After a very successful evening, we were out again for something new for Huw to hunt.
We headed off to another property twenty kilometres north in search of warthog and impala. The hunting area is low-fenced, allowing animals to roam freely wherever they want to.

On previous occasions, some nice impala rams had been taken, which we hoped would happen again. Warthogs haven’t long been in this area, moving in from established game reserves nearby. As it is mainly a livestock farming area, these are shot on sight as they dig holes under the fences, enabling predators to enter.

Arriving at the farmhouse, we were welcomed with a full cooked breakfast and a good cup of coffee. As it was a holiday and neither of us was in a rush, we sat and feasted. After this, we prepared our cooler box for lunch, which would include warthog cheese sausages from the previous hunt.

We climbed into the vehicle and headed off. Driving through the area, we saw plenty of kudu, which were not on the menu, as the quota for the season had been reached. Driving on, we soon saw some warthog and quickly got ourselves ready. We moved slowly through the broken bush, but unfortunately they got the better of us and will be there for another day.

Heading on, we soon saw a herd of impala grazing, completely oblivious of us on a treeline about four hundred metres away. Leaving the vehicle in the shade, we headed forward on foot, trying to close the distance and also see if there was a shootable ram amongst them. Reaching the edge of the last bit of cover between us and them, we saw that there was a nice ram, but the shot was too far. Plan B had to be put in place. We would leave Jean here and head around to the other side to hopefully sneak in on them from another angle. Jean also had his rifle and would take one if the opportunity arose.

On driving around, we left the vehicle and started our stalk inagain. The wind was not great, but if they bolted as a result of us, they would head towards Jean. True as mustard, the wind gave us away and the herd moved towards Jean. Unfortunately, the only chance he got was off his knee, and not being completely stable, the shot didn’t hit home and off they went.

Heading back through the bush, we made for some higher ground to use as a vantage point to see if we could locate a bachelor herd which is known to frequent the area. Seeing nothing, we decided to move further up the valley in search.We did slowly as the temperature was rising and we didn’t want to spook anything.

After about twenty minutes, we spotted the distinctive red coat of some impala about a kilometre away. We watched them through the binoculars for a little bit, and it became obvious that it was not a bachelor herd, but a herd of ewes with a beautiful ram amongst them. We would give it another go. 

To close the gap between us, we would need to drop right back down into the thicker bush below and make our way, using this cover, up to them. On the way, we would have to be aware of not spooking any other animals which would give us away. We headed down and followed a dry creek bed through the bush. This gave us superb cover, allowing us to close the distance quickly without being noticed.

As we got closer, it was time to be very careful. Moving between bushes, we caught glimpses of our quarry ahead. We still needed to get another hundred metres closer and then get into a spot where the ram could be seen. Keeping low, we made the hundred metres and positioned ourselves in the shade alongside a large bush for a shot.

There were a couple of ewes which stood perfectly, but the ram was behind a bush. Keeping the rifle steady on the sticks, we would wait it out. He would definitely come out; we just needed to make sure we weren’t spotted before that.

After a few minutes, the ram walked out from behind the bush and stood looking straight towards us. As though he sensed something was wrong or just looking over his territory.
I told Huw, “It’s now or never,” knowing he wouldn’t hang around for long if he had spotted something wrong.

Huw had him in the scope already and knew exactly what he had to do: take a breath and squeeze off the shot.
This is exactly what he did. The shot went off and the ram dropped.

Not knowing exactly what had happened, the ewes stood for a second watching their fallen companion. Then, realising something was actually wrong, they made a quick exit from the area with leaps and bounds.

We walked up to the ram and admired his simple beauty. A beautiful two tone coat and wonderful long horns. Photos were taken and compliments shared. The vehicle came and we loaded him up.

We headed back to the homestead, where we would drop him off for the meat to go to town to be turned into droëwors (air-dried sausage) for the approaching holiday season. The skull and horns would be delivered to Karoo Taxidermy on the way to the airport in a few days. This was going to make Huw’s African safari wall a little more complete.

After this, we went off to see if we could find a warthog, but unfortunately the wind picked up and we didn’t get a chance. Finding a nice dry riverbed, we decided the hunting day was over and the time had come to light the fire. The coals were soon ready and the warthog sausage was quickly cooked. With homemade bread and a couple of beers, we enjoyed the moment of another fantastic day.

Tomorrow, we would start again on another new specie for Huw which I believe any hunter heading to the Eastern Cape of South Africa should bag. Even though this was Huw’s third safari he had not bagged one. We had been close last year but not quite close enough. 

 

After our wonderful time at the coast, we headed for two hundred and fifty kilometers in land.

Heading to Graaf Reinet, our base. We passed through some historical towns like Grahamstown and a variation of vegetation types such as mountainous and open grassland. Scattered with a variety of different game.Making it a pleasant drive with lots to see.

Arriving in Graaff Reinet, we got ourselves settled in and ready for the second part of the holiday. 

Even though Huw had harvested a blesbok on the previous hunt, we had another chance to get one this year that had been kindly given to us by a neighbor. 

We would look for a ram as the females were heavily pregnant at this time of year. The quota for rams had not been achieved for the season an this was not through lack of trying but down to the animals knowing what was going on and keeping one step ahead of the hunters.

We got ourselves ready and within ten minutes we were at the hunting area. Infront of us on the flats we could see herds of springbok and black wildebeest. In the distance through my binoculars, I could see the blesbok. Probably two kilometers away near a line of thick thorn bush, which we would definitely have to use on our stalk in. We drove until we found a good spot to leave the vehicle in the shade and started our approach. 

Slowly passing some springbuck and small heard of black wildebeest we made our way to the line of thorn bush,which we hoped would be our route to get a shot. We slowly made our way forward so not to get spotted. We had to make a couple of detours due to open areas where we would have been exposed to the one side, which definitely would have given our approach away. All of a sudden five kudu bulls sprung up out of the shadows but fortunately headed out towards the opposite side as to where the blesbok were grazing. Even though not seen, the noise of running animals made everything nearby look at the thicket. We had to stop, wait for a few minutes so thateverything could calm down and become relaxed again. 

