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Main Boards => The Dark Continent => Topic started by: doctorbrady on May 18, 2006, 05:42:00 PM
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Ok. It's been nearly a year since my trip to Namibia and I haven't posted a thing. Found out my soon to be ex-wife had a boyfriend a few days before I took off so I have been busy getting life straightened out for the past several months. Life is better now, so I don't have any reasons not to post. First off, if you remember my hunt at Ombengu was canceled and my hunting partner cancelled. It seemed like a bad deal, but I was set up to hunt with Ombengu's pH Danie Brand at another ranch. As it turned out this was a Godsend. The price was half of Ombengu so I was able to take my stepFather with me for what I would have spent at Ombengu. The ranch was just a few miles down the road and though not bow only at the time, we were the first hunters of the year. I am currently working with the owners and Danie on trying to get them converted to bow only and get some more guys from the states there. Like a lot of Namibia most of their customers are still Europeans with few bowhunters among the group. Back to the story. My step Dad and I landed in Windhoek on time...our luggage did not. It turns out that Lufthansa air would lose our equipment BOTH ways. Needless to say we were a bit stressed. Nothing like being in Africa, hunting paradise, without any weapons. Danie's son met us at the airport and got us to their guest ranch. He was working at Etosha studying giraffes and was very knowledgable about the local wildlife. The natural history and history of the country that we recieved on the road to the ranch were worth the price of admission. I knew right away that we were with the right people. This wasn't going to just be a sit and shoot event, but rather a learning and hunting experience. When we got to the guest ranch we met Danie and his wife Elsi who made us feel like family immediately. I truly believe that Elsie was more upset about our luggage problem than we were, and she set about straightening things our in short order. I don't know much Africaans, but whatever she was saying gave me the impression that the folks on the other end felt as if they were in the principal's office at school. The following day our luggage was found and we were told that it would be another day before it arrived...on 2 different planes. Not wanting to waste any time, we spent the first day touring Etosha and learning a bunch about the critters that we would be pursuing. The wildlife their is amazing and the ambience of the country cannot be overstated. Though the terrain reminded me of a south Texas hog hunt, the immensity of the country and the animals in it were a clear reminder that we weren't in Kansas anymore, Toto. On day 3 we went out to one of the two ranches that we would be hunting. We got the good news that our bows would be arriving late that evening and we could start hunting the following morning! My dad and I sat in a blind that evening after a game drive and watched as a large oryx and cow eland came to drink. Several other critters also stopped by our water hole. With no bows in hand, I was content to capture some footage on my sony VX2000. The evening meals were prepared primarily on the fire and all were excellent. Fresh fruits and veggies were typically served with freshly killed local game. There was too much good food and way too much good beverage. The next morning found us working the kinks out of our shooting gear and getting back into proper shooting form. My step dad hunted with a compound, and I took my trusty Dakota longbow. Another little factor with this trip was that I had been shooting my widow recurve for about 2 years prior to this trip, but was contacted by my good friend Rich Welch a couple of months before asking if I could shoot some footage for a future video production. I dusted off my favorite longbow and went about retraining myself to shoot it as it shoots quite a bit different than the widow. I had also ordered a hummingbird longbow and had been dabbling with it for a few weeks before the trip. All this bow swapping had my brain on overload and my shooting had paid the price. Also, all the events which unfolded the week that I was supposed to leave left me packing my gear in the few hours before I was to hop a plane. I was going on the trip of a lifetime being less prepared than I had ever been on any trip. As I shot my bow the first morining of the hunt, I knew that I was going to have to limit myself to 20 yards or less to overcome my lack of confidence with my shooting. Thankfully, Danie was a long time traditional bowhunter and had supervised the placement of all of the hides, keeping them at very reasonable distances from the water holes and game trails. We set out mid moring to set some water holes. My step dad hunted with Danie and I hunted with the ranch owner's brother in law, a great guy named Lukas. Lukas had played rugby for the Namibian National team and he looked and talked like a bowed up younger Mel Gibson. He was a blast to spend time in the blind with and never made me feel pressured about hunting next to the PH. One of my fears was that sitting next to the PH as I took the "money shot" as Denny calls it would cause me a bit of target panic given my lack of preparedness. Such was never the case with either Lukas or Danie. The first morning in the blind provided me an opportunity to see several critters including a jackal which I was nearly able to get a shot at as it loped by our hide. Still not an arrow was unleashed, but I was EXCITED. Let me know if I haven't bored you to death and I will continue with the story. Also, if I could figure out how to include pics, I would add them. Brady
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Brady, I was worried about you. Glad to hear life is better now. Bring on more story please. Denny
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Hey Denny,
Thanks for the concern. Things aren't settled yet,but it's funny how God has a way of making even bad things good. Life is a bunch better than it has been in years, I have just spent all of my Africa money on attorneys :( . There is always next year. Now back to the show...
