JJ said “but I think it is over for the
day – it’s just too warm now. We
will drop down to the canyon and
I’ll radio Derick to pick us up there.”
We dropped height quickly down
to the river and in 40 minutes found
ourselves overlooking a patch of pure
African paradise – beautifully sheltered
bush-covered river flats rimmed on
both sides by steep cliffs. The river that
emerged from the gorge further up now
meandered down below us. A haven if
ever I saw one.
We sat and glassed but didn’t see any
game. After a while JJ whistled and yelled
out five or six times to see if he could
startle something into breaking away –
nothing did. We admired the view for at
least 20 minutes and then we could hear
the rumble of the Cruiser approaching. It
stopped a short distance up the hill and
as Derick got out to join us, JJ yelled out
for him to bring some water.
Thirstily, we drained a bottle each,
replacing some of the sweat we had lost.
I picked up a golf ball-sized rock and
tossed it into the bush below the cliffs we
were sitting on; a dull crash echoed back.
The next thing, Derick stood up. He could
hear an animal running and he pointedinto the ravine and said the Xhosa word
for bushbuck “Imbabala!”
JJ jumped up, saying “That’s no
bushbuck, man.” He grabbed the rifle,
whipped a round into the breech and
pushed it over to me saying “Shoot it,
shoot it – that’s a nice nyala bull!”
I immediately dropped onto the lip of the
cliff, trying to follow the bull through the
scope at the same time. The bull splashed
through the knee-deep river 160m away
and bounded into the bush, flashing
through the trees and making good his
escape. “Wait” said JJ “he’ll stop.”
When he did, I had the scope on him. I
held my breath, focusing on his shoulder
area – boom! He stumbled, lurched and
then continued running, weaving though
the bush and covering maybe another
50 metres. All that time I was trying to
find him in the scope for another shot.
Then he vanished into some thick cover.
We waited for a few minutes to see if he
would try and sneak out.
Was he hit hard and down or just winged
and hiding? If we went down to the flats
and made our way back up, we may
spook him and not get another shot due
to the cover. JJ decided to send Derickdown and we would guide him in; if
the bull was hiding, our best chance for
another shot would be from up here. We
needn’t have worried as 20 minutes later,
Derick found the bull stone dead. I was so
relieved. The shot had taken him high in
the shoulder, but the steep angle meant
it also took out his vitals and broke his
offside leg.
A trophy nyala was my main goal to take
on this trip and I was pleased with his
25-inch horns and the exciting hunt. I
think the nyala is one of the prettiest
coloured and marked antelopes in Africa.
JJ agrees with me, saying there is a Xhosa
legend that Tshwane – who was earliest
ancestor of all the Xhosa tribes at the time
of creation – held the nyala’s face in both
hands and whispered “You are the most
beautiful of them all.” The four white
dots on the cheeks of the nyala are said
to be where Tshwane’s fingers held him
and the white ‘V’ on his nose was from
Tshwane’s thumbs. It seemed very fitting
and I liked that!
My Eastern Cape hunt continues next
issue.
http://www.lynedochfarm.co.za/
huntingBeautifully marked ivory-tipped nyala
bull, measuring 25”. My prime trophy
objective.August / September 2019 ~ NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE 25JJ said “but I think it is over for the
day – it’s just too warm now. We
will drop down to the canyon and
I’ll radio Derick to pick us up there.”
We dropped height quickly down
to the river and in 40 minutes found
ourselves overlooking a patch of pure
African paradise – beautifully sheltered
bush-covered river flats rimmed on
both sides by steep cliffs. The river that
emerged from the gorge further up now
meandered down below us. A haven if
ever I saw one.
We sat and glassed but didn’t see any
game. After a while JJ whistled and yelled
out five or six times to see if he could
startle something into breaking away –
nothing did. We admired the view for at
least 20 minutes and then we could hear
the rumble of the Cruiser approaching. It
stopped a short distance up the hill and
as Derick got out to join us, JJ yelled out
for him to bring some water.
Thirstily, we drained a bottle each,
replacing some of the sweat we had lost.
I picked up a golf ball-sized rock and
tossed it into the bush below the cliffs we
were sitting on; a dull crash echoed back.
The next thing, Derick stood up. He could
hear an animal running and he pointed
into the ravine and said the Xhosa word
for bushbuck “Imbabala!”
JJ jumped up, saying “That’s no
bushbuck, man.” He grabbed the rifle,
whipped a round into the breech and
pushed it over to me saying “Shoot it,
shoot it – that’s a nice nyala bull!”
I immediately dropped onto the lip of the
cliff, trying to follow the bull through the
scope at the same time. The bull splashed
through the knee-deep river 160m away
and bounded into the bush, flashing
through the trees and making good his
escape. “Wait” said JJ “he’ll stop.”
When he did, I had the scope on him. I
held my breath, focusing on his shoulder
area – boom! He stumbled, lurched and
then continued running, weaving though
the bush and covering maybe another
50 metres. All that time I was trying to
find him in the scope for another shot.
Then he vanished into some thick cover.
We waited for a few minutes to see if he
would try and sneak out.
Was he hit hard and down or just winged
and hiding? If we went down to the flats
and made our way back up, we may
spook him and not get another shot due
to the cover. JJ decided to send Derickdown and we would guide him in; if
the bull was hiding, our best chance for
another shot would be from up here. We
needn’t have worried as 20 minutes later,
Derick found the bull stone dead. I was so
relieved. The shot had taken him high in
the shoulder, but the steep angle meant
it also took out his vitals and broke his
offside leg.
A trophy nyala was my main goal to take
on this trip and I was pleased with his
25-inch horns and the exciting hunt. I
think the nyala is one of the prettiest
coloured and marked antelopes in Africa.
JJ agrees with me, saying there is a Xhosa
legend that Tshwane – who was earliest
ancestor of all the Xhosa tribes at the time
of creation – held the nyala’s face in both
hands and whispered “You are the most
beautiful of them all.” The four white
dots on the cheeks of the nyala are said
to be where Tshwane’s fingers held him
and the white ‘V’ on his nose was from
Tshwane’s thumbs. It seemed very fitting
and I liked that!
My Eastern Cape hunt continues next
issue.
http://www.lynedochfarm.co.za/
huntingBeautifully marked ivory-tipped nyala
bull, measuring 25”. My prime trophy
objective.August / September 2019 ~ NZ HUNTER MAGAZINE 25