We started our way forward again and reached the end of the thicket. Unfortunately, the blesbok had slowly grazed further into the open and the shot would be well over three hundred meters. We decided that this was not what we wanted, and the shot was too far. So, we slowly backed off and headed back to the vehicle to put another plan together. 

The temperature was rising, and I could see that most of the animals were starting to lay up and rest.

There was one spot where I had seen a territorial ram on a previous hunt and decided that we would have a look. We left the vehicle once again after a couple of big slugs of water and headed towards where I had seen the ram before.

The ground was very open, but fortunately we could use the contours of the ground to give us cover. The ram I had seen often lay on a plateau where he had made his home. We headed forward and as we got to a spot where we could see onto the plateau, I saw a small herd. Not knowing if he was part of it or  not, we would have to sneak in and see. We used every bit of ground to our advantage and soon enough we were in a spot where we would now have to crawl forward. To our left there was a heard of about six blesbok ewes, which we had to stay undetected from as they would certainly give the game away. It was now time to get on our hands and knees.

The ground was hard and every tough Karoo plant covering it felt like it had thorns in, which stuck into our legs. We slowly crawled forward. Only needing to make about twenty meters to get to a nice rock, which could be our shooting position. We made it! Lifting my binoculars to see if it was him, I saw three laid up next to each other having a rest. All looking in different directions to give themselves the best chance of seeing a predator approach. One was a young ram, the other was a ewe. Unfortunately,the third one was lying in a position where we couldn’t see the horns properly to identify it. We were not in a rush so we would sit it out and wait for it to reveal what it was.

We waited for around an hour and suddenly it stood up. It was him. 

Huw was ready. We had had enough time to set up properly. The scope was dialed up, and we had discussed where the bullet should be placed.

I watched through the binoculars and told Huw to shoot when he was ready. He readied himself and took a breath. The ram stood broadside at one hundred and sixty meters. The shot went off and the ram took just a few steps and fell. The two others who had been lying with him stood and watched their fallen leader for a few seconds. Then realizing something was very wrong made their retreat to safer ground.

We walked forward and did the usual photo shoot before loading the animal on the vehicle and taking it to the cold room where it was processed into delicious cuts ready for the festive season. Huw took the head and plans to have the horns polished for his home as a memory of the stalk.

After we had finished, we headed home. But the day was not done yet.

Jackal hunting is one of my favourit passions and possibly one of my favourit hunts. Often done alone in the dead of night, I try my best to outwit one of the most cunninganimals in Africa.

You must get everything right. The wind, the call and the shot. If you get one of them wrong, the chances are you have made them wiser and you will have a frustrating night.

We loaded the specially adapted chair on the vehicle, put the spotlights on and attached the rifle into its place. 

I would drive, Huw would sit on the back with the lightshining for eyes. If nothing was seen on route I would stop at a couple of spots I’ve been lucky at before and call.

We drove to the first spot without luck of seeing any suspicious eyes. I walked about a hundred meters from the vehicle and placed the caller. Letting everything calm down for a few minutes, I started to call. At this time of year, the jackal have pups in the dens so the parents and helpers are busy searching for food to feed them with. I put on a young springbok lamb bleating and in no time at all through my thermal I saw something on its way. Slowly and curiously it moved closer through the bushes. But there was something wrong it didn’t act a hundred percent like a jackal. As Huw is not confident with his identification of African animals I lowered my head around him so I could see through the night vision scope. Quickly picking up the eyes I saw it was a bat eared fox, not something we were going to shoot as they don’t cause any problems and they are protected.

Leaving this area, we drove back the way we had come. Huw quite frantically started flashing the light in front of the vehicle. A sign used to tell the driver to stop. I got out and asked where he had seen something. He shone the light, and I caught a glimpse of an eye. Probably around two hundred meters from us. I looked quickly through the scope and could see that this was in fact a jackal. I told him to get ready, and I would look through the thermal. Once ready, I gave a whistle, stopping the jackal in his tracks. Huw fired and the clear thud told me it was down. Huw kept the spotlight on the area and I walked out. Lying stone dead was a good-sized male jackal, Huw’s first. We hung him on the rack, and I said we would try one more spot before heading home. We drove a couple of kilometers, and I pulled off the track, put the caller out and got ourselves ready. The springbok lamb call worked again. Not fifty meters from us on the track stood a jackal. Huw again, unsure asked me to check. I did and said “take him”. As he readied himself the jackal started to walk but this wasn’t going to stop Huw. He gave a slight lead and squeezed the trigger. The jackal dropped in the road. Number two down and the end to a fantastic day. Huw was ecstatic and the farmer also, as these jackals would definitely have given him problems in his lambing camps,which bordered the areas we were hunting.

