Eland are the biggest Antelope in the world and have huge body mass weighing in at up to one ton. I had initially been concerned whether I had enough Kinetic Energy, but Roger quickly assured me that I had enough. But it really came down to arrow weight and
the type of Broad Head used, and of course shot placement was critical. The gear that I was hunting with was a Mathews M7 set at 65lb with a 27inch draw. The arrows were FMJ 300 with either a 125 grn Striker or a 125 grn German kinetic. The 300s were an over kill for my poundage, but I wanted plenty of weight and they flew like darts with either BH. I ended up using the Striker, for no other reason than in the heat of the moment it was the first one out of my quiver.
Late on the fifth day found us in one of the many blinds that were strategically placed around the property. This particular one was positioned on the edge of a large clearing surrounded by Mopani trees over looking a water hole positioned approximately 23yards from the blind. These pit blinds are extremely well constructed. Firstly a pit the dimensions of the required blind is dug two to three feet into the ground .Then using mud bricks the sides are built up to the required height, this in turn supported the roof, and the whole structure was then covered by several feet of earth, making for a roomy, wonderfully cool interior that was impervious to the scorching temperatures outside. (Of course the PH was always sent in first to check for snakes). We had seen an enormous amount of game coming into the water hole during the day. Kudu, Red Hartebeest, Oryx, Giraffe and the ever comical Warthogs were well represented. With all this game coming in, it’s damn hard not to relent and put something on the ground, but I was hanging out for the animal that I most wanted.
I was half asleep when I heard Roger whisper the magic word “Eland”. Following the direction that Roger was looking, I immediately got a serious case of the shakes. An Eland Bull had some how slipped to within 50 yards of us without detection, and was standing there without a flicker of movement.
Nothing had prepared me for the sheer size of him. He was majestic. Standing 1.80 centimeters (6ft) at the shoulder with huge body mass, with the bluish coloring around his neck and shoulders that is always evident in the fully mature bulls,. His dewlap was hanging down near his knees and a large tuft of bristles prominent on his forehead. Roger was studying him through the bino’s. He then leaned over and whispered that “he was as big as they get”. “A real Dugga Boy”, to use the colloquial term that applied to old Cape Buffalo Bulls.
He was standing on the edge of the clearing under a canopy of some small Mopani trees, with the late sun filtering down creating a mottled effect over his tan colored body. It was incredible how he merged into the back ground. I marveled how he became almost invisible while standing there for twenty five minutes with out moving a muscle. It wasn’t until a small herd of Eland cows moved into the water hole, that he decided to merge in with them, trying to adopt the safety in numbers routine, but due to his size, he stuck out like the proverbial sore toe as he towered above the cows, which only seemed to emphasize his sheer height and bulk.
I was in a high state of excitement as I prepared myself for a shot. Many minutes went by while he drank his fill standing directly front on. This however gave me time to get my nerves under control while I studied the monster. Finally he finished his drinking marathon, turned and walked away a few paces. He then turned broadside, presenting a perfect shot at thirty yards. It was now or never, the shot was gone almost without any conscious effort. It felt good but looked a little high with good penetration. He bolted for a short distance, and then quietly walked away; giving every indication that he was hard hit. After a short discussion, we decided to leave him as it was quickly getting dark, with the intention of returning at dawn the next day. We were concerned that if we followed up too soon we could bump him up and lose him in the fading light. Over a much needed drink that evening, we reviewed the film footage and were both stunned to see that the bull had ducked the string by six inches, thus causing the high shot placement. I had no idea that such a huge animal could react so fast.
Early next morning Roger sent out a tracker to climb a nearby kopjes (small granite boulder hill) to glass the area, with the understanding that he was to radio us if he spotted the Eland. Roger and I started following the trail behind one of his top trackers. We had only covered a hundred yards when the first tracker came running back, and breathlessly told us that he had found him. He was so excited that he had forgotten all about using the radio.
The Eland had not gone far, and was probably dead before we even got into the vehicle to return back to camp the night before. To say that I was ecstatic would have been the understatement of the year. Three years I had waited for this, finally all my planning and preparation had paid off. He was everything I wanted in an Eland bull. However he was not going to make any record books, as his horns had been badly rubbed down due to his advanced age, a small price to pay for the trophy of a life time. Several Ph’s who saw the film footage, (when they could stop drooling over him) put him at the quite magnificent age of 14-15yrs. His estimated weight was between 900-1000kg (approx one ton). Roger later told me that there had only previously been four large Eland Bulls taken off Vieranas, and mine was the fifth, with the assurance that he was by far the largest.
While we were admiring and photographing him, Roger told me that he had seen this particular Eland on one other occasion during the previous year. This happened to be just a few days before a film crew arrived from America to cover a hunt for a “well known” American bow hunter. This hunter particularly wanted an Eland hunt on film. Roger and his trackers tried in vain to find the monster, but they had to settle for a lesser trophy for the hunter to claim. The hunt was dually completed and regarded as a huge success, with every one well satisfied with the resulting film footage.
While I was standing there admiring him I reflected back on how fate can play its hand. I did not feel sorry in the least that they had not got him. He was mine now, and would forever be one of my greatest hunting triumphs. Thanks Roger. Thanks Namibia.
Ray Scott ( Dream Rider)
New Zealand 
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