Stories by Larry

 

 

 

THE REVELATION by Larry Mullins

　
I wanted to start out my first African bow hunt with something simple, something to "get my feet wet", so to speak. During my studies of African plains game I had never really considered hunting a Springbok; I never really even noticed them. But moving around the wilds of Namibia the small Springbok had really caught my attention. They are not one of the glamour antelope like the beautiful Sable or Kudu. But they are beautiful, and seeing these antelope in the flesh had me wanting to hunt them. They are smaller than our American Pronghorn, more finely put together, almost petite. They are in my opinion one of the most strikingly beautiful of the African antelope. They are white faced with a contrasting black stripe as a highlight along the side of their face and through their eye. Tan covers the majority of their body but with a chocolate colored side panel above the white of their belly. A mature ram will sport horns of about 12 to 14 inches long. The bases of the horns will have ringed ridges as the horns flow up and out, arching back towards the center and then curling back over in the more mature specimens. When a Springbok is startled they flip up a white flag tail and rump hair, then spring into the air as though they had legs made of spring steel, thus their name. It was these things about the little Springbok, which led me to conclude that a mature Springbok ram should be the first African trophy I would try for.
In my first few days in Namibia I had seen numerous Springbok. But circumstances seemed to conspire against me, keeping a good representative ram just out of bow range. It was either the swirling wind or my guide arriving just slightly too soon that would spook my quarry before I could get a shot. But the more time I spent watching Springbok the more I was sure that I wanted to include this antelope on my trophy list. So, no matter what the difficulties I had been experiencing, I continued to hope that I would get a chance at a good ram.
The second afternoon of my hunt I left the hunting lodge to sit at a waterhole which usually had plenty of game around it. The weather conditions were much different than what I had been experiencing. The wind had begun to blow at speeds of about 30 MPH. This made the possibility of a shot more complicated for accuracy, but at least the wind would be consistently in one direction. The wind consistency would be a real nice change of pace. The wind had caused me a lot of grief over the last few days, swirling this way and that. Spooking away animals as they approached the watering holes. Consequently the strong breeze seemed like a blessing, but time alone would tell the tale.
As the evening progressed I realized that the wind was going to make this hunt a bit more complicated. The animals couldn’t smell us, but the wind blowing this hard caused the animals to be very skittish. The limbs of the trees whipped around, dust swirled around like miniature dust devils conspiring to keep these high strung animals very tightly wound up. As each of the animals would begin to approach the water any birds that would swirl by, or branches that would flail in the wind would cause these pretty little antelope to spring into the air and race away. During their escape the Springbok would snort in alarm and run off through the brush. This also caused enough commotion that every animal within hearing distance would become at best, very nervous.
Thus, I had pretty much concluded that this evening the hunting would probably be a complete bust. But as the sun prepared to kiss the horizon and the temperature started to drop, the wind began to moderate. It would be a race with the falling sun, but a shot was a possibility. About the time when the sun was straight out from the window of the blind things began to take shape. Animals started to return to the water in an attempt to get a drink before the African darkness made travel a risky proposition. You see in Africa, the biggest and best hunters search for their dinner when the darkness hides their stalk. Tooth, fang and claw as Uncle Ted would say, has had eons of time to ingrain the fear of night into Africa’s game animals. So most of the antelope species will try to tank up on water before the danger of night. Water holes are dangerous places for prey animals, men are not the only predator that will use the draw of water to set up an ambush.
Soon a small herd of Springbok rams began to approach the water hole. I studied the approaching animals between the leaves of my blind. Two of the rams were of the proper age and maturity to consider taking a crack at, if luck was on my side. The rams approached but held up just out of range. They were still jittery from the previous "wind attacks" and wanted to carefully check out the situation before relaxing. They calmed down a little bit as they studied their surroundings and found fewer scary things to threaten them. The older ram began to find immense pleasure in rubbing his horns against a dead tree. He would rub his horns against the wood, and then he would pause to sniff and check out his handiwork. I could see that he was just not going to cooperate tonight, too interested in polishing that old acacia branch. But this behavior did show that the animals were becoming more relaxed.