As decided a few years ago my brother would visit me in Africa for a week each year just to catch up and spend quality time together.
This year, unlike last year, the flight from the UK to Port Elizabeth went without any delays or other unnecessary glitches.
This year we would be trying something new for Huw. A bucket list activity which I am sure is on most people’s list, especially if you are reading this. It was to have a day deep sea fishing off the coast of South Africa.
I had pre-arranged everything with the skipper of the vessel and a date had been agreed. The only thing which would stop us was the weather which I had mentioned to the skipper also.
Four of us would go down to Kenton on Sea and stay for a couple of nights and then we would head back to Graaff Reinet to continue our adventure.
Myself and a friend drove down and picked my brother up at the airport and then headed to Grahamstown (known as something else now but don’t worry about that) to pick up Will who had spent the days prior fly fishing for trout in the Winterberg area.
We then headed to our accommodation in Kenton which a good friend had opened up for us while he is away overseas for a while. Supplies had been bought and brought so we would feast on Karoo lamb and beef sausage cooked over hardwood coals for the first night and hopefully fish the second.
We planned on an early night which never happens so we would be fresh the next day but unfortunately fine wine and cognac ruined that idea.
We woke the following day, all excited but rather weary of what was to come of the day. The weather wasn’t great and from the house we could see that the sea was not as calm as we would have liked. But we had come to fish so we would fish.
We headed down to the beach where our skipper (Shane) and his daughter (Kimberly) were waiting for us with their thirty-foot vessel which would be our chariot for the next few hours.
We all climbed aboard and the boat was pushed into the sea off its trailer. The engines started and Shane told us to hold on as we would have to give it some gas to get out to the fishing area. We stealthily made our way through the reef and were soon seeing on the fish finder that we were in good spots.
The anchor was dropped and our hosts quickly got our rods ready for us. Quick instruction was given and the bait was sent to the depths of sixty meters. Almost as soon as the bait was down the rod tips started to twitch with bites from our prey. The fish started to come up, Miss Lucy’s being our main catch which gave good fights and kept the excitement going on the boat. Then a Red Roman was brought in for diversity which all enjoyed.
When it started to slow we lifted the anchor and headed to the next hot spot. To be fair, Shane knows his stuff. He put us on the money the whole morning. Kimberly, who ran around the boat sorting us out every time we reeled a fish in, was fantastic. I’ll add their contact details at the end if anyone is interested in chartering their ship for their groups.
The next spot became quite interesting as we had a couple of visitors. The first was a seal, not really what we wanted and he knew exactly what we were doing out there in his playground. The first sign he was there was when the rod bent right over and we all thought a great fish was coming in. Quite a disappointment when a brown head pops up with your fish in his mouth. The feelings you have when the group’s tenth fish is taken and played with in front of you can’t be written about. I guess we were in his office though and he was just showing us that he is brighter than we were.
All of a sudden my rod bent over and there was something big at the end of it. The first comment was, you’ve got a really good fish on there. Then the line started going out with that incredible whistle sound.
Kimberly told me to reel in when I leaned forward and let whatever was down there tire itself out. I could feel in my arms that this was something different. It took line when it wanted and didn’t seem to tire very easily. All of a sudden about twenty meters from the boat it breached. Then the excitement started. The fish was quickly identified and it was a MAKO shark. It breached again and everyone moved to the other side of the boat to give space. Plans were being discussed as to how we would get this shark aboard when all of a sudden it was gone. We were fishing with normal lines and no steel trace, his sharp teeth had cut the line. Even though we didn’t get him in it was a great experience. Maybe a bucket list for another year. We estimated it to weigh around two hundred kilograms and was about eight to ten feet long. I am convinced it was bigger as most fishermen do, but am happy with the professional opinion.
We fished for another couple of hours moving from one hot spot to the next with constant action. Final tally was forty-five fish. A great day for a group of non-fishermen.
We headed back in just before the weather turned for the worse.
Shane then told us that the day was not over. We were to go back to his house where some of our fish would be prepared for us and served with fresh salad and home baked bread.
We quickly went and changed and headed to our host’s house. The fish were already being prepared by the time we got there. A feast of our fish was brought out for us and what a treat. The perfect end to a great day and a bucket list experience which we will definitely be doing again.
If anyone is interested in going out with Shane, he’s based in Kenton on Sea and his number is +27 72 318 8134. Send him a WhatsApp as well. You definitely won’t regret it.

Hunting with a rifle has always been a passion and that won’t change, but with all the modern gadgets and technology I decided I need a new challenge.
This challenge was to purchase a bow and hunt on foot with it, ‘Walk and Stalk.”
I’ve sat for many days in a blind with clients and sent many trophies back to the USA with avid bow hunters, but we never got to hunt on foot with the bow. The main reason for this is that trying to get one person into bow range is hard enough, but two is almost impossible.
The other reason is that a client flying halfway round the world wants to take something home with them and that chance is very slim. Therefore, most people hunt from a blind to maximize opportunity.
I spoke to a very good friend and even better bow hunter, and he mentioned that he was selling his Bowtech, which could be customized to fit me. Without a second thought I bought it and everything else required to make the package complete.
We met in town and I picked up my new challenge. Bow, arrows, field points and some three blade broadheads. Then I started to practice. A forty-meter range set up in the garden with a good backstop behind the target. I was coming right even managing to do my first Robin Hood.
I don’t need another Robin Hood, as it does get quite costly.
I was not keen on shooting further than forty meters as the challenge was to get in close, preferably under thirty, but forty was there as a confidence builder. A number of my good friends heard that I had given myself this challenge and I was kindly offered to hunt a number of different species with my bow. Most of which I am still trying to get.
One morning I headed out to one of these properties in search of kudu or duiker. I had no expectations of going home with anything as I know that you will have more unsuccessful days than successful trying to hunt the way I wanted.
As I drove into the property, I saw a small herd of kudu walking on a dam wall and thought this was going to be where I would start. I picked up my good friend and host and explained where I had seen them.
We drove down a small jeep track until we were about five hundred meters from the dam. Parked under a tree and readied ourselves. I would hunt with the bow, and my friend would bring a rifle just in case I made a mistake.
I donned all my clothing so that I resembled a bush and we slowly made our way forward. Heart beating strongly in my chest with the constant voice in my head asking, was I ready for this?
As we got closer, I moved forward alone hoping to find an old kudu cow or bull whose horns were not to a good level for a breeding bull. Even though bulls on this property were free roaming, meaning one day they were there and the next they could be on a different property.
I got to where I had seen them by edging forward and watching every step I took. Avoiding every twig which may give me away. The wind was perfect, and I told myself they must be just ahead of me.
Nothing. The grey ghost had vanished.
But then about sixty meters ahead of me I caught a movement by a bush. I needed to move forward undetected to give myself a chance. Slowly moving in I got to twenty-five meters. I then realized that the kudu was a heifer and not what we wanted to take off.
I would leave her undisturbed to carry on with her day. As I turned, I noticed something was wrong. I raised my binoculars and gave her a second look. With this I saw that she was struggling to eat as it looked like she had a broken jaw. This was not something I could leave.
I moved out quietly and told my friend what I had found.
He said he would move forward and shoot it with the rifle. I disagreed and said I would like to harvest this with the bow. We agreed and I made my way back to get a shot.
She was still there in the same place and completely unaware of my return. I waited for a moment for her to turn broadside.
As she did, I drew back my arrow, placed the twenty-meter pin slightly higher than the point I believed would hit the spot and released.
The arrow stuck right on the shoulder, penetrating only about four or five inches. With this she turned but her shoulder was broken. I quickly put another arrow in and released with the point of aim being slightly behind the shoulder. This time the arrow went straight through. She didn’t even make five meters, and she fell.
The second arrow had taken out her lungs which showed on the arrow when I found it about thirty meters away from where it had passed through.
The thought went through my mind as I looked at my first bow kill, “this isn’t that difficult”.
On inspection the poor kudu had a broken jaw, possibly from misjudging a fence jump and was also blind in her left eye. I had some serious help on my side to have this for my first bow stalk. Nevertheless it was good to have been able to end her suffering, which would have ended in a much more stressful death. How wrong could I have been with my thought of it being easy. I’ve been busted at close range, string jumped when the quarry had no idea I was there and walked many kilometers to end with nothing. If I was dependent on what I shot for food I would have starved to death by now but luckily, I do it for the challenge and not just for the meat.
I have a number of wonderful animals which I intend on harvesting with my bow and hopefully one will make a good story for you all to read about in the future, but for now I’m happy with my first archery kill.

