We crest a rise and sit and glass some giraffes.
there hasnt been any rain now for a while here, so the grass is dry. the giraffes are using their tongues and picking out what leaves they can off the trees. little mr bean pole is fooling around mamas legs and almost runs into a tree. by the time i remember my camera, they are over a rise in the field.
we move on ahead and look at some wildebeest. funny creatures. they have the subspecies known as blue wildebeest on this farm, clayton tells me and it was in 2001 that...
the phone goes off.....
no, its not the kudu, but they have spotted a small herd of Impala down in a different part of the valley. clayton looks at me, and says that perhaps my first animal in Africa wasn't meant to be a big kudu straightaway.
I agree and we push towards the Impala. We get down into the valley and get off the truck. guns loaded, safety's on. the hunt is on.
we move into calf high brush and get down. impala are alert creatures and we very carefully move closer. we are headed towards a bunch of acacia trees from where we will get some cover and might get into a good shooting position.
suddenly, one male looks towards us. and we all freeze. i am mid stride. clayton has his arm extended to one side. cant see kahtie, he is behind me. i start getting a burn in my thigh after some time. not good.
playing statue with mother nature isnt easy.
the animals lose control and we take a breath. my knife is knocking against the rifle butt and i push it back behind me. the two extra bullets clayton has given me make a small clicking sound every step. uh oh, not good.
i put one each in my breast pockets. very pleased with myself.
after some more time and callisthenics we reach the little clump and i get my first look at the impala. there are quite a few of them. the one with the biggest set of horns is a young male. clayton says i can take him if i so want. there is so much to infer from that. this animal can pass on his genes to the other generation. its not always about the inches. there is an older one with decent horns. i can take either. no pressure. its my choice. i make it.
he sets up the shooting sticks. i take a bead slightly behind and above the point of elbow. control my breathing. those last few moments, i dont see the animal, i dont see the background, nothing. i see my reticle, and i hear my breaths. i squeeze the trigger. i hold the aim
reload. nothing. i am disappointed. i get up and clayton shakes my hand.
the old fellow i aimed for is down. i just couldnt see him in the high grass.
the young one leads his herd away from us. good bye my friend, live well.
clayton and kahtie shake my hands. we walk ahead. i can see him now. on his side.
we circle around and approach from behind. clayton gently touches him in the eye, no reflex action. he is dead.
a heart shot. he died a quick painless death. i am glad.
i cant smile. there is no bravery in this, there is no happiness in killing some animal from far away.
i squat and touch him. he is mine. no one can take it away from me. he is part of my memory now. subsumed to me. is that why we men hunt? to own something in so intangible a manner that no one can take it away from us?
i stroke him. i say sorry. i love him. i touch his coat. his delicate face. the scars. the little black ticks with red legs around his scrotum and anus. i take in every small detail in. clayton is busy getting the pick up and kahtie is sitting to one side.
i do a little something for him. i offer him the wind, water, the sun and earth. i wish him god speed.
the truck is here and suddenly there is a lot of activity around. the animal is being put into position for the photograph. clumps of grass are being removed. soil is being dusted off. the head is set. we take the photographs. i am asked to smile.i refuse. strange looks. shrugs. and more photographs.
i help in loading him into the back of the pick up. unload the gun, safe it.have some water.get into the car, the knife which i pushed back now hurts me and it goes back on the side. i am not happy with the arrangement and decide that it goes on the left side tomorrow. we drive off. i talk to clayton a bit and we head towards the maintenance shed. midway there, another phone call, the two kudu have been spotted close to where the impala was taken but a little ahead. a quick three point turn and we are off again.
out at a ridge. meet the other trackers. they infer in their language, zulu i believe.
i am ready. we go over and glass the area. i can see one, but clayton says thats not the one for me. itshis partner that i cant see and they can, which is the prey.
we move back and take a circuitous route to stay on the obverse slopes and downind of the kudu. come up on their track.
holy mother of..
where are we? there didnt look to be this much of brush from up there!!
clayton is also a bit unsure of his bearings. but kahtie is resolute. he knows.
we trust him.
very daintily, moving where the dry grass clumps arent present. using our hands to move away the branches.
