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Thread: June 27, 2022 - Day 1 in Africa

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    Default June 27, 2022 - Day 1 in Africa

    6/27/22
    A chorus of unfamiliar bird sounds easily invaded my “Hemingway” walled tent and woke me before the alarm clock. Africa in the daylight is everything I imagined it was going to be. The birds are even better, more numerous and more beautiful. I quickly figured out that even though I had spent a great deal of time studying the avian life I expected to encounter, I really wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was. There was a strikingly handsome bird on the path from my tent to the much larger dining tent. I recognized the bird from pictures but couldn’t recall the name. I know now it was a White-throated Robin-chat. My first African bird.


    White-throated Robin-chat

    While I wasn’t prepared for the birds, I was ready for the breakfast of mushrooms, over well eggs and a really exceptional local sausage. The PH and I sat at table and ate breakfast while the others ate in the kitchen. I don't usually eat breakfast but my body fully accepted this early offer. Maybe I was just that hungry or, maybe, since it was only half past midnight Moncks Corner time, my stomach just thought it was getting a better than usual midnight snack. Either way, I felt much better.

    The safari company I had booked specifically assigned Nick as my Professional Hunter since he was a keen birder. Birds were a close second on this trip to the hunting I had planned. My hunting list was pretty short – Blue Wildebeest, Zebra, Impala, and Warthog. If I see an ostrich, steenbok or duiker by chance, I’d take them. If I finished early, I’d swing for the fences on a difficult-to-hunt bushbuck. My bird list would consist of whatever I could find during and between hunts. After breakfast we headed to the range to make sure the rifle was still true.

    The road to the rifle range was short drive through some of the area I’d be hunting. I couldn’t possibly write down everything that struck me as new and wonderful. One of the groups of birds I wanted most to see, the hornbills, were out in numbers. Red-billed and Southern Yellow-billed Hornbills took turns guiding the truck down the road. There are three species of hornbill in the area and I had already seen two of those. I hoped it was a good omen.

    We met Big John at the range and I shot with the over barrel first at a 100 meter target - low and right about ½” inch. The under barrel was dead center and low about ½” away from the first shot. Nick and Big John hooted and hollered. Two out of three of us left the range with great confidence in my shooting. I was the only one who harbored any doubts. What I will never doubt, though, is my own ability to mess up an easy shot at game. I told Nick about my gun's personality quirks where I have to shoot a 150 grain bullet in the under barrel and a 180 grain bullet in the over barrel. I'm a bit of a Nosler bullet fanboy so I buy my 180 grain loads from Nosler and my 150 grain rounds are Federal Premiums loaded with Nosler bullets. The Federals have a nickel case and the Noslers are traditional brass so it's easy to keep the two loads separated. Gold (brass) on top, silver on bottom. I hate that it's come to that but after two years, I do it without thinking. In the states, I usually shoot Nosler Ballistic Tips but I carried Accubond's for my Africa trip. They shoot identical to the BTs so I wasn't surprised with the good grouping.




    We began our first hunt with Big John driving and Nick and I on the back of his perfectly African Toyota set-up. Two well-padded jump seats sit behind a roof tray with a rifle rack. Just behind the cab sits a massive winch that I hoped to get to see in use. My rifle rode in the rack while Nick’s .375 H&H stayed in the cab next to John.



    We went a ways before an almost unnoticeable hand gesture from Nick got Big John to stop the truck. The PH baled over the side with his shooting sticks. I handed down my rifle and climbed down myself. I was slow and careful not because I’m old and doddering. Not yet anyway. I just didn’t want a fall resulting from the unfamiliar to cost me the rest of my time in the Dark Continent. John continued down the red dirt road in the truck leaving Nick and I to a blind stalk. There are two of the Big Five in the area, Leopard and a lot of Cape Buffalo, so it didn’t go unnoticed that Nick left his own rifle in the truck.

    We started into what they call “thornveld” - sickle bush and about a dozen varieties of acacia. Animal droppings of all sizes, shapes and textures were everywhere – it’s literally impossible to take a step without walking in poop. I normally avoid walking through poop but that’s something I’d have to get over pretty quickly if I wanted to see Africa instead of just watching my feet. We came up on a sow warthog and some juveniles. Even after Nick pointed them out, it took a while before I could make them out myself.

