Dark Continent - Part III

Namibia

Roger met me at the Windhoek airport. As soon as I started talking to him I knew I had met someone special. The long 6 hr drive from Windhoek to Vieranas was an enjoyable experience. We used the time getting to know each other, and spent hours talking about all things archery, interspersed with Roger pointing out many different animals that were seen on the side of the road. These included Warthog, Jackal and whole troops of Baboons.  There were many road signs warning about roaming Kudu, but we did not see any at that time. The country was mainly flat, to rolling, with many rocky hills and out crops called kopjes. As we headed further north these kopjes became more evident. The soil consisted of a type of sand and mostly made up of quartz. The Kopjes consisted of granite boulders, some the size of double decker buses. If I had thought South Africa was hot, it did not have a patch on Namibia, it was so dry.  What grass there was actually broke and crumbled to the touch Being in the Kalahari semi desert the day temps were uncomfortably hot, and the evening temps would sometimes drop to freezing. While I was there, the temp soared to 38 degrees in the shade with only 5% humidity, and this was only early spring. Not for me the 40+ degree temps experienced in summer.

We arrived at Vieranas early evening where Amelia had a delicious dinner ready for us. Later that evening having a good look around, I found that the main camp was very well appointed, with a two bedroom bungalow which I had all to myself. It was a wonderfully cool place where over the next ten days I thoroughly enjoyed staying. The rest of the camp, although not as palatial as Buchholz in South Africa was wonderfully relaxing, and reflected the smaller operation that Roger and Amelia preferred to run.

Talking with them both till late that night, I asked Roger about his operation. He confirmed what I already had suspected, that they were only in a small way, although he has huge hunting area’s he only likes to have one group at a time. Preferring the one or two hunter bookings, this means he can give a better personal service to his clients. Over the years they had been approached by some of the well known American out fitters to give them exclusive hunting rights for their own clients. This is a common practice in South Africa. But he and Amelia did not want to lose their “hands on” identity, so they declined the offer preferring to run it themselves. 

He then went on to talk about the types of game that is most commonly hunted here. With out doubt the Kudu is the most sought after animal, and to get a 50+ inch bull is the ultimate achievement. The next animal that runs a very close second is the Oryx or Gemsbok, these desert dwellers are a superbly attractive animal with their clown like faces, and their long swept back horns. They are a very difficult animal to hunt as they don’t have to come into water very often. The animal however that Roger rated as one of the most difficult to hunt, and his personal favourite is the Mountain Zebra. He told me that they are incredibly intelligent and one of the most wary. These animals are not to be confused with the Burchells Zebra found in the plains of South Africa, and further north. The mountain Zebra or Hartmann’s Zebra, is found mostly in the western regions of Namibia and Angola and is regarded as a much tougher customer than the Burchells. Rodger went on to talk about the Red Hartebeest, the Eland and Springbuck and many more. Finally I went to bed with my head full of exotic animals; I had difficulty sleeping that night. !!!

We had decided to take it easy the next morning, intending to go out for a late afternoon hunt. This gave me a chance to catch up on some much needed practice, and a bit of TLC to my gear. Roger also grabbed the chance, to show me some bush men cave paintings. No one knows how old these paintings are but, Roger and Amelia have a copy of some of those paintings as part of their Vieranas logo, and they are very proud of them.

After a nice lunch and a light snooze, we headed out to a blind that Roger had situated between a series of kopjes, and out side the fenced area. We only had about a ½ an hour of remaining light, when in ghosts the Kudu of my dreams. I had heard of them being referred to as the grey ghost of the desert, I can understand why. He never made a sound as he crept up to the water hole.  Roger took one look at him and calmly gave me the nod. This is it; this is what I had come to Africa for. All the dreams that I have had over the past few years was standing right there in front of me, he was magnificent, he was  huge, far bigger than I had ever imagined, and he was mine for the taking if I could control myself. My knees were knocking, my heart was pounding. I fought long and hard to try and bring myself under control. The shot was true a high lung, blood was evident immediately and I knew he was mine. After a lot of back slapping and allowing for the shock to wear off, I sat down and tried to get a grip of myself, such was the emotion that I was experiencing.

Kudu bull was so large, that the only way the three of us could get him on the truck was to winch him on.  His horns later measured 51 inches and his body weight was at least 700 lbs, a great trophy. What a way to start my Vieranas hunt.  Although we saw many more Kudu’s over the next 9 days, we never saw another one quite as majestic as him.

Over the next few days we saw an incredible number and variety of animals, there was hardly a time when we weren’t being entertained.  Wart Hogs, to me were the most entertaining. They would come into a water hole and immediately start a scrap with each other making a fearful noise. After  settling down and drinking their fill, they would then proceed to climb into the water hole, and have a great time wallowing and arguing over who had rightful ownership to it. Then with out warning, would trot off with their pathetically scrawny tails held high. They would remind me of a line of dune buggy’s tearing through the under growth with their flags up.

The stately Giraffe was another animal I could watch all day; they were there on Vieranas in large numbers. Roger asked me, over an evening meal if I would like to shoot one, as he needed to get the numbers down. I told him that Jan had given me strict instructions not to even think of shooting one. At that Amelia started to laugh, she then went on to tell me that almost all the American hunters that come to hunt on Vieranas, had been given the same instructions by their wives. Apparently women have a soft spot for those magnificent animals, and after spending many happy hours watching them, I can empathise with them.

One of the animals that are common to the area is the Baboon. I was soon to learn that both Roger and Amelia had an on going intense dislike for these very destructive animals. Underground pipes were often getting dug up, chewed through, and whole reservoirs getting drained of their precious contents. Resulting in days of labour to repair the damage, tank lids were often found many hundreds of yards away, chewed up and useless. Roger has recently been experimenting with camouflaged, still cameras, to assist with herd movements and numbers. When discovered these are an endless source of amusement for the Baboons, resulting in countless numbers of photographs of huge open mouths, and enormous teeth. Not to mention the damage they do to the camera’s outer casings. The blinds also had to be carefully closed up when we left, so they could not get inside to trash the place. I immediately thought of some of our more destructive youth elements in some of our larger towns and cities!!!, Maybe it’s the constant turning of the wheel of evolution.

It was on the third day at Vieranas, and during the heat of the day that we were in a blind half asleep, when an enormous WOOOF, had us both on our feet. What the hell was that I asked? Wondering at the same time If I would have to change my under wear. Roger said that was a large dominant male Baboon, and that he was probably coming in to drink. Sure enough the huge male came and promptly sat down at the water hole. Shoot the bugger Roger demanded, I looked at the Baboon, then looked at Roger, looked back at the Baboon and said, sorry Roger he looks too much like a little man, I can’t do it. Now as luck would have it Roger had bought his bow, so with out further ado he drew and fired. He had hurried the shot and the arrow just slipped harmlessly by. The Baboon let out a mighty roar, and scorched the ground in his haste to depart the immediate vicinity.