First afternoon, I sit in dugout blind near a small concrete watering hole. I watch as numerous critters come and go and it's all I can do not to sling an arrow. Thankfully, I was not feeling quite like myself and was able to keep from drawing blood right off the bat. About mid day a nice impala ram comes to water and ducks his head to drink just 12 steps from Lukas and me. The camera is rolling and I can hear the "oh, this is gonna be good" music playing in the my head. All of my worries go away as my bow muscles tense and I focus on the "vital triangle" of the ram. My focus transitioned to action as the bowstring thumped from my hand and 700 grains of carbon and steel smacked the exact spot I was intent upon. The impala bucked up and kicked hard before darting off into the brush. As he ran off, Lukas congratulated me on the perfect shot, but something in my mind didn't seem right. The memory burned in my head which I replayed 10 times the first minute after the shot, showed way too much arrow sticking out of the ram. 700 grains at 160 fps should have blasted through such a diminutive little critter. I was packing form eland, but had failed to pass through an impala. A quick review of the video showed the same. The shot was perfectly place, but penetration was minimal. At first I thought the antelope's shoulder had kicked back and partly deflected the arrow as it entered. Whatever the case, something was wrong. When we stepped outside the hide and found the arrow, I was relieved to find it intact with about 10" of the shaft soaked streaked with blood. Lukas called the trackers. They too watched the video and assured me the animal was dead. I felt better until after a diligent search we were not able to find any more blood. Finally, by starting back at the beginning the trackers did what they do so very well, they followed a single set of tracks covered by hundreds or thousands of other until they found the first speck of blood 300 yards away. The entire time they were following the imaginary, invisible to me, trail I doubted them. When they found the blood, I was shocked, but I also knew that it wasn't a good sign. Even fast mortaly wounded animals rarely run so far without leaving some sign. The second drop of blood came 200 yards later. It was then that I stopped doubting their ability. Unfortunately, the trail ran cold and the impala was lost. That is until it was killed by another hunter 2 months later. I got word from the ranch owner that a Spaniard had shot the ram with a rifle only to discover a healed over front shoulder wound. Comparing the horns removed any doubt that it was "my impala." At the time, however, I suspected that I had mortally wounded the animal and my enthusiasm was waining even more. I inspected my grizzly tipped arrow. It was still razor sharp. I couldn't understand what had happened. I shot my bow, tested my arrow flight, did everything that I could think of, but was unable to figure out what had happened. I went back to sit in another blind converted from an old water tank. The hide was spacious and comfortable, and nearly invisible to the animals which would drink just 10-12 yards away from my shooting hole. Just before dark a large wart hog approached and made the mistake of dropping to his knees to drink. Again, all of my attention was directed as a small furrow between his shoulder blade and front leg bone. As if magnitized, the arrow flew true and thumped the big tusker. It exited quickly stage left, again with way too much arrow sticking out. My camera captured the even beautifully, and all of my penned up emotions ran out as I wathced the video. Though the shot was suprisingly perfect the arrow barely entered the thick skinned animal. I couldn't believe what I was seeing and shed more than a few tears being absolutely emotionally exhausted. We headed back to camp only to find that my step dad had arrowed a respectable kudu which they had not yet recovered. A short search led us to the mortally wounded animal which was quickly dispatched in African style. His shot was perfect and the steel force blade had done the job. In a few more minutes the large beast would have been no more. Either way, it was a success and I was happy to see my step dad so happy. For me it was bitter sweet as I had begun to doubt my own equipment. I was not alone in that, either. My hunting partner, Lukas was not a bowhunter. He had begun to have some real doubts about this whole thing and even offered to let me use his gun to finish up my hunt. I hadn't come to Africa to play sniper. I had come to hunt with a bow, my bow. Though doubt was plaguing my mind, I remembered all of the hundreds of animals which I have shot with like equipment. The previous year I had blown through 2 large caribou bulls, dispatching them within a few yards of where they stood when I released the arrows. I had taken bears, bucks, boars, and bulls and knew in my mind that the equipment was right. I was just misssing some piece of the puzzle. The next moring, Danie, some trackers, and myself set out in search of the warthog. Several yards away from the point of impact we found an arrow. Only the broadhead had any blood on it. The hog was not mortally hit, and we all knew it. This is where the Ph really earned his keep. We went back to camp and studied my equipment. I was not going to hunt with ineffective tools. I even considered hunting with a spear...really, a spear. As we looked at everything, Danie commented on my grizzly broadheads. Though I had sharpened them to shaving sharpness once my equipment had arrived at camp, I had not properly changed the point on the head. Having hunted hogs and whitetails successfully with grizzleys in the past, I knew the importance of this step. But in all my haste and mental confusion I had failed to do the obvious. Needless to say, the next hour or so was spent doing a little machining work. You see, I had also failed to pack a suitable file with which to change the point. After some true to life African engineering we set up a make shift grinder on a drill and reworked the working end of my heads. I rehoned the steel to shave, shot a few arrows to rebuild confidence in my set up,and hurried back to the blind....now it's about to get good. Brady
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Brady, after considering hunting Ombengu in 04 and then ending up hunting a concession in South Africa instead I'm anxiously waiting to hear the rest of your story. If I ever return to hunt Africa I think it will be in Namibia after all I have heard from others that have hunted there before.
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Don't stop now Brady. I just put you on suicide watch! :)
I thought Danie's name was Donnie. What's up with that. LOL
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You've got me hooked, keep it coming!!!!!
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As you can imagine, I am still a bit skeptical with my set up. My brain knows better, but my heart han't got it all worked out yet. I go back to the old water tank with Danie and set up for the afternoon. If Danie was concerned with my hunting set up, you sure wouldn't have known it. He stayed positive and reassured me that if I could keep shooting as well as I had been that some stuff was going to die. I was trying hard to believe him. That afternoon dragged on with only some guineas and young hogs coming in to drink. I had just dozed off for the first time when Danie's accented whisper brought me back to the bush. "Brady, move very slowly. There is a baboon at the water hole." Now this was a God send. You see, even though there are baboons on the far opposite end of the property as it drops down out of the mountains, this end was flat as a pancake and usually devoid of baboons. This old warrior had obviously past his prime and been run out of the main group. His teeth were old and worn and he had the hagard appearance of a man back from a hard days work. His senses were still with him, though, and he looked cautiously around before stooping to drink. By that time, my bow was lifted and the tension on my bow fingers tugged every other thought from my mind. I came to anchor and drilled a mental spot into his side. A second later the bow thumped and I watched as my arrow passed through the old warrior. The shot seemed a couple of inches further back than my focus point, but the arrow had sailed effortlessly through. Unfortunately, Danie had been afraid of spooking the beast and was only able to catch a small piece of the action on film. Twenty minutes later we left the blind and took up the search. Once again blood was scarce, but this time the bright pink blood on the arrow told the tale. After a few minutes of searching, I found a distinctive baboon print headed away from the blind and it quickly led me to the fallen beast just a few yards behind the water tank. He was struck cleanly and died a mere 30 yards from the blind. After the obligatory pictures, I breathed a sigh of relief having broken the slump and returned to the blind to finish the evening. The evening brought numerous other animals venturing in, but they were either a bit too small, too female, or too far away for a shot. About an hour before dark a herd of red heartebeast approached with a single large bull controlling the harem. The cows drank first. It was only after a 30 minute wait that the wary bull approached to drink. I once again had to push away thoughts of my earlier failures. Sure I had arrowed a 50 pound baboon, but how would my equipment perform on a 350 stud heartebeast? My arrow answered the question before I had time to ask it a second time. The answer was VERY WELL! The arrow stuck perfectly penetrating both sides of the animal which ran frantically for 50 yards before expiring on camera. Once again, life was feeling a little better. Hakuna Matada (sp?), no worries. That night I shared both in my own successes as well as my father's as he had arrowed a large springbok and warthog. After too much African drink and food I slept well for the first time in many nights. 7 more hunting days to go and plenty of arrows...and sharp pointy broadheads.
