|
It Happened in the Kalahari
The biggest Gemsbok I ever guided a client on was a bull, scoring 107 4/8 points SCI, taken by Rudy Rosen during 1999. This caused a lot of comment, as it was the biggest Gemsbok bull ever taken on record. So, when I received an e-mail message from Dr Scott Harrison, requesting a short booking in June, this year, and stating that his priority would be a Gemsbok bull “in the high forties”, my first reaction was: “Yeah, right!” We do have big Gemsbok, though, so I e-mailed Dr Harrison back, inviting him to come and try his luck. We set some dates and, on request from him, I arranged a flying sight seeing trip around Namibia. The pilot from the charter company Bush Pilots (excellent outfit, and one we use regularly for charter flights) met Scott at the Windhoek InternationalAirport. After determining that there was no chance of Scott’s rifles arriving anytime during that week (oh, boy), they decided to take off on the trip, leaving finding the rifles to Bush Pilot’s very competent Maricobi Keys. As it turned out much later, the rifles did arrive the next day, but by then it was too late. Scott and Volker, the pilot, spent the next week flying all over Namibia and seeing the sights. It was arranged that I would meet them at the Aranos landing strip on June 9th. Aranos is the small town closest to our Kalahari concession where, of course, we hunt the big Gemsbok. Apart from the rifles, things went very well and Scott was beaming when we met. He had enjoyed seeing Namibia tremendously and recommended Bush Pilots, and the service they provided, to me. I had arranged to borrow a rifle (30-06) from a friend of mine and Scott had the choice of either using that or my own 300WinMag. At the shooting range, checking the rifles, Scott decided to use the 30-06 and we were set to start hunting the next day. An early evening gave Scott the opportunity to recuperate a little from all the flying, but I didn’t get much sleep. That “high forties” e-mail kept me tossing and turning. Next morning, we were out fairly early. On a question from Scott on what precisely we would be hunting that day, I explained that I try to never set my sights on a particular specie for the day, but rather preferred to “let the bush decide.” Pretty soon we spotted a good sized herd of Springbok and, as Scott was also in the market for two of them, we decided to put in a stalk and see what was available. As luck would have it (and as often happens in the Kalahari) we walked into a herd of around 30 Gemsbok on the way to the Springbok. Not expecting them there, they spotted us long before we saw them and they took off. I could see the excitement in Scott, and we were off. Of course, the Gemsbok now knew we were after them and we were in for a long stalk. As they are wont to do, the Gemsbok would cross a dune and the last couple or so will stop on the dune ridge, looking back along their line of flight to see what was following. I noticed the direction they were taking and, knowing they would be watching their backs, decided to try and outflank them. I got a funny look from Scott when I diverged 90 degrees from where the Gemsbok went, but just motioned him to follow me. After about two miles, I was fairly sure that we would be past the Gemsbok and started to carefully sidle up the dune. Impressed Scott no end (don’t tell him, but it was dumb luck!) when we got to the top of the dune and found the herd of Gemsbok not forty yard from us. They were spread out in the “street” between the two dunes and there was a good bull standing about 150 yards directly in front of us. Now the usual problem, of getting the client looking at the same animal you are, started. Using directions such as “third animal left of the little pale thorn bush” don’t work too well. Now you have to get the client looking at the same bush you are! Anyway, eventually Scott told me he was fairly confident we were looking at the same animal and, by means of “he just shook his head” and “just switched his tail”, we quickly determined that we were, indeed, on the same animal. When the animal turned square on, I gave Scott the “Take him, NOW” part of it, and the shot rang out. Having the Gemsbok in full view, I could see he was hard hit. He didn’t go down and Scott threw another shot into him. Still not down! By now, the animal was all mixed up with the rest of the fleeing herd and we couldn’t get in a follow up. I was pretty sure he was hit hard, having seen the blood high up on his flank, and reassured Scott that we would find him soon. Following the direction of flight the herd took, it wasn’t long before we spotted our animal. He was still standing but, when he noticed us and tried to take off, he collapsed. I cautioned Scott on going in towards him