are all facts are already known, one should not stop mentioning them again and again, and pass them on to hunters. Alexey also experiences it first hand. After we started our stalk, he saw some Grant‘s gazelles and pointed them out to our professional hunter. He also acknowledges it, but though that they are good bucks with potential, they are not the age and strength that we wanted to hunt. There is a subtle difference between seeing game that is really plentiful here and finding a suitable old buck. With this experience, our first day of hunting ended successfully, and a sundowner with a direct view of Kilimanjaro brought the day to a close.

The next three days were similar. Excursions and exploring the bush and open grass areas, in between stalking and looking for suitable trophy bucks. After the fourth day we were able to write zebra, impala and a Kirk‘s dik-dik in our hunting diary, in addition to the gerenuk.

There is no rush here and you can really experience your hunt to the fullest. You have enough time to enjoy the wonderful landscape and the variety of game. The fifth day should be one of the highlights of this hunting trip. Shortly before noon the game drive took us into an area that we had not yet explored, where we reached a huge open area. Even from the edge of this plain you can believe you are looking directly into the Serengeti, with large herds of wildebeest, zebra and gazelles. We tried to get close enough to the herds to look for a suitable Grant‘s gazelle. It shows again how important the experience of the professional hunter and his tracker is. To filter out the right buck from this large number of gazelles requires a very trained eye. Walter, our tracker was the first to find the right gazelle. It was time to be patient. Of course there is no shooting from the car here and Div lead the stalk. It felt like two million pairs of eyes were focused on us and if only one animal started walking, all the others would follow. Div didn’t want to take any risk. We were 250 meters away from the herd and Alexey already had the chosen buck in his sights.

The shot was fired seconds later. After short run, the animal fell. Another first perfect shoot from Alexey and another fantastic trophy from his wish-list. After the congratulations and the usual photos, we loaded the gazelle and looked for shade under a tree to have our lunch, but not before we skinned the gazelle, putting the meat into cool boxes.

This very long trip paid off in the end. A very nice specimen of a Grant‘s gazelle will find its place in Alexey’s trophy room. Since it was already 3 p.m. and a long way back to camp, the lunch break was brief. This day was an absolute highlight of the hunting trip. Half an hour before we reached the camp, the sun was already very low and the way to the camp lead us through dense bush. Suddenly the car stopped. Our game scout excitedly exchanged a few words with Div. From the passenger side of the vehicle, he noticed something special because of his lower position between the bushes in front of him. We still did not understand what was going on but got off on his side of the vehicle. The game scout had identified the “Gray Ghost”, a lesser kudu.

Rifle sticks ready, his gun loaded and Alexey was also ready. I couldn‘t see anything from my point of view. Then the shot broke and Div hugged Alexey. This confirmed for me that he shot the lesser kudu, a ghost that appears out of nowhere and usually disappears just as quickly. One of the most difficult game species to hunt in Masailand had been shot. Everyone involved was very happy. An extraordinary species of game with an extremely good trophy size lay ahead of us. Of course, Alexey thanked our Game Scout without whom he would not have shot this lesser kudu.

With the last daylight we managed to take some photos of  it  before we headed back to the camp, which we reached in the dark, a special day to be remembered forever. Days like this just have to be celebrated and it was shortly before midnight before we crawled into our beds.

The sixth day of our hunting trip we saw a few Thomson‘s gazelles but unfortunately only females and young bucks. We even saw the fringe-eared oryx but only for a few seconds and the time was too short to tell whether it was female or male. But that very brief sight was enough for Div to make a plan for the following day. He assumed that the oryx would still be in the area so we started the next day at first light. Around 8 a.m. we reached the area where we had briefly seen the oryx. Only a few zebra and giraffes pass by. Then the first wildebeest and, as predicted by Div, the oryx stepped out of the bushes onto grassy areas. Our location was great and the wind was coming straight in our direction. The stalking strategy was quickly discussed. There were enough bushes between us and the oryx, the wind was in our favor and there were still relatively few eyes that could spot and betray us.

