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PART TWO: African Bowhunt
with Dave Cole
July 17, 2003 Hunt Day #3:
Today's hunt took us to the "python" hide. Not sure how it got
it's name and didn't want to know. It was an old-fashioned pit blind
that reminded me of the antelope blinds we used to build out West.
Boyd shot his big kudu here on day one and saw a myriad of different game
including blue wildebeest, giant impala and ostrich. The python hide was
also known to have a few zebra frequenting the premises in the late afternoon.
I was hunting today with a PH named Everett. He is a local Namibian fellow
who raises livestock on a farm a few hours away. The morning's hunt
started off slow but as the heat picked up, so did the action.
A large group of thirty plus impala worked their way to water.
This herd included four smaller rams and one huge alpha male. Everett
estimated him to be over twenty-five inches. Again, as bowhunting usually
goes, the trophy ram watered in the only blind spot that was impossible
to get an arrow through.
To add insult to injury, instead of licking salt like the other impala,
he casually strolled back out. Again, offering no shot. Oh
well, that's bowhunting! The rest of the morning was filled watching the
various "gangs" of wart hogs drink and roll in the mud. These studly
little pigs sport an attitude like they own the place and could care less
what anybody thinks about them. It's humorous to watch them trot
around with their hair bristled up doing the warthog swagger: tail up,
chest puffed out, tusks raised high and nobody even think about getting
in my way! They kept us entertained until mid afternoon; that's when
the really big critters came.
At 3:30 pm, Everett calmly declared, "Dave, there's some elephants coming
through the bush."
A group of four elephants stood in the brush fifty yards away.
I was amazed at how well they blend into the natural surroundings.
Standing motionless, they almost seem to disappear into the gray scrub
brush.
Except for an occasional earflap or twitch of a trunk, they evaporated
into the background. At Ombengu, hunters are discouraged from trailing
wounded game into the bush without the aid of trackers and backup, mainly
because of the present of elephants. They are unpredictable and often
times cantankerous. I turned on the video camera and began recording
as the band of elephants fed closer.
The lead elephant was a scant twenty yards away when it dawned on me
that we were sitting in a wimpy little ground blind with only a tarp and
camo netting for protection. Everett had already uncased his "backup"
rifle and was leaning calmly against the side of the blind.
At less than ten yards, a mammoth bull elephant stepped out of the bush
and stared straight into the blind. His ears flared out and he looked
like he had two Volkswagen Beetles attached to the side of his head.
He checked the wind, sweeping his trunk from side to side, then cautiously
walked to within five yards of the blind!
A scrubby thorn bush was the only thing between him and us. It's
a little intimidating "looking up" at a wild bull elephant from a mere
three steps away! My knees literally began to shake. Where's
that indoor plumbing when you need it? The bull stood there towering
over us for what seemed like an eternity. Finally the rest of the
group arrived and they all began to drink.
I was still rolling film from the back of the blind when Everett slyly
suggested, "Slide up there to the shooting window where you can see better.?
"Yeah right, you're the one holding the gun!' I thought. For twenty
minutes they sprayed water into their mouths and onto their backs.
It was quite a sight! If I had come to Africa just to see this, it
would have been well worth the price of admission!
The sun was fading fast in the red African sky as we sat silent hoping
to get a glimpse of an elusive zebra. Suddenly Everett alerted me of approaching
game, "Dave, get ready! Here comes a wildebeest.?
His announcement caught me totally off guard. I really didn't
expect to shoot a wildebeest; I was in zebra mode. Besides, a blue
wildebeest was down the "wish list" and I figured that if I actually saw
one, well maybe then I could decide whether or not to take it. This
big blue bull was on an Olympic pace straight to the waterhole and I had
to make an executive decision, quick!
Everett actually made up my mind for me, "It's a trophy bull,
Dave. You had better take him." When Everett gets excited and tells you
to shoot, you know it's an animal worth taking.