A few minutes later Roger went out to try and find the arrow. As soon as he emerged from the blind he was greeted by a wave of obscene verbal abuse. It appeared that the alarmed roar of the dominant male had attracted the attention of several troops of baboons that happened to be in the area at the same time. There were over thirty of the brutes, all cavorting around the tops of two adjoining kopjes, kicking up a fearful racket. It put me in mind of a Roman Amphitheatre, and the unfortunate Roger was the centre of attention. He prudently decided retreat was the beater part of valour, and dived back into the blind,  muttering something about installing an anti air craft gun. They really were a frightening spectacle. While we sat and watched them working them selves into a frenzy, the thought flashed through my mind, that the English football hooligans had nothing on this lot.

That put paid to the rest of the days hunting so it was back to the bar for a much needed soft drink. The Baboons had however not finished with us. The next day we were in another blind in a different area, when some how another male Baboon got wind of us, and proceeded to scream his discovery to the rest of the world for the next hour, ruining another morning’s hunt. It was about this time I was starting to have some sympathy towards Roger’s intense dislike for these aggravating animals. In fact I let it be known to Roger, if another one walks in front of me, I would shoot it with out hesitation. It was now taking on the appearance of a tyrant rather than a little man, but as luck would have it I never saw another one.

The Red Hartebeest was another animal that I wanted to get very badly. They are a medium –large animal with high shoulders and a sloping back. Both sexes have horns, but the bulls have the larger, the shape of their horns is very unusual with an S shape to them with plenty of mass at the base. They also have a long face with a high forehead. We had seen a few come in, but Roger and I both agreed that I should hold out for an old bull with plenty of mass to its base. It was about the fourth day when it was my turn to relax in the chair, and I was reading a good book, (we took it in turns to keep a watch). Roger gave me a nudge and said that there was a huge old bull coming in, and he was one of the best he had seen. Well there was no beg your pardons with this fellow, he just came straight up to the water, and started to drink. The problem was he was surrounded by his girls; there was no way for me to get a shot. A couple of times he presented a shot but there always seemed to be others behind him, I could have taken a shot, but if I got a pass through the arrow may have gone on to hit another one. Any where in Africa draw blood and you pay. Besides I did not want to run the risk of wounding anything, so I waited. Now the trouble with red hartebeest is once one decides to go, they all go, I was aware of this and was getting real twitchy, then almost en mass they all turned and headed off. My heart sunk as this fellow even had Roger on the edge of his seat. Inexplicably, the old boy came back for another last mouth full. That was his last mistake; as he only ran for 6 seconds then fell over within sight, with an arrow through his heart. Roger was probably more ecstatic than I was. He knew the true potential of him as a trophy. It was drinks all around at the bar that night, quite a few in fact.

As the days passed, we noticed a dramatic drop off in animal numbers, and those, that we had been seeing during the day was now coming in much later and in smaller numbers. It was a classic case of the increasing brightness of the moon. We found that from half moon onwards, it played a bigger role in the animal movements. I had always known the effect of the moon on animal movements, and being a fisherman, I also know the role it plays in the fish movements. But I had never had it so graphically proven to me as in Africa, for as the moon became more dominant, the animals changed to feeding and drinking at night. We would often arrive in the morning, to find a large number of tracks of animals that had been in most of the night, then choosing to bed down in cover during the day. We changed our hunting patterns to earlier in the morning and later in the evening, staying back at camp through the heat of the day. But it was often very frustrating to see a nice herd of animals only just starting to come in late afternoon, and through their natural caution arriving just as it was to dark to shoot.

On my last day I still had not got a Gemsbok. We had seen a few nice ones, but for various reasons I had not got a shot in. I remembered that on the second day I was there, a huge cow came in. Now cow horns were often longer than a bull’s, but had a little less mass to them. However as the horns are measured by length only, they are consequently very popular with the hunters, and the record books have a high percentage of large female horns in them. In fact it is very difficult to tell the sex difference with the old mature trophies that is often seen adorning the main camp trophy walls. We estimated this cow to have horns in excess of a whopping 42inches. I looked pleadingly at Roger who shook his head. He explained later that she looked pregnant, so, fair enough she was a non shooter. Another time a few days later, we saw a big bull come in with big dark sweeping horns, a really tremendous trophy, but the whole time he was there he remained quartering towards me. Once again no shot was taken.

On the last day I was starting to believe that I would be going home with out a Gemsbok, as they don’t have to come in for water very often, and even less so on a full moon. We were very surprised when we saw a huge lone bull heading in for water in the mid afternoon, he hung up at about 120yrds out, and from that point on he took one and a half hours before he moved in. Our nerves were all shot to pieces, and to make matters worse, when he did get in close, he kept moving about. He would just not settle. In the end Roger said in a strained whisper. “Don’t wait for him to settle, he could explode out of here any minute, as soon as you get a reasonable chance take a shot”, 5 seconds later he was out of there with my arrow in the centre of his lungs, he only went 80 yards and was down. We were like a couple of school kids yelling and screaming and hugging each other.

Roger later told me that he had never had such a nerve racking couple of hrs, and that for him that was one of the most rewarding shots that he had been involved in.

Alas at last it all came to an end, and after saying my good byes to Amelia and their two lovely little girls Alexandra and Georgia, we headed off on the long 6 hr drive, to the airport. On the way Roger and I spent a few enjoyable hours recapping the past 10 days, just as we were reaching the airport, Roger turned to me and said, Ray I know that this was going to be your one trip of a life time with no chance of ever doing a return trip, but do you think that after this experience, you would be able to ever do a return trip sometime in the future?

Hell yes, I replied, how soon can you fit me in?

Ray Scott (dream rider)
New Zealand
Archery Addix Forum Member

Dark Continent - Part II

When I finally arrived at Johannesburg via Singapore I had been traveling for thirty two hrs, twenty two hrs of actual flying, the rest waiting in airports. It was a great relief to have a young smartly dressed young man jump out and say, are you Ray Scott,? I am to be your hunting guide; my name is Carlos let me take your luggage.

On the three hour journey up to the Limpopo, I got to know this likable enthusiastic young man. He was 23 yrs old, and was of Portuguese extraction and was from Mozambique. He was a fully qualified PH, as all the professional hunters and guides have to be .He told me that to qualify, they had to have a large amount of experience in the bush. Also to be able to accurately estimate distances for both the bow hunter and the rifle hunter. Part of their tests cover being able to identify all the game animals plus the abundant bird and plant life. If that is not enough, he has to be able to identify every track left by the incredibly diverse numbers of animals, and to also to be competent, at tracking wounded animals. He also has to prove his ability to shoot extremely accurately with a rifle. His general knowledge about everything African was incredible, and during my hunt was often left open mouthed, when he would casually point out a set of tracks and identify them from the cab of the four wheel drive, as we were cruising along at around 30ks heading to the blind chosen for that particular days hunt.