When you get the call, you drop what you are doing, grab your kit and go.

Since I got my dangerous game licence, I have put myself on standby with a few people to go and help if there is a problem with such animals.

As in a previous story I spoke about the giraffe causing issues, but this time it was something with a bit more attitude and a reputation which everyone dreaming of Africa knows about.

This time it was a Cape Buffalo, also known as “Black Death”.

He was in an area where he was most likely at some stage going to come into contact with humans and he was going to cause serious injuries. 

I grabbed my 458 Lott and my safari belt which are side by side in the safe and jumped in the cruiser and headed out.

Arriving on site and meeting up with the chap who’d called we got ourselves ready. The bull who had been injured in a fight with another bull had swelling around his right eye and an injured shoulder. Neither of us knew exactly what the extent of his injuries were, therefore, we would assess as we got in on him.

We headed to where he had last been seen to be greeted by thick thorn bush. Visibility in some areas less than five meters. Not only this, following the game trails you constantly had to crouch down to get through the thorns. If he came, we would have to be quick as there wasn’t going to be time for a second shot. I took the leadexpecting him to appear at any moment. 

But nothing.

We walked and crawled through the thorn bush and reeds for over ten kilometres. Fresh footprints going in circles and even crossing our path but nothing. As the sun dropped below the mountains to the West and the light faded, we called it a day. To carry on would have been foolish and somebody would undoubtedly have got hurt if he charged.

The following morning me met just before the sun rose. The night had been cold with the grass having a frost covering shining in the moonlight. We would start our search once the sun rose and hopefully, we would get lucky.

As we started our tracking the radio barked into excitement.

He had been spotted.

We moved to the area where we met with the scout who had found him. He told us the bull was laid up on the edge of a thicket on his own, only a couple of hundred meters away. 

We loaded our rifles. Mine with a 500gr solid and the 375H&H with the normal 300gr DG round. We walked slowly towards where he had been spotted and there he was. Laid up with his back towards us. The wind was going to blow our approach from this side though, so we back tracked. We would have to come from the other side. We circled around and slowly approached with the wind in our favour.

Slowly making our way into a dry riverbedwe could see him. Moving ever so slowly and checking our every step we were getting closer. We reached the end of the cover in the riverbed, and we made ready.

He was still lying down facing away from us so there was no shot. We would have to wait for him to stand. As I turned to explain exactly where the shot placement should be he stood up.

His sixth sense telling him that there was something wrong. We had not made a sound, and the wind was perfect but still he knew something wasn’t right. 

As he turned, we let him have it. Both bullets hitting him in the engine room. Even with this he didn’t go down. He didn’t know where we were, but the closest safe haven was in our direction. With the bullet impact he jumped and charged towards the bush. We both hit him again as he started his run and then the third 500grainer hit him and he dropped.

I quickly dropped another two rounds into my rifle, and we approached from behind. As he lay there, back towards us we put in a safety shot between the shoulder blades. Whether it was necessary I don’t know but we weren’t going to take any chances.

We then had a chance to think about what had just happened. From the moment he stood up to when he dropped only took about eight seconds. Time flies when you are having fun. We then ranged the distance between him and where we had been standing. Seventeen yards. This is what people dream of. A formidableadrenalin rush caused by the understanding that if you get it wrong it can be the end. 

Guess that is why we hunt dangerous game.

 

I have hunted a few giraffes with clients before but never one for myself. It is one of those animals which many people, including some hunters ask “why would you want to shoot one of those?”

They are a symbol of Africa like the zebra and the lion. They are incredibly graceful and once they get running, cover the ground surprisinglyquickly. With some big bulls being six meters tall,it makes it incredibly challenging to sneak in on them due to being able to see the predator coming from a long way away. Weighing in at close to two tons they are certainly a challenge to bring down.There are two target points when shooting them, one being in the head which requires accurate shot with a decent caliber as the head is incrediblyhard. I would not recommend anything smaller than a 300-win mag and preferably the trusty old 375H&H would be my choice. I am sure some will come back and say that they have managed it with smaller calibers, but this is only my opinion. The other shot is that for the vitals which confuses many as the heart is not in the usual spot of other African species. Don’t be surprised when your PH tells you to shoot much higher than you expect. Have a look at the shot placement in The Perfect Shot book before you arrive. If you get it wrong,you may be following that long neck from a distance for a very long time.

Not having many predators in our area theirnumbers can get out of hand and they do need to be managed, especially on game ranches where man is basically their only threat.