The last few meters were on all fours until we found suitable cover. Two oryx bulls were in this group, both old and mature and also about the same trophy size. Div told Alexey to choose the left hand buck which stood apart from the group, facing us. It means staying calm and exercising patience. However, this patience is not put to the test for very long. The buck turned slightly to the left, broadside on.

“Direct on the shoulder!” Div said.“The heart‘s behind the shoulder.“ A few breaths later, a crack and the buck folded, stumbled a few meters further, and fell. Full of adrenaline, Alexey could hardly believe he had really just shot this particular species of oryx. While aiming and firing he was calm, but now there was a  slight tremor in his voice and his hands shook. It was special for me, too, to be able to witness this experience.

We examined the oryx. The trademark of this antelope is the unusual tufts of hair on the edge of the ears, and the dark, almost black belly line is much narrower than that of the gemsbok, its southern relative. The horn length is not as long as that of the gemsbok. We positioned it to record  the successful hunt. Everyone involved insisted on getting a photo with the successful hunter and the oryx. An unusual trophy.

On the final day, we also took the last two missing animals. A very good Thomson‘s gazelle and a whitebearded wildebeest, ending the hunt with a hundred percent success, and watching a last sunset at the campfire. Before we said goodbye to Kilimanjaro, the date for the next trip was already set. We wanted to hunt striped hyena, Robert‘s gazelle, Coke‘s hartebeest, western whitebeared wildebeest and jackal, all near Lake Natron and Serengeti.

The baits now are sheep that they bought from neighboring Masai. There are also camera traps everywhere and they are checked every day. Unfortunately, so far without the desired success. From his experience, Div thinks that the striped hyena is particularly fond of zebra and that is why the first thing in the morning for both hunters is a zebra on the hunting program. This recommendation is of course readily accepted by both hunters. Not only because of the preferred hyena bait, but also because of the zebra skin, which is particularly beautiful here and clearly shows the white-black coloration. So our strategy for the next few days is clear. Tomorrow the first thing we will try is to kill a zebra and add new bait places to the existing ones. Then we have time to hunt the gazelles and antelopes we want. Depending on what the evaluation of the camera traps shows, we are always ready to hunt hyenas at short notice. The zebra hunt is more or less on our doorstep. The camp is well hidden and nestled between trees and bushes, but everything around is a wide, open grassy area, the plains, the favorite place of the zebras which can be found here in large herds. Because of this, there is no unnecessary hurry and no need to get up early. It is enough that we are woken up at 6.30 a.m. and after breakfast, around 7.00 a.m., we start our first game drive and hunt the desired zebra. As already mentioned, each of the two hunters has their own professional hunter and of course also has his own vehicle and team. The area is huge and after the two professional hunters have spoken, safety is also guaranteed, as the two teams will each hunt in completely different directions. But both teams have one thing in common. The fantastic view of the Mountain of God. I will be the first to accompany Alexey today and am armed with my cameras.

Alexey carries his well-proven .300 Win Mag. An excellent pains-game caliber, which allows shooting at longer distances without any problems.

The area here is really unique. Not only the still active volcano in front of us, but also the numerous ridges here are a special feature that you cannot admire very often anywhere else. Often out of nowhere, a ridge up to a hundred meters deep and over a hundred meters wide opens up in front of us. Indescribably beautiful is just an understatement. As unique and breathtaking as the landscape is, we are pursuing a different goal today. Zebra is on the hyena’s menu and we are responsible for following this menu. The challenge here is picking out a suitable stallion from the large herds found everywhere. Rather, a trained eye is required. We have already left two large group behind us. Although we had seen some suitable stallions, the herd protection simply did not allow a shot. Again and again an animal behind the selected stallion, or no clear field of fire in front of it. In the third group we are in a happier position. The herd has divided somewhat. The main group grazes peacefully on the fresh, green grass to the left of us. A group of three stands apart. An old stallion who is accompanied by two younger bodyguards. It really does appear that the two younger stallions are the older stallion’s bodyguards. We have already made it up to 80 meters and would be a good shot distance. But again and again one of the two younger ones pushes between us and the selected zebra. Here again shows the experience of Div and his team, who still manage to get Alexey into a position that allows a free shot.