He once told me of an experience he had with a rifle client and a Zebra. The client put a badly placed bullet into a zebra mare, and then followed up with an equally bad second shot. They tracked the poor animal for a whole day but it kept eluding them. The next day Carlos set out on his own, he refused to give up on it. It was almost dark on the second day, when he managed to put in a well placed shot to bring her down. They had covered over 9 Kilometers over the two days, through some fairly diverse terrain. My respect for both the Zebra for its determination not to give up, and my growing admiration for this remarkable young man knew no bounds.

Carlos confided in me that, while he had guided many rifle hunters on other hunting concessions, he had very limited experience with bow hunters. He said that he was very keen to learn as much as he could from me. Over the time that I hunted with Carlos his enthusiasm for the bow was very evident, so much so that I got out my “back up bow” which was another Hoyt, and set it up for him so he could practice at the same time as me. I soon realized that he was a natural. I feel sure that this helped him obtain a greater understanding of the bow and its limitations, which ultimately helped me in my hunting success. To encourage the young man further and to try and show in some small way my appreciation, I gifted him that bow before I left for home. He told me that his next goal was to qualify to become a ph for the big six. Apparently to achieve that goal is a long and involved undertaking, but if his enthusiasm is anything to go by, I feel sure that in time he will achieve it.
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Buchholz safaris in South Africa is a wonderful camp, it consisted of several luxurious sleep outs with the center area making up the liquor bar, and breakfast bar, plus outdoor dining and BBQ. This is where it all happens, it’s where everyone eventually gathers to tell their lies, and get their excuses properly worked out for the telling. Later that day Carlos asked me if I would like to go for a bit of game spotting. Even though I was suffering extreme fatigue and jet lag, wild horses would not have kept me away from my first real glimpse of the game that I had traveled so far to hunt. It wasn’t long before I was drooling over the wonderful animals that we saw. We spotted Kudu, Zebra, Impala, wildebeest and even a couple of enormous Eland. They were undisturbed but wary of the vehicle. But as soon as we set out on foot to have a closer look everything just vanished. I was to discover over the next 9 days that they had not only a great and diverse hunting area, but the game had to be seen to be believed, the number and variety was truly amazing. That evening I made my excuses early and headed for bed. As I lay there I was thinking, this is going to be a cake walk, there was so much game around I couldn’t miss. Two days later after having seen plenty of animals but with nothing of trophy size, I was starting to think that this might be a little harder than I had originally thought.

It was early on the third day, and my luck was about to change. We were in a different area, and in an elevated blind, when a large group of Blesbuck came in. Now Blesbuck are a strange medium sized animal with a large white blaze on their face. Their antics can sometimes boarder on the hilarious, and whenever they were around we were always highly entertained. Carlos pointed out a really nice ram that was in the group, indicating to me that it was a good trophy, and was I up to it? Trying desperately to keep my pounding heart under control, I chose a spot and gently squeezed the trigger. He dropped like a stone. The arrow had taken out his spine, I had forgotten to take into account that I was shooting from an elevated blind, and the shot was slightly high, although with immensely satisfying results. I had my first kill in Africa under my belt, and I was ecstatic. He measured 15 and half inches, and I was assured that he was a very worthy trophy.

When I first started hunting in South Africa I must confess that I was a little resentful having a guide breathing down my neck all the time, after all I had spent many years back home hunting as a loner. But it was after that experience with the Blesbuck, that I really started to appreciate the advantage of having a guide with me. It’s all very well shooting at just any animal that comes along, but it must be remembered that, put an animal on the ground, it costs you money, and while it’s not the one thing to keep counting the cost, it’s certainly a great advantage to be told what is recognized, as a good trophy. After all it takes time and experience, to be able to become familiar with strange animals in an environment that we are not accustomed to. I found it wonderfully informative having Carlos and later Roger with me. They would spend many hours whispering about the habits and prospective merits of individual game that came into the blinds. I found that the excitement of seeing the wonderful variety of animals and learning firsthand about their habits was just as rewarding as the shooting of them.

The blinds that I hunted from, were many and varied, ranging from a portable pop up to casually erected blinds, utilizing whatever materials that were at hand, to the wonderful dug out pit blinds that Roger had on Vieranas in Namibia. These were dug out to an approx depth of 2-3 ft and either brick or mud walls with a solid roof, this was then able to support the several tons of soil that was shoveled on top. From outside they just looked like mounds of dirt with a hole to shoot through. These particular blinds were very comfortable, exceptionally quiet, and most importantly kept an even comfortable temp. All these points are very important as we would spend upwards to 10 hrs a day in them.

Long before I departed for Africa I was told that there is basically two seasons to hunt. There was the green season, just after the rains when the growth was good and there is plenty of cover. The spot and stalk method was mostly used then with moderate success. It must be remembered that as there was plenty of water available on the ground after the rains, the animals rarely came in for a drink at the water holes, this making for a long boring wait in a blind.. The most popular time of the year however is in the dry season from May through to Nov, with July, August and Sept the premium time to be there. It is very hot and dry and the animals come into water every 2-3 days, making it a wonderful experience watching the animals cavorting around the blind.

Unfair advantage I hear you saying, not so, believe me in that hot dry almost arid climate at that time of the year, the animals have all the advantages. We only needed to move a finger outside the blind and we would not have seen another animal for the rest of the day. It is in fact the only way to hunt at that time of the year. I would compare it with tree stand hunting for whitetail in the autumn fall in the USA. It’s often the only way that you can possibly get to see an animal, and in my case while I was in Africa, I used the adage -When in Rome -------.

Towards the end of my stay at Limpopo I was really keen to get an Impala. I had tried on several occasions but they so far had eluded me. There had been plenty coming in but were either females or young rams, not quite in the trophy class. We had heard that there was good numbers on another game ranch. But although there were some good trophies there, it was a rifle hunting concession. I did not rate my chances of success but however we went to have a look. As there were no blinds on this place we decided to take a pop up blind with us. On the way into the property we called in to see the owner. Like all the African’s that I met over there, he was very friendly and was almost falling over himself to help. I found that I could not go anywhere in South Africa without a large extremely friendly farmer trying to ply me with either huge quantities of food or drink, usually of the alcoholic variety, their hospitality is outstanding. Of course it could have been that looking down on my modest 5ft 6 inches, they just felt sorry for me. When he saw my bow the look on his face was worth a thousand pictures, I don’t think he had ever seen a bow hunter before. However he took it in his stride and took us out to have a look at where he thought we could put up the blind. We drove way out to the back of the farm to an old mud brick building. He explained that it was his grain and feed shed for his stock, and often there would be a small spillage of grain on the ground coming out of the holes in the grain sacks, that the inevitable rats would chew through. He said that the wild animals would often come around looking for a free treat. Carlos decided to put the pop up under a tree near the building. I felt that we seemed to be sticking out like the proverbial sore toe. As it turned out only a few animals came into within 100 meters of us. They would see the pop up and slam on the breaks, then high tail it out of there. It was very frustrating as we could see with the bino’s that there was some real nice Impala out there. At the end of the day Carlos was discussing with me where to go tomorrow. I told him I knew exactly where we were going tomorrow and that was right back here.