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Denny,
It is Danie, pronounced Donnie. It must be an African thing. LOL Brady
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Brady, sounds good. Did you meet Danie's daughters? Hey, I took you off the suicide watch list. LOL Enjoying your experience. Got any pics?
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Some sound advice, Brady...
You have been there once, don't go there again...at least not for a Loooonnngggg time! Why buy a boat, a Mercedes, a jet, or a woman when you can rent one? Get my drift?
Ed Wolf, who was the veterinarian who filmed all my hunts for Stoney-Wolf Video Productions, was married four or five times. After the last one, he told me that if he saw a pretty woman walking down the street, he would just walk up to her, give her the title to a new truck, the deed to a house, and wave goodbye!
Heck...my wife even had some bumper stickers made up that said, "Honk if you married Ed Wolf". I snuck up to his office and put one on each of his cars. He drove around for weeks wondering why everyone was honking at him!
Spend the money on hunting, mate!
Cheers from Too Short!
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Good day all
The name Danie is the Afriekaans equivalent of Daniel. Danie is often short for Daniel. The Afrikaans spelling of Daniel is Danieel.
One piece of advice, never get on the bad side of a Afrikaans farmer’s wife. When she likes you she’ll stuff you with food until it’s hard to walk. If she doesn’t like you, you’ll be better off running barefoot through a field of thorns. They take hospitality VERY seriously.
Namibia is a very beautiful place indeed, and with a population of 4 million, it is in many ways a better African experience than the other southern African countries.
Cheers
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Yeah Denny,
I met Quittie, Danie's daughter. She taught me a little Africanns. She actually gave us our tour of Etosha, cool gal. I did get quite a few pics but I need a tutorial to get them posted. Took 6 critters home with me. I can give the rest of the story if everyone has not tired of the experience or just send the pics. Too short, I certainly understand what your friend means. I've dropped 80K to attorneys so far with no end in sight. I'll be lucky if I can afford a squirrel hunt this year when all is said and done. My mistake was marring a gal whose folks were big antihunters....yeah, I know. It's kind of hard to be married to a guy as crazy about slinging arrows at critters as I am when your folks are tree huggers. Amazing we managed for 10 years. Got 3 awesome boys, though...always a silver lining. The real kicker is that she is trying to move them off and has successfully kept me from being able to take my boys hunting with me until this whole thing is said and done. Can you believe that? Anyway, enough garbage. Namibia is awesome and it will be even better when I have my boys along in a year or two. Let me know if you want any more story. Brady
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Too Short, Good to hear from you! Sounds like some good advise. Not everyone is as lucky as you and I with wives. LOL
S Meyer, Thanks for the info and also the sage advise. Running barefoot through a field of thorns. LOL!
Brady,I know it's a pain typing all that out, but I sure am enjoying your story. Thanks, Denny
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Great story, looking for more...
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The following morning, I arose early and had a quick breakfast of muselix. Danie packed us a lunch and we headed into the bush. My hide for the morning was a simulated termite mound which had been placed by some of the ranch hands the day prior. A word about these guys. The men in camp serve in a variety of roles including trackers, skinners, auto mechanics, and laborers and they do all with a smile. With Namibia and South Africa just about a decade out of Apartheid, the relations between the black and white countrymen are foreign to us and take some getting used to. There is no political correctness here, but our ranch owner and our PH's showed a great deal of respect towards the staff who assisted us daily. It is interesting to see how that relationship worked so well for all involved. As the hide I would be sitting in was small, Danie opted to sit with my video camera in an elevated blind about 50 yards away. The African winter air was quite chilly in the mornings with lows around 45 degrees on most days. As the sun rose animals began approaching the water hole. The blind had been placed so near the water that I found myself staring at the underbellies of several kudu cows and calves as they drank nervously. The usual parade of birds also showed themselves including numerous doves, sand grouse, and a platoon of dozens of guinea fowl. After several hours I had failed to see an animal that I wished to harvest. Unbeknownst to me was the fact that both a large kudu and gemsbock had approached within 30 yards of the back of my hide but wouldn't close the distance as the new blind had them nervous. Danie, however, had watched it all from his position and I later got to watch the big animals on tape. Just after mid day we returned to camp to a large lunch. My step dad had arrived back, again having harvested an amimal. His trophies now included a kudu, warthog, gemsbock and heartebeaste. I was happy for him, but he was starting to make me look like a slacker. We decided to hunt the other ranch for the evening as it reported to have a larger number of zebras as well as a sizeable number of blue wildebeast. Unfortunately, the evening brought 30 mph winds and not much to look at except for some playful young warthogs and their mom. The following morning saw me back at my trusty water tank hide ready to see another African sunrise. I was not disappointed. We all talk of what Africa has for the hunter, but what makes it so great is what it lacks. There is no ambient light from nearby cities, because there are no nearby cities. There is no automobile traffic, no beaping pagers, no cell phones ringing, and almost no overhead plane traffic to be heard. You can almost hear the sun come up. As it erupted from the arid horizon, the sound of guineas, dove, and francolin broke the silence. All but the francolin soon appeared to drink. After watching the guineas for over an hour, I decided it was time to stretch my bow muscles. I tagged the first with a judo and made a mental note not to do it again. You waste alot of time trying to find one hit with such a head. The second one wasn't nearly as hard to find as my grizzly tapped both wing butts. A parade of animals again made there way in front of my shooting porthole, but none were the "right animal" and I finished without slinging another arrow. As we had not been seeing any eland at the water during the day, we opted to try some stalking. Growing up in heavy whitetail country, I found the stalking here quite refreshing. Leaves were mostly absent and the high grass provided plenty of cover for a short guy like myself. Our routine was simple. We would