ORYX STEAKS !

SUNDAY August 19, 2012  Namibia, Africa

This is actually my first day of the hunt.  I have been traveling for what seems like forever to get here. I had left Santa Clara for Africa on Thursday August 16th and finally, 3 days later, I am here in the veld.  It is so great to be back at Farm Garib with the Luhl Family.  Our relationship is more than just hunting guides and a client, these fine people from the other side of the planet are good friends.  When I arrived yesterday afternoon it was wonderful to see again Frauke, Hans Peter, Jule, and meet Sigi, Jule's husband, for the first time.  I have traveled over 8 time zones and maybe 10,000 miles to this red sand desert and yet feel right at home here.

7:00 a.m. we are off to check the zero on our rifles at the family shooting range about 3 kilometers from the house.  Everything seems to be OK after about three shots each at a target in the firearms department so we are off looking for quality game to hunt.

Ken is first up and he really wants to get a Kudu this trip.  We drive on the farm roads and look all around for some time, maybe 3 - 4 hours.  We stop and glass from atop several hills for kilometers in 360º fashion for just the right kudu bull.  While driving around on the southeast end of the farm the trackers notice a large kudu bull laying under an acacia tree.  The natural camouflage of the kudu makes him hard to spot.  Hans Peter and I stay in the truck and the others get down to try a stalk.  We drive the truck about 1.5 kilometers away and turn off the motor.  While waiting we watch a watering hole about 500 yards to the west.  A lone warthog comes in for a drink.  He was rather small and we just enjoy the morning air, the birds, the big sky, and the warthog.  After 15 minutes or so we hear a shot, then a couple of more shots.  I think Ken has something going on.  Hans Peter and I wait and look toward where the shots sounded. A tracker named Frans comes out of the heavy brush to the road where we had come in and waves us over.  We start the truck and drive to the Frans' waving spot and follow the tracker on a semi-cleared path to where Ken has his kudu bull down.  It is a big nice bull and really old.  He measures 53" and is aged to be around 15 years old.  Some of his teeth are worn out completely.  A great trophy.  Ken will post more on his own for this hunt.  We take photos, gut the animal in the wild {something I've never seen done in Africa}, and take the beast back to the farm house to cool the meat.  Kudu meat is excellent by the way.

It is lunch time and  we dine on oryx backstrap, boiled potatoes, gravy, and fresh green salad.  Maybe one of the reasons I like this place is the food is always delicious.  After lunch we have a short nap and wake up to gooseberry tort, biltong, and coffee or diet coke at 2:30 p.m.  Then we are out to hunt for my turn.  I am looking for a trophy oryx or warthog.

We drive to the north end of the farm for 20 minutes or so and then start to scan for oryx.  There are some rugged foothills around and my son had taken a large kudu in the same area in 2010.  Sigi is telling us stories about the hunt and various hunters he has guided.  He is really a character and so entertaining.  We were seeing lots of oryx but no trophy caliber ones.  Oryx are in groups of 3 to 6 members and when we would put glass on them they are just not that big, reasonable but not BIG.  As we drive to the west on a farm road I spot a lone oryx on the hillside to the north.  He seems really big to me.  Maybe he seems big because he is all by himself and there are no other oryx to compare him to?  I tell Sigi to check him out.  Sigi signals to stop the truck.  I ask "Is that a big one?"  Sigi says, "Yes, that is about as big as they get around here."  I ask if I can shoot from the truck or near the truck.  My heart condition is limiting me from doing a lot of hiking.  Sigi says there are no other oryx around and given that I have a bad heart he can "close one eye for now."  Sigi really doesn't like to shoot from around the truck as the animals get truck shy and scatter when they see the truck coming.  I completely understand and that is why I had asked permission.

