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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.
Topic: Better late than never. (Read 4525 times)
