On the 4th of July I skipped the local parade and went to the airport. The only fireworks I saw were thousands of feet below my airplane in Charleston SC. I endured the longest leg that Delta flies at fifteen and a half hours and touched down at dusk on the 5th in Johannesburg. I should probably devote an entire blog post to long distance flying for hunting and international pitfalls, but who has time for that?
I found my one piece bow in oversized luggage as it looked like a fishing pole to security, but my two piece longbow once again got marked as a firearm and I had to stand it that line. Where I was chatting with the Safari Club crowd one remarkably clean cut gentleman made a remark about his bow. I asked the question and he was in fact the other person I would be sharing camp with over in Zululand. We had booked separate hotels so we bid farewell that evening and would meet again a little before 6am for the ride to camp.
At my hotel I enjoyed a nice springbok carpaccio as an appetizer with a glass of what was suggested to be one of the finest SA wines. I ran the Rand to USD converter and realized I was only into dinner about $7 so I went for the fillet and the rest of the bottle of wine. I figured inducing that level of sleep should cure any any jet-lag, whatever the experts say about that be damned. Off to bed early.
4am I get up and start pack/repack/shower/etc. Part of me wonders if I will miss the big city fancy food and posh lodging, but most of me knows better. Standing in the lobby drinking coffee at 5:20am local when the driver arrives early, we go fetch my hunting buddy for the week and head across SA. Great to see the folks from last year and the camp in great shape. We clear up some business in camp, have a little food, and get our bows together and on the practice range. Since all is so well and the weather is fine, the PHs decide to take the two of us out for a bonus sit on day zero.
I settled into my hide with my PH and we got our bearings with footing, longbow clearance, etc. It was our first time in a hide together, and it was a bit on the small side at that. We seemed to sync up pretty quick, and he burned a little zebra dung. I don’t know if that was really more for neutralizing scent, good luck, or for the “tourist” factor but I did find it pleasing. I feared the breeze might be too high for game to move comfortably, but pushing towards sunset a group of female warthogs came in and took a drink in the water hole right in front of the blind. A boar shows up that nobody had ever seen and had never been on camera before. Even with high fences, pigs are unpredictable.
He comes in and is lower than I expected (hoping for blesbok or wildebeest), so when he laid down to drink the vitals were very low. My PH held my camera in video mode with one hand and the shooting window open with the other. My arrow must have been within inches of his fingers when it cleared the window. It did hit high and penetration was much less than I hoped for. We tracked a short ways that night, then pulled back to resume in the morning. In the end we had stopped just short of where he fell that night, but no predators found him before we did. Here I am with my first pig outside of North America:
The next few days were focused on Wildebeest and they were tough hunting days. Long days… I had seem some good bulls, but on the 4th day it finally all came together and I had a shot opportunity. I had not practiced on any targets of Wildebeests who were laying down and drinking, only standing targets. The forward legs playing into me shooting the animal much farther back than ideal. We backed out and discussed our possible courses of action. I accepted that we should take a rifle so we could put it down at a great distance should it be required. We were much relieved to find that the razor sharp broadhead had performed much better than expected.
The next few days I had a Blesbok to hunt, with a tag for an Impala as well. Given I had taken such a grand Impala the year before I thought it best to focus on the Blesbok and only take an Impala if an ideal opportunity presented itself to collect meat for the camp or for the locals. Since such an opportunity didn’t arise I just kept sticking out for the right shot on a Blesbok. On my first day I saw 16 of them in the evening, I waited through the first 15 hoping for the biggest ram, but he was the only one in the herd who did not come in at all. He circled 70 yards out and left my life forever. The second day I only saw the Blesbok in the distance, and only a few of them all day at that. The third morning I had an old Ram walk within 3 yards of my hide on it’s way to water, everything was right and I made the shot before lunch. After lunch we recovered the beautiful animal.
I’m sad to say this was the only animal I’d shot in Africa that I hadn’t had at least some meat off of to eat myself. I’m glad to know that it fed the camp and some of it went to town. I’ve had a few cuts of Blesbok before, and I’m glad to know the hunters to follow me would have a chance to eat some of mine. Things go in circles naturally, and I’m glad to participate in the circle of life.
At this time I don’t think I’ll be going back to Africa anytime soon, but that doesn’t take away anything from my trips and adventures there. I am thankful to see that landscape, and to have had the opportunity to pursue those animals with my longbow!
And who knows, maybe someday….