Recent Safari Hunting Stories

EQUATORIAL AFRICA

The vast expanse of miles and miles of rainforest below us since we left Douala just never seemed to end. Green jungle as far as you could see in any direction.

The twin prop Dornier 228 banked to the right out over the Congo to start our approach then banking left we descended across the Ngoko River signaling we had crossed into the southeastern tip of Cameroon. Wheels down. The safari trucks that carry us to camp are waiting at the end of the Kika village red clay dirt airstrip.

Rain, rain and more rain; this rainforest receives 33 feet of rain each year.  Yes that is 33 feet, 410 inches, more than 10 times the amount of rain we get in Houston.  It's wet here, real wet. This rainforest is home to various pygmy tribes. After years of French rule ended in the 1900's and minor integration with other non-pygmy tribes, the Bacca and Bangandu pygmy tribes height has increased. No doubt somewhere in this deep impenetrable jungle the pygmies of your memory exist as they have for 1000's of years. This is the land where cannibalism existed. It is a wet harsh country.  The red clay covers everything it touches.

In times past this was a full canopied forest with trees 200 plus feet tall but demand for lumber to fuel the growth of modern 21st century economies has resulted in the felling of these 600+ year old trees. Thankfully they practiced select cutting of big trees and not clear cutting of the entire forest as is seen now in the Brazilian rainforest. This select cutting has allowed room for lush verdant undergrowth that otherwise would not grow to flourish. Today there are more bongo than in years past because of this undergrowth. More vegetation, more food, more bongos. This why we are here; bongo, forest duikers, dwarf forest buffalo, forest sitatunga, forest elephant and giant forest hog; these trophies live here. If it were not for their tracks that cross old timber roads you would not believe they are here. Seeing one from your Toyota Hilux is indeed a rare event. Seeing any game from your safari truck is a rare event. You must find their spoor and the track begins. In some cases you can sit in a machan next to a saline in a swamp hidden deep within the dense jungle and cross paths with them there. We will try this technique as well.

This is the Tarzan jungle!  Just an amazing diversity of wildlife and greenery.  The animal and bird life in the forest is sparse on the ground and in the trees but they are here. Occasionally a group of African Grey parrots fly over the canopy. An eagle perches in dead tree awaiting an unsuspecting duiker to feed on the grass next to the old timber road. Gorillas are present.  This area is home to the largest population of lowland gorillas in the world.  I haven't seen one yet but the local pygmy's say it will happen before the safari is over.  One of our four game cameras captured a family group of gorillas located at a saline swamp in the jungle.

The area we are hunting is massive; 545,000 acres. The timber roads touch much less than 1/100 of 1% of the area. Most areas are too far from the old timber roads. We simply can't get to them. They are just too far. I guess if you dared to trek into the forest for days you could set up a fly camp along the way that would allow you to travel deeper into the jungle. But at what cost; insects, snakes, mosquitos, ants – lots of ants and more. We can find what we need by accessing the jungle from the tracks that cross the timber roads.

The jungle is very thick and complicated to walk through.  Our method of hunting for bongo, dwarf forest buffalo and sitatunga is to find their tracks/ spoor that cut a road and then follow them up by tracking.  Each stalk requires hacking thru the dense jungle with a panga (machete) by the local pygmy trackers.  The pygmy trackers are built for the dense jungle.  Natural selection has made them short just like the dwarf forest buffalo and the forest elephant that is 1/7 the size of a Botswana savannah elephant.  Being tall isn't helpful.  Just hack your way in and off you go on the spoor.

The trackers are unbelievable. A leaf turned here, a hoof print there, a piece of fallen tree limb out of place; they are just amazing to watch.  There are 3 trackers, Rigobert, Benoir and Loran. Once we find the track of what the trackers and PH Dave Rademeyer believe to be a large lone male bongo, the first tracker in line, Rigobert, starts on the track and he tracks as if he is the bongo by looking at the tangled jungle and walking where he thinks the bongo would walk to get thru this dense unending cobweb of vines and trees. If he has the track our speed thru the jungle is faster. If not, the second tracker in line, Benoir, follows the exact tracks of the bongo we are pursuing. It is a slow and tedious process that they seem to do effortlessly occasionally whistling to each other that they have the track and advance we go. On occasion they lose the track. No worries they have a plan for this inevitable recurring situation as well. The third tracker in line, Loran, walks in front of me carrying my gun but behind the two front trackers and the PH. If Loran sees the front two trackers stop and start wandering around indicating they have lost the track, he is on the track since he is further back and shows the front two trackers where the bongo has walked. Once the front two trackers are back on the track then it is game on and off we go.