The next day a very confused Carlos couldn’t believe it when I set up “inside” the grain shed. I forced open a window in the front and the back, and worked out my possible shooting lanes and distance’s then settled down to wait. Within a couple of hrs we had been visited by Kudu, Wildebeest and Eland, eventually around mid day a mob of Impala with a very nice ram came in. It turned out to be the easiest shot of the entire hunt. I got in a nice hit at only 12 meters; he had absolutely no idea what had hit him. Carlos said he would never have believed it if he had not seen it for himself.

My all to short a stay at Buchholz finished on a tragic note. A couple of days before I was due to leave for Vieranas in Namibia, we noticed a fire burning out of control many miles away. Despite the concerted efforts of the locals to bring it under control, it kept spreading. On my last day, my hunt got called off as the wind had whipped up the fire and it was heading our way. We were told to get back to the camp compound, urgently. On our return we couldn’t believe our eyes for it seemed that for miles everything was ablaze, and it was only a few hundred metres away from the main camp compound. That fire went over the top of us like a freight train. Fortunately the large compound had earlier been well mowed, making it impossible for the fire to take a hold inside. However we were all in fear of the sparks flying around as most of the buildings, were roofed in the old traditional thatch. One spark and it would have gone up like tinder. We were kept busy patrolling with a fire hose looking for any flare ups, fortunately, and to Chris’s enormous relief, the fire was kept out.

At the height of the fire we had a little light relief, when 5 very wide eyed, shell shocked, Spanish bow hunters arrived in camp, right in the middle of all the mayhem. Apparently the van driver had been racing the fire along the country roads to try and get to the safety of the compound before it closed in. They only just made it by a matter of minutes. Although the new arrivals were extremely anxious, they were never in any real danger as their van driver, knew every inch of the area, and no way was he was going to get caught out there. But I often chuckle to my self when I remember the looks on their faces when they arrived. Their ruffled feathers were soon settled back in place after Chris had plied them with more than a few drinks later that evening.

I have since heard that almost the entire farm was lost to the fire. Fortunately Chris suffered no stock loses and I hear that the grass is starting to grow again. The govt stepped in and helped with extra feed for all the farmers in the district. But I heard that a black farm worker got caught in the fire with a tragic loss of his life. Also a huge Kudu got caught in the fire on a neighbor's farm, and had to be shot as did a nice trophy Waterbuck. Three horses had to be put down, and another neighbor lost part of his home and that is only what I have heard about. It really bought home to me the frailty of human life and that we don’t know what is in store for us all, at any time.

As much as I enjoyed my experiences with Carlos and Chris and his lovely wife Ria at Buchholz, I was really looking forward to my hunt in Namibia. I had read and heard so much about this wild rugged country and its

that I could hardly wait to be there.

Ray Scott (dream rider)
New Zealand
Archery Addix Forum Member

The Dark Continent

The place that all boys at some stage in their lives dream about . Ever since the explorers Livingston and Stanley wrote of their experiences, Africa has been the Mecca for explorers and hunters alike. Years after those two great explorers, came the hunters such as Selous and Karamajo Joe Bell. Some time later came the great bow hunter Howard Hill. Followed by a vast host of bow hunters such as Swinehart, Fred Bear, and in more recent years, Gary Bogner, plus many others that have regaled us with their wonderful bow hunting stories.

As a boy I was not immune to the romance of hunting Africa, and although I have been hunting with a bow for over 40 some thing years, never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would ever go there.

Three years ago I became aware that time was passing me by, and after a major health scare some years back I convinced myself that there was no reason why I could not at least do some serious dreaming, and maybe kick a few tyre's (tires) by looking into the possibilities of going there for a hunt. If I found that it was going to be completely impractical,--- well I could say at least I gave it a try.

In so doing I never realizing what a can of worms I was about to open.

I suppose you could say that it all started getting serious when a few years ago I had Dr Donall Thomas Jr of American traditional Archery magazine fame, and his wife Lori stay with my wife Jan and I in our home in Helensville, New Zealand. Don is co editor of that wonderful mag.

One evening he was enthralling us with his wonderful hunting adventures in South Africa. I asked him about costs and where, in his opinion was the best place to hunt. His reply was South Africa is a great destination, but dollar for dollar Namibia was about as good as you can get. Maybe not the range of animals as in South Africa, but what is there, is often better trophy quality. He proceeded to fill my head with dreams of hunting in Africa to the point where I became like a dog with a bone. I couldn’t let it rest.

A few months later my son Bruce and I were in a very fortunate position to be Chital Deer, and buffalo hunting in Australia with our very good friend, the late great Australian bow hunter Bill Baker, of South Pacific Safaris. One evening we got talking about bow hunting in Africa, as he himself had been there with good success a few years earlier. He started filling my head with things like, how easy it was to organize a hunt in Africa, and that the cost, though steep was well worth it. I mentioned what Don Thomas had told me about Namibia, and Bill agreed saying, that he and a few mates had organized their next hunt, and it was to be in Namibia. But unfortunately before they could go they had to cancel out, as a cyclone had all but wiped Bill out on the Queensland coast. (Sadly for Bill, another African hunt was never to be). He gave me a contact in Namibia and it was then I realized that I was hooked, I would never be happy unless I hunted in Africa..

I spent many hours on the computer learning as much as I could, going into many, and varied web sights asking numerous questions, and making a regular nuisance of my self. After about 6 months of fact finding, I sat down and wrote up a list of what I wanted to hunt in the way of game, what my budget would allow, where I would like to go, and what sort of gear I would need to take.

I had no ambition to hunt any of the big six – Elephant, Lion, Cape buffalo, Leopard, Rhino and Hippo. I had long ago excluded these from my wish list. They were far too expensive, and I would have had to hunt in different countries, but far more importantly, they can either bite me or trample me, so they were out of my reckoning. Although I have to admit I have always had a sneaky private dream about some day going after a Cape buffalo. But that is where it stays, as Jan said “only in your dreams buddy”. I decided that plain’s game would be my main target. Plains game are mostly browsers and grazers eg Kudu, Zebra, Impala, Gemsbok, Springbuck, Wildebeest just to name a few, and after getting a rough quote on what each of these species would cost. I soon realized that hunting in Africa was not going to be cheap, but far more affordable than I had ever imagined. I have been told that if you hunt any where else in the world, you may be able hunt one or two species for about the same cost as hunting an incredible range of game in Africa. The next thing for me to do was to work out where I wanted to hunt.

Africa is a huge diverse continent, and there are many destinations for the keen hunter. I realized that the countries like Botswana, Mozambique, Tanzania and others, were all far too expensive for me to even consider. Usually twice, and some times treble the cost of South Africa and Namibia. I would dearly have loved to hunt Zimbabwe, as it is a very natural beautiful country. But the political climate put a stop to any thoughts of going there. I have already mentioned that Namibia was highly recommended, so I definitely decided to go there. One day I happened to be talking to my mate Kevin Watson of Advanced Archery about my planned hunt in Namibia, he made a suggestion that, as I was paying to fly all the way over there at a cost of $3600 return, and that it was most likely to be my one and only chance. Had I considered incorporating a second hunt in South Africa at the same time? I initially laughed the idea off. What about the expense? But it stuck to me like a burr, and after a lot of thought I decided that it was a great idea. I would be over there for 20 days instead of 10. I would be able to experience life in different camps, meet a wonderful diversity of people, travel the different countries and more importantly, see a greater variety of game. I decided to go for it.

