The alarm hadn’t yet gone off. I awoke from a perfect slumber in which I’d only rolled over once or twice the entire night, a deep, contented, restful sleep. It wasn’t surprising though, I’d walked miles, seen countless birds, insects, plants and fascinating country, ate well, had bagged an amazing Oryx and Hartebeest the previous 2 days and was certain life just couldn’t get much better than this here at the Eitaalo Safari bungalow. Chrissy and I ate a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs.
It was still nippy outside, the Toyota heater welcome, the land still shadowed and dim as we left; it’d be 15 minutes before the sun touched the horizon. Suddenly Andre hit the brakes and we followed his gaze. A group of alert Oryx stood 30 yards off, several with impressively long horns.
Several times Steenbok, tiny antelope weighing about 20 pounds, dashed across the trail, a Warthog and 2 piglets were glimpsed, then some Kudu females peeked at us from the brush before turning and vanishing. Nearing a gentle rise a herd of Hartebeest hightailed it out of sight, the dust rising behind them. Strange birds flew, or ran. Sand Grouse, Red Billed Spur Fowl, Laughing Doves everywhere and then a large flock of Guinea Fowl crossed in front of us, some running, others flying. The variety of life here in Africa is bewildering.
We neared about the only noticeable geographical terrain, a mile wide, round, shallow depression I called The Bowl. In the center was a rapidly drying small lake and you never knew what may be hanging around the water.
We glassed the bordering sand and rock, but saw nothing, continuing on our way. Suddenly Simon, our tracker, leaned over and spoke in Afrikaans to Andre. We stopped and I raised my binoculars. These, among the thickets of Sweet Thorn was a herd of Springbok. Springbok are a smaller, beautifully marked antelope weighing 80 to 110 pounds. They’re flighty and spook easily, but this group was in cover and we were some distance away.
Andre, our guide, suddenly became very excited. “Grab the rifle! There’s a magnificent buck there, really something, let’s go!”
Crouching low, we scuttled into the brush and thorn. Andre was tense, he and Simon moving carefully, motioning us to stay close and for heaven’s sake don’t crack any sticks!
The sun beat down with a dazzling brilliance on the reddish sand as we snaked ever closer, sometimes retreating and tracing another route in order to remain unseen. Glancing back at Chrissy I saw her face tense as she carefully placed each foot among bone dry twigs and crunchy grass. We mustn’t make a sound.
Finally, Simon bent very low, peeked under an overhanging thorn bush and slowly backed up. I replaced him and Andre set up the sticks. Sitting, I squinted across the bone dry, dazzling lake bed to the thickets on the far side. Several Springbok were visible, but 1 had horns so large I picked him out instantly even with the naked eye at over 200 yards.
“Did I see him?” Andre whispered. I nodded.
“Squeeze!” he hissed intently.
The heat waves from the hot ground danced and swayed in the scope, the crosshairs moving gently with them. Taking a deep breath and attempting to remain calm, I’m shocked how small the antelope looks in the scope and quickly twist it up to 8 power. He’s still not a large target. The antelope are all swishing their tails, staring at us and on edge.
“Shoot!” Andre whispers again, but this time I ignore him for I’m not steady and have run out of breath attempting to fire. Breath in deeply, let half out and steady the crosshairs on the distant wavering animal. Be calm, hold just a few inches high and “Wham!” The shot surprised me, a good squeeze, but I didn’t hear the bullet hit. The Springbok jumps, whirls and dashes out of sight.
Simon nods and is grinning; saying the Springbok was hard hit. I desperately hope the shot was on target. We march across the hot lake bed and Simon soon finds blood. After a quarter of a mile doubt nags at me, but then just 100 yards further on lays the buck. He was hit perfectly behind the shoulder. African animals are incredibly tough.
Andre quickly measures the buck and with a huge grin announces it should make the record book. “What! Are you kidding? I never dreamed!” I announce, slightly stunned.
Andre absolutely insists I mount the animal, no skull and horns only on this trophy and won’t let up until I agree.
Chrissy had watched appreciatively and with relish as Andre beat my Scottish frugality out of me. When I finally agreed to do so she said to me; “Dad, it probably makes the record book, the biggest they’ve shot here in years and you’re not going to mount it? Stop being cheap, it’s the right thing to do!” She then favored me with a look usually reserved for her small, disobedient children. They were right of course.
Once the decision was made, I could finally begin to marvel at my good fortune and admire the magnificent Springbok. Delight began to flood my being; what a splendid animal this was and how fortunate the chance that lead me to him. There truly was much to be thankful for.
