South African Adventure Part II
On the morning of the second day, we awoke to find freezing cold and high clouds passing through. Again, the animals were not moving, they were waiting for the sun to burn off the cloud cover and warm the land.
Willem told me of his friend, a man named David Voss and that he had some land and a large Kudu bull had been coming to water. David wanted me to shoot this large bull so he could have a picture made of himself, the bull, and me to hang proudly on the wall of his pub.
At lunch we met David and traveled to his property. I thought the bush the day before was thick, but this was even thicker. The big bull had been traveling with 2 smaller companion bulls.
We had traveled about an hour into the property when suddenly the truck came to a stop. I strained hard as I looked into the bush and came to the realization I was looking at a Kudu bull. The bush was so thick, I could only see parts of this magnificent animal. After a few seconds of looking at a nose and an ear and the tip of the left horn, the bull along with its companions crashed away through the bush. David was very pleased we had seen the Kudu and was confident that Willem had a plan.
Willem placed the three trackers, Steven, Daniel, and Meshach, to strategically push the bulls out of the heavy bush. We hurriedly moved and set up on a right-of-way that we hoped the bulls would cross. We had not waited long when we heard the excited voices in the bush telling us that our game of cat and mouse had failed and the bulls were headed in a completely different direction. We sprinted the quarter mile back to the pickup as hard as we could go arriving just in time to see the first bull coming out of the brush.
For someone that has never seen a Greater Kudu, it is awe inspiring to see how graceful such a large animal can be. It’s easy to see why they are called the “Grey Ghost.”
The second animal out of the bush was another smaller bull, then two cows and finally, the bull we were after. Willem yelled, “He’s the last one! Take him!”
I threw the .338 up, found the bull at over 200 yards. Pulling the trigger, I knew in my heart it was a clean miss. I would spend a long and agonizing night as the big Kudu appeared in my dreams.
The next morning found us back at David’s property with a feeling that today was the day! The plan would work! We unloaded four trackers, with Moses being the fourth to help push.
We had hopes that the bulls would cross the small right-of-way and give me the opportunity I had dreamed about. The trackers began to push, my excitement was rising. Suddenly six or eight Wildebeests crossed the road at a dead run followed by several Impala. I lowered the rifle to catch my breath.
When I looked back up, standing in the right-of-way, 330 yards away, was a Kudu bull, but which one? I put the crosshairs on the Kudu’s shoulder as I waited for Willem’s okay to shoot.
The evening before, Willem told me that I had seen the big bull, I knew what he looked like, if I saw him again, shoot, don’t wait. Now, I have the bull in my sights, I slowly squeeze the trigger, the .338 fires, the Kudu bull leaps high in the air as the bullet strikes.
Just as the gun went off, Willem said, “No, don’t shoot!” My heart sank as I thought maybe I had shot one of the smaller bulls. David was happy! He thought I had killed the big bull. Willem was sure it wasn’t. The only way to find out now was to walk the 330 yards to see what lie upon the ground.
As we got closer and closer to the bull, the picture was clear in my mind. This had to be the large bull! To everyone’s surprise, I had killed a fourth bull that no one had ever seen before. This bull was older, just as long as the big bull, but his horns were more massive. As Willem shook my hand and congratulated me, he looked at me and said, “Even PH’s make mistakes!”
My search for a 50 inch Kudu bull was answered. He lay at my feet. If you go to Bosveld Pub and Grill, in the little town of Steenbokpan, you will see a picture of the Kudu and my friend, David. While you are there, ask him to sing Marty Robbins’ “El Paso.”
Late in the afternoon on day three, the sun was boiling hot, making it hard to remember that a few short hours ago, it was freezing. I had just missed a long shot at a Wildebeest bull, shooting just underneath him. My Professional Hunter, Willem, and I went into the bush to check and make sure that is was a clean miss.
Accompanying us on this trip is Willem’s Jack Russell Terrier, Yster. I found out later, Yster means “iron”, and would learn that this dog lives up to his name.
We’d only ventured about 200 or 300 yards, when all of a sudden, Yster began barking madly. We moved up slowly, and I was amazed at the sight! Yster had seven or eight Wildebeest penned up in a thicket. The Wildebeest would take turns lowering their head and charging at the dog. We laughed in amazement at the Wildebeest trying to chase off their pint-sized tormenter.
After several minutes we could tell that the bull was not with this group of cows. Willem advised me to move about 350 yards to the east and I would come upon a right-of-way (two track). He felt sure that the Wildebeest would cross the two-track when they had enough of the dog.
I moved into the roadway when all of a sudden, the brush exploded from behind me. Wildebeest were bounding across the two-track at a full run. Daniel, my tracker, yelled, “The last one!” I threw the .280 to my shoulder, pushing the crosshairs out in front of his chest, I snapped the trigger. The Wildebeest turned a complete somersault as the dust flew in the air. The Wildebeest landed back on his feet, whirled and crashed back in the bush. Shortly, thereafter, Willem arrived with Yster.
Yster was on the track of the wounded bull. We hadn’t gone very far when the tell-tale barking told us that Yster had found the bull. The bull had traveled as far as he could go and could not regain his footing. A quick, clean shot to the base of the neck and the great Wildebeest bull was my fourth African prize.
The hero of this hunt was Yster the dog!
On to Part III