As the sun continued racing toward the other side of the world my tension grew, time was running out. The other mature ram was not as old, but his horns were perfectly proportioned in every way. The older ram had more mass at the base of his horns, but one horn was worn down making them uneven, (probably due to the compulsion he had to rub his horns on everything in sight, rather than come closer to me. Little punk.) And as I said before the other ram was, well,,, perfect. And he was being much more cooperative. He continued moving ever closer, which made him even more perfect to me. What I wanted was a mature ram that was a good representative of the specie. The #2 ram seemed to be perfect in all respects, plus he was being a cooperative fellow and moving my way. I thought how it was about my turn for a good opportunity; both of my sons had scored on fine trophies. Wasn’t it my turn? The ram continued towards my blind. The ram became perfect in everyway as he stepped into my deadly accurate range, big mistake for him. Every second of bow practice came into play as I drew the bow and watched the pin of my sight settle on the crease behind the ram’s shoulder. The arrow streaked across the 25 yards separating us, hardly even slowing down as it blew through the ram then clattered across the ground and into the tall grass. The Springbok jumped straight up into the air, then trotted off into the thick brush as though he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. I forced myself to calm down and wait for the required 30 minutes to pass. This was despite the urgings of my tracker who wanted to jump right up and go get it. (He was probably just used to working with rifle hunters who usually blow big holes in little Springboks.)
After waiting the required 30 minutes, ok maybe 15 minutes, but I was excited. We began to take up the track. We had to get the job done soon because it was getting dark. And we have already discussed what comes out to hunt after it gets dark in Africa. But the light was disappearing faster than we could track and soon it became too dark to track effectively. My tracker was getting scared and wanted to give up anyway, I am never scared of the dark but he seemed concerned, (ok, maybe I wanted to go somewhere safer too). So being the thoughtful gentleman that I am, I allowed him to talk me into coming back in the light of day to recover my trophy. Now in North America this is a common technique, it is no big deal to come back when the light is better and the animal has been given enough time to completely expire. At that time this seemed like a good idea. However, the next morning when we returned to take up the blood trail again we found a disturbing sight. While moving along the trail my son found a small piece of my Springbok. Now I have experienced "ground shrinkage" before, but I was pretty certain that there was more to my Springbok than just this handful of bloody skin and hair. At this point I began to think that it was a possibility that I was about to experience something very different. It began to dawn on me that perhaps there really were some glaring differences between hunting in the "lower 48" and in hunting on the Dark Continent. Cautiously following up on that little piece of "sign", we spread out and began to search. What we finally found of my Springbok was so small that it was an amazing feat of observational skills that we found him at all. There was very little left to find. The bones were picked clean, there wasn’t even much blood, skin or hair left to gather up. The tracks told most of the story. Not long after we left the blood trail something very hungry and probably in a cranky mood had taken possession of my trophy. It had then spent the night snacking on a warm and tasty meal. Leaving just barely enough for the Jackals to clean up. Now this was a new experience for me. The realization that there were critters out there that are big enough, and mean enough, to consume something the size of a Springbok in less than 8 hours shook me to the core. But there often is a positive side; in this case the sharp-toothed kitty was gracious enough to leave me the head and horns, undamaged. And there wasn’t much skinning to do either, another positive. So I still had my trophy, at least a European style skull mount. And I was also left with something far more valuable. I was left with the crystal clear revelation that there really are wild places where mankind is just another warm meal. Mankind is not necessarily the top of the food chain. It was this realization that heightened my appreciation and love of this wild, truly special place. It made me feel so much more alive and appreciative of life.
Ah, such is the magic of Africa. I suppose that is why it is still referred to as the, "Dark Continent".

