30th Anniversary Hunt

We saw the Kudu bull approach the watering hole after we’d been in the hide only ten minutes. . The PH said it was a good-sized Kudu and I was free to take a shot. The bull was 75-100 yards away and angled toward me but looking away from me. I got my self a steady rest and shot. Neither the PH nor my husband could say with absolute certainty that I had hit the Kudu, but we all noted where we saw the bull last and the PH called in the best tracker and dog owned by the outfitter. Cepo was known all over this area of the country for his excellent tracking skills and Savanna, a Jack Russell terrier, lived to hunt. These two were an unbelievable pair for tracking wounded animals. Everyone had confidence that if I had hit the animal; it was not going to get away. I on the other hand was horrified that I might have wounded an animal; I hoped we’d find it very fast or that I’d completely missed it.
Going to Africa had been a dream of my husband, Bryan and mine for thirty years. For most of those thirty years I saw myself as the companion of my husband, walking beside him with camera in hand recording all the sights and sounds of the Africa I had seen on T.V. and read about in books. Somewhere along the way, after I’d hunted in Colorado and Texas, I started dreaming of not just going to Africa but actually hunting there too. In March of 2002 we found ourselves at the annual fundraiser of the Denver Chapter of SCI. A Nyala hunt with Numzaan Safari came up for auction. That year state side hunts were selling for a premium price and African hunts were very reasonable. My husband could not keep his hand down during the auction and we ended up with a hunt for Nyala in South Africa. I wanted to hunt the gray ghost of Africa, the Greater Kudu. So a good compromise was made – he could hunt Nyala and any other game available in the area we were hunting, just as long as I got to hunt for Kudu. We also decided that we would take the hunt in April as a celebration of our 30th wedding anniversary. What more could a girl ask for?

We began our third full day of hunting in Africa, like every day- at dawn with a light breakfast of tea and a biscuit the South Africans call Rusk. Then we’d head out to look for tracks of the Kudu in various areas of the property. Kudu are difficult to hunt, they are very wary animals and we’d only catch glimpses of tails or ears flying through the bush. Early mornings when it was cool provided the best opportunities to spot a Kudu that could then be stalked. We saw lots of old spoor of the Kudu and some female but no sign of a good sized Kudu bull. We did chance upon a couple of Kudu bull high on top of a hill which we then got out and stalked for a short ways, but like the legend of a ghost, the Kudu vanished, not into thin air but into the thorn infested African bush. It is amazing how such a large animal can vanish into the bush in blink of an eye.
Around nine in the morning the sun was well up into the sky and even though it was autumn in South Africa is was unseasonably warm. We decided it was time to go station ourselves in a blind to see if a thirsty Kudu would come in for a drink.
We drove to a popular watering hole for both Kudu and Impala. This part of South Africa was experiencing the third year of a very bad drought and man made watering holes provided the only water for all the wildlife in the immediate vicinity. I was looking forward to seeing a variety of wild animals and being able to get pictures of them. The “hide” was a nylon tent covered with a variety of very thorny acacia branches. We carefully situated our selves inside and settled down to wait and see what animals came in. First came some baby warthogs and their mother. They cautiously approached the water, and then kneeled down to take a refreshing drink. Then came some impala. Impala happened to be on my hunting list also and a nice ram approached the watering hole. My PH, Johan, said it was one I could shoot. We had been in Africa only three days, we’d only been at this watering hole for ten minutes, and I was getting my chance to shoot my very first African animal! What a lucky woman I was. All this went through my head in a flash as I steadied my self and took aim at the impala. The ram was about 50 yards away, standing broadside to me. I aimed carefully took a breath and squeezed the trigger. The shot was good and the ram went about 20 yards and dropped. I was so happy. I was satisfied that I had placed the shot well and thankful that the impala went down quickly. We took pictures and loaded the animal to take back to camp. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet!
When we got to camp and were at the skinning shed, word got back to us from some of the farm hands working on the watering system for the farm, that a nice Kudu bull had been spotted at a different watering hole from the one we had just been at. This watering hole, known as the “Kudu Dam”, got its name because it was a favorite of its namesake. We jumped back into the truck and went towards this water hole. This hole was a favorite of the Kudu because it was at the base of a hill where they would spend the hot afternoons sleeping under a tree. It was a quick trip down to the watering hole when they got thirsty, yet they could keep a look out for danger. We slowly drove to Kudu Dam but did not see any of our elusive quarry; we headed back to the main camp for lunch and cool drinks.
At lunch we discussed our hunting options for the afternoon. We could hike to the top of the hill near Kudu Dam in the hopes of catching a Kudu napping under an acacia tree or we could go back to Kudu Dam and sit in a hide for the afternoon. Either one was not going to be easy as the day was heating up and promised to be a scorcher. We decided we’d drive to Kudu Dam and see if the bull we’d tired to see earlier had returned to the water hole in hopes of getting a drink, and then maybe we’d try hiking up the hill. Off we drove again, with our supply of cool drinks for the afternoon and great expectations of seeing Kudu.