I laser range the oryx at 208 yards and Sigi says there is a branch in the way at the oryx's heart line.  I should aim abit high.  I take careful aim on the oryx standing broadside sighting straight up the his left front leg to about 8" into the chest cavity and flip off the safety.  I place my finger on the trigger and hold my breath.  My heart is pounding, even more that usual.  I am surprised when the rifle goes off and the unmistakable sound of "plop" is heard by all as the bullet finds its mark on the oryx.  I watch through the scope and chamber another round.  The oryx takes about two steps up the hill and falls over.  I am so excited.  We give the old bull some time to expire and then hike over to the hillside to check him out.  My .338 Win. Mag. 225 gr. Barnes tipped triple shock bullet had entered his chest cavity just about exactly where I was aiming.  I can see the bullet under the skin on the far side of the oryx, it is still in there.  We do the Vikeman's Hiel ritual and I give the oryx his last bite.  I am grateful for the oryx and the many circumstances that have brought me back to Africa again.  I feel so blessed to be able physically to get out and do financially do what I am doing.

            Location:  South 21º04.456'  East 17º43.775' elevation 4,760

We all 5 load the oryx into the truck and take him back to the processing area on Farm.  I have the oryx weighed and he is 338.5 kgs. or about 498 pounds.  I think he will measure around 37" of horn.  I am way pleased.

This has been a good day.

African Review

Monday August 27, 2012 in Namibia, Africa

We are up at 6:10 a.m. and have a breakfast of rusk, yogurt, banana, and homemade donuts.  {The cook is trying to show off with donuts and it is working!}

We are out to hunt at 7:00 a.m. We see many animals mostly black wildebeest and springbok.  Finally around 9:00 a.m. we see a group of 15 or so zebra.  They are Burchell {Equus Burchelli} or plains zebra native to the Kalahari desert and a fine stallion zebra is in the group.  We go on the stock.  Stalking are Loki, the assistant guide, Berger the P.H., and myself.  We have been looking for a zebra for three days and have a) not been able to get close enough for a shot while stocking or b) there hasn't been a mature stallion in the groups we have found.  We follow the zebra herd on foot and try to get ahead of the wind and the herd for about 1.5 kilometers.  Finally, we are in position as the zebra are crossing a small clearing maybe 50 yards wide and I take one .338 Win. Mag. shot off the sticks at a lazered 92 yards.  I hear the Barnes 225 grain triple shock bullet impact the beast but the P.H. says maybe I had missed the shot.  I know it was a hit and I don't argue; we just walk toward where the zebra had been standing and look for blood.  We find lots of blood and some lung tissue in the grass.  My hunting pal Ken, and the tracker, Andres, heard the shot and drive up in the pickup truck within a few minutes.  The P.H. takes a smoke break and waits for the hit zebra to settle down or expire.  Ken tells me he has seen lung tissue before both from animals and from men in the Vietnam war.  None of them survived very long after a hit to the lungs.  Ken wagers we will find the zebra within 100 to 200 yards of the original shooting location.  Loki starts tracking on the blood spore, we all fall in behind and try to keep quiet.  We track teh blood trail a short distance and indeed we find the zebra lying dead in some brush within 200 yards of the place he was shot.  He is balled up in some 7 foot tall brush/trees on an escape trail that the herd had taken when startled at the sound of my shot. 

We take lots of photos with the animal and I get a GPS mark for my records. 

          GPS:  South 21º37.591  East 17º10.063 elevation 4,924 feet 

It takes all four of us to load the zebra into the back of the pickup truck.  The zebra is really heavy, like 800 pounds or so.  The locals eat the tasty meat and I want the tanned hide for a trophy.  Nothing will go to waste from this fine old animal.  We head back to the farm house in the truck and it is really great to have finally scored a success on a zebra. 

DREAMS OF AFRICA

I am practicing with my .338 Win. Mag. these days.  I try to shoot 6 - 8 rounds at either 2 liter pop bottles filled with water or clay pigeons at variable distances from 100 to 300 yards, sometimes even 400 yards.  I estimate the range and don't know exactly how far I am from the target.  I only take 6 - 8 rounds with me when I go out into the desert so I won't be tempted to shoot more.  I shoot from prone, kneeling, and sitting positions.  I shoot 1 or 2 shots and then let the barrel cool down completely between practice shots.  I want to get used to shooting from various hunting positions and with a rifle that is in the "hunting" mode. 