drive the narrow single track roads, spotting with our optics as we went. When we found an animal that I wanted a chance out, I would bail out on the opposite side of the rover and sneak off alone into the grass. When the vehicle left, I would already be making my way to the down wind side of the quarry. We first spotted a single eland bull standing in a small grove of trees. It was great except that he was surrounded by 50 nervous springbok and a few heartebeast who looked equally concerned. As I made a large circle, I heard the vehicle drive away. It was then, for the first time, that I began to think about the relatively large numbers of leopards that roamed in our area. Everyone in camp had a leopard encounter story. I was hoping that I wouldn't. I tabled those thoughts with the others I had repeatedly tabled during the trip, so that I could focus on the mission at hand. As the collection of trees came into view, my predatory instinct went on high alert and I crawled toward the game which I knew was just ahead. I noticed a flash in my periphery and moved into position as a big ram springbok walked within 20 yards. It was hard for me not to whack him, but the eland bull was my number one priority. When the ram did finally notice me he went on alert and I had to wave him off to keep him from snorting at me. When he trotted away I took up the trail again. 50 careful yards later I spotted him. A big Brahma looking bull of a creature walking in my direction. His path would take him about 30 yards from me. Close enough, but 20 would be better. I cut the distance to close to that by using a few bushes as cover. Then he stopped. At 20 or so yards, he froze behind a clump of bushes. His head, neck and back showing above the branches. Something wasn't right in his world, but he hadn't figured out just what. He turned and walked into the shadows of some low trees 5 yards further beyond me. He gazed back in the direction the truck had last been. I am sure that 2 days past though my watch showed only 2 minutes. I got anxious and thought about using a method I have successfully used to bring startled hogs out of the thick texas brush. I picked up a couple of small rocks anc contemplated their trajectory. There were two things that I didn't factor in apparently. The first was that rocks are apprarently heavier than a comparable U.S. rock as this one didn't land just past the eland, but rather in the branches just above his back. The second factor is that 1500 pound animals running at full speed toward you are significantly more nerve shattering than 200 pound oinkers. The bull exploded in my direction, and after nearly running me over, noticed my form and turned quickly 90 degrees. I am sure that he is still moving in that direction. When I returned to the rover, Danie was just as elated as was I at my near success. We would do this again. For now we would go for lunch and come up with a game plan for the evening.
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Denny...
Off to Andrew Mackay's on the 24th! Two solid weeks of hunting those big Buffalo, stuffing pigs, and catching big Barramundi! I can't wait! Doug Otte, who was burned in that fire with me, is going and another mate named Stan "Swamp Dog" Bowser. Both these guys are plenty experienced and have hunted the big stuff in Africa, so it should be cool.
Doc...I'm off to Namibia (Ha Nore) to hunt Leopard...Bushman style...on the second of July. Namibia is an unbelievably cool place and I hope to hunt there more in the future. Sorry to hear about the problems. I married a gal who is an outdoor freak...she grew up on a mink farm...learned to bow hunt with a 55 pound longbow, and shot a pile of game in the U.S. and Africa. Due to severe Fibromyalgia, she can no longer shoot a bow, but she encourages me and joins me when it's not too rigorous a location.
We just celebrated our 42nd anniversary in the Cook Islands...fishing, beachcombing, and swimming. I'm one of the lucky ones, as Denny said!
When she gets her dander up at me, I just call her "Yes, Sir"!
Cheer from Too Short
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Too short,
Good for you, and happy anniversary. I am certainly all for marriage. It just pays to take the time and pick one very, very carefully. Man, I need to get this working for a living thing over with so that I can hunt as much as you :) !!!!. If I can figure the picture posting deal out I will finish up the story and show some carnage pics. Brady
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Hey Brady,
Good to talk to you yesterday.
Keep up with the story it is a good one and no one tells em like you do
considering the offer to go back with you and think it may be the best choice for me and nathan
talk to you soon
Mike
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Mike,
Would love to have you and Nathan along. I can give you all of the details when we talk next. I assure you that you both will have an incredible time and see critters that he has only seen in books...at 10 yards. Oh, and did I mention the opportunity to pet a live cheetah?!!! It kind of freaks you out when you know it eats live goats for supper. You will have to see the pics. It was way cool. When I get a few minutes free I'll continue with the story. Brady
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And the rest of the story? Come on Doc.
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come on Doc!!! Please... :D :wavey: marco#78
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I promise I will get back to the story in the next couple of days. I have been having trouble with my home computer and am too busy trying to make enough to pay off attorney's fees while I am at work! Stay tuned. It's coming with some pics!!!!!
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Great story.
I'll be checking back for updates on a daily basis!
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Back to the story...
Later that afternoon after talking to some of the ranch staff, we decided to take a drive down the dry creek bed that traverses a large part of the property. The trackers told us that they had noticed many kudu and impala restin in the brush along the banks. I found it interesting that these guys were spending a part of their day just traveling across the ranch observing game. The drive took us down the rocky creek with banks overgrown with dense brush. Laying just off the river were numerous animals, primarily kudu and impala, as the guides had suggested. Much like whitetails in the brush country of Texas, these animals would often remain motionless in the cover as we approached. When they thought that they had been discovered or when the vehicle stopped, they would bolt for safety. I had several opportunities to shoot from the vehicle at some nice kudu, but I opted to pass on these opportunities. I attempted several stalks after seeing game sneaking away from us, but all ended up in the kudu's favor. What I did discover was that there was ample opportunity to hang stands in this cover and hunt African game in typical whitetail fashion. Unfortunately my stands were a few thousand miles away.