The trackers also bring small Jack Russell size mut dogs with them. We usually have 4 or 5 dogs. They range in front of us about 15 -40 yards. They aren't your blood hound scent tracking type dogs. They can't follow the scent of the animal we are tracking but once we get close, very close, they can smell the bongo. Then they bark differently and attempt to bay the bongo into fighting. This small delay allows us to get in close to get the bongo.

My first day to hunt was yesterday, Wednesday.  The first trophy I took is a Bay duiker. The method to hunt duikers is to find an open area in the jungle which isn't much of an open area at all.  You can see maybe 10 yards until the jungle chokes your vision to where you can't see any further. You sit with your backs to a big tree to bland into the forest. Then the local pygmy calls with his mouth imitating an injured duiker.  It is basically a high pitched scream, whine and grunt that goes on uninterrupted for about 5 minutes.  If you are lucky a duiker comes charging in.  If not, you move several hundred yards deeper into the forest and try again. It could be a Bay, Blue or Peter's duiker.  You have seconds to find the target, ensure it is a trophy male, wait for your PH (guide) say shoot and then "boom"; fire your shotgun.  The shooting is so close the shotgun is basically a rifle.  The Bay duiker is very difficult trophy to get and one of the species I need to attain Safari Club International's Diamond Award for Trophy Animals of Africa.  Two more safaris and I'm there. Quite a challenge and journey it is.

Today, Thursday started after an evening of rain but then was rained out just as we started on the track of a big bongo.  The rain has washed out all the tracks. Tomorrow will be excellent as every new track discovered will be a fresh track from the night before. Back to camp and start anew tomorrow.

The bongo hunt is the most physically demanding hunt I have ever been on in my entire life. It was 10 hours of tracking thru what seemed as impenetrable jungle, slogging thru swamps, wading creeks up to your mid-thigh, balancing on fallen 80 foot logs covered in devouring red ants to cross quickly over a river, enormous 45 degree hills covered in dense vegetation only a panga (machete) would let you thru, vines grabbing your feet and ripping across your face when I failed to see one that was head high. Hour after hour of placing foot in front of foot wondering if we would ever catch up to this illusive bongo we were pursuing. Keep going I would tell myself. I wasn't raised to be a quitter. Press on. I must have lost 10 pounds. My energy reserves were below zero the last 3 hours of the track. For me, it took all of my strength and determination to keep pushing forward. The more tired you become the more the jungle grabs at you because you make simple mistakes. You don't duck as much when you should to miss a branch or vine. You don't lift your feet as high and yep there is a vine to remind you. All the while of course the pygmies never broke a sweat.

We are standing on the side of a hill in the never ending dense jungle. We have been climbing for almost 2 hours. I am tired. Very tired. I motion to Dave I need to take a quick break. We take a drink of water to replace the sweat pouring from every pore in your body. It is late. Where is this bongo?! Dave says if we don't find him soon we'll have to break off and go back as night is an hour away and truck a lot further. I tell him I don't have much left any way. Dave says he feels the bongo is close. Very close. I reply lets press on. I'm totally exhausted but I didn't come this far to quit. Then all hell breaks loose. The dogs are barking. The pygmies are shouting and off we run thru the forest vines ripping at our clothes and exposed body parts to go to where the dogs are barking and hopefully see the bayed bongo. We push in. This is a very dangerous time! The bongo is spitting mad and is fighting with these little pests. Dogs get injured occasionally when they advance to close. The bongo could break at any time from his standoff with the dogs. If he does and if you're in the way you'll be speared with his spiral horns as he assaults anything in his way. So we approach. Dave schooled us before we started on the track to find the nearest tree to hide behind to use for protection so we don't get skewered as we advance to see, assess and maybe shoot.