Now that I had decided where and what I wanted to hunt, I set about booking my self into the best outfitter I could afford. I soon found out that you can’t just contact them, and say I want to be there in a few months. Oh no, bookings were out to two years, and what had been left over, was usually in the wrong moon phase. When booking a hunt in Africa it is very important to book and plan several years in advance, and to take into consideration the phase of the moon, this has an enormous influence on the activities of the animals. Something I will talk about at a later stage. The out fitter I decided on in Namibia after studying their web sight, and getting in touch and talking to supplied references was the same one that Bill Baker had recommended. Vieranas Safaris, which is up in the north western corner of Namibia, bordering the northern semi Namib Desert.. A six hr drive from the capital Windhoek, (pronounced vindhook). Vieranas is a bow hunting only place. Owned and operated by Roger and Amelia Coomber. It consists of 22’000 acres, 5’000 of which is high fenced. As the client I got to choose where I wanted to hunt. I hunted in both areas with great success. They also have use of a range of large concession blocks owned by other farmers in the area.

Roger is originally from the UK. A very enthusiastic bow hunter, and is the Chairman of Namibia Professional Hunting Association’s Bow hunting Committee. . His enthusiasm for all things bow hunting is second to none. I found him to be great company with a wealth of information, which he gladly shared with me during the course of my stay. Amelia originates from Dorsland (Thirst land) Trekkers (1870’s), who settled in those parts around 1928, coming to Namibia from Angola 1928, , and both her and Roger took over the family farm from her grandparents. They could see the future potential in game farming, and have never regretted their decision .After making contact I booked Vieranas with out any hesitation.

Now I needed an out-fitter in South Africa. So it was back to my friend Don Thomas via internet this time, as he was back home in Montana USA. One of the outfitters he mentioned was Buchholz Safari and Lodge. Which he told me is based in the Limpopo valley 3 hrs north of Johannesburg. Now, as soon as I heard the name Limpopo my ears immediately pricked up. Limpopo is steeped in history, the stuff of many stories and legends. After talking to the people of Buchholz and doing some back ground research, I was hooked. Buchholz is owned by Chris Van Schalkwyk and is also, bow hunting only. Chris turned out to be a very friendly knowledgeable South African whose family history dates back to the early Dutch settlers of 1651, and can lay claim to being the 15th generation South African, Chris was eager to help me fit in his part of the bookings with my hunt in Namibia. Not an easy thing to do. But Chris was extremely helpful, and details were finally ironed out. I was to arrive at Buchholz on the 26th August, hunt for 9 days then onto Vieranas for another 10 days.

Before I discuss equipment, I would like to digress a moment .I can not emphasis enough the importance of doing your home work. The diversity of game ranches in South Africa is incredible. Some are small only a few hundred acres, to the majority that consist of many thousands of acres. Some have great accommodation, some not so, some have inflated ideas of charges, some will have bow hunting only. (Very important as African game are incredibly alert, and any excessive hunting pressure can make a difficult hunt into an impossible one). Avoid at all costs a rifle hunting outfitter. Some will say they are a bow hunting only, but can and often do slip in rifle hunters. So be aware and do the home work.

Another thing one has to be aware of is, bow hunting in South Africa will almost always be done behind wire, and you have no choice. It’s the law. While this may be abhorrent to many, some of these game farms are huge. Also keep in mind that if it wasn’t for the wonderful game management of the South Africans, there would be no indigenous animals there at all. It would all be cattle ranches .These animals are 100% wild, and believe me are not easy to hunt. (The law for hunting behind wire in South Africa does not apply in Namibia).

When it came to the requirements of equipment, I talked to both Roger and Chris. Then knowing roughly what I would need went straight around to Kevin and Carol from Advanced Archery. Between us we came up with a comprehensive list.

We set my Hoyt Vectrix up to 65lb for the species that I would be targeting, 55lb – 70lb was recommended.

The recommended arrow weight was between 480grn – 600grn, it was suggested the heavier the better.

As I like hunting with the slim carbons and I only draw 27inches, I could not get an arrow with enough weight. We settled on the Beman max-4 400 (the heaviest I could buy), put in a plastic weight tube, and used a 125gr. broad head. I managed to get an arrow weighing in at 535gr. This also had the added advantage of making the bow quieter. We then spent a lot of time getting the bow shooting as quietly as possible. In Africa the game are particularly wary and fast, noisy bows do not cut it over there. By the time the arrow arrives, the animal has often reacted to the noise resulting in wounded animals. With my set up, not one animal reacted before the arrow arrived.

Also be sure to take plenty of arrows. I settled on two and a half doz. It is amazing the diversity of animals and bird life that always seemed to invite a probing arrow. Also take plenty of broad heads and replacement blades. I can assure you there are not to many corner archery shops around out there. I found a complete back up bow gave me a feeling of security. I never needed it, but it was great to know it was there if any thing went wrong with my no1 bow.

Broad heads were the next thing that was discussed. Both outfitters recommended a multi-fixed blade that preferably cuts on impact. Neither of them was very enthusiastic about mechanical heads, as they had seen too many disasters with them. Rodger was also a little cautious about the use of the traditional single blade, after a strange experience he had with a European traditional bow hunter last year. This particular hunter wanted a female Kudu for the skin. Roger later told me how the story unfolded. The hunter in question put a nice shot into the rear of the lungs, the Kudu cow let out a grunt from the force of the hit. She ran off for about 100 meters then slowed down, they both expected her to fall over but she stayed on her legs and wandered off. Later while tracking her they were puzzled by the lack of blood. They only found a couple of spots, eventually having to give up on her. Something that all hunters hate to do, particularly the African’s as the predators almost always get into them during the night. The next day the hunter left for home with the promise that if Roger found her during the next day, he would try to save the skin and send it on.

76 hrs later Roger had hunting with him, a well known bow hunter from the states, when out stepped the same Kudu cow looking fit and healthy. Roger could not believe his eyes. He immediately turned to the American hunter, and said shoot that cow. The cow was dispatched with a shot through the heart. When they did an autopsy on her they found that the original arrow had indeed double lunged her. The conclusion they came to was that the single blade broad head, had gone straight through slicing with the grain, and before the lungs could collapse, had sealed up again, and because of the good clean pass through, no further tissue damage occurred. The cow seemed to be completely untroubled by the wound, and would almost certainly have lived a normal life. Neither the very experienced American, nor Rodger had ever witnessed any thing like it. Roger later sent the skin to the original hunter explaining why there was two broad head holes in the hide!!. Roger has no doubt, that had that been a multi-blade broad head, it would have been a nice quick kill.