That evening Danie and I decided to hunt a new stand. We had been seeing a lot of cheetah tracks in the area and they told me that one particular problem cheetah had been frequenting the area as it was thick with springbok. The chance to see a wild cheetah hunting prey was hard to resist. They also needed it killed. The stand consisted of an elevated blind placed about 22 yards from a concrete water hole. The tank was continuously filled by a well pump as were all of the tanks on the ranch. This is arid country and there is almost no above ground water during the dry season. Upon entering the blind, I knew that it was going to be a challenge for me with my longbow. The hide was long and narrow, and reminded me of a train box car. When I drew my longbow, my drawing elbow barely grazed the back tarp which enclosed the metal structure. My bow just narrowly missed the front support. After adjusting some shooting holes I was able to position myself so that I could safely shoot and arrow without banging my bow off the frame. I took a couple of practice shots and killed a couple of tree branches that I had focused on along the watering hole. Now all I had to do was to sit and wait. The waiting was short lived. Soon springbok started moving into the area. One respectable male followed a group of ewes to the tank. Unfortunately, the wind was being fickle and the animals were nervous. The ewes drank only briefly before fleeing back to the patriarchal ram. The scenario played itself out a few times until the ram's own thirst drove him to the hole. His caution over powered his need for water, however, and he skirted just past the water hole without drinking. I felt that this was going to be my only chance at him. Danie sat next to me, camera rolling as I stood and peered through a small slit that we had made in the corner of the blind. As the ram angled away at about 23 yards, I focused and drew. My arm bumbed the rear of the blind and the narrow slit played tricks on my depth perception. I focused harder and released. The arrow sailed through the ram and stuck in the ground beyond. I watched him bounce off about 30 yards and peer back at me. The shot looked high, but had obviously struck the animal...I thought. He walked cautiously away and I looked desparately with my binoculars to try to find a blood spot on his chest. Danie asked if I wanted him to finish the animal, but I answered that I did not. He looked too good to have been hit. I quickly rewound the video. The camera clearly showed that the business end of my arrow passed over the ram as he hunched slightly. The shot was so close that the fletches brushed through his hair and gave the appearance of having struck him. We watched the ram for over and hour as he fed with his harem in the distance. Strike one.
Another hour past, and my rear had become sore from me kicking it so many times. It was then that Danie noticed a young baboon wathcing the water from a tree 200 yards away. Slowly, meticulously, a troop of baboons made their way to our position. They would only move a few yards at a time and never without 2 or 3 scouts first surveying the area closely. Several warthogs came and went as the baboons made their approach. Danie cautioned me to be extremely still because the baboons would pick us out if we moved even a little in the darkened blind. If they spotted us, they were likely to sit back in the trees and scream at us, alerting every other animal to our presence. We waited. After nearly an hour a couple of the younger monkeys made their way to the water. I sat motionless, now standing in the blind, as they drank. The troop leader, a mammoth of a baboon with large canines evident in his mouth jumped up on the side of an old water tank 30 yards from the concrete pond. He looked around the area, peered up into our blind, and then approached authoritatively. Now feeling comfortable of the situation he leaned to drink not even looking around before placing his head to the water. Again I drew my longbow and stared a hole through his chest. My fingers relaxed and the arrow flew toward the big primate. Unfortunately, it blasted into the concrete just below his chest. 2 inches below the mark and everything came apart. The startled brute screamed loudly and ran from the scene. Shouts came from everywhere as the frantic troop fled for the safety of the trees. Once again, the narrow blind had put me out of tilt just enough to throw off my shot. Strike two.
The baboons stayed to mock me for nearly an hour. Danie tried to radio camp to have a vehicle sent so that we could move to another area. There was no answer so we waited. 20 minutes later as he tried again to reach camp, I noticed a big warthog coming to the water. His tusks were long and white. His tail stood above him like a parasol, though it offered little shade. After testing the wind he ran directly to the water. He took a quick look around, decided all was clear, then bent at the knees to drink. Danie had armed the camera and gave me the go ahead. I drew again and brushed the tarp. I reset my anchor and tried to focus. Mentally I was trying to drown out the nuisance of the blind as I picked a spot on the animal's side. My mental fortitude was lacking as my arrow struck as the foot of the hog, just below his chest. Fortunately he was unharmed and trotted away from the water hole. Strike three. I would not hunt this blind again. I was not mentally equipped to do it. I needed a little time at the sand pit to regain what was left of my confidence and sanity. Ther great thing about Africa is that tomorrow is always a new day.
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Doc,
You're the master of suspense! You should market this, write a book and sell it to pay off your ex!
Now, we're all waiting for the rest of the story!
TB
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TB,
Great idea! Unfortunately, it would take a NY Times best seller to quench her thirst.
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Here we go again....
Needless to say, we got the heck out of that blind and spent the last few hours at my familiar water tank blind. Danie chose to sit in the elevated blind 25 yards to North of the water hole with my camera while I nestled in to my old hole. I suspect he was tired of hearing my foot bang off of my butt. The evening heated up immediately as a squadron of guinea fowl made their way to the water. I had already drilled a couple this trip, but I needed to rebuild my confidence. A hundred of these birds kicked up dirt around my blind as they chased each other across the sun baked opening. The temperature was about 85 degrees, cooler than back home in Missouri. I decided that I would only take a head or neck shot on a guinea rooster. The only problem was getting one of the buggers to hold still long enough to get anchored and released. I drew my bow a dozen times only to let down later. Finally, a big rooster headed straight at me at a dozen yards. I focused on the comb at the base of his neck and watched as my arrow dispatched the bird. It was over the instant it began. The other birds couldn't figure out what had happened, but decided to water somewhere else anyway. As they left, I went and claimed my prize, as much to get it away from the precious water hole as to boost my morale. Shortly after things had settled down several young springbok and kudu cows came to water. The predator in me was still flared up and I drew as they dipped to drink. Judgement won out, however, and I lowered my bow, happy for now to look at the guinea which hung in European fashion from a nail on the wall of the blind. As the sun dipped in the horizon, a parade of heartebeast filtered from out of the bush. I could also see several kudu and gemsbok skirting the edges of the cover. The animals all approached simultaneously, but the immensity of the heartebeast herd gradually pushed the other animals back. The herd was nearly 100 animals strong. I had watched this same herd a couple of days before and knew that their were 2 monster bulls in the group. I had an opportunity at one of the monsters during my previous encounter, but I had shot my other heartebeast that same day and chose not to take 2 while so many critters were still on my "wish list." I knew that Danie had the camera rolling as the group approached. The animals butted heads and chased one another around the area. The clashing of horns reminded me of watching bighorn sheep battle on the discovery channel. There was so much to watch that I nearly forgot that I was hunting...nearly. I meticulously searched the group with my binoculars trying to pick out one of the 2 bulls I had seen before. I found the first, a large symmetric bull with bases noticeably larger than the others in his group. I also noticed that none of the other bulls lined up to spar with him. No one wanted any part of this guy. The only problem was unless he was standing next to an average bull, I was unable to find any characteristic that made him stand out. The second large bull was different, though. His tops curved sharply back, almost at right angles. He, like the other, was massive and held his mass out to his tips. I found myself wondering whether his characteristic curves were more appealing to me than the other bulls more typical shape. My daydreaming was interupted by some commotion at the waterhole. A bull had caught his horns in some brushed which had been placed to keep the animals from drinking directly facing the blind. The bull was shaking the branches furiously trying to dislodge them. I laughed quietly as I watched him finally free himself from the tangle. It was then that I realized that this was the big guy. By the time I got set for a shot the bull had trotted of to the safety of the herd. Bull after bull filtered in and jockeyed for position along the concrete tank. There were so many thirsty animals that they actually reduced the tank to a mud puddle. Then, from out of the masses I saw the bent horned bull move to drink. He pushed his way in among the thirsty crowd and found a spot to drink...perfectly broadside at a dozen yards. "Focus, focus," I thought to myself. I had to get my recent misses out of my head. I found a spot within the "vital triangle." I could picture the lungs and the top of the heart resting there. I drew, anchored, and held while my brain ran calculations that I am too simple to understand. My fingers relaxed when my mind had finished its calculations. The arrow was off.....
