Excitedly, I crouched down to examine the tracks more closely and the thought that they resembled the spoor of a gigantic Brahman bull fleetingly crossed my mind. But there were neither cattle nor interior fences on this huge hunting ranch on the border of the Etosha Game Park in Namibia. This was a dinkum eland; the enormous eland bull that I had been dreaming of for years. And the tracks were fresh.

From the ground alongside the path Katiti scraped a handful of dried leaves and scattered them above his head. The little wind that was perceptible was in our favor. The Damara pointed a forefinger to the path and got under way again, his eyes glued to the ground.

I followed and instinctively checked my equipment; a PSE Tazman bow set at 70 pounds and four PSE Carbon Hunter 400 arrows with Rocky Mountain Titanium 100 broadheads. Since obtaining and using this equipment in 1998, I had accounted for kudu, gemsbok, hartebeest, springbok, warthog, smaller game and predators, as well as a solitary leopard. But despite a number of attempts I had not yet bagged an eland, the largest antelope in Africa, weighing up to 2 000 pounds.

After 15 minutes on the spoor, Katiti halted abruptly, raised a forefinger and turned his head. I listened as well as I could, but all I could hear was the metallic call of a guinea fowl and the cackle of a red-billed francolin. I looked enquiringly at the tracker, but before I could whisper a question to him he placed a forefinger against closed lips. We stood motionless for a full minute, after which the Damara smiled. Only then could I hear the distinctive clicking sounds made by the leg tendons of a walking eland.

Feeling my excitement mount, I gestured to Katiti to proceed slowly and, from sheer habit, shifted the bow to my left hand. The Damara moved forward and I followed, carefully, silently. I was also worried, because the sun had disappeared behind the treetops and the undergrowth flanking the game trail was becoming denser.

After a hundred paces Katiti stopped once again, pointed to the ground and made a half-moon movement with his head to indicate that the eland bull had left the path to the left. Then he touched his nose and sniffed audibly, indicating that he could scent the animal. Knowing Katiti's tracking abilities, which on occasion were short of miraculous, I smiled and nodded.

His face was serious, however, as the ensuing tracking would have to take place in grass, dead wood, shrubs and thorn-covered terrain. After a dozen paces in the tangled undergrowth, it was clear that we would not find the bull by tracking it. I felt my hope sinking into my boots and a feeling of emptiness settled in my stomach.

But then, like a hymn from heaven, the clicking of the eland's tendons sounded clearly, slowly, and closely, indicating firstly, that he was probably still browsing and secondly, that he was not aware of our presence. Katiti motioned me to take the lead and, very slowly, I carefully wriggled around him and moved in the direction he indicated.
I progressed two, three steps at a time, becoming aware of the sweat on my brow and under my armpits and a sudden dryness in my throat. Katiti had his hand on my right shoulder, steering me on a true course. How long before the animal would spot or wind us? There was a bitter worry gnawing at my innards.

Then -- charity and mercy! The veldt started opening up and I felt the ground sloping away from me. A new eagerness gripped me and I moved forward, but was restrained by my tracker's fingers biting into my shoulder. 

I turned my head and saw Katiti's dark eyes staring past me. I turned back, following his gaze and felt my body stiffen with the shock of seeing a monster eland bull in a silent hollow 50 metres away.
Instinctively I crouched and fleetingly wondered why I had not seen the animal the first time I had noticed the hollow. 

Quite calm now that I had sighted him, I peered through the leaves of the 'rosyntjiebos' (brandy bush) behind which I was squatting. I was obviously too far from my quarry for a sure shot, but 20 metres from me, nearly in line with the bull, was a larger 'rosyntjiebos' that would provide cover if I could reach it unnoticed. I pointed at the bush and Katiti nodded.

Slowly and awkwardly I crawled sharply to the left through the remaining underbrush, making certain to keep the PSE clear of sticks, thorns and branches. At long last I had the big ?rosyntjiebos? between the eland bull and me and I sat down to regain my composure. But then it struck me! The light was fading fast and there was no time for resting.

Carefully I moved towards the bush in an acute (and highly uncomfortable) stooping position. Three paces short, I saw the huge bull move out from behind the cover of the foliage. Exhaling slowly I nocked an arrow and stood up straight -- very, very slowly. The animal had not seen me and was walking slowly, heading for the thicket on the other side of the hollow. 

I knew that within 20 seconds I would lose him. Without hesitation I whistled loudly and the bull stopped and looked around.

I don't remember drawing or releasing or hearing the twang of the string. I saw the arrow strike and disappear three-quarters of its length in the lung area of the giant. 

For a moment he seemed to shudder. Then he lowered his head a little and resumed walking towards the thicket while I nocked another arrow. But then he turned somewhat and I knew that a shot from the rear would have little effect. He seemed to falter and even stagger slightly before disappearing into the mopanes.

The rest of the story is, unfortunately, anticlimactic. I waved to Katiti who came running and together we followed the tracks to the thicket. Due to the failing light it would have been useless to wait before following the wounded bull as tracking would not have been possible in the approaching darkness. 

Judging from the behavior of the eland it had been a very good hit. A spatter of bright red bubbly blood at the edge of the clearing confirmed that at least one lung had been struck.

But as we entered the undergrowth my heart sank. We were confronted by impenetrable thickets of tamboti, mopane, 'deurmekaarbos' (puzzle bush) and thick matted 'sekelbos' (sickle bush), which allowed little light to filter through and made tracking impossible. 

Katiti tried his best; he unsuccessfully tried to climb a young tree and even attempted crawling, but immediately became tangled in the mess and had to back out. An evening wind had sprung up and we decided to head back to camp. 

There was nothing else we could do but wonder how the giant bull had managed to penetrate this veritable jungle.

Somehow the Damara found the game track in near-darkness and dragged a branch across the trail. After 30 minutes we reached the Cruiser and drank all the water that was available. Half-an-hour later we had reached our camp, where we applied heavy first-aid to our scratches, cuts, bruises and pains and strains before enjoying a 'dop' and 'potjie' (food and drink).

At sunrise the following morning we were back at the game track, accompanied by two resident Bushman trackers and three short Heikum game guards bearing pickaxes, spades, pangas, knives, a saw and water bags. In the bright sunlight the three highly skilled trackers found my eland within half-an-hour, a hundred metres from where he had been hit. 

He was lying in a clearing near an old wild fig tree, lifeless and at peace. Even in death he was still a great and majestic animal.

As after every hunt, I felt an involuntary twinge of remorse. I was certain that I would never obtain a better trophy than this noble animal. And I decided that this would be the last eland I would take with a bow.

Pieter Delport can be contacted at +264-62-570-353 or +26-81-127-3832 or eintrach@iway.na

For more African bowhunting adventures: www.africanbowhunter.com

Reprinted from AFRICA'S BOWHUNTER Magazine