In the picture below the reason my clothes are wet is from sweat, not water in the rainforest. The exhaustion in my face simply tells it all. This bongo is a great trophy. He made me work harder than ever to catch him and earn his place in our trophy room. He is a very old bongo they tell me would not have survived another year, so, indeed a great animal to take. If that wasn't enough, yes it got more demanding...we had to walk the 2+ hours with our trophy back to the truck in the dark. We made it. I collapsed into the seat in the truck huffing and puffing. I drank a 1/2 gallon or more of water as I caught my breath. That was on helluva hunt. Sitatunga and buffalo next.

The full moon is this Wednesday. The African rainforest trophy we are now pursuing is a swamp dweller. He is more active for the 3 days prior, the day of and 3 days after the full moon. This is what I taught my kids, Colin and Kenz, as "prime time" hunting! So we have to be present for prime time or our odds of success are much much lower. The hunting conditions are again very taxing. We leave at 5pm for the 1 ½ hour trek to sleep overnight in an elevated blind (machan) on a mosquito infested saline swamp to try to get this illusive trophy, the forest sitatunga. We will continue to do this until we connect!

Good thing I'm taking malaria medication. Dion West, my assistant PH (hunting guide) in camp with PH Dave Rademeyer, contracted malaria last week and luckily recognized the condition. He quickly started the malaria drug treatment to beat the sickness. He is now fine and recovered. Hope I survive the little needle buggers. This is quite a challenge. Life has taught me little comes from anything easy. Tough, difficult and demanding situations require you to learn and adapt to win thereby building character and inner strength leading to handsome rewards of what you pursue. If I repeat this enough maybe I won't worry about the mosquitos as much...at least that's the plan.

Oh...and of course we walk thru the swamp to get there, over logs, red ants, bugs, the vines, and more. That's just routine now. My how we adapt. By the way, during the bongo hunt I forgot to mention a green mamba fell off the tree in front of us. Pygmies scattered like formula one race cars accelerate. Thankfully, the mamba did too!!! Keep your fingers crossed we connect quickly. Stay tuned. This is some adventure!!!!!!

Did I say quickly, yeah I wish? Sometimes things just don't turn out the way you expect or hoped. After the first 3 days on safari, the first day we bagged a bay duiker, the second day was rained out as they often are in the rainforest and day three saw dream to reality after an arduous 10 hour track yielded a fantastic bongo, our primary purpose for this safari. If nothing more happened the safari was a success.

With confidence high and hope beaming invincibility we were certain the swamp dweller in the rainforest, the forest sitatunga would come equally as quick as the other trophies. But Diana the greek goddess of hunting had other plans for us. For nights we labored in the machan (hunting blind) from 5pm until 7am. The mosquitos were unbelievable and unimaginable. Even though we had mosquito netting around the interior of the 20 foot elevated wooden machan that contained 2 chairs and a sleeping mattress, those tenacious buggers found their way in and never let up. My feet have at least 200+ bites on each.

I hope this malaria medication is working. Other parts of my anatomy are equally burdened. You can't imagine how much 200+ mosquitos bites itch. You refrain from scratching but eventually you give in and scratch until the tops of your feet bleed knowing that after the scratching festival you'll douse your sores with the alcohol in your after shave to help prevent infection. The pain is so intense from the alcohol you want to scream. You don't. It is part of the price for your pursuit of the swamp dweller.

After the first night when confidence is high and the morning comes a little bit chips away at you when there is no sitatunga. What did we do wrong? Did he see us, hear us or smell us? Your brain races to find a solution. Everyone questions their judgment. Or just maybe that wasn't the day for him to visit this tiny 60 foot swamp circle in the impenetrable rainforest where trees don't grow because of the salt in the mud; the salt he seeks. You discuss everything and decide again we must sit and wait for his shadow to appear from the jungle. He does not. After all, the jungle is his backyard and our nemesis. For days we perform the same routine and he never materializes. We also track him during the day by driving roads and once a suitable track is found we hack our way thru the jungle following his footsteps. Yard by yard we follow him only to have him sprint away never to be found.