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Your Killin me slowly
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It's an amazing thing to watch an arrow fly it's path, a path willed by a mind which has, through repition, been trained to direct it to a single spot. In this case the spot was a clump of hairs overlying a pounding heart, and the arrow sailed through both. The herd of wildebeast scattered at the commotion of their stricken leader. I could see the arrow hanging by just the nock as he fled towards cover. He would never make it. He died within sight only a few yards away from where my other heartebeast had fallen. I knew that Danie had seen it too from his elevated perch. It wasn't until the sun had completely given way to the light of the stars that I recieved the only piece of bad news in this chapter of the story. Danie had been filming the heartebeast since they left the cover of the bush. He had excellent footage of many of the animals coming to drink, including the footage of the large heartebeast freeing himself from the bush. Seconds before I had released my arrow however, Danie had decided that I was going to pass on heartebeast that evening and he had turned the camera on some of the sparring animals in the background. My shot will forever last in my memory, but only there. We called the trackers to come pick us up. We would not need them otherwise tonight. While we waited, Danie pointed out constelations, stars, and planets that are hidden by ambient light in our civilized world. I started to fear now that I would have to leave this place sometime way too soon.
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I'll try to do this picture thing. First a picture of the old warrior.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures007.jpg)
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Well, it worked. Here's another.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures007.jpg)
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Here's the cheetah. This guy is alive. He lives in a big enlosure along with several other wild cheetahs. This one was raised from a cub. He still has all of his claws and teeth, though, and he still kills a lot of his own meals. The freaky part is that when you leave the enclosure you have to pick up a pole and face him as you back out or his instincts get the better of him and he will attack you. It seems cheetah can't resist the rear side of an animal.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures007.jpg)
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Whoops. Wrong picture. Let me try again.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures007.jpg)
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(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures008.jpg)
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Finally! The baboon was cool a time or two, but it was getting old. Here is a picture of the water tank hide.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures012.jpg)
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Some African wildlife pics I took.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures010.jpg)
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures009.jpg)
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Wondering where the "vital triangle" was? Here's a picture of my second heartebeast. It ranked in the top 7 in the Namibian Record Books.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures055.jpg)
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Beautiful hardebeest,congradulations and thanks for stories.... PS that Impala sure looks good :)
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Awesome!!
Thanks for sharing the tough and good times in your stories. I have to say most of us have been there, and appreciate the bitter and the sweet. Good luck in all you do!
Rich
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I am still a few critters short of finishing the story. I will be fly fishing in south Florida for the next few days, but will be back and fill in some more of the story next week. In the mean time I will leave a few more pics to get you through.
Here is a picture of my step Dad with his kudu.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures013.jpg)
Here is most of the gang. From left to right are our trackers, Elias and Abram, Lukas, me (in the front), Danie, and my step Dad, David.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures102.jpg)
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wow thanks for sharing! and well done
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The next morning I returned to the water tank hide. I had been seeing some large kudu hanging out in the brush until dark and wanted to slip an arrow into one. Shortly after sun up I saw some kudu cows approaching cross wind from the hide. They approached cautiously and began to drink. I strained to see a bull, knowing that the harem of cows was unlikely to be alone. Sure enough a mammoth bull slowly emerged from the brush, nosing the air as he approached. Apparently, one cow was in heat as he kept his nose in her business as much as he could. He circled the group who were now drinking calmly. On a couple of occasions he came to broadside at 25 yards. Both times he turned as I began my draw. My heart was in my throat as I watched the trophy animal close the distance. I was sure that he would drink along with the cows. His mind was on other things, however, and he never came to the hole. He skirted the edge of the brush sniffing each cow as they filed into the scrub. He turned sharply away as he headed out. Danie urged me to shoot at the bull now 30 yards away. Unfortunately the steep angle of the bull at that distance left me uncomfortable with the shot and I held off hoping he would return for a sip. It was the last time I saw him. Two smaller bulls came in to drink later in the morning, but I continued to hold out for a brute.
The evening hunt was dotted with times of absolute stillness and chaos. The usual guinea which provided me with constant amusement stayed only briefly. The sun was hot and the waiting seemed impossible. I passed the time journaling and reading in the blind. I watched springbok as they came to drink, but I opted not to shoot. As darkness approaced I watched as some kudu cows slipped from the brush. Following closely behind was an average bull. I hoped that the big bull I had seen that morning would be shortly behind, but he never appeared. The bull was a shooter and only looked small because of the mental image I still had of the big bull earlier in the day. I decided that I would shoot him if he approached.
