Buejakt DG

[Wolverine67]

Ei fantastisk historie sakset fra africahunting.com

 

The year was July 1998. We were in the

Northern regions of the Kalahari just below

the beautiful Kalahari Gemsbok Park in

South Africa. We sat on a sand dune that

overlooked the vast open spaces of Tswalu

Desert Reserve. Around us was a 110 000

hectare that made it the largest privately

owned game ranch in the world. It was a

hunters dream. On the estate were 35

species of game that could be hunted. It

included animals like 4 000 Springbok, 2 000

Blesbok, 1 000 Gemsbok, 850 Eland, 1 000

Blue Wildebeest, 700 Black Wildebeest, 700

Red Hartebeest and many many more.

Of the rarer species that was present

included 250 Roan Antelope, 280 Sable

Antelope, 200 Tsessebe, 70 White Rhino,

150 disease free Buffalo, Cheetah, Leopard,

2 prides of Lions and last but not least, the

pride and joy of Tswalu, 14 Desert Black

Rhino or (Diceros Bicornis Bicornis). All of

these roamed freely on this vast expanse of

land that was Tswalu.

Tswalu means (A new beginning) and was

founded by an Englishman named Steven

Boler, a great businessman and hunting

client of us. He wanted to give something

back to Africa after hundreds of animals and

many years hunting with us. Who says that

hunting does not pay for conservation? We

planned, build, managed and hunted in this

(Garden of Eden). The breading of

endangered species was only one of the

many faces of Tswalu. Species like the King

Cheetah, Mountain Zebra and Desert

Elephant. Even animals like Nyala lived in

the thick bush around the base of the

Korranaberg Mountains that formed the

Eastern boundary of the estate.

Yawan and I sat on a dune and looked at

the morning flight of the Burchells and

Namaqua Sandgrouse as they sped past us

on the way to quench their thirst at a nearby

waterhole. We were relaxing our trembling

muscles after slogging up and down endless

sand dunes following the side-plate size

tracks of four Buffalo bulls. Yawan and

Buffalo were like (white on rice) and

(battery and torch). He will never grow tired

of them. We spooked the four bulls early in

the morning and paid the price now. They

were on their way to the other side of the

Kalahari, or so it seamed.

Suddenly the radio came alive. Pieter, my

friend and fellow PH that was hunting with

Yawans brother called me and said that he

saw the Buff we were after crossing a dune

close to a distant waterhole. They were

miles away. Maybe, just maybe they were

thirsty and tired as well and would have a

drink and bed down before the heat gets

too much. I summoned the truck via the

radio and went to where Pieter was waiting

to show us the place. He had a good chuckle

when he saw how tired we were as he was

on a rifle hunt and had things easy. Samir,

(Yawans brother) was a good shot and

Pieter did not have to follow any wounded

animals yet. After finding the tracks again I

wished Pieter and Samir a world of bad luck

and so the slog started again.

They did have a drink at the water and the

tracks showed that they were looking to bed

down. Slowly and carefully we moved

forward. We did not have the strength to

follow if we spooked them again. Yawan was

using a new Browning Afterburner at 80lb.

The arrows were Easton XX75 2317 with

weight tubes and tipped with 125gr Satellite

2 blade cut on impact broadheads to give a

total weight of 850gr.

Duiker (my Bushman tracker) suddenly froze

and pointed with his chin. There, only 25

yards away, the four bulls lay under a

Blackthorn tree. Facing in all four directions

it made things difficult to find a clear

broadside shot as at least one would be

facing our way. One bull got up and looked

to the side. With half his body in the bush

and only the front half clear, he offered a

shot. He was the smallest of them all but

that did not matter. He was good enough

for Yawan. The Afterburner came to full

draw and Yawan touched the release.

The four bulls took most of the Blackthorn

tree with them as they exploded into action.

We were trying to blend in with the burning

red sand and yellow grass that was all the

cover we had. Luckily for us, the oldest bull

led the way down wind at a 90 degree angle

from us. Half of the arrow stuck out of the

shoulder of the one bull. A perfect shot but

bad penetration. (Give him plenty of time) I

said to Yawan after our hearts calmed down

to 180 beats/minute. An hour later we

carefully took up the track and followed the

drops of blood. It did not look good. 400

yards further, we saw him lying under a

Terminalia tree. We ever so slowly crept up

on his blind-side. There was no sign of life

in the buffalo but we did not chance

anything. None of the other 3 were anywhere

in sight. Yawan gave him a second arrow at

a quartering away angle just behind the

shoulder.