After Day 1 then same drill on day 2, 3, 4, and the confidence wanes and negative thoughts fill your empty time. It goes on, Day 5, 6 ,7 ,8 ,9 and finally the last morning of the safari on day 10. Nothing. What are we doing wrong? The days start to blur together and your energy drains. Again we load up in the truck with the PHs', trackers and dogs. We start at 7 am and drive the logging roads trying to find a suitable track to follow. The trackers slap on the roof of the truck. They see a track. We stop the truck. The pygmy trackers bale out and discuss the track. It's not a sitatunga but even a more difficult quarry, the forest buffalo. It is a big lone bull track so off we go into the forest following the track.

All is well and we're making progress closing the distance only to see a smaller track join the bigger track. That's bad news. It is not a lone bull track we thought but rather a big cow buffalo track where her calf joined her. No luck. We pull out and head back to the truck thru thorns ripping at you clothes and face. Ground vines snagging your feet. You must stay 110% alert as you walk or you're be face down on the forest floor quickly. We make it back to the truck and off we go again to find a sitatunga bull track.

We cover in excess of 30 miles of roads over the next 5+ hours and cannot find a sitatunga bull track. We have come across several small bull tracks but nothing worth following. It's the last morning of the last day and time is evaporating. The fat lady is in the wings warming up to sing "it is over". If we haven't found a track by 11am it is generally too late to take up a track. It's the last day. It is noon and we are all hearing the fat lady warming up to sing at any moment. No one will utter a word that is negative but you can feel it in the air.

This safari will close without a sitatunga. We have had a great time. We have worked very hard. We have persisted and persevered in the face of this hunting adversity where others would have quit already.

PH Dave Rademeyer decides on one last attempt. We'll try a road on our way back to camp that is known to have good tracks occasionally but is one you need to catch the tracks early in the morning because a vast swamp the sitatunga can disappear into is but a short distance away. A swamp we cannot penetrate or follow his tracks. It is the Hail Mary pass.

We turn onto a road known a Savannah De Carlos. We slowly work our way down the road. About 2 miles down the road we find a lone sitatunga bull track. Again, everyone gets out to size up the track. We are behind the eight ball; the time is wrong, it is after noon, the swamp is close and he is likely lying up next to it to escape into the swamp if he is threatened. The track is not large but it is OK, and the jungle is dense as ever. If we take this marginal track it will be our last whether we find a sitatunga at the end or not. This is the last track of the safari.

Discussions are had and Dave decides we will take it as it is too late to do anything else. The lead pygmy tracker does not share his opinion and says we should not take the track it is not a good bongo, too young and small. The lead tracker Rigobert is so not into this track he comes to carry my gun meaning he will not lead us on this track. Tension mounts. Negativity fills the air. The team spirit has drifted away. This is it. The decision is we go. We press on into the jungle with the second lead tracker Benoir taking the lead. We follow for some 15 minutes and they lose the track. Can it get any worse?

Unlikely as it might be, I show them the track headed to the right of where they were looking and we're on the track again. Then we come across fresh dung from the sitatunga and everything comes to a screeching halt . The dung is the size of a very young bull at best just like Rigobert said. All the while the 6 Jack Russell terrier size mut dogs that can't scent track the sitatunga range about 15 yards of so in front of us. Frustration and depression fill the air. Discussions are had and the track is called off. This is not a shootable bull. It is too young. Rigobert in his broken French tells everyone see I was right. We should not follow the track. Well that's it. The safari is finished. No sitatunga.

We start the dispirited walk back to the truck. All the dogs except one are with us. This dog has got to far ahead when we are tracking and is lost in the forest some 100+ yards in from where we turned back. We get back to the truck. I load my gun into the front seat while everyone starts to load the dogs and gear back into the truck. The sound of the lost barking dog starts to come closer as the pygmy yells for his dog to come back. Then a hell breaks loose. Everything seems to go in slow motion for me even though everyone is yelling and jumping up and down. I can't figure out what is going on and why all the panic when the trackers yell to everyone; "Sitatunga coming. Sitatunga coming." Dave yells "Brook grab your gun. Come quickly. The sitatunga is coming." The pygmies are yelling in their native Bacca and Bangandu language. Pandemonium fills the entire area.