He kept vigil while the cows drank. I practiced drawing and picking a spot on each cow as she stooped to drink. Finally the bull approached the water. At the same time I saw a warthog running to the water's edge. I could clearly make out large white teeth in the fading light. Earlier in the day I had watched a very large boar gashing a defenseless tree 50 yards away, obviously marking his territory. The boar never approached near enough to shoot. I lifted my binoculars to inspect the hog which was now pushing between the legs of the drinking kudu cows. I could not tell if it was the same animal, but light was fading quickly and I had to make a decision now. The kudu bull still stood 25 yards away staring at the water. If I took the hog I would certainly lose my opportunity at the kudu. The phrase "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" ran through my mind and triggered my shoulder muscles to begin my draw. With barely a perceived thought the string was at anchor and I was focused upon the warthog. A kudu cow nudged him in the rear and he jockeyed for a new spot on the opposite side of the hole. He bowed his knees and lapped at the water, his entire body now clearly visible. I found a new focus point just above the near side elbow. I relaxed my grip and the arrow blew through the hog striking the cement on his opposite side. Animals exploded in all directions then everything went quiet. I was unable to see exactly where I had struck the beast due to the waining light. Danie, who was sitting beside me smiled and handed me the camera. The footage was clear despite the light. My shot was good, striking about 2 inches from where I had focused. It had clearly taken out his lungs. We called the trackers. Our cursory exam of the area revealed no blood. The trackers then began dissecting hoof prints in the sand until they found the track of a running warthog headed in the direction my hog had left. 100 yards later we found our first blood on some high grass. We continued to follow the steady stream for 200 more yards in the headlights of the land cruiser. The beast appeared to have fallen in mid stride. The autopsy revealed he was taken through both lungs. I had missed his heart by about an inch. Despite the fatal strike he had managed to cover 300 or more yards before giving in. Back in camp everyone was in good spirits, and we again celebrated with some South African wine and brandy. My step father had added a springbok to his list of game taken. He had now taken 6 amimals and was trading bows and arrows to cover his ever expanding list.
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The next few days were equally eventful. Some days I took game, some I did not. Each was equally unique and exciting. I tried my hand at stalking a couple of more times resulting in me getting deadly close to gemsbok, impala, and heartebeast. Still the massive eland eluded me. On my next to the last evening's hunt I watched a big bull oryx approach the water in the last minutes of light. I had had this scenario play itself out several times only to leave me sitting in the dark by the time the animal made it to the water. This time, though, rather than standing in the brush until dark the bull decided to drink. He skirted the edge of the bushes and approached from down wind of the blind. Thankfully the fully bricked hide held my scent and kept my presence a secret. The bull seemed quite nervous as he approached. He muscles twitched and shook as he moved toward the water with a gate that best resembled a foxtrotter. His contrasting black and white coat made him stick out well in the darkening light. I strained to pick a spot as I drew my longbow.
I focused and released, but was completely unable to see where my arrow had struck. The loud smack my 700 grain carbon made was reassurance that it had not missed its quarry. The night became still and we radioed the trackers. While we waited we Danie and I began the search. Again blood was scarce. We found a few drops 20 yards beyond the waterhole. We canvased the area and found some tracks which we felt belonged to the beast. Our search, though, left us empty. When the trackers arrived 20 minutes later we opted to wait until morning to take up the search. Oryx are remarkably tough animals and can go a considerable distance when pushed. As we did not know where I had hit the animal we felt it best to try again in the daylight. The night was a year long. I was unable to relax or rest as I thought about all the possible scenarios. I knew that I had hit bone somewhere given the loud smack. I also knew that these are tough animals with tough bones. Morning could not come fast enough. When morning did arrive, Danie suggested that I go to another blind and hunt while he and the trackers looked for my gemsbok. It was already dead he assured me and his trackers would find it. My morning hunt found me watching numerous warthogs and some very nervous springbok from a newly placed blind. The animals were naturally suspicious of the blind and all of them skirted it on the down wind side. No adult animals would give me a reasonable shot. When Danie arrived at 11 AM my stomach sunk. I could see the disappointed look on his face as he stepped out of the cruiser. I asked him if they had any luck and he disappointedly replied, "Oh yes we found him, but so did a cheetah. I am afraid that the cheetah ruined your cape." I am sure that Danie was surprised to see me so excited. I ran to the truck to see the nice oryx bull curled within the bed. His horns were gorgeous, thick and black. His cape was indeed torn along the neck and chest, but that mattered little to me, especially as Danie volunteered to give me a replacement for free. He told me that we had walked a few yards past the oryx the previous night. He was struck squarely in the heart and ran only 100 yards before dying. The absent light and high grass prevented us from seeing him. Oddly the tracks around the animal showed that a cheetah had fed on him. This is unusual as cheetah will only eat very fresh meat. He surmised that the cheetah was watching the whole show which explained the nervousness the animal displayed. The cheetah likely began feeding shortly after we left. Now I had not only my trophy, but a cool story to go along with it. I was excited about my last evening's hunt which was about to get started.
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Here's a picture of my gemsbok.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/gemsbok.jpg)
Here is the super tough warthog I took.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v496/doctorbrady/africa%202005/kidpictures011.jpg)
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Awesome stories and well told!
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Doc, the pics are so pretty, love the stories, and I just love ur Longbow, I will order me one as soon as I can swing it. Congrats on a awesome trip!!!! Mark#78...Ps. 700 grain arrow out of what poundage bow ???? thanks, my Lap top is battery power about to crap out LOL , check in the AM...
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Mark,
I was shooting a 72 pound Dakota longbow. It was one of Rick's older bows, but he had fashioned a new riser for me just prior to the hunt. I chrono'd it against my 70# black widow recurve and my 75# hummingbird longbow just prior to leaving and it shot the heavy arrow about 5-10 fps faster than both.
For the few of you still waiting for the end, here goes....