As the arrow thudded home, the Bull

jumped up and spun around facing us. This

dead Buff just got new life again and he

looked unhappy about it. A third arrow went

straight down his throat into the heart. That

put him down a second time as we stood

frozen to the spot with me blinking to try

and keep the sweat from my eyes as I

looked through the ghost-ring sights of my

old .416 rifle. After what felt like an hour but

was in fact only a few seconds his head

lowered to the ground and the end came.

Small or not, he is still a Buffalo and Yawan

and I just sat down next to him and

reflected on what just happened.

Both the first arrows only went in +- 17

inches. Luckily from two sides. The

broadheads did not hold up and was bent

badly after encountering the heavy ribs.

They did do enough damage thou to weaken

him enough for the frontal shot to have an

almost immediate effect. I believe today

that we used the broad head for a job that it

was not designed for and it could have

ended differently if not tragically for us.

We arrived back at the lodge exhausted,

just in time for a late lunch. During the meal

Paul (the manager and Outfitter of Tswalu)

walked in with a grin on his face and said to

Yawan. (Hey! Robin Hood. Do you want to

be a saviour and shoot a big male Lion that

mauled one of our labourers a while back?)

One look at Yawan was enough for me to

hate Paul for ever. We stopped eating and

grabbed our equipment. Yawan changed the

Broad heads for some 125gr three blade

Muzzy's while I changed from 400gr Barnes

solids to 400gr Swift A-frame softs in my

rifle. Off we went again. I was still hungry

and tired.

After nearly one and a half hour drive and at

the Northern boundary of Tswalu we came

upon the fresh tracks of the Lion. He was

alone. I knew this cat. He was a big

problem in the area. He was also huge.

Sometimes he was as bold as a statue and

other times as sly as only a cat can be. The

tracks followed a sandy road into some

scrub to the base of a small hill. I really did

hope that he was not lying on the same hill

and watched us as that would quickly alert

him to our plan. It was getting late and the

time would soon pass for us to continue the

hunt.

The next moment Duiker was flat on his belly

in the sand, pointing to our left with eyes as

big as the setting sun. It is strange how

quickly you feel that cold grip of danger in

your body when you know that the Lion is

close but you can see nothing of him. Then I

saw a flicker of an ear and he became

visible. He was 21 yards away and lying in

the grass perfectly camouflaged. His body

was full frontal but his head was turned to

the side as he was looking at Paul who was

in a truck on top of a dune some 300

meters away.

Yawan was ready with the bow and I

showed him where to aim one and a half

foot below the ear. That would put the

arrow straight in the cat's throat and into

the heart. On release of the arrow, the Lion

looked our way and the arrow hit him

squarely between the eyes with a loud

thwack. I can still remember my blood

freezing as the Lion jumped 8 feet straight

up and deafened us with an ear shattering

roar. He did a complete back summersault

and flopped around roaring the whole time.

I could not believe my eyes or ears. I

grabbed Yawan and we ran closer to keep

the cat in sight. Yawan had a second arrow

ready and as the Lion got to his feet, he shot

the most beautiful arrow right through the

heart. The arrow went in behind the ribcage

and the broad head exited in front of the

opposite shoulder. Why he did not charge I

shall never know. He grunted few times and

then he was still. I lowered my rifle and

rubbed the sweat from my eyes. The Barking

Gecko's clicking sounds were all around us

as the dust settled and the red sky

welcomed the night.

Yawan later told me that he punched the

release before his pin was properly aimed

at the correct spot on the lion. He was still

lowering the sight when the arrow flew. I

have never seen anything like that before or

since. What a day! Two of the Big 5 and

both hunted with a bow. I shall never have

that either again. The whole of the Kalahari

will be safer until the next rogue comes

along.

I fear that the time to hunt these majestic

animals in our beloved Africa is becoming a

thing of the past. As I write these words I

recall something that a legendary Big game

hunter of yester year - Arthur Weber - told

me many years ago. I did not understand

the true meaning of his words until recently.

He said: (Enjoy it all while you can. You guys

are the last of a breed that shall never be

again). How naive we all are when we are

young and full of life.

Thank you to Yawan. The best friend a PH

can have.

Askari Adventures and Fritz Rabe Bow

Hunting.