    My mind did a backflip. The sensation was kind of like standing up too quickly. This wasn’t a movie or a photograph. It wasn’t one of the Youtube safari videos that I had been watching too many of lately. It was me with a gun and a PH actually standing on African soil staring at an African warthog. Surreal, again. If there were a stronger word I’d use it now but that’s all I got, “surreal”.

    I was kind of glad it wasn’t a big boar. I realized that I wasn’t mentally prepared to start the shooting part of my safari just yet. I wanted the newness of this experience to more thoroughly play itself out before getting on the sticks.

    I don’t know if it is just my PH or if it’s more universal, but it was treated like a sin to purposefully disrupt the life of the animals we encountered while on the ground so I followed Nick’s hand signals and whispers to stay completely unnoticed until the pigs moved off on their own. After some time, though, the light wind swirled and the sow took the opportunity to train her young ones on what to do when they catch even the slightest scent of man on the wind. Following warthog protocol, her back straightened and her tail went up. Off she went with the little ones right behind her. A yearling boar, a bit slow on the take-up, allowed me time to get my binoculars up and get a better look. Again, I reminded myself that “I’m actually in Africa.”

    We kept going and I noticed a Sable bull that Nick has missed. I pointed it out and he leaned back a little to see it. I didn’t want to be a smart Alec but was glad for a chance to show Nick that I do have some experience in the woods too. It’s a delicate balance between gaining the PH’s trust as someone with legitimate hunting experience and an attempt to show him up. To prove a point that I might have missed that balancing point my PH sped up and chose a rugged, thorny path. I had to keep my eyes down and three feet in front of me in order to not trip or crack a branch. Point made; Nick slowed the pace some to allow me to steal a few glimpses of Africa between steps. I can’t remember everything we saw but it was all at distance and through thick brush. I was certainly thinking, for all the game around getting a quality shot was going to take some work. It legitimized the point that, even in Africa, hunting is hunting. In a process I would become familiar with over the next several days, we made it back out to a road where Nick radioed for Big John to come pick us up.

    Back at the truck, Big John told Nick about seeing some vultures the day before in a nearby area. I could tell Nick was interested and that they both wanted to check it out. Few things about Africa are more iconic than Griffon Vultures so I encouraged the side trip in hopes of getting a few good photos of these increasingly uncommon birds. There was a single Cape Griffon Vulture positioned in the sun with a full crop. “Grab your rifle, let’s go for a walk”, Nick suggested. This time I noticed that he grabbed his own rifle too.


    Cape Griffon Vulture with full crop

    He showed me a few things about reading a jumble of tracks. He called it his “morning paper”. At some point, I got a whiff of something dead. The PH hadn’t smelled it but said the vulture’s crop was full for a reason. I didn’t carry the camera and regretted it after seeing a pair of Crimson-breasted Shrikes on the path in front of us. The walk ended at a waterhole with more camera regrets as I got my first Crowned and Blacksmith Plovers. Nick showed me a stump worn smooth by buffalo. Then left me to bird watch around the waterhole while he walked back to John and the truck. In my mind I had to question if this was the start of a prank. If it was, I was game to let it play out. I wandered around keeping the waterhole is sight so I wouldn’t get lost. At some point I flushed another couple of vultures. Like everything I’d encountered so far, Griffon Vultures have incredible vision and flushed at little provocation. Somehow birds on the ground over 100 yards aways had seen me through thick brush. Or, maybe they were just full and also ready to get themselves in the sun to aid digestion – either way, there was certainly something dead on the ground not far from where I was. I got another whiff of death. It wasn’t a prank – Nick and John showed up about when I expected them to. I pointed to where the vultures had flushed. On the way there, Nick showed me hyena tracks running in all directions.

    Nick and I went one way and Big John the other. He didn’t mention it but I noticed when Nick cycled the bolt on his gun to put one in the chamber. It wasn’t long before the big tracker hollered that he had found an earlier client’s dead kudu. The dead kudu did little to lessen my worries about losing my own game. In Africa, if you wound it, you buy it. The last thing I wanted to do is buy a wildebeest or zebra and never get to touch him.