The shot is excellent as usual and after twenty meters of escape the stallion stops and collapses. Even now, his two bodyguards are still with the stallion, who has already been fatally hit. Only when we get closer and closer do they finally flee. Everything is just right with the hunted animal. An old stallion with a blanket full of character and plenty of meat for our hyenas. Of course, there are also the usual memory photos here before loading begins. Loading is not that easy. A zebra is just round and offers nothing suitable to handle. Since Div also wants to use all of the zebra’s innards as bait, the stallion is not broken open. Its round belly does not make it easy to load it onto the vehicle. But with combined strength and teamwork we succeed in the end. From here it goes straight to the first chosen bait place.

Div and his Skinner get to work on site and the first to come is the skinning from the zebra. Then two different, large pieces of meat are attached to a fork of a branch and offal and blood are distributed around the tree. The same is repeated in a second place. Here the hunter is also involved in this prepared work of a hunt and fills his memories with plenty of material from his safari. We return to camp satisfied and tired. We were out for most of the day and after a refreshment and a warm shower there is some time to rest. In good time before sunset we meet around the campfire and listen to what Sergey has to say. We experience Sergey’s descriptions almost like a reflection of our day. He was also successful, and his zebra was divided into the existing bait places and the remains of sheep were replaced with his zebra. We’ll end the evening with a delicious, tasty impala steak.

The next day will take us to different hunting areas. Sergey, whom I will accompany tomorrow, will be hunting near Lake Natron. The hunting block can be seen from our camp, but unfortunately there is no direct road to this plateau. It is located at 1,300 meters above sea level and we first have to drive towards Lake Natron, which is about 600 meters above sea level, then it follows like a snake up until we reach the spacious plateau. The western border of this plateau forms the Serengeti National Park and is characterized by an indescribable density of game. Robert‘s gazelle, Coke’s  hartebeest, western white-bearded wildebeest, and also Thomson‘s gazelle, and zebra are among the main game species here. The drive to the plateau takes about three hours and we start at 4 a.m. We leave the camp in complete darkness. The starry sky compensates us for getting up early. Impressions that one actually never forgets and one that lets oneself become aware of one’s own tininess. With the first light of day we reach Lake Natron and in time we reach the plateau and experience the sunrise up close. As if a fireball was pushing out of the lake. This sunrise is equal to every sunrise at the sea. After this experience, we head towards the Serengeti National Park border. The drive over the flat terrain leads us again and again past smaller huts and cattle and herds of goats. The lush grass allows the Masai cattle and goats to thrive. Exactly this food is the basis of all the wild animals that live here. Somehow domestic and wild animals have come to terms with each other and the Masai no longer see the wild animals as predators.

A lot of educational work by the local outfitters and professional hunters has led to one other benefit, and poaching has actually become a foreign word. Although the Masai population group eat more fruits, vegetables and grains, they are always happy about a good piece of meat that they get from the game from our outfitter. Of course, they also benefit from part of the hunting income. School buildings, smaller clinics and wells have already been financed with it, but individual help is also provided where there is need. Whoever sees these friendly and grateful faces can hardly understand that some European governments are vehemently opposed to the international trophy hunt. All of this would not have been possible without international hunters and many game species have already been lost forever and disappeared from the earth.

We reach a place where one of the cattle shepherds told us that he saw several Robert‘s gazelles. The place is not far from the border to the national park and harbors the danger that the gazelles instinctively flee into the national park when we approach. While Martin is consulting with his tracker, Sergey sees a single hartebeest buck. He shows Martin the direction and he immediately confirms that it is a very good buck. The wind is good. The buck hasn’t noticed us yet. A very light, elongated knoll will provide us with good cover. The stalking starts. Martin wants only himsef and Sergey to stalk. So the rest and I stay at the vehicle and watch the whole thing from a distance. Slowly, sometimes crawling on all fours, they approach the hartebeest. After what feels like an eternity, I see Sergey crouching on the floor, bringing the gun over the target. The target stick has telescope-like legs and can therefore be adjusted to the required height. Equipment that is perfectly matched to the operations here.

