Day four ~ 5:38 am Namibia, Africa

      Puffy, grey, clouds hang in the early morning sky their cotton candy edges thickened by the rapidly approaching sun.  Out of the west, a maniacal Go Away bird announces the day - “CAW! CAW! CAW!”. It's just like the first three mornings in Namibia; cool and 50 degrees. The coffee is warm, and the rattle of hunting preparation rolls around my chalet'. I wonder, given the tough conditions, did I make a mistake, or come at the wrong time?  The provident ONE has left signs.  We are to remain steadfast and keep on hunting.  When the critters won’t come to you, well, you have to go to them.  But with all the eyeballs, snakes, and predators about, it seems to be an unlikely suggestion.  The chair creeks as I rock forward to set my pencil and pad down.   Wandering around the campfire, I nod at Will and throw my gear in the back of the Land Cruiser. I double check my bow, everything is there.  Let’s go whack something.

      My buddy Richard Dooley and I traveled to Namibia with Dries Visser Safari’s and arrived with a very American agenda. By "American" I mean, in a very timely manner within an acceptable amount of labor expense, we expected to our return on investment to include the standard critter punch list: Kudu, Gemsbok, Wildebeest, Zebra, Hartebeest and Warthog while taking into consideration the other 10 species offering opportunities to expand our experiential operational success.  That was the plan anyway……

      So we, got up early, wend all day, (if you’re a water hole hunter bring a pee bottle ~ ALL DAY can mean ALL DAY.  If you have any hyperactivity issues, sans your author, don't pick at the mortar or scratch paint off the blinds!).  But Africa gets you to slow down.  After a couple days you finally notice the Go Away bird flapping in the tree swiveling its parrot like head…..always on alert.  A Francolin hen darts by, six chicks in tow, and then there are the huge crickets.  The shadows sweep from the western side of plants to the east as you pursue your quarry. Different rocks hold your interest. Peacefully you go about your business.    

      The afternoon heat invites reptile’s front and center.  Richard almost stepped on a puff adder while tracking a Warthog.  The Warthog eventually charged him.  A nice howdy and hello in Africa!  The ranch owner actually hit a black mamba with his car.  It was 10 heel to heel steps long, my hunting boots are size 10 ½, you do the math.  The local guys just kind of shrug at these very deadly snakes and go on. Rounding it out there are predators.  You got to like those guys: Leopards, Cheetah’s and Brown Hyenas.  Then some time, some where, moseying through the bush or in a pit blind you see a Kudu bull.  You’ve seen pictures.  You've watched days of video, memorized shot placement, lost sleep…..but in real time, he’s awesome.  The double helix and striped shoulder, he is breathtaking and kind of melts through the brush inspiring your adrenal gland to pump you full of the shakes.  He is why you are here…. 

      Unfortunately, this year, Kudu are in short supply.  In a large part of Namibia the Kudu received a Circle of Life lesson in disease. Or as the bible puts it, dust unto dust. Last winter ran a month longer than normal.  So “the dry” as they call it, hung on too long.  Dry in this arid region means no food as the plants wait patiently for any appreciable rainfall.  Dry is great for waterhole hunting.  This drought was particularly hard on the Kudu.

But in early March the rains came, the plants greened up and everything was honky dory.   Then the Kudu got whacked again.   A peculiar disease known as Kudu rabies roared through much of Namibia showing a particular fondness for the bulls.  One of the ranches we hunted had to kill 70, yes mathematicians that’s 7 X 10, Kudu bulls. I saw the stacks of horns….sadly. The ranch is measured in square miles, so who knows how many just up and died out there on the ground?  One big bull, delirious with rabies, stumbled right up to the house 15 yards from the back porch.  Despite beautiful 50 inch horns, he was not going to make it.  The ranch owner had to shoot him right there, in the yard.  Weird stuff ~ nature.

      Finally, for the early season 2008 plains game hunter; the rain that started a month late, stuck around longer than normal. Late May is the classic beginning of safari season.  Usually, the area has not received rain for a month.  The plant life is dormant and leafless. Low food means low moisture, offering perfect water hole ambush hunting as you see on videos like Dries Visser’s Best of Africa.  But if there are leaves on the trees, you might need a different strategy.  The animals are so efficiently designed they get moisture from the plant life and don’t need water.  Trust me, once we realized this fact on day two, I picked up Mammals of South Africa in the lodge and looked for a water hungry species.  Nope, all can derive water from plants.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are some critters like Blesbuck and Warthogs, who keep a thirsty schedule. But everything else just eats their greens.  Just like momma taught them. 