The dog is barking and his pace is faster, he heads towards the truck. Voices and screaming gets louder from the pygmies. "Come quickly. Come quickly. He is going to come out here. Get ready. Hurry. Get ready. There he comes. Shoot. Shoot."

The gray shadow emerges from the jungle into the tall grass headed directly for me. Grass is moving side to side. The tips of his horns appear 15 feet in front of me and he is headed directly at me as if he is charging me. Maybe he is. I bear down the barrel of the open site 375 Holland & Holland Blaser. There he is. I see him start to emerge from the long grass; BOOM!!!!! Point blank range; 12 feet right between the eyes. The swamp dweller collapses and never heard the shot. Everyone screams for joy! High fives. Hugs. All the trackers and PH's are jumping up and down, screaming with joy. Everyone comes over, grabs me while jumping and gives me a big hug while screaming with euphoria. Yes bwana! Yes bwana!

Yep, the safari ain't over until the fat lady sings and sing she did not. With everyone's dedication for 10 days of tireless hunting, patience and perseverance prevailed and delivered our reward, a fantastic sitatunga bull at 12 feet coming straight at you. Shoot or be run over. It don't get any better than this folks. WOW!!!! What an outstanding end to this safari.

Way to go little dog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Brook Minx

African Lion Safari

Thought you might enjoy the actual story of the hunt. Here it is.

Awesome lion. Massive. Heavy black mane. Hard hunt. Harder than the Botswana KD-15 blonde lion I took last year with PH Doug Scabdrol. In fact, the hardest hunt on any safari yet.

We started at 6:30AM this morning We cut a lion's tracks at 7AM and started tracking him on foot, not by vehicle. We had 3 Bushman in the lead on the tracks followed by PH's, me and the videographer.

After a couple of hours, we caught a few glimpses of him throughout the morning. His size was impressive. He was a heavy black maned lion. Each glimpse gave us renewed energy and heightened our excitement.

Several times we got close only for him to out smart us and slip away again. On one occasion we caught up with him where PH Doug thru up the shooting sticks and we almost had a shot. The brush was to thick. The lion was running. No shot. The pursuit carried on.

One time during the tracking, the tracks disappeared at a bush. Everyone was trying to workout the tracks and where the lion slipped of to. We walked all around that bush we had tracked him to. Turns out, even though we looked all around the bush and in the big bush, he was hiding in there; we just couldn't see him. The Bushman tracker nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw the lion move inside the bush. Quickly the trackers scattered. PH Doug crouched down to look inside the wide bush and peer into its darkness. It was very dark inside and under the bush. I moved next to Doug and was in a kneeing position with the gun up so I could shoot under the branches of the bush. Then I saw him thru the branches in the dark recesses of the bush. I pointed the rifle directly at him awaiting his charge from 20 feet away. He then surprised all of us with a loud growl and mock charge from in the bush. Still no shot could be taken as there were to many branches in the way. He was still in the darkness inside the bush. We were all awaiting his full on charge out of the bush when he turned and ran out the back of the bush.

Again the chase was on. We walked and tracked him for 5 solid hours this morning. Miles and miles of walking thru the thick brush. As the morning wore on the sun's heat intensified as it rose overhead. In short it was hot as hell. Sweat was dripping from every pore on my body.

We continued the track and stalk. As we got closer to him I was close to being out of gas and ready to throw in the towel. I must have sweat 2 gallons of fluid. Everything was soaked, dripping wet. I wasn't sure if I was going to win or if the lion was. It appeared the lion might walk away the victor. We pressed on.

