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By noon on our fifth day in South Africa, we were on the third leg of our African adventure. This time we were heading to the Baviaans River Valley in the Eastern Cape and Andrew Pringle’s huge family ranch.
Following our arrival and a light snack, Beth, Paul, and I along with our ph Scott de Villiers negotiated our way through several deep valleys, pausing ever so often to glass kudu descending the steep mountainsides to feed on the lush vegetation in the bottoms. Seeing five or six nice bulls before dark had Beth really pumped up as a kudu bull remained number one on her African wish list.
Kudu gravitated off the dry mountainsides to feed on the lush vegetation occurring in the bottoms each evening, affording Beth an excellent opportunity to take a great bull.
Just as the sun dipped below the mountain ridge above us, we spotted what appeared to be a huge bushbuck feeding on lush green vegetation in the bottom, but when we approached the area where it last stood, the dark-caped animal was nowhere in sight. But as luck would have it, a duiker with horns in excess of 3.5 inches appeared, and once again my rifle barked and I collected an impressive trophy.
Stalking a large bushbuck the first evening, I was rewarded with this outstanding duiker.
The following morning Beth and I traveled with Scott to investigate several isolated valleys known to attract big bulls. We spotted several mature bulls in the first valley we glassed, and Beth and Chris made a stalk on one of the animals, but came up empty-handed.
As they negotiated their way around the rock-laden mountainside, I got to see my first bush pig sneak off from behind them as the herd of six bulls demonstrated as much caution as any whitetail I have ever witnessed. We no doubt were into bulls but getting close enough for a shot was going to be a real challenge.
Beth’s first attempt at Africa’s grey ghost took the better part of the morning so we decided to return to camp and make a plan for the evening’s hunt. Shortly after lunch, we were glassing from a ridge top affording us a panoramic view of the Baviaans.
As we glassed from above, Scott had one of the trackers walk through the valley below, and as he did, mountain reedbuck exploded from the heavily-thorned acacias and dashed over the opposing ridge as if it were effortless. But only cows and a few young bull kuku were observed.
Returning to our vehicle, we drove to another vantage point and before the tracker was dispersed, we spotted two bulls in the bottom below us. Once Scott decided that one of the bulls was mature, he and Beth initiated a long, arduous stalk, taking them around the mountain to a shallow pass where they could proceed downward and cut the distance between them and the bull. I remained on the ledge where I could observe both hunters and the bulls. As the distance between the hunters and I increased, it was challenging to relocate Beth and Scott, but the bulls remained in sight, moving only a few yards at a time before pausing. Exercising much caution, Beth and Scott made their way to within 220 yards of the bulls, and as I saw them preparing for what I believed was a shot, I remained focused on the larger bull.
With Jan at my side, I took a fine gemsbok.
What seemed like an eternity I suddenly saw the bull leap forward almost a full second before I heard the rapport of Beth’s rifle. It staggered only a few feet before falling over backwards when I let out a loud "yeho," echoed by Beth on the opposing slope. Rushing around the mountain and down the pass took around 40 minutes, but upon my arrival, a huge smile and grand hug from my daughter enforced my belief that the quality of a hunting experience is measured mostly by whom it is shared. With one dramatic stalk complemented by a great shot, Beth realized a dream come true as she beamed, holding her outstanding bull as I snapped some memorable photos.
The grand smile on my daughter’s face enforces the fact that much of a quality hunting experience depends upon with whom it is shared.
The following day Jan joined me while I made a great stalk on some gemsbok, and I took an
outstanding 39-incher. Paul’s gemsbok came on the last day of our hunt as he and Scott
followed a herd almost a mile before getting his chance. With one well-placed shot, Paul
collected his first African trophy.
Following a long, arduous stalk, Paul took his first African trophy—
a huge gemsbok with one well-placed shot.
It was our dream to share Africa with our children – a dream that turned into reality as we enjoy the stories about the event each and every time we get together, and that is what hunting is all about.
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