The lone wildebeest bull was making a rapid beeline to water with no
hesitation whatsoever and Everett whispered, "Wildebeest often water quickly
and then turn and walk back out, so take the first decent shot."
The big bull stood drinking at an angle quartering slightly toward me.
His front leg slid forward so I decided to shoot. Everett had the
camcorder running as the Easton Carbon Evolution struck home. It
penetrated deep and slammed into the opposite shoulder.
The bull lunged forward and dove through the middle of the waterhole
and bolted one hundred yards before stacking up in a tangle of deadfall.
We heard the loud crash and immediately started to "high five." I
think Everett was more excited than I was! We followed the copious
blood trail directly to him.
"Man, these things are huge." I thought, as we walked up to him.
He reminded me of one of those Mexican fighting bulls--thick and stocky
and built for power. I was also impressed by its' light, bluish-gray
coat and the dark zebra-like accent stripes.
Everett felt this old
"dagga bull" was an old herd bull that was recently pushed out of the group.
His massive bosses were well worn and pitted from years of battling rival
bulls and predators.
Everett stated this bull was the largest wildebeest taken by any of
his hunters--gun or bow. The evening meal was filled with vivid hunting
stories and instant replay of the day's video action. Man,
what a day!
July 17, 2003 - Hunt Day #4:
The crafty Burchell's zebra was the next animal on my "preferred trophy
wish list." Yesterday, one of the hunters saw a herd of zebra at the jackal
stand but didn't get a shot off.
I asked Mushie, "Where is the closest water to jackal?"
He said that "Kim's Stand" was the next closest waterhole and it had
zebra sightings occasionally. I hoped with all of yesterday's activity
around jackal blind, the zebras might travel to a nearby waterhole and
I wanted to be there.
Like a Vegas odds maker, Mushie gave me the dim reality of zebra hunting.
He explained that zebras are the most difficult animals to shoot with a
bow and arrow as they are extremely flighty around water and usually come
in just at dark. He figured that only 1 in 5 hunters get an opportunity
to shoot at the elusive striped zebra. Hum? Maybe I had better
skip ahead to the next animal.
Kim's stand is a well-concealed tree stand with a spacious carpeted
platform floor and huge leafy branches convenient for hanging bow hooks.
It overlooks an active water seep with a sundry of wildlife appearing throughout
the day.
The rusty red hartebeest was the first visitor of the morning.
A small group of cows and calves watered early followed by a respectable
bull. The hartebeest is a gangly looking beast with its reverse 90
degree angled horns and long skinny face. They almost looked disfigured
and out of proportion. This bull gave me ample shooting opportunity
but I passed. Yesterday's unexpected wildebeest adventure nudged
my trophy fee budget near the salary cap so I figured I'd better stick
to the original wish list.
Today was like an episode out of Wild Kingdom. There was such a variety
of game. Just at daybreak, hundreds of elegant white doves flocked
to water. Their angelic arrival was absolutely breathtaking.
The ever-present guinea fowl camped on the water most of the day.
These jittery little fowl are more flighty than any string jumping antelope
I've ever seen. For no apparent reason, they'll spook and scatter
in all directions leaving a cloud of dust lingering in the air. Slowly
but surely, they work their way back to the water just to spook themselves
out again. Strange. I nicknamed them the do-do birds.
The grouse-sized Franklin quail, the iridescent blue starling, the parrot-like
macaw and the crimson-breasted shrike all added a splash of color to the
parched landscape. Africa is indeed a bird watchers paradise.
I spent most of the day behind the video camera in between playing a
game of cat and mouse with a twenty-four inch impala. Every time
I set up for a shot, the fidgety ram would go bounding off like a ping-pong
ball gone wild. The range was less than thirty yards but I could
never catch him settled down and calm. Frustrating.
This went on most of the afternoon until an hour before dark.
Time was drawing nigh to zebra-thirty so I gave up on the impala quest
and settled in for a quiet zebra vigil until dark.