      Fortunately, my PH, 25 year old Will Smith from Midland, Texas is six foot nine inches tall.  I just stood on his shoulders like a walking high rack so I could see better….ok, not really.  But, he had youth on his side and I am solar powered.  Plus the trip inspired sheer determination. So we changed the game plan on day three.  Will and I decided to walk and stalk from dawn until 3pm and then jump in a pit blind, pick out the thorns and see what happened. It is a very low percentage game, stalking, with a bow.  But hey, ALL DAY in the pit blind watching Go Away Birds and Francolin was going to put me in therapy. Now, stalking in waist high grass, around hatefully cat claw “wait a bit” bushes and acacia could put you in the hospital.  Pick your poison.  Your legs look like you lost a kick war with a weed eater and your shirts get trashed.  It is Africa’s way of making you move slowly. 

        From the beginning, when I booked my trip, it was one of my goals to get out and run around a bit. I got what I asked for.  Following our plan on day four we stalked all day and then went to Leopard Kopi.  Wouldn't you know it, but a gaggle of Black Wildebeest wandered in around 5 pm.  A wide bull caught a case of RAGE 2-blade fever for my first African kill.  We continued the same plan, chasing Kudu, Gemsbok, Blesbuck, Red Hartebeest, Blue Wildebeest, Zebra……and other random critters.  How cool is that?  We’d hit camp around 1:30, eat lunch, wipe up the blood and go to another pit blind.  It was cool to see the dirt. 

      For those of you out there reading this here article I would like to lumber up on a short soapbox and release some hot air in your general direction.  I am convinced that the stalking game has a built in mental disadvantage.  The disadvantage is from a picture we’ve all seen since childhood.  You know it, the one with an Indian in full head dress or maybe a deer head skin poised at full draw 10 yards from an unsuspecting deer or bear.  This situation, while easy to paint and imagine, very rarely happens to modern man.  The truth is, when you are on the ground, the animals have to make a major mistake.  Please release the idea that you will sneak up 10 or even 30 yards from an unsuspecting wild animal in most cases.  

       As you probably know, one of the animals always sees you, spooks the others and sometimes a bull with attention deficit runs up to you (mistake).  Or a curious animal walks toward you to investigate (mistake) or, even better, your quarry sees your buddy hunting in an Indian headdress and runs right up to you (major mistake). That is the kind of mistake you are looking for.  In Africa, you may be stalking Red Hartebeest and step on a warthog or a herd of unseen springbuck.  This makes for neat’o nature viewing and an appreciation for how fast the animals can run.  It is what I call Fun-nnoying. You have to hang in there and keep trying.  Wait for the animals to make a mistake and then take full advantage.  You won’t get many chances.  So shoot straight. 

      Its day five, Will, Ruan, and I are looking for walk and stalk candidates.  Earlier we chased some Zebra and a big Kudu bull.  The stalks went something like this:  Will or Troy sees a  Kudu, Will and Troy gesticulate in the direction of the Kudu, the Kudu looks back at Will and Troy rather apathetically, heart rate goes up, jump out of truck, see horns at 65 yards, kudu disappears like smoke. Go look for other animals. 

      We just kept saying, “Something has to make a mistake.”  On this day the mistake was the rut.  Just like Whitetail deer, Kudu rut for about a 2 month period and they are distracted heavily by the breeding opportunity.  The sun is hot overhead and I am out of breath after chasing a Kudu bull through a dry riverbed and 200 yards into an acacia flat. He disappeared, like the other times. Jumping into the back of the truck we chat quickly.   The plan is to climb one of the Kopi’s (granite hills) and look for a Zebra snoozing in the mid day heat.

       So, plan intact, we’re not really paying attention and bop around a corner where two Kudu bulls are circling each other like prize fighters.  Their necks look like gray barrels.  Will says,” Troy GET OUT OF THE TRUCK ~ NOW!"  I am dumbfounded as the two bull’s crash together in a war for unseen cows.  Again, much more urgently this time, Will says, "Troy, Get out of the truck NOW and whack one!  They're not paying attention!!!!”  His video rolls, dust flies, as the two 600 pound animals rearrange the plant life.  Deep grunting and rattling of horns, I feel the grass against my knees, and the adrenaline charged calmness felt in dangerous situations.  They disappear behind a huge bush and go by so close I can smell them.  The bulls break and slam together, trying to kill each other and move through a gap, I come to full draw, they spin around, no good.   

      Rocks are rolling around, I can feel their hooves digging into the ground, two hops and suddenly they are thirty yards away.  Realizing this is the opportunity of a lifetime I put on my big boy pants and rush up to the bulls. Dust, grunting, the clatter of hooves, a car door sized ribcage, 12 yards, no thought, green pin, the arrow disappears, he runs 30yards, and he is down.  The second bull comes back for more whacking on the dead bull.  

       Will runs by saying, “run that bull off, he’ll break the horns.”  Adrenaline takes over and I barely stumble up to the bull. I replay the moment and realize the needle in the haystack is down.  One of the rarest animals available this year in Namibia, is down.  Days of thorns, blown stalks, lost skin, shredded hopes, rabies, drought, rain, and kudu wandering off like smoke, finally; a major mistake.

Day 8, 5:42 am Namibia Africa