dont step on the loose stones. dont let the barrel get snagged in the branches.
what seems to be the longest time of bumbling, we reach a spot from where we have to squat and go. or crawl.
the kudu are 300 yards away and they are lightly grazing and generally staying in the shadows.
we start inching our way slowly.
we stop and i am informed that the shot will have to be taken from here. rough guess of 250 yards. any closer from here, and they will hear us coming.
i can still only see the one who is the smaller of the two.
shikari shambhu and his eagle eyes!
eventually i see the other one. i told that when he steps out, i should take my shot. i am in a half crouch, no shooting sticks to help me. i have a small tunnel between trees with low branches. can i take the shot?
yes, i can.
he steps into view, moving left across me. i take aim and squeeze.
he goes down and i reload. he gets up and runs away going across right now.
Damn. that wasnt supposed to happen. i look up to clayton and he asks me to fire again, same spot. i acquire him in my field of view. between two widely spaced trees i take the second shot. nothing!!!!
i can see he is in pain. i can feel a stinging in my eyes. this is not how it is supposed to be.
he now quarters away from me to the right. if he runs away from us now, he will suffer for a long time. clayton asks me to stop him and i aim for the pelvic girdle. he is down. his hindlegs that is. still standing on his forelegs. i am running towards him. i catch a thorn in my neck. clayton is behind me, telling me to take it easy. i can feel the tears coming. i try to hold them off.
i reload the fourth cartridge from my pocket and put it into his heart.
its over for him.
i am standing there dumbly looking at him. i get my hankerchief out. clayton let me be and circles around and towards the kudu. checks and declares him dead.
i am feeling guilty about this. this wasnt hunting, it was torture.
i move towards him. clayton is examining the bullet holes and trying to figure out what happened.
the first entry wound is at the place it should be at, only it is higher up, the wound is around an inch long.
presumably, my bullet hit a branch or something glancingly and moved up. missing the heart. the second shot i didnt give a lead on the running kudu and the bullet went behind the heart in line with it. lung shot.
the third one shattered its pelvis and the fourth one put it out of its misery. i was in control again, but feeling awful. kahtie says the first one should have killed him. clayton says that it happens and that there is a reason this is hunting, not target practise.
its a fine old kudu bull. a lot of hair off its neck. probably from rubbing it on trees over the years.
i do my thing with. admire him. i feel bad about him. but it only spurs me to be better next time.
i check his teeth. worn down. my fine, beautiful kudu. i feel a bond with him. i knew him only for a few hours, but he will live in my memory forever.
we start the pictures. his tongue is hanging out. i dont want him demeaned like that.
i push it in. clean the blood up and we take some more.
after everything is said and done we get to the shed. both the impala and kudu are skinned. i watch. i want to help but i cant, i dont know what to do so i observe. there is no repulsion. unlike the other carcasses i have seen in india at the butchers, these are my animals and there is nothing repulsive about them.
i go up to clayton and request him for something. he sombers up and says its the right thing to do.
the hearts are brought to me and i cut off a piece each and eat them one by one.
the first fruits that this dark virgin called africa has given me from her bosom.
its very cold and windy now. the sun is down but i insist that i want to watch the whole process.
somebody brings me the first bullet which should have killed him. it had lost velocity on impact, mushroomed and moved up without even entering the ribcage. a souvenir.
clayton measures the horns, the impala is a bronze medal trophy and the kudu is a silver.
is that what it all comes down to? i guess so. i am happy right now. i am not part of the numbers game; not yet atleast.
i grab something to drink and finally when everythings been cut and quartered we leave.
i came on this farm in the morning a different man and i leave it so much more attuned to nature, so much more sensitive to the beauty of the bounty on this land. appreciative of the gifts we have and the need to preserve it so that tomorrows children can enjoy them too.
we get home, i shower. i wash my hands. again and again.
the smell of blood doesnt go away.
dinner is good. i have regained my good cheer. and the fire helps.
it was a good day. i fall into bed. tired but happy.
tomorrows a new day. up again at 5. alarms are set and prayers are said.
good night and sweet dreams.
P.S. i have numbered the pictures. could not figure out how to put them in the right sequence. i apologize for that.
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