The clamoring of horse-like hooves alerted me to the rapid arrival of
zebras. They approached from behind and I could see black and white
stripes flashing past the tiny peephole in the back of the blind.
Seconds later, the whole herd was milling directly beneath my tree stand.
I held my breath, not wanting to exhale for fear of spooking the herd.
Fortunately, I had my bow ready. A large bodied zebra waded warily
into the mud and began drinking out of a hoof print. Suddenly, it's
head jerked up and it took a couple of hasty steps then stood alert peering
into the bush.
My arrow was already on its way. Like a Wild West stampede, the
zebra herd crashed into the bush. A few stragglers lingered underneath
my hide, unsure of the commotion. It would be dark in fifteen minutes
so I radioed Mushie and climbed down the wooden ladder to inspect the scene.
There was a good blood trail despite the fact that my shot was farther
back than I wanted. "Hopefully caught the liver and opposite lung,"
I surmised.
Mushie and the trackers arrived after dark and we took to the trail.
Approximately a hundred yards into the tracking job, we heard the dog-like
barking of zebras. The trackers felt the zebra was hit hard and it
couldn't keep up with the herd, as the other zebra were reluctant to leave
the area. Zebras have such a strong herding instinct that they will
not leave an injured comrade. We bumped the herd and they ran a couple
of hundred yards and stopped. We trailed slowly and jumped them again.
This happened three times and we finally gave up; not wanting to push them
totally out of the country.
With flashlights, we backtracked and scoured the brush hoping to find
a downed zebra but no such luck. I was sick and disgusted.
Every bowhunter with any experience knows the gnawing, crappy feeling of
uncertainty when faced with leaving an animal overnight, especially in
Africa. Earlier in the week, one of the hunters hit a springbok right
at dusk and they found it two hours later completely eaten. I rational
ized, "Hopefully, we will find the zebra early tomorrow and maybe with
a little luck; the herd will keep the predators away and it will still
be in one piece." I wasn't too thrilled with myself or with the idea
of paying a hefty trophy fee for hooves.
July 18, 2003 - Hunt Day # 5:
I had a very sleepless night. My mind kept replaying the shot
and recycling thoughts of bumping the herd numerous times in the dark,
would we be able to find the zebra, has it been eaten by predators?
All of this kept me tossing and turning. Morning came none to soon
and we were on the track by 7:00am. We picked up the trail where
we left off the night before and followed zebra spoor into the next valley.
The blood trail ran dry so the eight of us split up and made a huge sweep
through the valley.
At 8:30 am, I was startled by a loud African howl echoing through the
valley. Mushie returned the call. I was about two hundred yards away
when I caught up to Mushie and asked, "What was that all about?"
He told me, "Everett has just found your zebra!"
Hot-diggity-dog! What a thrill! I can't even describe the
relief it was to find that beautiful zebra and see that it was still intact.
The predators had also just found it but hardly any of the hide or meat
was touched.
This was my ultimate
African dream -- to take a wild zebra with a bow and arrow!
That afternoon, I returned to Kim's stand for a rematch with the ping-pong
impala. Very few impala watered this afternoon so I spent most of
the time filming a droopy horned gemsbok. Twenty minutes before dark,
a fine looking impala appeared. He was not the ping-pong ram but
again the bird in the hand theory overcame me. The range to the edge
of the water was twenty-four yards. I held my twenty-yard pin at
mid body. Crack! The 456 grain arrow, tipped with a Thunderhead
Pro Series broadhead, knocked the impala off its? feet. To my amazement,
the ram jumped up and scampered sixty yards up a small rise. Light
was fading fast so I quickly climbed down and took up the trail.
I found the ram lying in some tall grass.
Recovering the majestic zebra earlier today, then following it up with
a mature impala ram made for an awesome ending to a remarkable day!
The pictures truly sum up my feelings today.
To Part One Of The Hunt |