I was exhausted with the long quick pace (of course no one else was), just flatlander Brook. Finally at noon, 5 hours after we started tracking him, we closed on him as he too was tired from the heat and the pace. He gave us the chance we needed when the thick Kalahari brush thinned a bit and we could catch occasional glimpses of him sneaking thru the brush about 100+ yards in front. The trackers quickly fell back. PH Doug and I quickly moved into a position to give me a shot. As we stepped out from a bush on the left side, we saw him quartering away between the large scrub bushes. The moment was here. Doug threw up the shooting sticks. I readied the rifle and in one fluid motion laid the rifle on the sticks, threw off the safety. I took a quick bead thru the 2 1/2 power Schmidt & Bender riflescope. I put the illuminated red dot and crosshairs on his left side behind the shoulder and squeezed the trigger as he was trotting and quartering away from us between the bushes at about 70 yards. The Blaser 375 H&H 300 grain Trophy Bonded Bear Claw hit him hard and knocked him down. He let out a loud roar. I gave him 2 insurance shots from the Blaser; each shot yielding the connecting sound all hunters know...whomp. He stayed put. Success. No wounded lion. No injured or mauled participants. All was good.

The joy, handshakes and high fives were followed by me sitting in the shade drinking lots of water trying to recuperate for pictures. What a great hunt. What a safari hunting memory! What a fantastic, massive, heavy black maned lion.

Now that's a hunt of a lifetime my friends. What an experience. Go hunting whenever you can. Most of all, teach your kids to hunt and the thrill of the outdoors. It will change your life and their lives for the better; forever.

We're resting now and heading back to Moketsi in the Free State Province in the morning to continue on our Safari Adventure.

Rhino Hunt

In all of Africa, the Black Rhino has struggled for survival because Chinese and Far Eastern medicine has placed an economic value on rhino horn for its aphrodisiac quality, an absolute absurdity as far as Western medicine and culture is concerned. Nonetheless, as the Black Rhino populations dwindled because of the aphrodisiac medicinal demands of the Chinese etal, African countries responded by outlawing the hunting of Black Rhino. All this did was increase the economic value of the rhino horn. Poachers for the black market hunted the rhino to the brink of extinction. Elimination of hunting and hunters' payment of trophy fees to the indigenous communities where the Black Rhino resided eliminated immediately the local communities from protecting and policing the rhino population from the poachers. Black Rhino populations dwindled even further.

Legally sustainable hunting of Black Rhino has always been desired by trophy hunters. Hunters are by far the true conservationists in the world. They put their money where their mouth is unlike treehuggers who chat "no hunting" but contribute nothing to conserve, preserve and expand the specie or resource. Their mantra, while certainly highly emotional, is unsupported by payment of fees by them to local communities who have to be empowered to care about saving the creature that lives in their community area.

As South Africa discovered in the 60's and 70's there was more money in raising and protecting game, they converted their cattle ranches into game ranches. The South African game ranchers desire to be able to offer legal hunting for this specie was driven by the desire of trophy hunters to hunt the black rhino. The hunting community and hunters stepped in and started to game ranch the Black Rhino back from the brink of extinction. Assessment and payment of the trophy fees by hunters empowered local game ranchers and communities to become stakeholders in conservation of the Black Rhino. They had a vested economic interest. The hunting community saved the Black Rhino as they did the White Rhino. Score one again for the good guys; the hunters.

Fast forward to today. Today the Black Rhino population contines to expand. CITES (Convention in International Trade of Endangered Species), the worldwide well respected organization that governs whether as specie has a large enough population to hunt, a quota that is, has authorized a quota of less than 10. However, South Africa has not issued any export permits for the taking of Black Rhino. A renewable or green hunting option, however, exists. Trophy hunters can hunt Black Rhino with a tranquilizing dart rifle under the strict supervision, guidance and auspices of the Nature Conservancy in conjunction with a licensed and permitted veterinarian who doses the dart for the rhino. You must also have a helicopter on site to follow the rhino after it is darted to ensure one can quickly get to the rhino after the tranquilizer takes affect and immobilizes the rhino. Once the rhino is immobilized, pictures of the rhino you darted with the dart rifle are taken during a 5 - 15 minute window. Then the hunter immediately under the direction of the vet administers the antidote. Within 30 seconds of administering the antidote the rhino is up, back on his feet again and off into the bush.