while his head was still up, having developed a healthy respect for wounded Gemsbok over the years. They are one of the few antelope that are really dangerous when they are hurt. Scott put a finishing shot into him, and it was over. After the customary photo session, I got out the tape. Scott endeared himself to me when he mentioned that he didn’t care at all what the animal measured after “a great stalk and a great hunt”. For a professional hunter, the “tale of the tape” is always a tense time. The doubt about your judging ability is always there. He didn’t turn out bad, though not “high forties”! Scott was happy, though. By now it was truly dark and, leaving my apprentice Etienne Langeveldt to take care of the animal, we headed back for camp and a couple of well earned drinks. Our camp factotum, Thomas, was his usual competent self and we were soon relaxing around the fire, reliving the day’s hunt. Next morning, I would award Etienne by allowing him to guide Scott for the first of his Springbok, under my supervision, of course. Etienne did a hell of a job on the Springbok. It wasn’t long before I was walking back to bring up the vehicle. The Springbok measured well up in the top 30 or so in the SCI record book and I could see the satisfaction on Scott’s face. His only complaint was that we keep taking him on these long stalks, making him crawl around and slither on his stomach, and then telling him to shoot the animal “NOW”! He also kept on mentioning things like “when we go after the really big Gemsbok”, ruining any chance I had for a night of rest! By now thoroughly indoctrinated by my client about his “big Gemsbok”, I was determined to put footsteps all over the Kalahari, going after something special. I had a bull in mind that I had spotted during a previous hunt, and had a sneaking suspicion that he might fit the bill. Finding a specific animal in all that space wasn’t going to be easy, though. We used the vehicle to cover as much country as we could, trying to spot the herd containing the bull I was after. Of course, trying to convince Gemsbok that you are harmless while you are driving around in a ruddy great car is rather like telling a woman you have no designs while you are trying to take off her clothes! We did spot a herd around 8 o’clock and a quick scan through the binoculars gave me a glimpse of the big bull. He had distinctive horns on him, making him fairly easy to identify. The right horn was substantially bigger than the left and also thicker. The herd was about a mile from us, so we hid the vehicle behind a dune and started the stalk. Stalking in the Kalahari can be one of two extremes. Very easy, or very, very hard. The long dune lines provide excellent cover and using it, it becomes fairly easy to get close to the herd you are pursuing. Walking up and down in the soft sand is very tiring, though. Then of course there are the Springbok! Like as not, every time you get just about in position, some lone Springbok ram will notice you, whistle and stamp, and alert everything around you. Then it becomes very hard. I must have thrown more curses at Springbok than a dozen sailors in foul weather, combined! Of course, this is precisely what happened and the Gemsbok herd disappeared over the dune. At least I got enough of a view to be sure that the bull was in this particular herd. Back to the vehicle! I decided to use the vehicle to get into the area the herd headed for and, on the way, spotted a couple of horns sticking out over a dune ridge. Another long stalk showed us a lone bull and cow. The bull was good, but about on a par with the one Scott had already collected, so we decided to let him be. Driving down to the area I suspected the herd had headed for, we spotted them slowly walking down a dune line. This was on the other side of a fairly large pan (as we call the low depressions that occur amongst the dunes) and it was going to be very difficult to get up on them. No cover! Luckily, they cooperated by crossing a dune so we could get a lot closer. More crawling and slithering brought us up behind a small Camelthorn tree, with a good view of the herd. Our bull was in there and it was easy for me to point him out to Scott, he was that distinctive. The shot was going to be around 280 meters and I cautioned Scott to aim up a little. Maybe I shouldn’t have, because when he fired, the shot went just inches over the animal’s back. The whole herd took off but, because they did not know we were there, they stopped again after a couple of hundred yards. The distance was now way too far for a shot, so we just stayed still and watched them. I could see the animals taking a long careful look at the area, but they did not spot us. After about ten minutes, they started to walk off. We stayed