How ever it must be said that there is no doubt in both Roger and Chris’s mind, that when hunting large dangerous thick skinned animals, a heavy robust single blade is the only way to go for maximum penetration.

I settled on two broad heads to take with me. The G5 125gr. striker for thin skinned game. This little broad head performed outstandingly well, it is a cut on impact plus has replaceable blades, and is scary sharp straight out of the packet. I would recommend this little beauty to anyone hunting small to medium game. The second broad head I chose was a German Kinetic. This is a single blade broad head and is made by a firm in Germany. It had been highly recommended to me by a bow hunting friend in Spain, as he had used this broad head on three separate occasions while in Namibia, and was absolutely thrilled with its performance. The quality and the precision machining is out standing, It maintained a high degree of accuracy’ no matter what I put it through during practice. The only down side to this broad head is the high cost. I had decided that if I had a chance at a Zebra I would use the German kinetic. The Zebra is a very tough stocky animal, and is renowned for its ability to absorb a lot of punishment.

It was late on the fourth day in South Africa when a group of Burchell’s Zebra came in, three females one foal and a majestic stallion. As soon as my guide Carlos saw him he started getting very excited. Get that stallion if you can he told me, he is an outstanding trophy. After many draw backs and false alarms, I managed to get a shot in. Well that stallion seemed to go into instant overdrive, I can tell you, I have never seen any animal move as fast as him. Judging by his reaction, I felt quietly confident that it was a heart shot. By the time we got onto his trail it was dark. Darkness closes fast in Africa, one minute you can see, the next minute it’s dark. The initial blood trail was very patchy, it was getting late, and we all started to get worried. A couple of trackers were bought in. I had been told earlier by Chris that these African trackers could follow a fart in a thunderstorm. A slight exaggeration, but in short order my wonderful Zebra was found 180 meters away. The German kinetic had cut through both lungs, and had sliced every artery from the top of the heart. The fact that the stallion had traveled so far after that damage, is testament to the incredible toughness of that powerful stocky animal. In fact all the African game that I was lucky enough to shoot, were incredibly tough, their ability to tenaciously hang onto life is legendary. I think it may be the harsh environment they live in where every bush they encounter could conceal an enemy that is out to devour them.

It’s for this reason that, I went to great lengths to find out the best kill zone on the various animals that I was likely to encounter. Both Chris and Roger were very clear in their advice. Forget all about what I had previously learned about shot placement. The African plains game has their lungs well forward and their heart very low and even further forward. Forget the “behind the front leg crease shot for these animals”, in fact put a shot any where behind the front leg and it’s most likely going to be a gut shot. Very early on in my inquires, Chris sent me a shot placement chart (which is now established on his web sight). I found it to be an enormous help and set up all my practice shots with that advice in mind. If I had to quote which was the best piece of advice I got during my build up for Africa that would have been it with out a doubt.

I felt confident that I had the best of advice and the correct equipment to handle anything that I may face. I had put in a lot of research into where I wanted to go, and believe me it paid off. Both of the out fitters I chose were outstanding, and I have made some wonderful lasting friends.

During the twelve months before departure I put in a lot of leg work to try and build up my fitness, plus a lot of practice on the range and out in the field. I recommend that all the field practice be done with the bh you intend to use. I was very fortunate as Advanced Archery had my bow so well tuned, that any broad head I tested grouped in the same place. Putting in the time testing all your gear well in advance of the hunt, is time and money well spent, it pays off in the long run.

To be continued------

Ray Scott (dream rider)
New Zealand
Archery Addix Forum Member

Africa Three continued......

It would take 5 hours to drive down to the other concession, so I sat back and enjoyed the scenery going by. We had left at day break and as the day warmed up, I was fascinated to see the wild life coming out to the edge of the road, feeding on the wide grass sidings. Oryx, Kudu, Steen buck and Baboons were out in good numbers, many were oblivious to the car speeding by. The numbers of Warthogs were staggering, we estimated there must have been well over 400 scattered along the route that we took. Many were Sows with piglets that just stood and watched us go by. The boars however, didn’t waste any time ducking under the boundary wires and quickly disappearing into the bush. One old codger, just barely skin and bone with worn down tusks, miscalculated his run and hit the bottom wire square on at speed. Just like a cartoon caricature, he sprung back ending up on his back with all four legs quivering straight up in the air. As we sped past he staggered to his feet and with as much dignity as possible, shuffled under the wire and disappeared. Our laughter was mingled with sadness; we knew he would not last much longer against the predators. Such is the harsh reality of life in Africa.

We arrived around midday and were greeted by the ranch manager Jacko, and his lovely wife Jackomien. After the usual hellos and hugs with these two wonderful people, we all sat down to cool drinks, and enjoyed a very nice lunch before heading out for an afternoon hunt.

This concession is a privately owned game ranch, consisting of well over twenty thousand acres situated approx 150 kilometers east of Windhoek, and is very popular with the rifle hunters. Although I usually try to avoid rifle hunting areas, this place is huge. I have been there twice and would have seen less than a tenth of the place. On my previous hunt there, I had seen Waterbuck, and that was what I was predominantly after.

They are also involved in a breeding program for the rare but incredibly beautiful Sable. With their glossy black coat, white facial markings and large sweeping horns, they are a prized trophy. But be prepared to rob the bank before claiming one. Costing US $10’000 upwards. Last year I photographed an absolute monster as he walked by. That evening I described him to Jacko. He smiled, and said that he would measure an incredible forty seven inches. Then went on to say that it was just as well I had not been tempted to shoot him, as he was their main breeding bull, and was valued at US $22’000.

One of the reasons that I enjoy hunting with my guide and outfitter Roger Coomber is that he is a keen bow hunter like me, and never fails to take his bow with him. On the second day he had already dispatched two Jackals, when an enormous Black Wildebeest came in. As I had already got one on a previous hunt, Roger asked me if I would mind if he could have a crack at him. He had always wanted to hunt one, but as he was busy guiding clients he just never got the opportunity. We decided that for a change he would be the hunter and I was to be the camera man. At thirty yards he put in a perfect centre heart shot resulting in a short mad run and the wildebeest was down. After much congratulations and back slapping, it was off to the bar, where a very proud hunter found himself shouting the drinks for the rest of the evening.

It was getting towards the end of my hunt, when we went to an area where Jacko had seen a few Waterbuck Bulls the day before. Six hours later we were still waiting. We were in a slightly elevated blind overlooking a large flat area covered in knee high grass, with a large number of small scrubby trees dotted around. We had seen plenty of game, which included a pair of Honey Badgers plus a lovely Steen buck Ram, but I had my blinkers on. Only a Water buck would ring my bell.

Thinking that we had drawn a blank for the day, we debated moving but decided to hang in there for a while longer. Roger had only just commented that “it’s very quiet but everything can change in five minutes,” when it did. From behind a small clump of trees two hundred yards away, stepped one, two, no three Waterbuck bulls. Through the bino’s we could see that one of them was a real beauty. I knew that I wanted him with an intensity that was all consuming.

