HUNT FOR GOLIATH by CD Johnson

My first trip to Africa was an experience I will never forget. I have now returned from my second trip in two years. A good hunting buddy and high school classmate, Art Applegate, harassed me into going with him the first trip. Midway through that hunt, we were planning a hunt every other year. On the plane home, we were already planning next years hunt! I was beginning to understand the "Magic of Africa".

Much of that magic belongs to Ken and Lynda Morris of Byseewah Safaris. What a breath of fresh air hunting with these two people turned out to be. You were not patronized; you were part of the team. You learned about hunting in Africa and you earned your shots. I am now a full member of World Wide Ethical Hunters and appreciate its meaning.

Prior to last year, I had never heard of Namibia. Now I have fallen in love with this beautiful country. The climate and countryside are very similar to the western slopes of Colorado in the fall. The peacefulness and stability put you at ease. I even enjoy Windhoek, considering I am a small town person and feel uneasy in big cities. Landing in Windhoek was relaxing in comparison to JFK.

As I came through the doors into the reception area, I spied a familiar face with that mischievous ever-present grin. It was good to meet my old friend again, which also happens to be a very experienced hunter.

He had told me in his letters about a very big eland he had seen. He had taken a big problem lion from this area a few months back, one of those "Bad ones" you get from time to time. This problem had upset a lot of people in the area. Some spending many uncomfortable hours up trees! The lion was tracked down in very thick bush and was taken in full charge at seven paces. It weighed 520lbs. The MET ranger telling me this story held his fingers together and said "Man it was this close". And he was reported to be at the back of the line! While tracking this lion, they came upon a group of big eland bulls and they sure were big and one Ken named "Goliath". "OK", I said "but aren’t they like those big cows from India with short stubby horns. What possible skill could it take to bag a big eland? What I really want is a leopard. After I get my leopard we can fill out our time taking a big eland". Ken just smiled and said they might be "worth a second look".

We got into the hunting mode as we drove north, talking about my last hunt and discussing our hunting area. Here, the quotas for animals are very strictly controlled. We could hunt a limited number of elephant, leopard, hyena, duiker and eland. We also came across black and white rhino, lion, sable, wildebeest, gemsbok, kudu and dozens of warthog. Sods law being what it is, we saw plenty of the latter who seem to know that they weren’t part of the quota!

The tented camp was hidden under a large Manketti tree and apart from the tracks in the sand; you couldn’t tell anyone had been about. The sort of place you sit down, kick off your boots and say the hell with it. We were having a sundowner when Lynda and Moses arrived. A hug accompanied by a soft hello from Lynda. She makes you realize that behind every great man or successful operation is a woman. With her was the big beaming face of Moses acknowledging my name. He was always willing to please, one of those trackers that once on a spoor makes you feel sorry for the animal. I missed seeing the every happy face of Naftal, a friend from last year, who would miss this hunt as he was working back on Byseewah.

A good meal, another drink around the fire looking up at the stars of the African night . . .. Man it feels good to be back.

Day break found us with black coffee in hand as Moses and Willy went over their check list of things needed - oil and water levels on the vehicle, first aid box, drinking water, packed cooler, shovel, axe, etc., nothing was left to chance. Then the famous rucksack. This contains 40 years of know-how; if you needed anything special . . . it was in the bag! There is a story of a hunter loosing his screw out of his spectacles in the middle of the bush. There was a short stop for a drink of water and out of the bag came a small screwdriver along with a screw that was just the right size! One day I was not feeling too good, it was a very hot day. The man signalled for a stop, and then from THE BAG came some packets, which he tipped, into my water container. "Drink that, it will sort you out." I had not said a word about how I felt. The effect of the drink was immediate and I felt much better. "What the hell did you put in the water?" "Oral Rehydrate Electrolyte mixture," he said. And again, the smile.

After sighting in my rifle and going through the safety drill, we were off for a good recognizance of the hunting area. All three of us were given a map of the area with all the major land marks shown (water holes, tracks etc.). We took a G.P.S. reading from one area to another and drove the tracks, looking for fresh spoor crossings. We marked the kilometres each day. If anything happened to anyone, we all had our own maps, so we could work out where we were and where the camp was or where the nearest water hole was. The maps were also great for referring to with each other, marking down where we had seen the various animals and such. Above all we were all working together mapping in the kilometres and in the end we could tell just how far we had to walk from one area to another or from one track to another and when you have the confidence that each member of the team knows his way around, you feel better. As the man said "It’s all part of the magic". The most important use of the maps was the pick up points. I love hunting in the bush, you cover a lot of ground without noticing, as your concentration is on other things, but there is not a lot of fun covering the same ground going back with the wind!

