Africa's common Duiker is the buck on which many hunters cut their teeth. I am certainly no exception to this, either as a rifle hunter at the age of 10, or as a bowhunter 25 years later. As a first for me on both occasions, the Duiker has a special place in my heart, but this does not by any means make it easy prey. These little animals have a small vital area and are the most cunning arrow dodgers, jumping out of the way so gracefully that it almost seems as if they don't move, while your arrow appears way off target.

 Before achieving success as a bowhunter, I had many attempts on this little animal before the bow gods smiled on me. One time I drew on a Duiker that appeared not to have noticed me. As I released my bow he looked up and focused on my arrow as it shot towards him in what looked like a certain kill. At the moment fate was to deal its blow the Duiker simply crouched onto its belly and the arrow sailed over his head, leaving me unbelieving and most disgusted, to say the least. How could I miss a 25-yard shot over which I had full control? The Duiker had not given a sudden "string jump", which buck usually display in a moment of panic. Instead, he had reacted like a professional boxer, seeing the supposedly knock-out punch a mile away, and reacting accordingly.

Refusing to be deterred by this lesson, I prepared for my next weekend encounter. Late on the Friday night I decided to call at the local café for cool drinks and a few other odds and ends. While browsing through the magazine rack something caught my eye (much as the Duiker had done the previous week when he dodged my arrow). The Africa's Bowhunter magazine was on the shelf. I had never seen or heard of the publication before and bowhunting was new in the Eastern Cape. This was to be a good omen! I immediately bought the magazine and went home to read it. It was like "carbo-loading" before the Comrades marathon.

The next morning we set off for the bush. Being September, we left about one-and-a-half hours before first light. By 8 o'clock it is already very hot and too difficult to hunt. My friend's farm is 15 minutes away from my home so we were in the bush about an hour before sunrise. As I walked, still wiping the sleep out of my eyes, a Duiker ran up and stood in front of me. This time the buck was interested in the bowhunter stalking to my left and was not aware of me. Because he was fairly far away from me, I almost decided to pass up the shot. But after all the "carbo-loading" and my previous attempts to kill my first bowhunted animal, I could not resist having a go. I released and watched my arrow in flight. I have never intended to shoot further than forty yards and have never done so again since. Fortunately, I had had some practice at that distance. The arrow bounced beyond the buck, and he, just as calmly as the others had done, trotted off and disappeared behind the thick canopy bush nearby.

You can imagine my thoughts. I am sure if I could have seen my own face, I would have burst out laughing! I waited a while and then decided to carry on walking and return later. The event continued to play over and over in my mind.

About an hour later I returned to the spot where I had last seen the animal. I saw tracks where he had stood, but no blood! Bowhunting, I thought, is a load of frustration. Many other strong adjectives went through my mind but I managed to refrain from saying them out loud.
I decided to follow the spoor to where the buck had disappeared beneath the canopy bush line. I noticed two drops of blood, which appeared as two huge pools. I found an orange nock in the next pool of blood. By now I was on all fours, creeping along the dense undergrowth. The nock must have dislodged as the arrow exited and touched the ground behind the buck at the same time.

I was given the "run around" a little longer, following a good blood spoor until the Duiker suddenly jumped up in front of me before I even knew he was there. I never knew these small animals had so much blood. No buck I had shot with a rifle had ever bled so much.
Eventually, I engaged the help of a dog and along with his handler, I found my buck lying stone dead in the thick bush, about two-and-a-half hours after I had first shot him. If it were not for the dog I might never have found the animal. He had been shot well, but I discovered then that their vitals are smaller than I believed. The arrow had passed through the liver, which explained why he had bled so much without expiring sooner.

Every animal I have shot and tracked since then has been a new experience for me. You can never know all there is to know. Experience is part of the equipment you carry, but it has no extra weight. Yet you use it more than any other item in your pack.

 As my first, this little buck will remain special to me and as reward it will score number 2 SCI Bowhunter, if entered one day (15 5/8").

For more info go to: www.africanbowhunter.com

Reprinted from AFRICA'S BOWHUNTER Magazine