Despite the good service and the right equipment, sometimes not everything goes as you want. This is also evident this time. Sergey is an excellent shooter, but something must have bothered him or the rather strong wind that has turned a bit and is now blowing sideways, was calculated incorrectly. The shot fired hits the ground a few meters in front of the hartebeest and dusts up something. The hartebeest only startles for a moment, but continues to eat afterwards, as it could not find anything out of the ordinary. The next shot shows Sergey‘s usual accuracy. A slight rearing up is followed by buckling and the animal falls over its side to the ground. Only when we see Martin and Sergey give us signs, do we drive to them. Sergey is beaming with joy but is also very self-critical. Somehow he miscalculated the very strong crosswind, as I suspected. But the quick correction by him has again proven his skills as a very good marksman. A very good and special trophy lies in front of us. Few shooting permits are issued for the Coke‘s hartebeest each year. After the photos and the loading, we look for a suitable shelter that gives us enough shade and protection from the direct sun for our lunch. While we are eating, the hartebeest is skinned and the meat is stowed on the vehicle. After a short rest, we continue and we can still shoot the next very special trophy. Sergey has successfully bagged two of his absolute desire trophies.

In addition to the Coke’s hartebeest, he was also successful on a Robert’s gazelle that can only be found in this area of northern Tanzania. On the way back, most of the meat is distributed to the people who are already waiting for us at the point before we go downhill towards Lake Natron.

Arrived at the camp, Alexey is already waiting for us. He excitedly reports that he saw a leopard while inspecting the trailcam. It was a young tomcat. An incredible experience for him to watch a leopard in daylight. But not only this observation, but also the killing of a jackal was an absolute highlight for him. The next day it is time to change sides. I drive with Alexey to the hunting area above Lake Natron so that he too tries to hunt his hartebeest, Robert‘s gazelle and, if possible, a western white-bearded wildebeest. Sergey will be on the lookout on the plains around the camp and will also patrol the individual areas. As in a well-staged film with a perfect script, after only three days of hunting we can already look back on two zebras, two Robert‘s gazelles, two Coke‘s hartebeest and a black-backed jackal, a Thomson‘ gazelle and a western white-bearded wildebeest. Alexey was also able to shoot his Robert‘s gazelle, Coke‘ hartebeest and also his wildebeest, and Sergey was also successful again with a very strong Thomson‘s gazelle. Now our whole focus is on the hyenas stripes. The yield of the cameras and other tracks are promising. In total, the various bait places have accepted five hyenas. Two of them are very large male striped hyenas who, according to the evaluation of the cameras, always come to bait place, first shortly before sunset or lastly, just before sunrise. The other three hyenas are normal spotted hyenas and only go into the camera traps at night. Now you just have to be patient and of course have the necessary luck to be in the right place at the right time.

Our fourth and fifth day of hunting ends with waiting but without the desired hunting success. On the sixth day I’m on the road with Alexey to take some photos and video recordings with him. You don’t get to see this panorama every day. Our exit will of course take us past one or the other bait place. We don’t think in the slightest that we would cause a disturbance in daylight. There is a well-known saying that the unexpected often happens, and that also applies to us now. Oh! Simama! The command from our professional hunter is for the driver who should stop the car immediately. He thinks he has discovered something. It only takes seconds and he confirms that he has really discovered something extraordinarily exciting. Somewhat hidden by a group of bushes, a striped hyena is lurking right in front of one of our baits. Our vehicle is well hidden behind thick bushes and Div, Alexey and I stalk extremely cautiously a little further to the left to get a clear view of the bait place and the hyena lurking in front of it. Almost 300 meters away, but our bush is the last one that can give us sufficient cover in addition to our guiding system. The striped hyena is now completely clear and directly under our bait, which is attached to a fork of a branch and hangs down. Again and again she tries to snatch a little more meat and has to stretch hard to get to the delicacy. For us it means that she is very busy but is still just under 300 meters away. It is already clear to Alexey that he will take the shot from here. Such an opportunity may not come back and he has enough self-confidence from his experience and training shots that he can trust himself this distance without much worry.