They moved towards us, feeding as they went, with agonizing slowness. Taking a couple of steps, stopping to browse, another couple of steps, browsing some more, and so on. For over an hour this went on, my nerves were nearly at breaking point and the light was starting to fade. Finally the big boy presented a broadside shot at 23yards. It took me a long time to get the shot off. My nerves were jangling. My knees were knocking. Roger sensed that I was having trouble, and quietly leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Keep the back tension, and it will happen”. That settled me down, and the shot was true. Thanks Roger you are a true friend. He blasted out of there with his two mates in tow, making it to a clump of scrub a hundred and twenty yards away.

After a few minutes we saw him lay down, and when the other two bulls came trotting out, we knew he was down for the count. After much back thumping and congratulations, Roger measured him. This wonderful bull went twenty seven inches and I was absolutely choked.

This bought to a close my third sojourn into that wonderful country called Namibia. Where the sky is always blue and the hunting is second to none. I have made some wonderful friends, and those three years of memories will stay with me forever.

Like, the time we saw a large tom leopard shading himself under a Mopani tree fifty yards away, without a care in the world.

Like, finding the huge foot prints of three rogue bull Elephants that had passed only a hundred yards from our blind.

Like, having a 16 ft tall Male giraffe, eyeballing us through the blind opening at only ten feet and watching his eyes grow round with shock, as it dawned on him what he was looking at.

Like, watching a Sable cow suckling her new born calf, only eight yards away from the blind completely unaware that we were there.

Like, that first experience of a magnificent Kudu bull ghosting up to the water hole without making a sound.

Like, those fascinatingly ugly Warthogs providing endless entertainment.

And like the haunting cry of the Jackals as they hunted at night.

Namibia, thanks for the memories..........

Ray Scott (dream rider)
New Zealand
Archery Addix Forum Member

WHY COFFEE TASTES BETTER FROM A PINK CUP

I love coffee in the morning. Especially cold mornings, when the temperature has dipped, and there is frost on the ground. I love to get up early on these mornings, bundle up in some warm clothes, and sit on the porch sipping my coffee while watching the sun peak over the horizon.

Now I am not talking about super special wonder coffee that has names longer most scientific organisms. While I like some flavored coffee, it doesn’t have to come from a faraway land with a special blend. In fact some of those fancy coffee shops almost take the fun right out of coffee. Take for example Starbucks. If I want a regular cup of coffee I have to choose from the following:

-Latin American coffees
-Africa Arabia coffees
-Asia Pacific coffees
-Multi-region coffees
-Specialty roasts
-Organic & Fair trade

Seriously, all I want is a hot cup of coffee. And don’t get me started on the “fu-fu” drinks:

-Mocha
-White chocolate mocha
-Skinny white chocolate mocha
-Half caf non fat mocha chino with a dash of pumpkin spice full foam
-Sugar free soy latte half foam decaf


What the hell have we come to? In our world of ever increasing technology and our “keep up with the Jones’s” attitudes, we have successfully taken the fun out of the one and only simple pleasure of morning. A steaming cup of coffee to start the day. Is it too much to ask?

The routine is fairly simple in my world. Here is how it works: The night before I reach into the cupboard and pull out a can of coffee. Not whole bean flavored coffee (although some of the flavored stuff is kinda good) that you have to grind to retain its freshness, just plain old Folgers from the red plastic can. Fill coffee maker with water and ground coffee. Set timer, and go to bed. Wake up, walk into the kitchen and pour my coffee, walk out to the porch and enjoy the morning. That is what I love about my morning coffee. Simple, good and starts the day out right.

Now for the kicker: Why does it taste better from a pink cup? Because that pink cup belongs to my mother-in-law and when I am drinking out of it, it means that my lazy butt didn’t have to do the prep work, or even fill the cup. It means “mom” had it ready for me. So thanks mom…….keep the pink cup coming.
That’s it from the porch

David
AAF Staff

Archery......how it effected me!

When I was about 13 years old, my parents purchased an Indian Spirit "compound" bow for me. At the time I had no idea how to shoot it, where exactly to rest the arrow, or what those little pins were. I had an idea that the nock should go between those two black marks, but for the life of me, I could not hit anything. Why did it fishtail like that? How could anyone be accurate with such a thing? After 26 years, the bow is still kicking around our garage.

Last year, the idea of flinging arrows took on new life for me when a friend gave me an old PSE Infinity SR1000. The thing felt stiff, but it was fun to launch arrows and have them actually hit the target. Here was some power and a semblance of accuracy! My interest in archery was reborn. I got as good as shooting 6 inch groups at 25 yards, but I was never confident enough to take it out for a hunt. Hunting - now there was another area where I had much learning to do. I had never hunted in my life, so I knew next to nothing about hunting tactics and the behaviors of the elusive whitetail deer.

Then there was the day I shot a friend's modern day Hoyt. I can't remember the model, but it sure was different. He warned me…………said it would be dangerous, and he said my wife might hate him for it (she doesn't). Knowing the potential risks this venture posed to my wallet and relationship with the woman I love, I went ahead and did it anyway. And I knew in the instant that the arrow left the string that it was time to think about a more modern bow. One year later, I got involved in the online archery community, and I picked up a PSE Axe 6. The 70 lbs felt much smoother and easier than the old creaky bow I had been shooting, and the speed was startling. It wasn't until a friend came over and really looked over my old bow that I learned that I had actually been pulling 80lbs on that old dinosaur. Ouch. I haven't drawn it back since. That same friend then went on to give me an education about archery, shooting form, equipment selection, and hunting tactics. He's been doing it all his life - and he loves to teach. I owe him a lot.

Learning about draw length, arrow spine, FOC, brace height, the release options and types, the arrow types, the stabilizer options, broad heads, the rests... and on and on... has been interesting, stimulating, addicting, and expensive. But for some crazy reason, it's all worth it! I have made new friends, and through their generosity and time, they have enabled me to become an archer.

For some, the goal is making that score in competition. For others, it's that trophy animal or getting meat in the fridge. Those are the obvious benefits. But I'm sure many of you can attest to the benefits of quiet time in the woods, connecting with the primal hunter within, the joy of having a good day of target practice, or getting an A-HA moment where you make a correction and it makes you better in an instant. It is also very rewarding to tinker with the bow to get it more in tune to improve you’re shooting. But most rewarding (at least in my opinion) is to have the opportunity to fellowship with like minded souls, to minister to others with similar interests, or to be a mentor or a student in this sport.

For me, it's a little of all that, as I am sure it is with many of you. There's just something about pulling that string back and letting the arrow fly - something that draws me back to the sport, compels me to sit just another hour out in the cold, or makes me go one more round at the target. It's why I will shoot for the rest of my life as long as I am able.

I would have none of that right now if it had not been for my friends' investments in my life. What drives you to keep going in archery? What is it that you love about it? And who in your life might need you to show them the way? Take a moment and remember when you were new to the sport, and think about how you might share that joy with someone else in the coming year.

