The call of the wild (in Johannasburg)

by Bob De Vries
Hunter 2

With the safari bookings and the flights organised, a colleague and I left Melbourne in June, 2000 bound for Johannesburg for a plains-game hunt that had been on the back burner for quite some years. We caught the connecting flight to Port Elizabeth and were met there by our PH (professional hunter), Harry. An hour and a half later we had arrived at the lodge. We made a quick visit to the range to check our rifles. My choice of firearms consisted of a .300 Winchester magnum and a .458 Winchester magnum, both of which I had just built and was eager to try out, albeit overkill. I had brought along Woodleigh projectiles. It was interesting to note that my PH used a .308 and a .270. I suppose with the exception of eland, these calibres are more than capable on the plains game.

Now, if you want to bag steenbuck, you’d better sharpen your running shot skills. Actually, being a direct descendant of Annie Oakley would improve your chances to no end. Half the time you do not even have the opportunity to think about raising the rifle, let alone getting off a shot. In any event, I did bag a steenbuck, albeit after many hours of frustration. They may not sound like much, but five-inch horns are good enough to make the SCI gold record. The steenbuck will be full mounted.

As you may expect, finding impala should not be too difficult. However, it took us two or three hours to find a good-sized ram. After lots of walking, my lungs were heaving and sure enough I missed, never to see that ram again. Missing a shot while on your own is bad enough but in front of your PH, the tracker and your best mate is another matter altogether and comments like “well done” did little for my self-esteem.

During the hunt a male ostrich followed us for an hour or so. I must have had something that belonged to him because he was quite persistent. Have you ever tried stalking game with a two-legged haystack following your every move? Despite the obstacles, a second chance at an impala came with a long open shot of about 250 yards (228m) or so. This time I took a rest against a tree and redeemed myself.

Springbok conjure up visions of running/jumping critters as well as the South African rugby team. This day was a beaut, sunny and warm but blowing a gale. The springbok were spooked and getting close enough proved a real test of our patience and stamina. They were not hard to find but a good mature male was another thing altogether. It turned out he was hiding behind the others. Our patience was rewarded as he eventually ventured out from the girls. Once in the open, the opportunity was taken and at about 200 yards (182m) he dropped instantly.

The magnificent gemsbok, with its long rapier horns, is a must for any discerning hunter, myself being no exception. It was a long drive to the appropriate area but a short walk revealed two great males beautifully silhouetted against the pale blue sky upon the opposite hilltop about a kilometre away. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on whether you are the hunter or the hunted, these two critters were undoubtedly trained by Houdini and every time we stalked to their hilltop, they would appear on the hill from whence we had started. This scenario continued for the better part of the day when, tired from swapping hills, we decided to ambush the elusive critters on what we figured to be their trail. A dried creek bed held us up and the wait was on. After two hours (it seemed like all day), there wasn’t a gemsbok to be seen - again we trekked back up the hill, only to look back and see them casually walking out of the creek bed.

Personally, I reckon they were playing mind games with me. I was getting frustrated and they didn’t mind. Their plan worked. That was the last straw; the gemsbok would have to wait until my next trip.

The one thing that all folk associate with Africa is the zebra. Nothing looks better than a well-tanned, felt-backed zebra skin. Having heard rumours of a mammoth-sized zebra roaming the area, we figured this was just the ticket. To save a lot of magazine space, just think back to the gemsbok episode and simply substitute the word zebra for gemsbok. It appears ‘Murphy’ resides in Africa too. Even the South Africans complain about him. I was once again about to admit defeat when Mark, my other illustrious PH, informed me cheerfully, “I never said it was going to be easy.” But to his credit and persistence, a quartering away shot at the running zebra was taken at about 130 yards with the .458.

Somewhere over there is a gemsbok with my name on it and you can be that I’ll be back.

Feel free to contact the author at Kudu Service on 03 9738 0366 for an idea of prices, information, Murphy, bookings, what to take to Africa, permits, rifles, ammo or clothing.