[Wolverine67]

Fra samme forfatter:

 

 

October is hot along the Ume River in

Zimbabwe. The Zambezi escarpment feels

like a sauna in the mid-day heat. The only

moving thing is the small stream of water

that flowed below us. We were high on a hill

overlooking the panoramic view of Lala

Palm, Jesse bush and some Ana trees -

(Faiderbia Albida). My eyes were bloodshot

from the constant strain looking through the

Swarovski binos, searching for the great grey

bodies of Elephant.

Crack! The loud break of a tree branch

made us all jump. No one had seen them

come into the gully below us. Nzo,

confirmed Namabwe, one of the two

Matabele trackers with us pointing at them.

The old bull could not resist the ripe curly

pods of the Ana trees. There were four of

them. One was a truly old monarch with

broken tusks and torn ears. He was massive

in body and head although the years that he

wandered around showed clearly even at

this distance.

There was one nice bull and two younger

Askaris with the old one. I looked at Kirk,

my friend and PH from Zimbabwe and

smiled. No words were needed. Yawan, my

Spanish client and long time friend just knew

that this was it, the hunt was on. The three

of us has done this many times before and

formed a close strong team. This time

though, we would be hunting Elephant with a

bow and arrow.

Yawan has hunted all of the Big 6 with a rifle

many times over. It did not é›»o it for him

anymore. I introduced him to bow hunting a

few years before and he was totally hooked.

He has found what he was looking for. Now

he was totally addicted and could not get

enough.

The wind was good, the visibility was +-20

yards and the going awful in the Jesse bush.

After 90 minutes of crawling we came close

enough to hear and smell them although we

could see nothing of these huge mammals.

It amazes me how something as big as a

truck just disappears if they do not move.

Suddenly a splash of white caught my eye.

Up came the binos and brought a tusk into

view. Fifty pounds flashes through my mind.

Kirk saw it as well and winked at me. I

moved Yawan into a spot where we could

see better and pointed at the bull with the

nice tusks. They moved a bit through all the

Lala palm and one has to be aware of every

animal the whole time so as not to be

surprised. Yawan was as calm as always.

The 90lb Hoyt Viper came to full draw. The

bull took a step forward and a low growing

Lala palm obscured the heart. High lung, I

urgently whispered to Yawan as I was

worried that his aiming would prevent him

from seeing the plant in the way. The range

was 24 yards.

One hundred and ten foot pounds of energy

were released as the silent arrow flew to a

spot +- 15 inches from the top of the

elephants lungs. The 210gr Steel Force

Broad head cut a path one inch wide and 35

inches long through both lungs and stopped

against the shoulder bone on the opposite

side. The sound of the arrow finding the

mark sounded like a wet towel slap.

The elephant went from standing still to full

flight in a split second. He cleared the Lala

Palm like a runaway Bulldozer. His

companions followed in his wake, not sure

what caused him to take flight.

We were drenched with sweat and stood like

statues trying to make sense of the braking

branches and noise. Then all went silent

around us. We tried to see if any of the

others had stayed behind. Suddenly a loud

yell broke the stillness as Namabwe vented

his lungs high on the hill where we left him

to observe proceedings.

He is down! he kept yelling. I looked at my

watch and could not believe that 90 seconds

ago, the arrow was still on the rest. I

smoked a cigarette and then we took the

track. Blood was everywhere. It showed a

perfect lung-shot. The bull was on a death

run as he went straight over the bush and

plants. We came in from behind him as

quietly as we could.

He laid on his brisket with his front and back

legs folded to the rear as if he was given a

frontal brain shot with a heavy rifle. We

moved to the side and Yawan gave him

another arrow behind the shoulder to make

sure that he was dead and not fooling us.

Finally Kirk and I lowered our rifles and

cleared the chambers. Nobody said a word.

It was time to reflect the hunt and pay the

respect that this great animal deserved.

There was no jumping up and down and

yelling or slapping each other on the back.

This was not the time.

This has become a dream come true for

Yawan ever since he drew his first bow a

few years ago. There were tears in my eyes

when I took the photos. It all came together

after many miles of walking, hard work and

good preparation. This would be the first

Jumbo of many that Yawan would hunt with

his bow in the years to follow. It was a great

hunt shared with good friends and done the

right way.

The tusks were 53 and 51 a side and that

made it even more special.

Equipment used:

Hoyt Viper 90lb @ 30æ’raw.

Easton ACC with a 6,3 PC shaft inside for a

total weight of 980gr @ 230fps

210ge Steelforce two blade cut on impact

broad head

5 inch right helical feathers.