Five years ago, I was standing in my local gun shop when I overheard a friend of mine say something which made me turn and ask a question. What I heard was” It’s a left-handed rifle and no one in the family is left-handed”. The reason for this was that my oldest son was a lefty and was always burdened with a right-handed rifle every time we went hunting.
I asked if I heard correctly and was told,” yes, it was left in a will and nobody in the family wants it as they are not left-handed.” After a couple more questions, I found out a little bit more about the rifle. It was a Sako rifle in caliber 30-06, which he believed had only fired around two hundred shots in its life. His father, who had owned itpassed away about ten years previously, so it had been in storage since then. I was interested. The big question now was how much would it cost? With this last piece of information still needed I asked the question. Without hesitation the gentleman replied he wanted to buy a Howa in 204 to shoot jackal with, so If I bought this for him the rifle was mine. The deal was done.
Now the licensing process would begin. I had time as the intention was to gift the rifle to my son for his 21st birthday which was over a year and a half away.
The rifle was put into storage after we had put a couple of rounds through it. Where it would stay until all the relevant paperwork was sorted.
Unfortunately, as many of you will know, my son tragically passed away six months before his 21st birthday. He never got to take a buck with it and in the safe it would sit. Sentimental value told me I could not get rid of it as it held a special place in the safe for me. I could not get rid of it after seeing the smile on my son’s face that day when he shot at the target with it and realized it was going to be his.
Many evenings I would sit and ponder over what to do with it. I would not sell it; I would not give it away and neither of my other children live in South Africa anymore so they would not want it.
I decided that I would begin to hunt with it. Even though I am a right-handed shooter I would hunt left-handed on a couple of hunts a year. With this it would make me incredibly happy and I’m sure my son would be with me on these adventures even if not in body but definitely bymy side.
An opportunity arose for me to go to one of my special hunting areas where my two sons, my daughter and a number of my closest loved ones have hunted their first mountain reedbuck.
When reaching the property, the owner was there on his veranda to greet me. He knew the purpose of this hunt as he knew my son well. He was working cattle but told me to go wherever I liked and to enjoy my day. The weather had been exceptionally wet, and the roads were very slippery. Which for many would have been a turn off. For me it was going to make for a proper adventure. I drove about a quarter of the way up the mountain and then abandoned my land cruiser.
Taking the Sako out of its case and putting it over myshould. I filled the bullet pouch on my belt with roundsand I headed straight up through the lush grass and running springs to where I believed the reedbuck would be.
It was going to be a wonderful day.
As I neared the top of the mountain, I knew there was aspot which the reedbuck loved to lay up out of the wind with enough view to see any danger approaching. I slowly made my way to a large rock which I planned to use as my lookout spot. Keeping the wind in my face I moved agonizingly slowly forward, hoping to stay unseen. As I reached rock a covey of grey winged partridge burst out of the grass to my right announcing to the world with their warning call that something was wrong. Was it all over so quickly?
I moved to the rock and laid the rifle down and brought my binoculars up. There they were. Just over two hundred meters away staring straight towards me. There were seven in the herd that I could see. Six females and one ram, and what a beauty he was. I could see the tips of his horns were well above his ears which is a good sign of a mature animal. Not only this, but he was alsoexceptionally wide from tip to tip. His red neck stood out giving him away from the others as the ewes do not often show their color.
I did not want to take such a long shop and now I had to make a plan. They knew something was wrong, so I scanned the terrain and made a plan.
I would have to drop back down again and come in from below them, hoping they would not run away in the meantime. I moved away slowly and then started my approach with the new route in mind. As I got closer a ewe gave the alarm whistle. She had seen me and there they went over the skyline. I thought to myself that there wereno ways I would give up. I followed them and again reached a spot where I could peer over and observe what was going on.
I crawled forward on my hands and knees to the point of the rocky outcrop. Slowing raising my head I saw a ewe and then another. But where was the ram? I lay on a rock and waited. All of a sudden out he came and stood perfectly broadside below me. I rested the sling of the rifle on the rock so not to scratch the stock. Slowly putting the butt into my shoulder, I took aim. I could see him through the scope. I did not have long, so I placed the cross hairson his shoulder and squeezed. The unsilenced 30-06 announced its presence to the world from the top of that mountain and the ram dropped. The ewes ran away and soon the echo of the shot had vanished leaving me in a world of silence.
Then the emotion hit, we did it. Our first buck with the 30-06. I shouldered the rifle, leaving the spent cartridge in the chamber and made my way down the steep slope to where a real beauty of a ram lay. I kneeled beside him and lay my hand on his chest. For a moment there was complete silence in my world.
Such a special moment. I know my son was watching every move I made and the tears that came down my cheek was for him and the memories we have had in the field together and for those I will share with him alone on our private adventures. Whether in the mountains or on the flats I know he will always be by my side enjoying it as much as I will. Maybe he will enjoy it more, as he will see me make mistakes while stalking in and say, “I would have done it differently”.
Here’s to you, my boy. Thank you for everything.
Hunting and Outdoor Adventures 