Cross wind zero. The wind blows straight to us very easily. He checked the distance again, a few clicks on the turret of his telescopic sight, unlocked the safety lock and I could already see how he was holding his breath. Only a fraction later it cracks and Div’s words break the last emotions under control.“Bro, you did it!“

Exactly. Alexey killed his striped hyena, which he had so much hoped for, wanted, longed for. Even before we go to the fallen hyena, Div warns us not to touch the hyena with bare hands. The typical scavenger is a real focus of bacteria and one should exercise special caution. The hyena is brought into the right position by our helpers, who are all armed with disposable gloves, to take some souvenir photos. Via radio we send a vehicle from the camp and the hyena is wrapped in an extra plastic blanket and taken to the skinning area. Sergey, who only returns to the camp in the late afternoon, can hardly believe when Alexey tells him everything. He is overjoyed and congratulates Alexey on this unique trophy. No envy or suspicion, just sheer joy and bliss for his friend Alexey. This is how a shared hunting experience should be. We turn the night into day and Sergey only has a short time to rest before he starts to keep his chance to kill his hyena. Before daybreak he has to be in the prepared hiding place next to one of the chosen bait places.

He’ll be back around 10 a.m. Unfortunately nothing. When they arrived and when they moved into the hiding place, some spotted hyenas were still busy with the bait, but nothing afterwards. For Sergey that means sleeping in and then taking the last opportunity that opens up for him again late this evening. Unfortunately, tomorrow morning we have to go back to the airport and start the journey home. I use the time to fill my memory cards properly and to provide them with sufficient photo and video material.

Shortly before 5 p.m. I accompany Sergey to another bait place. The camera traps recorded a striped hyena there last night and Martin hopes that the same hyena will appear there again this evening. The shelter is occupied and now it is simply a matter of waiting. Only a few birds can be observed and a cheeky little mongoose, in front of our hiding place. Again and again a look towards the sky where we see that the sun is sinking faster and faster to the horizon. There is not much time left. I can already see in Sergey’s face that he has resigned himself to the fact that he was without a hunted hyena.

He has to say goodbye to Tanzania this time, when suddenly Martin nudges him. The tree with the bait is already very much in the shade, but in front of it is a small strip of light that reveals the weak twilight. And here it is. She cautiously creeps around in front of the tree. Despite the sight, no longer believed by him, Sergey remains calm. Just don’t make a mistake now. In a few minutes it’s dark, but his whole routine and Martin’s experience are ultimately enough that Sergey not only gets and can take his chance with the last light but also on the very last day. The shot and the result of the hunted prey is at the place of bait. Not a minute too late. With the last beam of light, we can still take a few photos and then it’s dark.

I’ve known Sergey for a few years and a bond of friendship has developed between us, but I’ve rarely seen him so happy. One can only thank the good fortune here. We came to Tanzania with a backpack full of hopes and wishes. We were allowed to experience the unforgettable. A more than successful hunting trip has come to an end.

Africa you will see us again. Whether in Tanzania or another country on this incredible continent where we can practice and experience our passion for hunting.

By Glenn W. Geelhoed

We were prospecting for gold in Limpopo Province.  It has been done before, but we were on a mission with the target being the golden gemsbok. The goal was a “Crystallized Memory” in honor of the gemsbok, with paired pedestal mount trophies highlighting the two major color phases of the Oryx gazela.

We had resolved to make our move in an hour-and-a-half drive from Re a Lora near Bela Bela in Limpopo, across vast U.S. Midwestern prairie-type megafarms to reach Loskop.  We had arranged to visit a game ranch known to my long-time friend and PH Charl Watts, with the intriguing name “Ukujabula.”  In the Piri language, a Bushman tongue spoken by our long-term tracker Abrahm, Ukujabula means “Place of Happiness.”  We had gilded hopes that it might just live up to its promise, as we were “panning for gold.”