Tom Pierce-Ruhland
Archery Addix Forum Member

Africa Three

I was on my third Safari with my good friend and guide Roger Coomber of Vieranas Safaris in Namibia, when all too quickly it was my last day on Vieranas, and it turned out to be the most magical day in my fifty years of hunting.

We had decided to go to an area that was surrounded by a large number of Kopjes (granite boulder hills of varying sizes and height). These Kopjes provided protection from the strong winds, which were creating serious dust storms out on the plains. I had fond memories of this wild rugged place, as it was here that I had shot my wonderful fifty inch Kudu Bull two years ago.

Kudu’s are probably one of the most sought after game in Africa. With their long spiraling horns and regal appearance, these wonderful animals are often referred to as the ‘Grey Ghost’ of the desert, a reputation well deserved with their ability to disappear into the smallest amount of cover right before our eyes.

We were only in the blind an hour, when a huge Kudu bull came in. Roger and I had previously discussed the possibility of a big one coming in, and I had suggested to him, that I was not interested in getting another one unless he was 55inches or bigger, (thinking that I was unlikely to see one remotely near that size). When this beauty walked in Roger started to get excited. His first guess was that he was 53-54 inches. “Very nice” I whispered, but I was still happy with the one that I already had. As the Kudu turned his head, Roger started to get really agitated. “I bet he goes at least 55inches” he whispered, “look at the way those magnificent curls come out from the base; I have never seen anything like him before”. Well I can tell you that really put the pressure on me, almost without thinking, I put an arrow tight in his shoulder through both lungs. After a mad dash, he fell over within eighty meters. Roger and I looked at each other completely dumb founded. Then the adrenalin kicked in. We were bouncing off the walls with excitement. Just as suddenly I stopped and thought, “oh shit” what have I done? I had only recently got my original Kudu from the Taxidermist, and now I had another one on the ground. I had visions of my wife Jan, slowly killing me when I got home. Those thoughts however were quickly forgotten, as I walked up to him. The closer we got the bigger he become, and I started to get the shakes. Roger whipped out his tape measure and with very unsteady hands started to measure him. We could not believe our eyes when the tape stopped at a whopping 58 inches. We were not sure if he would make the top ten bows shot Kudu in Namibia, but Roger said he would certainly be right up there.

We spent a long time admiring the size and symmetry of his horns. “He’s by far the biggest that we have had off this place, in fact he’s the biggest that I have ever seen” Roger said. Word gets out fast in the hunting world, within 24hours Roger had two enquirers from overseas hunters, wanting to hunt a 58 inch Kudu. I kid you not.

While all the measuring and photography was going on, the pickup truck was called in, and with very little fuss the Kudu was on its way to camp. Kudu meat is highly prized over there. In fact I was very impressed with the efficient way all the meat was handled. Nothing is wasted, everything is utilized either by the main camp, or by the staff and their families.

After a quick discussion we decided to stay in the area for the rest of the day, so we settled back in again. We had just finished our packed lunch when a faint movement out of corner of my eye caught my attention. Barely daring to move I slowly, very slowly, turned my head to get a better look. Where only a few seconds ago there had been nothing, now stood two incredibly beautiful Klipspringer’s. These wonderful animals only stand at 56 centimeters (twenty two inches) at the shoulder and weigh in at less than eighteen Kilo’s (forty lbs). Hardly daring to breathe I watched those lovely tiny light brown creatures timidly making their way down to the water hole, ready to take flight at the slightest hint of danger. One was a very pregnant older Ewe, and the other a very proud young Ram. After delicately drinking their fill, they tip toed back to the point where they had appeared from, suddenly vanishing as if they had never been.

The spell was broken, and we both started talking at the same time. Not quite believing what we had seen. Sometime later I realized that it had not even occurred to me to pick up my bow. An opportunity lost perhaps, but on reflection, I know that I could not have drawn back on one of those wondrously rare creatures.

Although I have been a bow hunter for more years than I care to remember, for me hunting is only secondary. Getting out there and witnessing nature at its best is the greatest reward. Roger and I had just witnessed something unique. As long as I live I will regard that moment as one of my most memorable hunting highlights. And who better to have shared it with than my PH and good friend, Roger Coomber.

Thinking that the day just could not get any better, it did. At around 4 pm a bruiser of a Warthog came in. He was a real old boy with his tusks worn well down, but with great bases. He had a big gash down one side, and old scars all over his body. He must have felt the weight of the whole world was upon him as he came into drink. Man he had a belligerent attitude. Darting here and there, he was trying to pick a fight with his own shadow. He finally settled down, and while he was quartering away I slipped an arrow through his rib cage. He scorched the earth getting out of there, breaking trees three inches thick, as if they were match sticks. He only went forty five yards and was down; my heart went out to that grand old warrior. He obviously had experienced a very eventful life, which was nearing its end. Roger and I both agreed, better to fall to a hunters arrow than become prey to the Jackals one dark night, as most of them do when they get too weak to defend themselves.

What a day, I could not have scripted it better. There were two very happy hunters that returned to camp that evening, to have a celebratory drink, and to pack for an early start in the morning on the second part of my safari.

A small extract from a story I wrote called Africa Three

Ray Scott
New Zealand
Archery Addix Forum Member

Stray Cats

Here are my views on stray cats:

As I sit on the porch and take in the views of the Oregon desert I am drawn to think of many things: Game management (or the lack there of), poachers, rabbit populations and the effect on coyotes, and of course my never ending passion for upland birds. The last few years have not been kind to my little feathered friends. Whether due to drought, saturated wet springs or depredation our upland birds have been on the decline. And not just on public lands. I am afforded the opportunity every year to hunt a large cattle ranch that goes out of its way to provide excellent habitat for our lovely quail. Thick brush, open fields, gravel roads and plenty of water. I relish the opportunities I have to just drive through and see a blossoming population.

So two years ago when we noticed the populations declining on the ranch we set out to find the source. Like I mentioned earlier, some of it was due to factors out of our control, like overly wet springs. But there seemed to be a decent population of young birds that made it through to summer. Coyotes were of course a factor and we did our best to keep their populations in check, but there was another predator that we didn't expect. Ferrel cats! Seems the high turn over rate of cowboys on the ranch has led to a large number of family pets being left behind when the cowboys and their families moved on. This was a problem we could take control of.

Now before any of you start reporting me to PETA (the bad one, not the tasty animal one) understand that these cats have no legitimate use on our planet. They cannot be re-domesticated and turned into house cats again. They are feral to the core and want to remain that way.

So, how you may ask, will I help with this exploding population of cats? Easy, its called load development! Ever work up a pet (no pun intended) hand-load and wanted to test it on critters for its effectiveness? Feral cats offer the perfect opportunity. While I am NOT advocating taking out your neighbors "stray" domesticated cat, I am an advocate of helping our bird populations with a little "kitty cat fun". LOL!

Spotlight, 204, thermos of coffee and a night of fun. Try it sometime and DON'T post pictures. 204 makes for an ugly cat portrait.

Well that's my view for this week.

David
AAF Staff