Lessons Learned

Missed shots, poor shots, shots I should have taken but didn’t. These are the hunting experiences I’d rather forget, but which are the most important to remember, and are the ones that play over and over in my mind when I remember a hunt.

            My very first black powder hunt for deer is permanently embedded in my mind because of a poorly placed shot that I had to follow with a better shot so the animal wouldn’t suffer. The seconds between those shots made it excruciatingly clear to me that I had not spent enough time at the rifle range practicing.  I went back to rifle range and practiced until my aim improved enough to assure myself I would not have another poor shot.

            Did this prevent me form ever making another poor shot? It’s hard to admit, but no, that wasn’t my last or only poor shot. This is another lesson to be learned. Poor shots happen to every hunter from time to time. What we have to do is to take every step we can to avoid them. We do this through practicing at the shooting range, reading hunting tips, watching hunting videos and learning as much as possible about how to avoid making poor shots.  

            I went for a few years not taking any bad shots, until I went to Africa. And even though I came back from Africa with a beautiful Kudu for a trophy, I was lucky because the first shot I took at a Kudu was a total miss. I had practiced with my rifle before going to Africa and was familiar and comfortable with it. The first thing we did upon arriving at camp in Africa was to go to the range and site in our rifles. The Professional Hunter gave me a book to look at so that I was certain where to place a shot for a particular animal. He event pointed out that shot placement for African animals was different than for the North American animals I was used to. I felt confident that I could make an accurate shot.

            The first shot I took at a Kudu was a disaster. I was excited, my heart was pumping, and my whole body was shaking. When I saw that first Kudu come out from behind the acacia tree I took aim at a small white spot I thought I saw on the Kudu. After I fired my P.H. said something like, “I’m not sure you hit it, but let's get the dog here to track the Kudu just in case.”  The trackers and the dog ended up following the tracks of the Kudu I had shot at to a place where it had come to a stop to rest. It was resting, not from being shot, but from all of us chasing it through the African bush. The head tracker declared that I had missed the Kudu - totally. Good for that particular Kudu, embarrassing to me.    

             I replayed the scene of my crime over and over in my head. Kicking myself with every step I took that afternoon. How could I have missed? It was not a long shot, it was not a shot at a moving target, I’d had time to set up on sticks and get a good rest, why had I missed? The answer came later that day, after I had gotten a second and successful shot at another Kudu. And I hate to admit it, but I had no idea what I was aiming at on that first Kudu. That evening as I looked again at the book the P.H. had given me the first night in Africa I realized I should not have been aiming at anything white on the Kudu. I guess sometimes I’m lucky and like the P.H. kept assuring me all afternoon, that first Kudu just didn’t have my name on it. But I did learn a very valuable lesson.