The first few days were spent meeting the neighbouring ranchers and sorting out potential leopard problems. As it worked out, it was not a good time for leopard, so we decided to give the eland a try.

The next two days we spent tracking eland spoor only to get a roasting for blowing it as we got in close, by moving when we should have been still. We were getting in closer to animals than I had ever been before. On one occasion we were following seven eland, we were so close that we could hear them feeding – some thirty paces in front. The bush was so thick that all we could see was the odd shape as they slowly moved forward. The spoor told us that there was one big bull in the group. We suddenly stopped and got the signal to go down slowly (after the previous roasting we recognized the signal immediately!). The man and the tracker communicated through a series of glances and nods of the head. "Something has made them suspicious" he whispered, pointing to the spoor, it showed a sharp turn to the right, "crazy ivans", he called them. "We have to back track. We must come up on the right of them or they will wind us". Very slowly we did this manoeuvre, ending up looking at this small group of eland some forty paces to our left. All alert, looking to their left and waiting for us to fall into their trap! We studied the bull; he looked good to me, but a shake of the head said "no", by now my estimation of the eland had changed considerably. After a sleep in the shade of a large Appelblaar tree we set off again looking for fresh tracks. We were going through some thick scrub when we all went down again. I saw a large shape slowly moving through the bush, not five paces from us. When you are kneeling down and a big old white rhino bull is passing you that close, let me tell you – adrenaline is brown in colour!

The rhino stopped and there was just one small bush between us. If he could not hear the thumping in my chest, he must have been deaf. The man was looking right at me, mouthing the words "don’t move". Did I have news for him! There was a loud snort and the rhino exploded through the bush going, I was glad to see, in the opposite direction. It made a nice change getting back to camp early, relaxing with a stiff whiskey as the sun went down. It also helped me get my voice back. After we returned each day, Lynda would ask us if we enjoyed our mapping of the Mangetti, not you noticed, whether we got our trophy or not!

On the eighth day we were hunting in an area with lots of very large trees. We came upon another group of eland, but again not good enough. By this time the one I thought was big some day’s back was looking bigger everyday. You can always tell when you are heading for water by watching the birds, and then you will notice more animal tracks, which end up in different game trails. We came out at a water hole and here we sat in the shade for a rest and were given a demonstration in just how close you can be to animals as long as you keep perfectly still. We sat with our backs against a tree at the waters edge for about two hours and fed the various ants and bugs with assorted body parts. In that time fourteen warthogs came to drink and we sat and watched their antics. I became very envious as I sat stone still and they got to scratch their bare butts. Two very large sable bulls came in and we witnessed one hell of a fight, squeals, grunts and all. One of these bulls injured his neck and staggered about like a drunken man, taking all his effort to stay on his feet. Then we spotted a large rooikat (caracal) curled up in the branches of the tree next to us. We started back to a pre-chosen spot on a track three kilometres away.

Halfway there we came across a huge eland spoor and the droppings were very fresh. Now we went into that special hunting mode that comes with practice. Everyone at their best, moving through the bush, no noise, anticipating each other’s moves before they came. We started with one big bull spoor then he was joined by two other bulls.

The signal we were waiting for came and he gripped my arm and whispered, "This is the one we want. There are two others with him so I want to get you in close so you can see him properly. Now stay cool, and keep close to me."

Very slowly we went forward, staying low from bush to bush, until we came to a bush on the edge of a small opening. From here we could see the two big bulls feeding on some low bushes 40 paces in front, but no goliath! Then, he was there! ! No more than 25 paces from me. The look on my face must have said it all! "Stay cool", he whispered in my ear. "Take him behind the shoulder when you are ready." He was side on, completely filling the gap. It was perfect as I locked onto the powerhouse. I squeezed off the shot. The eland buckled,

and then took off out of sight. I had not noticed what happened to the others. but I still could not believe the size of what I had just seen. We stayed hidden for what seemed to me a very, very long time, while I confronted doubt about my shot placement. Then, that reassuring smile again, "He’s down!"

We approached our prize. We both sat down on the ground in complete silence and admired this magnificent eland bull. Needless to say my opinion of the eland had changed immensely. What an intelligent and athletic animal. I had walked 160 kilometers over eight days in the African bush to come to this understanding. In so doing, I had also come to know my new friends even more. Isn’t this what Magic of Africa is all about?

C D Johnson