When hunting my first one with a client I was told to make sure you shoot it in the morning and as close to a road as you can. This we did manage to do and when we got up to the fallen bull I could see why I was given such valuable advice. Do notbe surprised to see a number of big vehicles such as tractors, front loaders and trailers being utilized on recovery. As I mentioned earlier, some bulls stand six meters tall. The skin is thick and takes its toll on any blade used to cape it. Often a skinner is put in charge of sharpening knives through the process of skinning. Axes and even chainsaws are brought in as part of the recovery process and not just for clearing a path to the animal.

I have always wanted to shoot one myself. It may be because it is so tall, and I am slightly shorter than pretty much all the other PH’s in camp but I enjoy them as a challenge. 

This came true a few years ago when I got a call from a neighbour telling me he had a problem. The problem was that a large bull had decided it was great fun to push down the power line poles to his farmhouse. Even though his family was ready to disown him for the thought of shooting this bull he had had enough. We came to a deal which worked for both of us. I would take charge of everything. I would dispatch the bull, organize skinners, sell the meat, sell the skin and do it as quickly as possible.

A phone call to a local butcher sorted the meat. He would take the carcass which he would sell at a lower price to those less affluent ensuring 100% use.

Another call to a good friend of mine at Karoo Taxidermy sorted out a team of skinners and also the sale of the entire skin, which would be caped as a full mount.

Now it was my part of the deal. I would use my 458Lott with a 500-grain bullet for the job. Due to the rifle only having open safari sights I would be going for a body shot rather than a brain shot.

A good friend Will and I met with the team early in the morning. Discussing the whereabouts of the bull with the property manager, we made our way towards a small dam surrounded by a piece of dense bush. As we drove towards the dam, we could see some giraffe browsing in the thicket through our binoculars. We stopped a little wayaway and asked the manager if he could see if the problem bull was in the herd. He had a good look through the binoculars and confirmed he was the big dark one towering above the others. 

With this being confirmed Will and I moved forward. The giraffe had seen us but remained very calm. We used the thick bush to close in on the bull keeping in mind that if he ran it could be a long day of walking. 

Eventually, keeping the wind in our favor and the thick bush to our advantage we were within fifty meters. We could see him just the other side of the dam wall but we could not get a good shot where he was. Then suddenly, he walked towards us and stood broadside on top of the dam wall. 

This was my chance, I stepped out and as I did so he began his escape. It was now or never. I had to put in a broadside running shot. 

I fired. The bullet struck him with all its force. Knocking him clean off his feet. He crashed down to the ground amongst the fallen trees. I quickly chambered another round. Rushing to the front of the bull I put another shot in as a security shot. 

He was down, and a long-awaited dream of mine was fulfilled.

Will and I spent some time looking over the bull and admired his size and the beauty of his dark skin. 

Then the skinning team arrived, and the real work started. Six well-trained skinners with all the equipment necessary, started their work. Skillfully working their way around this huge animal, it took close to three hours to get him skinned off and the carcass to be cut into manageable pieces. As the process came to a endall that was left was a slight blood stain on the ground as everything else would be used.

The four shin bones and the skull were to be bleached for my hunting room to bring back the memories of this amazing day. Everything else went on its way to its designated place. 

Nearly seven hundred kilograms of meat headed to the butchery and the  full cape to the taxidermy, with all of the offal going to the skinning team which included a heart the same size as my chest.

Will and I talk about that day often and I would like to thank a truly kind neighbour for this opportunity and Karoo Taxidermy for their amazing assistance in the recovery.

 

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.

The pull and passion had been within for many years but the belief it would ever happen stayed at the back of his mind. Until he was introduced to a good friend of mine in a restaurant over a fine steak. From this evening on the plans were put into place and reality moved in. He was going to Africa on his first safari but had little knowledge of what to expect.

YouTube video’s were watched and an assortment of animals considered. But then reality kicked in and after a number of emails and WhatsApp’s, a list was put together.

Impala, Eastern Cape kudu, gemsbok (oryx), warthog were listed, but the number one for the trip would be the prince of Africa the regal Sable. The long sweeping back horns and black cape would have to go back to North Carolina.

The safari started with a bit of a hiccup, due to airlines once again. But this was not going to slow us down or ruin the experience. Bill arrived in Port Elizabeth a day late, so we had our work cut out. We headed straight to the lodge, only an hour North of the airport. We dropped off the bags and headed to the range. A couple of shots to get used to the rifle and see everything was working we prepared to head out. 

Joined by our cameraman and field staff we took a twenty-minute drive to one of the hunting areas. With sable being high on the list we thought we would try to locate a bull which had been seen with some cows a couple of weeks before. We drove to a high point and glassed and eventually spotted him. Standing alone on the opposite mountain looking at us. He had noticed us and before we knew it, he started his move. Moving down the mountain and across the open plain giving us no chance to get in on him. He was gone. Assuring Bill that we would get one we headed back to the lodge as it was starting to get late.

The following morning and after good night’s sleep, we stuck to an area by the lodge. This area was teaming with game in every direction and Bill was like a kid in a candy store. Common impala, black impala, nyala, kudu were everywhere. Bill laid his eyes on his first nyala and from that moment on he wanted one. I explained that we would first get an impala in the bag and move on from there. 

We sat on a rocky and observed the beautiful array of animals below us. We then noticed a fantastic common impala ram. Big in body and an amazing set of horns on top of his head. Wider than the tips of his ears kicking nicely back and having an outward flare at the points which is rare to find. This would be our ram.

We slowly made our way down from our lookout point and using every bit of cover available we got into shooting range. Bill sat and we got the shooting sticks set up for a sitting shot. We had plenty of time as we had not been noticed on our stalk in. Bill put the rifle on the sticks and made himself ready. Our cameraman got him in frame,and I picked him up in my binoculars.

“Whenever you are ready Bill”.

