I have an African Dream - By: Jannos

The stealth and cunning ability of the African Ghost, the Kudu, is legendary amongst local and overseas hunters. Whenever hunters gather, soon there is bound to be someone telling a hunting story about the one that got away, that famous missed long shot, shot placement and Kudu's. It is the most sought after hunting species in Southern Africa and is a true test of one's hunting skills and bush craft. You have to really know your way around to be able to add this magnificent animal to your trophy list.

But this is not an article about the do's and don’ts of Kudu hunting. This is my story about the one that got away. This particular animal is so magnificent that to place a monitory value to it, would be a disgrace.

I first saw this animal 6 years ago on a private game farm in the Alldays district, Limpopo province in South Africa. Nothing that is on offer would be enough to convince me to give out the exact location of this farm. It was on a Sunday at 4pm on a mid-winters day when I first laid eyes on this truly magnificent animal. Our hunting party, myself and 3 fellow SAHUNT members, just turned of the major route leading to the farm. A kilometer or so from the road we had to stop at one of the infamous African "bekslaner" gate. Hunters familiar with this contraption would know it requires a bit of skill to open and close this gate and many a city slicker came unstuck with bleeding knuckles and in worst cases, a bleeding mouth "bekslaner".

One of the guys opened the gate and the rest used the opportunity to stretch legs after the 4 hrs drive from Pretoria and also for some roadside irrigation. This was done with a lot of banter as the spirits were high in anticipation for the week's hunting that was ahead of us. Now, hunting on a Sunday in South Africa on a Sunday is generally not allowed and is normally used for setting up camp and preparing rifles etc. While we were doing the irrigation thing, one of my friends went into "freeze" mode and pointed towards the bush to our left. Standing there, in all it's majestic form, was one of the biggest kudu's that I ever laid eyes on. Speculated later on to be more than 60" inch horns, this animal appeared more of a Kudu neck and horns mounted on an Eland frame.

Man to say that "hunters fever" overtook me there and then, may be an understatement. I was awestruck by the sheer beauty and magnificence of this animal. In dead silence, both hunters and hunted, sized them-self and it felt like minutes, before the Kudu slowly turned around and disappeared into the thick sickle bush. That started us off and within minutes we were at the bush camp. Rarely ever have I seen a bush camp set up in a record time like that day. Needless to say, that night around the campfire, most of the talk was about this animal and the strategy needed to track down and hunt this animal. Kudu's that big do not get that big by offering themselves to hunters and we all agreed that it would take a really good hunter to put that trophy on the wall.

The next morning, we met our guides and with hunting areas defined, each departed in their own direction. There was a bit of jostling to obtain the "hunting rights" to the area where the Kudu was last seen.

By Friday, most of the quota hunted so I left that morning early with my guide to an area in the south western corner of the farm which were controlled burned at the start of the season and have generally been avoided by all due to the moonscape appearance of the area. After an un-successful 4 hours spend there chewing dust and not much to show for my efforts, I indicated to the guide to return home. Soon we entered an unburned bush area and I told the guide to follow a zigzag pattern through the bush as we were within sight of the bush camp already. The smell of the bush camp fire and the clanging of pots and pans could be heard when suddenly the guide froze in mid stride and pointed to a clump of Acacia trees not 30 meters in front of us. Hard as tried, I could not spot what he was pointing at until a brief flash of light and movement on the other side of the bush, caught my eyes. My heart nearly stopped. It was THAT Kudu, blissfully un-aware of our presence, eating from the leaves. I could not see the body of the animal behind the bushes but I could see those horns.

I could not get a clear shot at the body or risk a head shot and spoiling a magnificent trophy. We sat there for a while contemplating what to do, checking wind direction(which was in our favor then), angle of the sun etc. and I decided to sent the guide of to the right of the bush whilst I went to left of the bush hoping to have the sun over my left shoulder when I make the shot. We set of in opposite directions on our hands and knees, picking up and twigs and leaves that may warn him of our presence. What felt like an eternity, I was finally in a position where I calculated to be the best to take my shot from. With my heart pounding in my ears, I slowly stuck my head around the bush and looked straight in the eyes of the Kudu which have moved slightly from his last position and were in actual fact 5 meters closer to me. I froze and we just eyeballed each other for what felt like ages when suddenly he turned to his left and bolted straight through the bush from where we spotted him initially. I could have cried. There was no use tracking him again because when animals like that get spooked, the do not stop running for hours.

With the disappointment putting lead in my shoes, I walked the 300 meters or so back to the camp where I met my fellow hunters. Before I could relate my story to them, my guide told all and sundry of our experience but no condolences could settle the absolute despair that I felt. Soon after that , the farmer arrived and the story was retold. I was told that everyone in the area knew about this specific animal but no-one was presented with the opportunity that I had that morning. The Kudu, was dubbed after me and I received frequent calls from the farmer, telling me about sightings by other hunters.

I returned to this farm for the past four years, but have not seen my namesake again.

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