Several more days past for me without a shot. Then I managed to arrow a nice kudu cow from a stand I had hung earlier in the week. Rob was sitting in a pit blind filming. There was a steady crosswind from his position. The animal were cautious and would always circle downwind of the blind which put them right in my lap. On a previous afternoon, I had a nice male duiker and several warthogs walk right under the same stand. I also had opportunities as the elusive Damara dik-dik, baboons, steinbok,and a plethora of other animals, but past all for one reason or another. I didn't bring enough arrows or wallet to shoot at everything that presented an opportunity.
After days of swirling winds, our hunt was coming to a close, and I was unsure whether or not I was going to be bringing much home with me aside from a lifetime of memories. I felt more than a little pressure to get some more kills on video as that was a big part of my purpose for this trip. I finally convinced myself to lighten up and enjoy my last day of the trip. After all, it is the journey that makes the trip so special, not adding more heads to my already overcrowded walls.
The decision was made that I would hunt the last day alone. Everybody wanted to get out in the field with bow in hand, so we each chose a plan of action and set out on our way. My chosen course was to return to Sophienhof and hunt the "middle hide" where I had already taken 2 kudu cows and a blesbok. I knew that I had several hunting options there given that I had set a stand in the area, constructed a brush blind, and had the existing blind from which to choose. Given the swirling winds that had plagued me every afternoon, I felt like I had options for every possible wind direction. Still, a good plan doesn't always end with downed game. I was nervous that I had placed all my eggs in one basket. Should I have chosen to hunt Kudu Post where most of our trophies had come from this trip? Should I have hunted Roy Post which was the least hunted hide this trip, and probably had the highest concentrations and variety of game given that it was the only water hole for several miles? I kept my resolve and headed out to the "middle hide" before sun up.
The wind had howled all night long which from past experience was a good thing so long as it lightened during the day. I climbed into my brush blind as the sun peaked through the dark moonless sky. The wind was heavy, but the direction was perfect. It was just a matter of time. As dark gave way to light, the guineas flew down from their nearby roost, chattering and clucking like a poorly chalked box call bouncing around in your pocket. I watched them as they chased each other around and spurred at each other in mid air. The noisy francolin were not far behind. An hour passed without another animal coming. I shot at and missed a guinea fowl, a down time activity I had become quite good at. Hours more passed, but the wind never subsided. The direction stayed true, but the ferocity kept the animals tucked away in the bush. Shortly before midday I left the blind and climbed the high mountain that overlooked the expansive property. From the high ridge top I spooted a group of black wildebeast in an open area a few miles away. I contemplated a stalk, but realized that even if I made it to them in time, it was unlikely that I could approach within shooting distance given the wide open terrain they were bedded down in. I spent another hour glassing, spotting only a couple of travelling warthogs. I also spent a good deal of time looking over my shoulder as I was alone in an area known to have a good leopard population. Finally I made my way back down the mountain and to my blind. I had brushed away the tracks from around the waterhole prior to leaving. There were no new tracks when I returned except for guineas. I climbed back into the blind for an hour or so, before making a radio call to be picked up. I had told Dana that I would travel into town on our last day to pick up some items for home. Since the wind hadn't slowed I figured this was as good a time as any. When Piet arrived he told me that Dana had already gone into town, a good thing since camp was 45 minutes away, but my current hunting spot was only about 15 minutes. I travelled into town and did some last minute tourist buying in the small town of Outju. Aftr an hour had gone by, I had fulfilled my obligation and was anxious to return to my blind. The wind was still heavy, but I was confident that it would let up....eventually. After returning to camp I decided to make a stalk. We had spotted some blue wildebeast, and I made my best effort at closing the distance. Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at their position they were gone. I was never able to catch up with them, and eventually decided I was better off sitting than stalking. On my way back to my blind I closed the distance on a female duiker, but passed.
The wind had lightened some when I arrived back at the blind, but still no new tracks at the water. Expecting the wind to switch directions as it had on previous afternoons, I went to inspect one of my treestands. As I was eyeing a limb that I wanted to remove, something got my attention. I turned back to look, only to see 2 warthogs standing 20 yards away...staring at me. My CamoWest camo had them confused as to what I was, so I remain still against the trunk of the tree. My initial movement had startled them, and they trotted off into the bush a little ways before stopping. That was all I needed. I used the sparse shrubbery for concealment and closed to within 20 yards of the smaller hog. The larger of the two remained blocked by another bush, so I made my way towards a clear shot. The first hog eventually figured me out, and both left in a cloud of dust. My heart was pounding, and I was thankful for such a close opportunity.
Crawling back into the blind, I felt the wind on my face. It was lightening up considerably. I expected animals to arrive at any moment, but none came. Hours more passed without another animal coming to water. This had been my slowest day yet, and it was my last. About an hour before my hun't end, I noticed movement coming from downwind. The wind had stayed true allowing me to remain in my brush blind. The prancing motion in the bushes could only belong to a warthog. When they emerged from the bush I could see 2 female warthogs, both with nice teeth. The smaller of the 2 had a few half-sized pigs, the larger had none. In typical fashion, the younger pigs watered first while the paranoid elders stood watching. Eventually the lesser of the two made her way to water. She drank heartily. The larger hog came to water, but was completely shielded by the smaller of the two, the one with the young ones. Given my luck over the past 2 weeks, I knew that the larger pig would leave before offering a shot. My pessimism was in vain. With the camera focused, the smaller of the two hogs backed up, opening the kill zone of the larger. The smaller pigs nervously looked in my direction, and I knew that they would likely jump string at the shot, causing the other hog to also jump away from the water. I focused just back behind the shoulder expecting the inevitable jump. The arrow released and flew true. As expected the hog had jumped back away from the water. My calculations had been off, but my arrow landed squarely in the animal's neck, severing the spine and the carotid artery. The animal dropped immediately and expired seconds later. I worked quickly to move the animal into the bush and cover the blood with sand. My hunt was not quite over.
Topic: >>--Red Arrow Crew--> is back from Namibia (Read 8794 times)