    African PH’s have a reputation for legs that are impenetrable by thorns but it’s their olfactory toughness that impressed me the most. Neither Nick or John was phased by the stench of a dead kudu that had been opened up by hyenas, picked at by vultures, and left for several days to rot in the warm African air. They even cut the head off for the client – he had paid for it so he certainly should get the horns. I stayed upwind and watched the morbid surgery while choking back a gag or two.


    Big John with the Kudu head

    In the back of the truck again, this time with Nick and the rotting head of a big bull Kudu. Big John pointed out some distant impala and dropped us off for a long stalk. We never saw them after getting on the ground. We did see some vervet monkeys. Nick explained his dislike of monkeys and offered to let me shoot a couple – I declined telling him I’d seen videos of monkeys and baboons being shot where they act like Fred Sanford going to see Elizabeth. I just didn’t come to Africa to shoot a monkey. John picked us up. The next stalk was on a mixed herd of oryx and impala. We made a rather straight stalk trying to avoid a lot of Oryx eyes. I finally felt ready to start the shooting part of my safari but knew the open terrain and ample eyes were going to make it tough. It did. We never really stood a chance.

    Again on the truck, the birds were everywhere. Nick being a birder too stopped the truck a couple of times for me to get some photos. I finally told Big John to roll up the window and start ignoring our requests to stop or we’d never make it back for lunch. Lunch was spaghetti with a sauce of meat, onion and something that looked like a carrot. It was stunningly good.

    I photographed a few birds at the camp’s waterhole before we jumped on the truck for the afternoon stalks. I just noticed that the kudu head was gone and the back of the truck was washed clean. These guys are professionals at creating a pleasant experience and they are good at their jobs.

    Riding out in the warm winter sun, it seems the animals not on my list like Waterbuck, Tsessebe, and Sable are lining the road like a parade route while the more common things like Impala and Warthog, the ones actually on my list, are sulking away before we see them. We did find some impala and wildebeest so we were dropped off behind a termite mound. It really was a tough stalk.

    We crawled low through thick grass from thorn tree to thorn tree. We stopped as the nervous impala fed off leaving only the wildebeests. I got on the sticks once but before I could get comfortable for the shot, the herd bull wheeled off a bit. He definitely suspected something was there and I thought the stalk was over. Nick whispered that they should eventually settle down because they’re so used to seeing other animals moving around in the brush. We crawled some more and stopped for a second time to let the wildebeests feed. They started mooing. Surreal, again, laying in the Africa bush with rifle in hand listening to wildebeests.

    Animal videographer, Simon King, says wildebeest moo when they’re happy. They moo when they’re sad…and when they’re nervous. Matter of fact, “Moo”, he says, “is really the only word they know.”

    After a while, Nick set the sticks low and I knelt into them. It was a nearly head-on shot and I didn’t feel totally comfortable. The bull seemed a little reddish and I thought he might be a color phase. I asked because I really want just a normal blue and brindled gnu. Nick assured me he was fine. I got a broadside shot and took it on the point of the shoulder with a Nosler 180 grain Accubond from the over barrel. I saw him roll with all four feet sticking up out of a cloud of orange dust.

    Nick hadn’t seen the animal fall and was worried that we might have a chase on our hands. We got there quick. A nice blue wildebeest bull was laying right where he should have been. Confirming Nick’s worries, though, he clearly was not going to die quick enough. I put another 180 grain Accubond in him and eliminated the PH’s concerns. While we waited for Big John and the truck, Nick slapped the side of my wildebeest launching clouds of red dust and revealing a beautiful blue and brindled coat. This was exactly the animal I came to Africa to get. Exactly. There are no words for this, you just have to experience it.


    The bullet hole is just visible as a brown dot in the middle of the stripe running down its shoulder



    Big John stopped the truck on the road about 200 yards away, from there it was a two-man effort to worm it through the bush to where the gnu lay. Pick in hand, Big John walked ahead of Nick in the truck to clear a path. They left me with my trophy so I was able to take a few pictures and make a video.

    It really was an emotional experience. This was the animal I most wanted. This was the animal I most feared losing. They are big and have a reputation for toughness, “poor man’s buffalo” some folks call them. I, on the other hand, have a reputation for not always being a great shot.