It is amazing what a 225 grain bullet will do to a 2 liter pop bottle filled with water at even 300 yards.  They sincerely blowup. This photo is of a kudu I took in Namibia in 2007.  Alfred and George, the world's best trackers, are with me.  I am getting excited for this fall when I return to hunt other animals.  The below is a photo of my son and his kudu taken in Nambia in 2010.

LONG DISTANCE CHIZZLER

I went to Beryl this a.m. with Bounty Hunter 6 and we tried to hunt in strong winds.  The alfalfa is growing up to 4" tall so the chizzlers have some cover as they run around and eat up the farmer's profits.  I was on a squirrel-o-matic, shooting table/chair, on the ground and didn't really have a good view of the field.  I did however, take a few dozen varmints .

My best shot of the day was at a large old sow standing on the access roadway in the field.  I shot once and the impact of my .22 LR was about 5 feet low but on center with the chizzler.  I held higher and shot again all the while holding about 10" into the wind.  The bullet impacted again about 2 feet low.  I held still higher and fired.  I couldn't imagine the chizzler was still standing there.  I guess with the wind making so much noise and my shots missing by so much she thought she didn't have anything to worry about -- NOT TRUE.  The third shot hit in the midships and the chizzler was out of the picture.  I later paced off the distance and I stepped 176 paces from my table to the dead varmint.  Even I can get lucky sometimes, I guess.

CHIZZLERS in March and April

March and April have been fun months hunting for chizzlers in Southwestern Utah.  I went to Beryl with some pals and even the youngest of hunters had a great time.  The weather this year has been more mild than in years past so the varmints have been out earlier than ever.  I had a great hunt with Bounty Hunter 6,some of his pals, and one of my former Boy Scout group members. I also got to go hunt with a good friend in the neighborhood and his 9 year old son.  The Jr. hunter shot with the best of us.  He was patient and was able to nail two chizzlers with a pump up BB gun. I was amazed at his ability to stay on task and wait for the vermin to raise its head out of its burrow.  He had to retrieve the critter with his new multiplier knife and show us.  It took him about 1 1/2 hours to get the animals and was much more proud than his father and me at the accomplishment.  I have to say "hats off to you! Little man." I don't know if I would have been patient enough or a good enough shot to pull this one off at age 9.  Hunting chizzlers helps out the farmer, and is lots of fun for us.  The ravens, crows, and surviving chizzlers even get to eat the dead so they all get a good feed.

CHIZZLERS 2012 part 1

I finally got up to Iron County to hunt chizzlers with my 4 year old grandson, Mack. We spent a short time, 2 hours, but scored well taking about 60 total. I only fired 5 rounds with my .223 heavy barrel, the rest of the critters were taken with a .22 rifle at distances of 10 to 125 yards. More to follow, but I haven't posted for some time so I had to get something out in cyberspace.

NO ELK {crap-o-rama}

We were covered with snow from the beginning.  Our usual hunting camp at 9,700 feet elevation was under 2 feet of snow and access was super hard.  We didn't see any elk around our traditional areas.  Basically, there was no elk feed available, and the cold snow was even more incentive for the elk to migrate down the mountain on to Ute Tribal lands.  The only bull elk I saw, actually the only live elk I saw, was trotting along the road in tribal lands just behind the fence maybe 70 yards from our truck.  He knew he was safe I knew I couldn't shoot. Can elk sneer?  How does a 4X5 bull say or sign "neener, neerer, neerer" in elkanise. Maybe next year outside the fence I'll show him who is toughest?

I still had a great time seeing the beauties of nature and camping with my son.  I had a great time with his family at a low country alternate camp.  We had a fire and foil dinners one night.  Ending a fun family outing we made roasted marshmallows and the sugar high for the four kids was intense.

I am glad I went hunting.  I would like to have taken an elk, but still a bad cold day hunting is lots more fun than a day working.