On arrival I was pleasantly surprised, realising why impala, kudu and even warthog could survive in the Free State. The area did not look anywhere close to the hilly Eastern Free State that I had come to know during hunts with international clients. Not a frequent hunter, my brother Vincent had not hunted anything in the last 11 years. This would therefore be our very first hunt together, a very special event for me. We unpacked, pitched our tent and decided to see if we could find Vincent a wary impala. The afternoon was very uneventful, as we spotted almost no game, drawing a blank. That night around the fire we enjoyed great food and good banter. With the crested francolin announcing the new day, we got ready and enjoyed a real cup of coffee that would put a cowboy to shame. The plan was to get out early to where the eland were normally spotted early in the morning. As I came closer to the specific area, I got busted by the wary impala. When they took off, the eland followed suit. To make matters worse there were two pairs of ostrich on the farm, as well as a third male that was obviously looking for his own mate and decided to follow the eland for the day.
The impala were in front with the ostrich male in second place, and the eland trotting off after the bird. The impala went on their own merry way but the ostrich stuck with the eland, thinking he was an eland himself. Every time I thought I was going to get a chance, the ostrich spotted me and went on his way with the eland behind him. At one stage I was 30 m from the herd that were standing in very thick bush, with only their movement giving away their presence. I sat down and waited at least 35 minutes before they slowly moved off. I took this chance to get the wind in my favour. I moved slowly, making sure the wind was going to be my trump card.
When I eventually saw the eland, the ostrich was already running with the eland in tow. With the eland having no idea what they were running from, I had to think of another approach. If only that bird had a smaller price tag on his neck, my wife would have been blessed with dozens of feather dusters! But my sanity prevailed …
Eventually, the eland stood in an open area just next to a line of bush. This is where I saw my chance … Instead of walking away or hiding, I walked parallel to them in the open, about 350 m away from them towards the line of bush. The plan was to stalk unseen in the bush towards them, which would bring me within 100 m if they stayed put. Just before I reached the end of the line where there was a thick bush underneath a tree, I also found a slight dip. Things could not get better for moving in on my target unseen. It was all systems go with no ostrich in sight and the wind in my face.
Entering the dip, I set up the bipod and started to leopard-crawl into position. Although the eland did stay put, I could not see them trough my scope because the bipod was not high enough to clear the ground for an unobstructed view of them. A further 2 m of leopard-crawling and I would be in place to finally get a shot at my eland cow. Having followed the herd the whole morning, I had a specific big cow in mind that would be easy to spot among the herd. She was also larger than the other cows and definitely showed maturity with her greyish skin.
I was on my last stretch, slowly making my way to have the barrel and telescope clear when suddenly the eland started running. The wind was perfect, I was out of view in a flat, prone position – what on earth caused them to spook? Yes, you guessed it … my favourite ostrich had pushed the eland away from me. This time, however, the eland had had enough and trotted off just a short distance before stopping to stare at the mad ostrich disappearing over the horizon. I quickly moved into position; the range was exactly 182 m to the herd but the wind was now gusting. Although in range for a head shot, the wind was unpredictable and not steady. I thus decided against a brain shot, taking a high, double lung shot instead. For this, the eland cow had to stand almost perfectly broadside with no other eland behind or in front of her, which was the case for at least five minutes.
Finally, she was clear and the duplex crosshair settled just in front of her right shoulder, as she was not completely broadside and I would avoid the massive shoulder bone. I touched off the shot and could follow it through. I felt very confident as the silencer allowed me to clearly hear the hit, which sounded very positive. Not knowing what happened, the herd milled around while the cow turned in a circle to the right, took a few steps and spread her front legs; a clear sign of a good hit. My heart was pounding as adrenaline took over. After a very long morning of no chances and being pestered by an ostrich, I finally got her. I could not have asked for a better hunt. After the other eland had disappeared from sight, I got up to walk to the cow. I was beside myself – this was my first-ever eland and I was very grateful for the experience that our Father had blessed me with.
The cow was exactly what dreams are made of, with worn-down horns and good genes that she had passed over the years. I phoned the others at the camp to come and join me. Considering the drought, the cow was in very good condition and we struggled to get her into position for a proper photo session. We called the farm owner and to my great relief a tractor with a trailer was on its way to load her.
Now it was Vincent’s turn and we had to find him an impala that would hopefully offer him a good enough chance at a shot. It would be Vincent’s first animal since a bushpig that he hunted 11 years ago. In fact, it was so long ago that he carefully studied my little pocket guide on shot placement the previous day. I also provided him with some other details to give him a better understanding of the angles, should the impala not be standing broadside. Just after 2 pm, we headed out of camp. I acted as my brother’s guide and professional hunter, a first for us. The wind had picked up since the morning but was at least blowing in one constant direction. We knew of a large herd of impala that enjoyed the thick bush on one corner of the farm, not too far from our camp, and set out in that direction.
Using the wind to our advantage, we stumbled upon a small group of gemsbuck lying in the road in a small clearing not 50 m from us. To our amazement, they were not too scared of us, almost as if they knew that they were not on our hunting list. I got the chance to take some nice pictures of Vincent on the sticks, aiming at the gemsbuck. It also gave him the opportunity to visualise the vital zone of a live animal through the telescope. Then, out of the blue, the mad ostrich appeared and ran past the gemsbuck, who followed him. My nightmares started again, especially since the impala were more skittish than the eland. Would Vincent go back home without his impala on our first hunt together? We waited five minutes so that the ostrich would hopefully end up in KwaZulu-Natal, as he was running in an easterly direction! With the wind that had quietened down and the ostrich out of sight for some time now, we moved in a slightly different direction to the ostrich, which would have chased everything else away with his running.
We had hardly gone 200 m when we spotted an impala clearing an open patch about 180 m away from us. Surely this was the big herd. We quickly managed to move to a different spot where I set up the shooting sticks so that Vincent would have a clear line, should an impala stop in the clearing. I ranged the distance at exactly 96 m. The impala kept coming across, not looking at us or stopping. During a period that we spotted no impala, I actually saw three stragglers with my binoculars and told Vincent to get ready. Presto – the first of the three stragglers, a good-looking knypkop, stopped and stared at us, wondering what we were as we stood dead still, with Vincent ready on the sticks.
The safety came off as soon as I gave him the go-ahead to shoot the impala that was standing almost broadside. The impala gave Vincent enough time to concentrate and take the shot. When the shot rang out, I could clearly see the impact of the bullet through the binoculars. The ram took off, followed by the other two impala.
Waiting about five minutes, I told Vincent to visualise the exact spot where the ram had stood. We slowly moved forward to this spot. Though we found tracks but no blood I knew the shot was true. After about 4 m on the tracks we found a tiny speck of blood. A few metres further I could see the impala was on his death run – he was not avoiding or going around bushes but running through them with blood covering the branches and leaves. He managed 30 m before expiring. The shot could not have been placed any better, taking out the top of the heart and travelling through both lungs. I do not know who was happier, Vincent or I, but I can tell you this: I decided there and then I was not going to wait another 11 years before hunting with my brother again. Back at camp that night it was not too cold; the fire looked brighter, the stars and moon were spot-lights and the night sounds were louder. It was a true life experience that I thoroughly enjoyed, and that in the Vrystaat of all places. I never dreamed of finding such a special piece of bushveld there and we will return to enjoy it again one day!
Dankie Vrystaat for a special hunt and time.