    I have watched dozens of wildebeest hunts on Youtube and they seldom go this well. Lost animals and animals that have to be finished by the PH are way, way more common than one-shot rollovers. I wasn’t going to let this go to my head. A half inch in any direction might have started a very different story. My version of the wildebeest story, however, was a perfect start to the hunting phase of my Africa journey.

    Once they got there, Nick took a lot of photos with his own camera. Oohing and awing at each one. Making animals presentable for pictures is big part of a PH’s job and he clearly loved the results. He told me of a Zulu word, ingxoxo, pronounced something like “ingaba” that means discussion. He said at the end of the safari would could have an ingxoxo about what the photos taken with his camera are worth to me. Big John belly laughed so I didn’t think he was serious but I wasn’t totally sure either.

    Big John thanked me for not causing a tracking problem. Throwing his big arms in a big circle he said something to the effect that I had just flopped the toughest animal on the whole place. It couldn’t have been just me, I’m sure an angel had something to do with how this played out. Either way, though, I got to see the winch in use as it dragged my trophy into the bed of the Toyota.

    I saw my first giraffes in the warm light of my first evening in Africa. We made a very cold and fruitless attempt to find a warthog. A cold beer by a hot fire then a dinner of mushrooms on toast with chicken was finished with ice cream. As much as I expected from this experience, Africa was delivering even more.

    Last edited by Rubberhead*; 07-09-2022 at 06:01 PM.
    Ephesians 2 : 8-9



    Charles Barkley: Nobody doesn't like meat.

  2. #2
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    What a great read and experience!! Awesome and congrats!!

  3. #3
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    Outstanding!

  4. #4
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    Excellent first day. Congrats on your trophy.

  5. #5
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    I love it.

  6. #6
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    First paragraph, second sentence, take the “n” off “African”, please, thank you.

    I care anything about hunting in Africa, but if there was ever anyone I wanted to see go to Africa it would be you because I like your outlook, I like your vision and I like your writing.

    Please do not leave your camera behind again.

  7. #7
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    Very cool. Thanks for the great read.

  8. #8
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    Awesome read, I look forward to reading more.
    Quote Originally Posted by Birddawg View Post
    I dont know how it was done. For all I know that weird bastard that determined it's gender licked it.

  9. #9
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    I enjoyed that, great read!
    Houndsmen are born, not made

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    I STAND WITH DUCK CUTTER!
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    I knew it wasn't real because no dogbox...

  10. #10
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    Great read, looks like one hell of a time. Congratulations sir.

  11. #11
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    Fanstatic... I’m glad more folks are experiencing it. There is not a feeling that you will ever experience that is the same as your first morning hunting in Africa.

    Keep the days coming

  12. #12
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    Very Cool
    Either write things worth reading, or do things worth writing.

  13. #13
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    Quote Originally Posted by Tater View Post
    First paragraph, second sentence, take the “n” off “African”, please, thank you.

    I care anything about hunting in Africa, but if there was ever anyone I wanted to see go to Africa it would be you because I like your outlook, I like your vision and I like your writing.

    Please do not leave your camera behind again.
    Done - thanks. I really did change the meaning of that sentence. I'm terrible at editing my own stuff if that was it, I dun gooder that I thought.
    Ephesians 2 : 8-9



    Charles Barkley: Nobody doesn't like meat.

  14. #14
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    Absolutely incredible writing and your story. You have a gift, man… keep it up.

    Looking forward to the next chapter.
    .
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    Nice I guess but just being there without the bling would get me. Conagrats!!!!!!!!!
    Gettin old is for pussies! AND MY NEW TRUE people say like Capt. Tom >>>>>>>>>/
    "Wow, often imitated but never duplicated. No one can do it like the master. My hat is off to you DRDUCK!"

  16. #16
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    Awesome hunt. I am jealous. Good luck on your next day hunt. Keep posting pictures.

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    Very enjoyable read, thanks for sharing. Enjoy your hunting and I look forward to the next update.

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    Wonderful read and photographs. You have a talent for sure. A trip like this is definitely on my bucket list. I am looking forward to the rest of the story.

  19. #19
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    good stuff, rh
    grammar and diction were good. well done
    Ugh. Stupid people piss me off.

  20. #20
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    Felt like I was there with you....thanks for sharing.

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