We repeated the morning’s ritual of getting settled in the hide. I was stationed in a good shooting position overlooking the watering hole, Johan was behind me to my right and Bryan was beside me on the left. The parade of animals started differently this go around. First came a troop of Vervet monkeys, lead by a very macho male, who loved to perch in the nearby Leadwood tree and display his masculinity to the females of his troop. After an hour of playing and grooming themselves, the monkeys left. We were left listening to the cacophony of birds that are ever-present in the African bush. We experienced the intense heat of the African sauna inside the blind. More than three sweltering hour later, just as Johan had predicted, the evening procession of animals began with of course, the baby warthogs, followed by a small group of impala and then some baboons. A single impala ram also came in for a cautious drink. The baboons were very nervous and suspicious. They weren’t sure what danger lurked around the water hole, but they were sure something was there. The impala ram felt the same way and showed its discomfort with loud barks. The baboons surrounded the hide and kept a safe distance away. One or two would come in for a cautious drink while the look out would remain at a distance and make loud snorting sounds. The three of us inside the hide were worried that all this commotion outside would alert any Kudu in the area and keep them from coming to the watering hole. I kept my fingers crossed. We sat silent and motionless and waited. A little while later, to my astonishment, a Kudu female approached the hide from behind us. I couldn’t see it but Johan could. Immediately my heart started beating 90 miles an hour. I was positive that if a female was here, a male Kudu was not far behind. I felt myself start to shake and I felt dizzy with excitement. I knew I had to calm down or I’d blow my chance at a Kudu bull. I concentrated on the impala and the baboons and waited as another female Kudu came in. They were still behind us though and we had to reposition ourselves so I could get a view for a shot if a bull came in. Somehow we silently moved and got ourselves in new positions. Dusk was rapidly approaching, with only about thirty minutes of shooting light left a bull finally came in. With the expert help of Johan I got my gun positioned on a good solid foundation. While I did this, the bull approached the watering hole slowly, carefully. He came into my sights and he looked good to me but he was behind a tree - I had to wait a couple more seconds until he was in a good position to shoot. I finally saw the correct sight picture and squeezed. My heart stopped. Johan said I had hit it. I loaded my rifle again and was ready to take another shot. Johan could not see where the Kudu had gone. I thought the shot was good, but I almost cried at the thought that I had gotten chance at a Kudu and might have missed.
We stepped out of the blind, took a big breath of fresh air and felt immediate relief at being out of the hide. We set out to look for my Kudu. We went about 50-60 yards and spotted the Kudu on the ground. He was beautiful! That’s all I could think or say. He was beautiful and I was one lucky woman. What a perfect day in Africa. I’d been in Africa only three days and I had gotten an impala and the Kudu of my dreams.
The next day we headed south to the Pongola Game Preserve in the Kwa Zulu Natal Province. This was where Bryan was going to hunt for Nyala. On the nine-hour ride there Stef got a call from Johan back at the main camp. Johan had just finished measuring my Kudu; it measured 56-7/8 inches. This was the first hint that I’d been given that I had gotten a record book Kudu. I was thrilled to say the least but now I had been bitten by a bug, the same one that hat bitten my husband when he was about ten. I wanted to continue hunting and experience more of Africa. I was also trying to figure out a way to persuade my husband into letting me hunt just one more animal….