The shot rang out and the familiar sound of a hit was heard by all. The ram jumped and ran behind a bush. We checked the footage on the camera, and we saw the shot was slightly back. Leaving the tracker at the shooting spot we moved down to sort out any issue if needed. The impala did jump up, but Bill was ready and a second, backup shot ensured that this magnificent specimen would go into the salt that evening. Photographs were taken and celebrations had having broken the seal on African soil.

We loaded the ram and headed back to camp for the field preparation to continue. While the guys skinned and got the cape into the salt we discussed the part of the day.

Bill then surprised both myself and Arold (Owner, Outfitter and PH of African Select Hunting Safaris) by saying his list had changed and a black impala and nyala were now to be added. 

We ate lunch and during this time Arnold explained that if Bill was serious about a nyala he knew of a spot where he had seen a stunning old bull. He was past his prime but had magnificent horns with ivory tips.

Bill said he wasn’t joking and thought they were amazing animals.

After lunch we headed out again with this bull in mind. We arrived in the area where he had been seen and once again started our search. All of a sudden, our tracker clicked his fingers. We looked him and he pointed to a small thicket below us. There he was. All on his own and unaware of our presence. We were all ready in a shootable range so got Bill on the sticks. The bull was slowly moving from right to left and heading towards an open area. Bill steadied himself and concentrated on the open patch. The bull walked, still unaware of us straight into the open area. He wasn’t going to stop though, and Bill took a shot. The bull jumped and darted forward to the edge of the clearing. The shot had taken out both lungs and he was dead on his feet. He stopped, stumbled to the right and fell. His day had come, and Bill had his second animal to take home. 

Photographs were taken and back to the skinning shed we headed. Celebrations around the open fire were had that evening and everyone was in high spirits.

The following morning, we rose early as we were heading to the Northen concession up in the mountains. This is where we would look for a gemsbok and anything else which would give us a chance.

The weather was closing in, but we still had time so headed straight out for the gemsbok. A lone gemsbok had been seen, and this was the one we would target. The main herd were up in the mountains, but the loner was down on the flats. After a short time, we located our gemsbok and the stalk began. We would use an erosion gully to our advantage and close the gap. The gemsbok was about a kilometre away which we could close with this gully. We made our way, stopping and peering over the edge to see our progress. Eventually we were close. But from the gully we couldn’t get a shot. We climbed out and using the small bushes we moved forward. Un knowing to us the gemsbok had laid down behind a bush in a slight hollow. We had to get higher. Using the wind, we made our way around where we thought our intended target would be. There it was, lying down facing away from us. We didn’t want to take this shot, so we slowly sat and readied ourselves. It was an old animal and past breeding. We would wait. Suddenly it stood up and turned straight towards us. No wind change, no noise but a sixth sense is amazing in wild animals. Bill readied himself and as soon as the bull turned, he pulled the trigger putting in a perfect heart shot. The gemsbok ran no more than eighty meters and dropped. 

We then headed for a blesbok where we stalked up another gully leading us closer to them. The herd was about forty in number with a couple of nice rams. We looked through them and a ram with a slightly worn off horn was selected. This ram decided to walk straight towards us as they are known to be inquisitive. Bill put in a perfect frontal shot which dropped the ram in his tracks. 

This hunt was going very well so far.

The mountain hunt had finished, and we headed back to the Southern camp.

Our intended quarry now was the last remaining animals on the wish list. Sable, black impala and kudu. If a warthog showed himself, we would take him but these other three were now a priority.

We headed back to the area where we had been successful with the first impala. We glassed again and eventually saw a black impala ram. Long straight horns and a beautiful black cape. 

To get into a shooting range we would have to move back from our vantage point, drop into a valley below and then climb to another rocky outcrop above the ram. We started our move. Arnold once again joined us and lead the way. We moved cautiously so not be detected by the many eyes around us. We got to the top of the outcrop and got into position. The ram walked slowly from left to right. Arnold got bill on the sticks and ranged the distance. The scope was quickly dialled and Arnold said to just take him on the shoulder. The shot went and the ram dropped but before anyone could celebrate a magnificent kudu bull jumped out. As though the God’s were watching over us that day. He was the only animal that stood still after the initial shot on the impala. The sticks were quickly turned,and the instruction was given. 

“Take him”.

Bill didn’t waist any time. The shot was true, and the bull was down. Now celebrations could begin. In total both shots were taken within two minutes of each other. Never has something like this happened to either myself or Arnold in our many years of guiding.

Now there was just one more special animal to go for. Bill’s number one. Arnold headed back to the same area where we had seen the bull on the first day. Once again, he was eventually located at the top of a mountain. There was no chance of getting him up there, especially as he had joined up with a herd of sable cows and another younger bull. Aplan was made and the bull with his herd made their way down to an area which for starters would be more friendly to stalk in on but also a lot easier to load if the shot was made. Arnold and Bill made their way around a small hill and positioned themselves about three hundred meters away. Again, the scope was dialled and Arnold said to place the bullet behind the shoulder. The shot was once again on the dot. The bull hardly went thirty meters. He stood, looked around and dropped. 

The safari was a huge success and well done to all involved. Arnold and Chelly for running such a great operation at African Select Hunting Safaris, Bill for shooting so well and all the team that work together to make a dream come true.

 

From my first ever hunting experience there was a certain person who participated for many years in my adventures. We started with air rifles and continued to progress through 410 shotguns, to 20g and eventually to 12g. We shot rabbits together with the air rifles, pigeon roosting to driven pheasant in tweeds as we grew older. This of course is my brother Huw.

He lives a very different life from myself but still enjoys his shooting. Living in the UK and being in the corporate world he doesn’t get as much as he’d like but when he does he has a great time. 

We have always talked about him coming over to South Africa and having a hunt with me. No pressure, just good brotherly fun. Unfortunately, there was always an issue. I was working or he was travelling the world doing his thing.

A couple of years ago we both realized that there was so much more to life than just work. We were both getting older even though neither of us would admit it. They do say that 50 is the new 30, so actually we are both still young. We would both look at our schedules and make a plan. It would be a brother’s holiday but this was the perfect opportunity for me to hunt once again with my old pal in a new environment.