Charl, Abrahm and I had been stalking gold in several South African locations, most notably as, three years earlier, we were on the spoor of a whole herd of golden gemsbok in the Great Karoo.  We had superb hunts in a vast desert ranch named Kareekloof, in which the three of us came close to closing the deal on the elusive oryx, using sparse desert bush and favorable winds to come up to within two hundred meters of several good bulls. In one instance, after a satisfying approach using all the bush skills of a collective century of African hunting experience among the trio, Charl had set up the sticks under a scrubby blackthorn tree, as Abrahm crouched down, and I looked in wonder at a lone gemsbok bull which had turned to sniff the wind that may have swirled in from our direction.  It was at that moment we saw that its right horn was a long straight rapier, but its left was broken off a third of the distance from the skull.  This “unicorn” status must have conferred on him a considerable advantage as a deadly lancer, and we had scratched him from our list as the trophy we were after, and backed away, shooting photos as we went.

On another occasion, Charl and I managed to close upon a herd, the majority of which had bred true with the blonde recessive gene, but we realized that the trophy bull we had focused on was the breeding bull of this herd, and again we chose to back away.

Oryx gazela is an intriguing species and comes in two main color phases.  It is magnificent in its black-and-white standard dress, and we had succeeded in scoring a superb bull at Izintaba (“Sacred Mountain” in Zulu) in a site not far removed from where we were headed on this brisk bright morning in the southern African early winter.  “At some future point,” I had said, admiring that magnificent trophy gemsbok in standard issue livery, “I might hope to see, and perhaps collect a matching golden gemsbok variant of the same species to put side-by-side on a pedestal mount to admire as the Gemsbok Slam.”  Charl picked up on these musings and made them his mission—and we were off and running.

“There’s Gold in them thar Hills!”

Voortrekkers had preceded us by many generations on this expedition northward and found that gold could be grown in sweeping grain. Farms were productive thanks to borehole irrigation from the precious water that was relatively scarce elsewhere, but found here in sufficient quantity for fertile crops, game and cattle ranches.  Many place names indicate the great significance of water as locations are often designated “—–fontein” referring to the springs yielding that essential for life. Therefore, ‘plains game’ by definition, could survive there.

I harbor a fascination for gemsbok and their survival skills.  They are adapted to not simply survive, but to thrive in environments that seem to be forbidding deserts for other species. The gemsbok draws air in rapidly via its nose, cooling the air molecules down in the process.  Capillaries in the nose of the antelope then send this air-cooled blood to the brain. They waste no precious moisture by sweating. I had watched on a cold “see my breath” early morning as a gemsbok herd within close range was emitting no mist of breath whatsoever.   Gemsbok were masters of recycling before humans caught on to how cool a trick that could be!

They can sport different color patterns even within the same species. Game breeders can turn loose known carriers of the recessive gene that makes for golden color variants which can even breed true when two golden gemsbok are mated.  And we were on the track of one such post-breeding bull, which would also help support the further propagation of this beautiful beast.

seemed to be constantly on the run.  At one point I got my binoculars focused on the first group of golden gemsbok mixed with a few black-and-white classic coloration gemsbok, and I spotted ear tags in each. 

No slam dunk here!  We pushed on, and an hour later identified three blue wildebeest.  Although wary, they did not flush wildly away from us but moved restlessly around.  We kept our distance, but something else was moving behind them, almost in a synchronized ballet, and it was definitely lighter in color than the brindled wildebeest.  It was, as it turned out, a golden, all right, but a golden wildebeest.

We moved on, and spotted kudu, and a few more wildebeest, this time a larger herd and, among them, milling around in the middle of the group were two that were distinctive—king wildebeest!  I had been searching for several days back at Re a Lora, and had scanned many wildebeest, but this was my first view this trip of the king variant.  The kings were more like princes, since they were young, and not within a decade of the post-mature bull we were still in search of, but it was encouraging to see that the genes were being shown in the herd.

We made repeat swings around the same terrain to see if whatever had vanished on our first approach might materialize. After another hour as it was getting toward noon, we spotted the same three blue wildebeest we thought we had seen earlier.  On closer inspection, there was a fourth animal behind them. Of course, we had previously spotted the golden wildebeest that had seemed to be taking cover behind them.  Through the binoculars, however, this blonde big body had tall upright horns. Another good trick—masquerade!  The four animals broke and ran, and through the binoculars none of us could spot an ear tag on the gemsbok, fraudulently posing as a blonde wildebeest.  But they outran us, and we could not be sure, so we backed away, hoping they would settle.

