I hadn’t intended to hunt kudu until a magnificent bull leaped the road before us. The bull’s size, horns, gray striped hide, ruffed neck, deep chest and powerful build set him apart from other antelope species. A single glance proclaimed him king of them all. But Africa is a big place and the 20,000 acres we were hunting vast territory. Any species on the ranch only had to jump a cattle fence to be miles away by the next morning. The animals come and go as they please and there was no guarantee I’d see another mature bull and less I’d get a shot. One could only hope.
But two days later, as the brilliant red sun sank rapidly, Simon spotted a big bull in the rapidly gathering dusk. Continuing out of sight we stalked back to a knoll overlooking a wide, brushy draw and finally sighted the camouflaged bull half hidden in the thick thorn scrub. I’d managed to control my jumping nerves enough to squeeze off a shot, but the bull had been at least 300 yards away. I feared the bullet hit overlapping brush and deflected.
Andre and Simon, the tracker, hurried over to check the signs leaving Chrissy and I to watch from the knoll. Suddenly, the bull jumped up when they were within 20 yards and ran to their left. Neither saw nor heard him. The faint light vanished. It was dark.
Both returned for flashlights, but the darkness defeated even Simon whose tracking ability is beyond my comprehension; it’s spooky. I was concerned, but Andre wasn’t worried. We’d follow up in the morning, no big deal.
I replayed the event over and over in my mind. Had the bullet hit brush or not? Had my shot been good? Simon and Andre smiled assuredly at me, looking forward to tomorrow’s challenge. With the temperatures hovering in the low 30s they felt the animal would be in excellent condition next morning. Their only concern was predators such as jackals or a leopard finding the kudu first.
“If we find it!” filled my thoughts, worry-wart that I am, but they soon put me at ease. Things like this happen hunting in Africa, just as they do hunting deer in Pennsylvania. Tomorrow would take care of itself. Better yet, we had Simon’s magic eyes.
Andre planned to be on site at first light.
I was so tired I even managed a good night’s sleep despite my apprehensions. We rose early to a delicious breakfast of Oryx steaks and eggs, homemade bread, fresh mango juice and yogurt was quickly devoured. Hurriedly, we climbed into the Land Cruiser just as the black silhouettes of Acacia trees became visible against a faint smear of steel gray sky. It was 30 degrees and I wearing everything I had. It was cold!
The Toyota Land Cruiser snorted its way along the sand track and after a 20 minute drive reached the knoll. All of us were straining at our leashes, ready to go. As I stepped from the vehicle the crisp air was alive with bird calls, strange, exotic and wonderful. Chrissy and I exchanged glances, this brisk African dawn’s music enchanted us.
When we reached where the bull had stood it was just light enough to see clearly. I’d drawn a careful diagram of last night’s events and Simon’s sharp eyes darted searchingly. To Chrissy and I the countless tracks covering every inch of sand were indistinguishable, but not to Simon: a book lay before him and he was studying it intently. We bent down and stared and stared at the puzzle before us, but the many tracks appeared identical.
I fidgeted impatiently as Simon stepped carefully here and there, not allowing us to move least we destroy sign only he could decipher. Suddenly, he stiffened, pointed in triumph and grinned.
Chrissy and I squinted: was there a slightly higher side on a couple of those filled in sandy tracks? Possibly, maybe… but, then I saw two dark, reddish spots between them: blood! The hound was on the trail!
The tracks lead in a straight line through the scrub. After 200 yards Simon gestured to a clearly seen depression. The bull had lain here and the sign showed he was well hit. Another 200 yards and he laid down again. Andre grinned, he had no doubts now.
The tracks began wandering aimlessly left and right as Simon searched constantly ahead only glancing down occasionally. Then he froze, raised the binoculars and turning gave me the thumbs up. The bull lay before us hit, we discovered later, in the heart, but so tough are these animals he’d traveled over 600 yards. I couldn’t believe it.