The last day had me feeling sad to be ending my stent in Africa and anxious about returning home. I knew that my return would be chaotic (though I never would have dreamed how much), but I longed to see my 3 boys. Still I hated to leave Africa behind. The few that have been blessed enough to hunt there will understand the feelings that I experienced as I started up my last day in this enchanted place. The morning was beautiful, like most I had hunted. I hunted a new stand, still hoping for an opportunity at a zebra or eland. The African sun greeted me warmly. The cool morning air slowly gave way to the warm African sun. Like most mornings, I started in a heavy jacket, but shed the clothes as the sun approached the middle of the horizon. I basked in its warmth and reflected upon all that I had seen. For the last time before returning home I listened to the cacauphony of birds and watched the parade of animals as they came to water. Several species came and went. Nothing new appeared and I was satisfied catching them both on camera and on video. Though the African landscape had already etched a place in my memory, I knew that the pictures would fill the hearts of 3 adventurous boys back home. My morning came and went without me launching an arrow. I drew on several warthogs and kudu cows as well as a nice springbok who refused to stand still long enough for a well focused shot. I was content just being there. These are the moments that truly make me appreciate traditional bowhunting. I love to take game with my bow, and frankly would use other equipment if I wasn't adept at doing so with my traditional equipment. But the moments that make a lasting memory within me are the moments when I am able to back away from the self imposed pressure of taking game and just enjoy what is unfolding around me. There is no better place to do that in my opinion than in Africa, likely the very birth place of human kind. Like the lion I had observed at Etosha sitting alone on the grasslands, I was unhurried, unpressured, and simply enjoying all that I had been blessed to partake in. At midday we went back to camp and had a wonderful brunch while discussing plans for our final hunt together. My step Dad had decided to go to the sister ranch in pursuit of blue wildebeast. I would return to the water tank hide more to say 'good bye' to an old friend than to take game. I spent the afternoon journaling my adventures so that my boys would be able to experience it with me some day in the future. As usual, I saw a variety of animals though the pressure I had placed on this single site was showing some as animals were giving the hole a little more caution. As darkness began to creep out of the horizon I spoke softly to Danie, thanking him for all that he had done for me during the trip. Just as we were about to call it quits a shadowy form moved out of the brush just along side of our hide. Danie strained through the camera lens to capture it on film. It was a duiker, a female. It walked out of my frame of view. The form appeared a few minutes later. It looked bigger than before. I lifted my binoculars to discover that a male duiker had now come to drink. He had noticeable horns and I decided to take a shot. It was hard to pick a spot on the shadowed form. Unlike the oryx, this little guy was all brown and picking a spot was difficult in the low light. I strained to find a shoulder and released. He ran. I imagined that I had heard the arrow strike flesh, but I was unsure. Danie and I reviewed the film footage but the darkness was too much for my camera. Finally we were forced to do what most hunters do...look for sign. My arrow lay 10 yards past the waterhole, covered in red blood. I returned to the spot where the animal was standing and immediately found blood and lots of it. 15 yards away lay my duiker. As I approached it I realized how diminutive (that is small) the animal was. I called to Danie and he came to inspect it. His elation caught me by surprise. He was ecstatic. At first I thought that he was simply humoring me, but shortly after the trackers arrived to pick us up I realized that this truly was a special kill. All of the men were extremely excited over my "muey duiker". In fact, this was the largest duiker that any of them had seen taken with any equipment. Later the animal would hold the record for the 5th largest ever taken with archery equipment in the country. My pint sized trophy was the pride of the whole camp. I was sad to see it all end, but the experience was one which will last in my memories forever.
I will post my final pictures shortly. Brady
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Good stuff,thanks.
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Brady,
This is an awsome story.
Mike
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Doc, I never really had a chance to read all of this. Great stories. And great bow! I have had mixed feelings about returning to Africa...I kind of want to buy some land to fuel my biggest passion which is hunting whitetails, but lately, I have been dreaming of Africa again. I'm thinking of going back. For those of you who have never done it, I highly suggest that you do whatever it takes to make it a reality. It really should be experienced by serious bowhunters.
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Jon, Ive talk to Doc several times I have 2 bows to sell then I want RW recurve...I dont know with all I been through if I could ever afford Africa, since Katrina , but I love reading the stories...guys have great Thanksgiving , yes lots to be thankful for ... :) Marco#78 :campfire:
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Happy Holidays to you guys as well. I am hoping to get back to Africa next summer/fall. I will be filming video for a new DVD. The outfitter is going to give us a great rate with no daily fees! You can't beat that. I may have room for another hunter, but am not sure yet. I hope to solidify things by the first part of next year. If anyone is seriously interested let me know, and I will keep you in mind. Brady
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Thanks Doc , hope that divorce thing is worked out , been divorce sInce 94, I live for my son and DAUGHTER I to enjoy the outdoors, your difinetly one of the good guys here on the Tgang!...I have read these stories a few times cant wait to see some video! good luck God Bless...mark :wavey: :campfire: :coffee:
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Thank you Doc, reading your text I was in Africa
F-Manny
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Hey Doc, where is Aurora Mo. I'm in NE MO, near Hannibal
Stickbender
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Stickbender,
Aurora is just west of Springfield. I love the country up near Hannibal. Brady
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doctorbrady, thanks for the accounts of your safari.
I had pretty much given up thoughts of hunting africa since realizing I don't handle recoil well anymore (back injury). I have recently taken up trad archery, and your story has inspired me to keep the african dream alive.
thanks, Pete
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Pete,
Stop dreaming of Africa and make it reality. It is easier...and less expensive than you probably imagined. It is definitely doable for most folks with a moderate income who is willing to save a little. Also, I believe it will be much more enjoyable for you with a bow than it ever would have been with a rifle. You will get to experience a lot more wildlife up close with a bow. It is the wildlife, after all, that makes Africa so amazing. The other nice thing is that the shots are close if you get a good outiftter who caters to bowhunters. You should expect 20 yards and less...with less being the norm. When you get serious give me a PM and I will give you as much information as I can. Brady
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Hey friend,
I cant believe I didnt see your story until today, but perhaps its Karma...its a lot nicer reading today in the midst of the frozen tundra that Ohio has become than it would have been last summer. Im glad things are finally loking up for you, I know you deserve it. If you ever get back to WVA and pass through here give me a ring. I know your vacation time is usually spent on wild, exotic excursions but if you are ever near here in November Ive got some awesome whitetail country to hunt. My brother now lives on over 80 acres with sole permission to hunt the adjoining 400 acres. I left your phone # at work the last time you called and it got mixed into my paperwork from there....which always ends up in the "round file".. :) . If you ever get around to it either email me or call me. I havent been working in the bow shop but was recently called about it. Currently I am still working and have started college full time so there just isnt time for it.
Talk to you later,
mike
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Mike my friend,
I am glad you enjoyed the story. I will be headed back along with my beautiful new hunting partner (Yes, it's a girl. I know how you guys think). It's hard to believe it has been 2 years since then. I am tickled to return, and everyone here will get the scoop first. Oh yeah, you got mail.