dead still and let them. Walking Gemsbok don’t go far. When the whole herd was out of sight, I pulled my flanking move again. This time, when I peeked over the dune, I almost screwed the whole thing up. The herd had joined up with another and there now was around a hundred animals spread out among the dunes. On top of that, there was a herd of about forty Springbok milling around. This was going to be tricky! I had a quick scan, but could not see all the Gemsbok and decided to flank them a little further. I had to be careful to stay under the wind and motioned Scott to move real low and slow. More crawling, more slithering. When we got up on the dune ridge again, the bull we were after was directly in front of us. All we had to do now was to be real careful not to be spotted and wait for him to clear. Almost another disaster. My little Jack Russel (appropriately named Jack) knows full well what it means when we start pointing rifles at things and he got real excited. Started climbing all over Scott. I grabbed him and pulled him toward me and he let out a loud “Yip”. My heart dropped right to you know where! Surely, all the animals must now know we were there. But no, they were all calmly grazing around. Except for the inevitable Springbok looking directly at me. Luckily, it was easy to point out the bull to Scott. He was with two other animals, all standing facing directly away from us. When I was sure Scott had the right animal, I almost did the “NOW” again but, mindful of Scott’s comment on this, I just told him to take the animal as soon as it presented. Pretty soon a small voice went: “Now?” Hell, yes, NOW! The shot rang out and the big bull dropped in his tracks! I kept Scott down as the rest of the herd did not run far. The were about 200 meters from us, looking puzzled. We waited for them to move off as I try not to let the animals associated men on foot with the shots. We were losing sunlight, though and still had to do the photos, so when they started grazing again, I stood up. The herd moved off. When we got down to the animal, it quickly became clear that Scott had made the perfect quartering away shot. The bullet had taken the bull just behind the ribs and ranged forward to take him in the heart. He was dead, all right! When I had my first close up look at the horns, I almost lost it. They just went on forever! No judging doubts this time! Cameras worked overtime as we took picture after picture of this bull. My comment on the video states that I had a suspicion that this animal was going to be very close to a new SCI number 1. I had a score of 108 3/8 inches in mind, forgetting about the cow, measuring 111 inches, that was taken in Botswana in 1972. Finally, neither Scott or I could stand it anymore and I got out the tape. I measured the shorter horn first, just to draw out the suspension a little. On rough measurement, 44 4/8 inches! Now for the long horn – 48 inches!!!! I started giggling like a teenager on his first date. I danced around and hugged Scott. I whooped and hollered. Scott grabbed me and asked what the hell was going on. When I finally calmed down a little, I took Scott by the shoulder and told him what that horn measured. He was flabbergasted – high forties, indeed! Back at the skinning
shed, we waited until the head was skinned and then did a finer measurement.
The numbers were as follows: Right horn: 48 3/8th Right base: 8 6/8 Total: 109 1/8 inches Though we later remembered about the cow, the fact that this animal was the #2 did not dampen our elation one bit. That evening in camp, we all relaxed. Finally, the pressure was off and I could get some sleep!! Of course, I didn’t, reliving the hunt over and over again. Next morning, I woke up with a feeling of overwhelming gratefulness. Hunting has always been a passion and very close to my heart. Ever since I started guiding, I have been lucky and for this I am very, very grateful. Also, a big thanks to a great hunter in Scott Harrison. His attitude toward the hunt and the trophy is what we all talk about when we discuss ethics. We hunted this animal right, we shot him right, and we treated him right when he was down. Scott took a good Blesbok and another outstanding Springbok during the two days that was left to us. Etienne again did a great job on the Springbok (I let him guide, again) and the Blesbok amazed Scott with how tough it was. The first shot had taken the animal high in the chest and blew a hole through him that had to be seen to be believed. Still, he ran 400 meters before he went down and even then, he needed a finisher. As I write this, I am looking at an e-mail from Scott that says: “I’ll write you this weekend re next year’s hunt!” For a reference,
contact Dr Scott Harrison at scott@cureinternational.org |