My hunt today was a fantastic experience. At 7AM the Nature Conservancy officer, vet, pilot and helicopter arrived. I practiced with the dart gun and hit the bullseye at 40 yards every shot. By 9:30AM we had cut the tracks of the Black Rhino after the helicopter located the Rhino earlier. The helicopter lost visual on the rhino and we set about following its tracks. Soon the crafty rhino was spotted. As he headed our way on a dead run, we hid behind some 15 foot high 30 foot wide scrub brush. We set up for the shot with the shooting sticks. Just as he got within 60 yards he saw one of the trackers and veered to our right to head into the thick bush, a foreboding place we did not want to have to go. The advantage was clearly in favor of the rhino if he went in there. The helicopter cutoff his route and sent him running back thru the scrub savanna. In true John Wayne Hatari style we climbed aboard the Land Cruiser with hunting rack on the back and headed out over the savanna in pursuit of the rhino. We closed to within 30 yards of the rhino. Doug, the PH, driving the Land Cruiser, immediately came to a stop. I let the dart zing out of the rifle towards the beast. The dart flew straight and true and stuck the rhino where I was instructed by the vet to shoot him...a Texas heart shot...right in the ole butt directly right of his tail. "Brilliant shot" exclaimed the vet. John the helicopter pilot announced over the radio "I must congratulate the hunter on a fantastic shot.".

The copter then followed the rhino. The drug according to the vet should take effect in 5-7 minutes. Now with a dart in his backside and a helicopter flying close to keep visual contact with him, the rhino ran on. After about 8 minutes, the vet decided the dart had failed to inject its contents. Off we raced to catch the rhino.

The vet in route of all the bumps loaded another dart. We caught up with the rhino just as it was going into some thick canyon bush. I pulled the trigger and no response from the gun. What?!!! I looked down to see that in all the commotion and bumping up and down from the chase the bolt on the rifle had come undone. I quickly locked the bolt down and sent a Hail Mary shot at the running rhino at 50+ yards. Swing and a miss as they say.

The rhino kept running. By now we were running out of options, so the vet decided we must dart the rhino from the helicopter. We quickly rendezvoused with the helicopter. The vet and I jumped from the truck and ran for the helicopter. I jumped in the open seat without a door behind the pilot. I grabbed my seat belt. Fastened it quickly. Then pointed the rifle out of the open door where I positioned myself to hang half outside so I could shoot. The vet took the seat next to me. Grap the headphones. Put them on. Don't fall out and off we went. Up, up into the air. Whoop whoop whoop whoop whoop; the helicopter blades thundered as we approached the rhino. There to the right was the rhino. To cut his tracks, we veered hard right and approached the rhino from his left rear quarter. As we got to within 20 yards, the vet said "Shoot". I placed the red illuminated reticle on the front side of the left rear quarter of the rhino allowing for the small difference in speed. Thomp, the dart flew from the rifle and stuck properly in the left rear thigh. "Outstanding shot" yelled the Vet. John the pilot exclaimed "brilliant, absolutely brilliant shot, well done, you've done it both ways, from the ground and the air. I've never done that before. This is a magnificent day. Congratulations".

The helicopter quickly rose out of the way to give the rhino room and for the dart to take affect. 5 minutes, 6 minutes, 7 minutes later the rhino laid down and we all converged for the quick photo shoot. After pictures and a hunt summary video were recorded, the vet gave me the antidote needle. "Place the syringe here where I have the needle stuck in his right ear. Push in the antidote then we'll run back to the truck. We have 30 seconds before he fully awakens and sets about being very pissed off. We don't want to be on the ground when that occurs.". Plunger in. Run like hell to the truck. I'm thinking "don't fall. Don't trip. Easy does it but be quick." Slam the door shut while simultaneously the rhino rises to his feet and off he goes. Back to his habitat. All is well. All are safe. What a hunt. Unbelievable!

Our hunting business is finished here in the Free State Province of South Africa. Take your kids or grandkids hunting. Your life and their life will be the better; forever.