We spoke regularly and we managed to find a week spot where we were both free in September. We both took leave and Huw booked his tickets. We were on for a real adventure once again.

As we all know, travelling around the world often has its hiccups but there is always gold at the end of the rainbow.

The first issue was the flight from Heathrow to Johannesburg was delayed. Not a huge issue as Huw was used to sitting in airports. The problem was though that this had the knock-on effect of causing Huw to miss his internal flight to Port Elizabeth. What now? Next flight to Port Elizabeth would be in two days’ time. Taking up most of his holiday. He quickly looked around and could get a ticket to George which he did, and I quickly organized a lift for him to us. All sorted and now the holiday could begin.

I had organized a nice little hunting package for this trip. We would hunt a kudu bull, a black wildebeest bull, a blesbok ram and a mountain reedbuck or two. This would give us the opportunity to explore a number of different properties with lots of walking and stalking.

We would start with kudu and then move to other concessions to find the other animals. Along with enjoying the incredible hospitality of my Eastern Cape friends along the way.

Early on the first morning we headed out on a nearby property with my good friend Will, the owner of the said property. Huw and I went in one direction while Will headed in the other so we could cover as much ground as possible. Soon the faint click of the radio stopped us in our tracks.

Will had found a bull which was a perfect bull to take. We had to move. The bull was on the other side of a ridge a couple of km’s away. We remained in radio contact and made our way across a flat pasture and then started our climb. We reached the top of the designated ridge and Will told us he could see us. We needed to head about two hundred meters along the ridge and then slowly approach the rocky outcrop near the opposite edge. We did as instructed and as we reached the designated position, Will told us just to wait. The bull was slowly making his way in a Northerly direction which would bring him directly below us. We readied ourselves on a rock with good visibility over the ground below. I could see that Huw was nervous but calmed him down by just telling him to put the cross hair on the bulls shoulder and squeeze.

All of a sudden there he was. Slowly making his way through the brush below us. Huw shouldered the rifle and prepared himself. As the bull stepped into an opening the shot rang out followed by the thud of the bullet hitting the selected animal. The bull jumped and headed straight away from us. Huw quickly reloaded but an extra shot was not needed. The bull stumbled and collided into the bush. Huw was ecstatic. We moved down to the bull where we met with Will to congratulate each other and enjoy the moment. Photographs taken, the bull was then recovered,and we had an amazing dinner washed down with lovely red wine. Day one over, what a great start.

Day two would take us to a special spot for mountain reedbuck. One of my spots where you know you will be successful due to the huge numbers in the area. 

We headed up the mountains straight away as the weather was starting to turn for the worst. With in no time at all we started to see reedbuck. Lots of ewes, but no rams yet. As we reached the summit we stopped to glass. 

Lying about five hundred meters away a saw a small bachelor herd. Very relaxed and unaware of our presence. We moved down towards them using the contours of the mountain to hide our advance. When we got to about a hundred meters from them, we started to crawl forward through the long grass. At the edge of the long grass, we stopped moving. Setting the shooting sticks up at a height which was perfect to shoot from while sitting Huw put the rifle in place. The designated ram was still lying down under a bush completely unaware of us. I said we’ll just wait until he stands. After a few minutes, Huw said he could take a head shot if that was ok. I am not a fan of this but prepared to give him his chance I said go for it. Huw once again excelled in his marksmanship. The ram just folded. A perfect shot. Once again photographs were taken for the album and away down the mountain we went.

Day two ended as day one, a complete success.

The third day we awoke to dreadful weather. We decided it would be a great idea to explore the little town of Graaff Reinet and take in some of its amazing attractions. We started with the one-of-a-kind fossil museum with a private guided tour. A must do if you have the chance. Then off to the Graaff Reinet club for lunch and a few games of snooker. A great day off from the hunting field.

Day four started with a little drive North to an amazing property owned by great friends of mine in search of a blesbok ram and a black wildebeest bull.

The weather was certainly going to surprise Huw. The temperature had plummeted, sitting around freezing. Luckily Huw had brought some UK hunting gear which was going to help a lot.

We drove to a high ridge and glassed to see where the wildebeest herds were. I spotted two different herds. Knowing how these curious animals react to a vehicle I decided, once again we would head off on foot. Asking the member of staff assigned to us for the day to head off in the opposite direction letting the herd see him. The plan would be that we would sneak up from behind them while they watch our decoy in blue overalls. The plan was working. They watched and milled around but then without warning; they stampeded away. 

Strangely enough It then started to snow. Not uncommon in these parts but certainly not what you expect on an African safari.

Making our way after the herd we reached a vantage point. Our man in blue continued his way, eventually spooking the wildebeest to run back in our direction. We got ourselves ready. Five bulls stayed off to the right of the herd. Huw said which one. I looked the five over and chose the best mature bull. Explaining quickly which one Huw once again put in an amazing shot and the bull dropped within twenty meters of where he was when the bullet hit. What a bull, a real beauty and just what I wanted for this hunt.

We then started on our way back to the lodge. As we reached the top of the ridge a mixed herd of white and common blesbok appeared. With one of these on our ticket, we left the vehicle and made a stalk. They had already seen us by this point so we would have to have luck on our side. The herd split and a nice common ram made his way over the edge of the ridge on his own which may give us a chance. We slowly moved to the edge and peered over hoping to see him before he saw us. It worked. There he was, standing about two hundred meters away. Taking the shooting sticks, Huw once again readied himself but this time he would be standing. The shot went, but no thud. The ram looked around but did not run. The silencer was working. Huw reloaded and squeezed the trigger again. This time the bullet struck true, and the ram dropped where he was. Jubilation was felt all around. 

Photographs taken and ram loaded, we headed for the skinning room. Animals sorted and meat in the cold-roomwe headed for home.