In a broader arc from a new direction, we saw a group of gemsbok, several of them blonde.  We stopped to look them over, and the first two had ear tags, and as we watched them milling around before they broke and ran, every one of them was tagged as in a breeding herd.  We did not give chase, but waited, and circled with the wind to enter the area into which the trio of wildebeest had run with the big golden gemsbok that none of us had seen if it had been tagged.  We came upon the three blue wildebeest, which, by now, were standing like statues before they broke and ran. As they did so, out of the tan-colored tall grass in which he had seemed invisible, the big golden gemsbok also jumped into the middle of the fleeing wildebeest, and they all ran out of sight.

We waited and then cautiously slipped forward, being on the lookout for our sentinel wildebeest. They were standing to the right of a low line of acacia trees. One of the trees had a forked trunk that split about a meter and a half off the ground and about a meter above the beige dry grassland in front of it.  This time I looked carefully through that grass because the golden gemsbok had blended into it when we had last encountered him.

We drove the Toyota Hilux in a loop around the row of trees and approached the oryx. This experience was the opposite of “ground shrinkage” as he seemed to be getting bigger as we covered the rest of the 120 meters to find the spot-on red splash dot looking like the bullseye target at which the only prior shot had been fired at paper four days earlier.  The golden color actually shimmered in the sunlight and it is hard to understand how the animal had managed to hide in that bright fur coat.  There was a midline “cowlick” on the haunch of its rump which Kobus called a “Kroenke.”  Every one of us admired this specimen of an old bull that had had no breeding role in the gemsbok herd for the past few years, having been ousted by one of the young bulls. Perhaps one of those we had spotted with the ear tags, while this old warrior had a few scars as the combat medals from those encounters.  Abrahm’s opinion is best expressed in his exultant pose with the “golden one.”

The hunt was a good one and the quarry well worthy of the pursuit.  The Golden Gemsbok will be mounted on a pedestal in a place of honor alongside its B&W blood relative, in a celebration of the Splendor of the Oryx.

Preparing for your upcoming African hunting trip is one exciting part of the overall safari experience. In the months leading up to your adventure, careful planning and preparation can help make the difference between a good trip and a great adventure. Decisions about what type of clothing and gear can be aided by research and good advice and suggestions given by your PH and their capable staff. My trips to Southern Africa have helped me put together the following list of shooting tips.

1: Bring your favorite deer rifle

Said another way, bring a rifle that you are familiar with, shoot well and love. Unless you are hunting the largest “dangerous” African game, like Cape buffalo, elephant, hippo, etc., any “deer rifle” at least as large and fast as a .270 Winchester is plenty of rifle. Most PHs will recommend that you bring a rifle of .30 caliber or larger, and that means that your .308 Winchester or .30-06 Springfield will be more than adequate for even the largest of Africa’s plains-game species. Every hunter worth his salt will tell you that it is far better to shoot an animal perfectly with a well-constructed bullet from a smaller caliber rifle than it is to shoot one poorly with a larger bore. Simply said, there is no substitute for good marksmanship. On my first safari in the Limpopo province of South Africa, I brought along a Browning A Bolt .308 that I had hunted deer with for decades. I took a kudu, impala, warthog, wildebeest and gemsbok with that rifle, all with one clean shot. Talk to your PH about what rifle you would like to bring, follow his advice, and then practice with that rifle, a lot.

3: Practice from shooting sticks

A lot of African hunting is “spot and stalk”. Hours of riding in the back of a Land Cruiser or walking along game trails or two-track roads will eventually lead to fresh sign or sightings of target animals. Once on a fresh track, careful stalking and a bit of luck just might bring you within shooting range of your trophy. When Lady Luck smiles, you will most likely be taking a shot from a standing position with your rifle resting on shooting sticks, placed in just the right spot by your PH. These sticks can be as simple as the traditional three sticks lashed together to form a tri-legged rest, or space-age lightweight carbon fiber quad pods, or anything in between. On my last safari, my PH used the Primos Trigger Stick tripod. Whatever the design and construction, the bottom line is that most shots taken by North American hunters are not taken from sticks. Most of us whitetail deer hunters shoot from blinds or stands, usually from a sitting position and, hopefully, from off a rest. Shooting from sticks is not difficult, it is just different and not something that many of us US hunters do a lot. It isn’t difficult, if it is practiced. 

Practice shooting off some type of sticks and you will be ready to make that kind of shot in Africa. Once in the country, find out what type of shooting sticks your PH will be carrying in the field. Shoot from them a few times at their range and get used to the setup. Also, remember to check the height adjustment every time you start a new stalk. It is not the time to find out that the height is wrong with a trophy gemsbok or warthog staring back at you.

Bonus Tip #1: Bring a good camera!

Or video camera. Or both. On our most recent trip to Southern Africa, my wife and I took over 1,000 pictures! There is a lot to see in Africa, without a doubt. We made a before-the-hunt side trip to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. I now completely understand why the “Smoke that Thunders” is one of the seven natural wonders of the world! Pictures don’t do it justice, but that didn’t keep us from trying! A day spent on both the Zimbabwe and Zambian sides of these majestic falls left us awestruck, soaking wet and with a camera roll full of amazing pictures to help us remember our magical day in this incredible place. During the hunt, we took photo after photo of flora and fauna that you just can’t see anywhere other than in the bushveld. After our successful hunts, the professionals at Eland Safaris took the time to position our animals and took the time to get the pictures right. I, for one, think that we owe it to the memory of the creature to take that time to immortalize them respectfully. Our many beautiful photographs of trophies taken will help us remember that exact moment when we pulled the trigger. Make good memories and then make them immortal by capturing them on film with quality camera equipment.

5: Bring your bow, or crossbow

Africa is a veritable bowhunter’s paradise. A target-rich environment coupled with outfitters who understand bowhunting and who hunt with archery gear themselves can make for an epic adventure for those who bring their “stick and string” to Africa. Hunters who make the choice to bowhunt later in the African winter, during the months of July and August, will generally find animals that are much more prone to visiting water holes during daylight hours. Careful placement of bow-specific blinds, or hides, near water holes or other key locations, along with the slow burning of dried dung (usually zebra) to create scent covering smoke, should have bowhunters within shooting distance of desired species. Patience is the key. That, and fully knowing one’s archery equipment. Again, I say, practice. Take the advice of your bowhunting PH, gear up with the correct arrow weight, spine and broadhead that they recommend, and practice, practice, practice. Once in safari camp, range-shoot your bow to make sure that you are still “on” and then go hunting! Shoot a little every day in camp to stay loose and let the arrows fly! An additional benefit of bringing archery gear to Africa is the ease of travel. Most airlines don’t have restrictions on archery equipment (just be sure to declare it and cover all broadheads – better yet, keep them in a specifically designed broadhead box). Most African countries don’t have restrictions either. Heck, bring your bow and your gun and have mixed-bag hunt!

6: Don’t bring your rifle at all

No, I am not arguing with Tip #1! I am just offering an alternative solution. Any big-game outfitter that I have ever hunted with has offered the option to rent or hire a rifle from them. While it may seem like heresy to some folks to shoot another man’s rifle while hunting, in my experience it is often much easier to travel without a firearm, especially if your travels include side trips for sightseeing, etc. On our most recent trip to Africa, my wife and I visited Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana and Namibia before heading to South Africa for our safari. It would have been virtually impossible to drag my rifle along through all those border crossings. So, instead, I set it up in advance with Alex Thomson with Eland Safaris to hire rifles for the both of us. Upon arrival in camp, my wife and I shot several rifles of various calibers until we found the ones that we liked. Serious outfitters pride themselves on having top-notch equipment, including firearms and optics. Talk to your PH, decide if renting a rifle is right for you and then practice with that rifle until you are confident and ready to go. If your air travel takes you through either London or Amsterdam, you may want to seriously consider NOT traveling with a firearm. There are lots of horror stories out of those two airports. I’m just saying…