What an amazing hunt. I’m sure the first of many as I think he’s got the safari bug. Unknowing to Huw, all the wonderful animals were dropped off at karoo taxidermy where they will be prepared as European mounts for him to hang on his wall back in the UK. A little memento from Africa to spark the memories of this wonderful trip.

With a year of lockdown due to the dreaded covid 19 and some fantastic rains over the summer the game was looking good. There was plenty of grass and the calving season had been good. 

Due to these factors the numbers were starting to compete with the cattle grazing on one the properties that I look over. With livestock you can control where the animals graze and for how long. Utilising every bit and managing the ground which you have. With game it is slightly different. They will jump or go under a fence to the best grazing and move onto the next section when they want to. Guess this is an advantage of being a wild free ranging animal. Due to this though they go and take the best leaving the second grade areas for the livestock, which in this area is what the farmer actually makes their money from.

We had looked at the numbers and species and decided we needed to take some off. There were three species which we would be targeting. These being blesbok (Damaliscus pygargus), red hartebeest (Alcelaphus buselaphus) and last but not least the great cape eland (Taurotragus oryx).

We would take off as many blesbok and hartebeest as possible. Carefully checking for older animals and males. With the eland we had seen that there were a number of older cows who may not get through the harsh mountain winters which we should take off. The owner also said that if we saw a big mature bull we could also take him as this would give enough meat for them for the year.

The day as always started early but the weather was perfect. Hardly any wind and the temperature being forecast to be below 20 degrees Celsius or 68 degrees Fahrenheit. Which for this time of year is rather cold in this area.

We collected two members of staff and headed to the area we would find the game. As we drove into the valley we saw some blesbok at the far end, about a kilometre and a half away. We decided these were the group we should try for as they continuously grazed the grass at that area of the valley. We drove towards them and they started to move away from us up the side of the valley and onto a plateau. They were now out of sight which gave us the advantage. I would climb up after them while the vehicle drove away hopefully drawing their attention and giving me the opportunity of a shot. As I reached the lip of the plateau and carefully raised my head in search of them I saw two standing about one hundred and twenty meters away. I slowly crawled to a nice rock and lowered my bipod legs. Putting the cross of my scope on the blesbok standing broadside to me I squeezed the trigger. The animal jumped and ran about ten meters before stopping and falling. Due to the animals not knowing I was there and the use of a suppressor the others were unaware of what was going on. I quickly moved attention to the rest of the bachelor herd and picked them off one by one. Ending up with all five in the bag. All of which were mature animals and on closer inspection were as fat as a feedlotted cow due to the fantastic grazing they had had.

We quickly gutted these and got them down to the vehicle and moved them off to the shade so as to get on with the rest of the hunt.

Driving around into the next valley where we expected to find the red hartebeest we took in the amazing scenery of the mountainous area of the Eastern Cape of South Africa. Breath-taking in every way.

As we drove into the area we had previously seen the hartebeest a knock on the roof of the vehicle and the confirmation that they had been spotted in front of us was relief.  The herd ran across the road in front of us and headed again as the blesbok had done to higher ground. We made a plan and Will headed off to the far side of the camp and I continued after them. The plan worked and we managed to bag two bulls and two very old cows. Will putting in a shot of a lifetime to bring his down. The Kriek bullets were working their magic and both mine in the 308 and Wills in his 375H&H were doing the job perfectly.

After loading the four hartebeest we decided that we should head back and collect the blesbok so the skinning process could take place. 

As we drove back to collect the blesbok the comment came out that what a day it would be if we came across the eland. Not that we had not had a red letter day already but this would definitely make it interesting and a good day into a fantastic day.

As the final words came out the words eland came from the back of the vehicle. We quickly questioned where and we were quickly told off to the right on the other side of the river, about four hundred meters away.

It was decided that I would go for it and we looked the herd through with our binoculars. There were four older cows, five younger and a big mature bull. Will and I looked at each other and it was decided that if I got the chance to take the big bull then that was the one to go for as we could come back anytime for the older cows.

We slowly headed towards them and they slowly walked away from us but not at any pace. We closed the gap and they watched us inquisitively but stood their ground. Using the taller shrubs as cover we slowly cut away at the range between us. Eventually I raised my range finder to see and it told me we were one hundred and seventy meters from them. Still quite far but there was no other cover so we would have to take the shot from here. Feeling slightly under gunned with my 308 I knew I would have to avoid the big shoulder of the bull. My decision was to put the bullet behind the shoulder where I would double lung the animal without the risk of the heavy bones causing issues.

 The bull was now in the middle of the herd as though he knew that I was targeting him. The cows almost guarding him. As I looked through my Rudolph scope I picked him up and waited for an opportunity. There was one cow standing in front of him covering his vital area. If she moved my shot would be on. We waited and eventually she took a few steps forward. Clearing me to shoot at his vitals. I pulled the trigger and in the scope I saw the bull jump. Reloading quickly I fired another shot at him but missed. As I reloaded for another shot I saw him veer off and get the unmistakeable wobble which if you have hunted eland before you will probably know. His hind quarters started to give way and all of a sudden his legs went from under him, causing a huge dust cloud as his huge body hit the ground never to get up again.

We watched just to make sure but it was over. He had only managed to go about sixty meters before expiring and lay motionless in the grass. His size only really kicked in when we reached him. A huge body with many war wounds from fighting with other bulls to keep his harem. A wonderful tuft of hair on his forehead and magnificently thick to the point spiral horns.

I sat for a moment admiring him and appreciating how lucky I am to live in a place where I can do this type of thing which is a true blessing.

The real work would now start. We gutted him while Will headed off with the other animals and waited for his return to load this beast. It took the four of us and the help of the fantastic invention of the winch to get him onto the back of the vehicle. He slaughtered out at three hundred and twenty one kilograms. Enough meat to feed the family for the rest of the year. I took his head which I will have a European mount made out of as a shoulder mount would certainly be too big for the trophy room. 

Again the Rudolph optics scope worked like a dream with its clarity and precision. And the Kriek monolithic copper hollow point producing perfect performance and passing straight though this animal delivering the killing blow.