 

 

 

 

The Gray Ghost by Larry Mullins

My first experience with Africa’s Gray Ghost happened in the middle of my 9 day archery hunt in Namibia. My wife and I were watching an unusually quite water hole from a hastily constructed blind consisting of branches and leaves from the local Mopane and Acaisha trees. We wanted to hunt a remote water hole that had not been disturbed by any other hunters. It was my hope that by moving our hunt to a more remote and quiet area we would be more likely to have an archery encounter with a big bull Kudu, my quest on this hunt.
This water hole had been only been visited by a wild burro all morning long. We joked that this burro was simply a Zebra with no stripes, or a Zebra that was so old that his black stripes had turned to gray. This "Zebra" was the only thing we had available to keep us entertained. While watching our "Zebra" we noticed a gray shape moving through the brush behind the burro. There was no sound, no warning, he was just suddenly there. As we stared through the leaves of the blind trying to get a good look at what was approaching we realized that there was more than one animal moving out there. There were several gray shapes floating through the tangled thick brush. We both studied the approaching animals trying to get a good look at them. A clear view of a piece of the lead animal showed the tale tell vertical stripe on the side of a Kudu. This was enough to get my heart pounding, a close up sighting of a Kudu, the Gray Ghost of Africa. This herd of Kudu seemed to float through the dense brush as smooth and silent as a wisp of smoke. They were slowly circling around the water hole checking for any possible danger. As each animal moved around us we had opportunities to snatch quick glimpses through the thick brush of all the Kudu in the group. They were all bulls, a bachelor band of bulls. Several seemed to be very big bulls too. There was little question that they were slowing moving toward the water. This situation might provide me with an opportunity to harvest a bull Kudu, or at the very least get a good look at a creature I had only seen in photographs. As the group circled around to my left I began to become concerned that they would soon move around far enough to hit our scent. We had a fairly consistent cross wind from our right to our left. The Kudu had approached us from the right rear, but as they had circled the water hole the group would soon move into the unseen scent stream flowing from our blind. At about the place were I expected the bulls to catch our scent and blow out of there, they turned and began to approach the water. They moved to the edge of the clearing and held up, scanning the area for danger. This was my first good look at a bull Kudu.
A Kudu is a tall and graceful animal about the same height as our North American Elk. More slender than an Elk, but they still share many of the same body postures and movements as an Elk. They use the same fluid stride, they hold their head at the same angle and their Mule deer size ears are always searching like radar dishes for the sound of danger. A feature unique to the Kudu is the long mane of hair along the crest of their back and also down their neck. These manes of hair show the white stripes that are also along the animal’s side. One of the most striking and beautiful features of the Kudu is the white chevron blaze across their nose just under the eyes. This collaboration of size, grace, striking beauty, stealth and cunning contributes to make the Kudu a highly sought after trophy among hunters in Africa.
The Kudu began to move toward the water again, satisfied that the area was safe. My wife and I began to study the approaching animals, searching for a mature bull. There were two in the group of five that would make me happy if I could get a shot at them. I prepared my bow for the approaching opportunity. As the herd began to fan out along the waters edge so that each could get a drink, one of the big bulls stepped down further to my left. He instantly reacted as though smacked in the face, as our scent stream flowed into his nose. He whirled away and at the same time gave out a bark of alarm. All of the Kudu thundered away in a cloud of dust, their white tails high in the air waving good bye to a very dejected hunter. That was nevertheless a very exciting first encounter with what is truly "the Gray Ghost of Africa", the Greater Kudu.
There are 6 subspecies of Kudu recognized by Safari Club International. The main differences bei ng mostly a variation in size, both in the size of the horns and of the body size. These different subspecies, for the most part, inhabit different regions of the African continent. Each group has its own appeal, beauty and difficulty level in hunting them.
There are also several species of spiraled horned antelope that are considered to be relatives of the Kudu. Most of these cousins have the characteristic spiral horns and some form of body striping. The more common cousins include the Nayala, the Mountain Nayala, the Bongo, Eland and the Bushbuck. The entire spiral horned antelope family is beautiful, which one is the most beautiful is based simply on your personal preference. Which country in Africa you prefer to hunt will also make a difference due to their habitat requirements and distribution variations.

 

 

 

 

 

King of the Kalahari by Larry Mullins

The black and white face was all that could be seen of the Gemsbok as it stared intently at the water hole from the thick brush. For more than an hour the face stared intently at the water hole, never moving in the intense heat of the African sun. As I watched the face stare at the waterhole I began to wonder if it was a trick of the light, not an animal at all. Or perhaps it was an elaborate joke being played on me by our always-smiling guide, Erich. Surely no animal would stay motionless for so long. Soon a commotion to my left drew my attention to a small troop of Springbok, which had slipped into the water unnoticed. Their slurping and splashing signaled to a family of warthogs that it was safe to snatch a quick drink and they too trotted in. My attention was again drawn to the Gemsbok who had begun to move. She must have also felt that it was now safe to join the others at the water. I was amazed to see that the lead cow had been waiting for some other animal to take the risk and show that the water hole was safe. The Gemsbok cow was an obviously old and wise leader of her herd of 15 or so animals. Her horns were at least 40 inches long, shining black spikes with sharply pointed ends. But I wanted to take a bull. A Gemsbok bull, my boyhood dream since the first time I had seen the beauty of this magnificent animal. I searched through the approaching herd looking for a bull of adequate age and quality. Searching back through the milling animals I saw the bull I wanted. Long straight black horns with thick knurled bases. His attention was deffinatly not on the water. He was following very close behind a cow, interested only in her. Following what to him must have been a sweet and alluring scent. Each of the herd members took a turn slipping into snatch a quick drink from the pool before trotting back away. Most of the herd members except the bull I wanted. Finally the cow that seemed to be the love of his life turned toward the water. Knowing he would follow her to the water hole I prepared to take the shot that I had dreamed of for years. My hand tensed on the bows handle, I checked to be sure the arrow was still setting correctly on the rest. But in exasperated silence I watched the bull stop and begin pacing back and forth in front of my blind. He wasn’t going to follow her! I did my best to will him to come forward; I tried to mentally convince him that he was thirsty and that the water was cool and sweet. I made a mental note to practice my telepathy skills, for I had made no impact on the path or direction of the bull. He continued to pace back and forth from one window of my blind to the next. Then, when I began to think that this Gemsbok could read my mind and that he would never give me a shot, it happened. An opportunity for the "dream shot" appeared as the bull turned toward me, then he stopped pacing, directly in front of my shooting window. The rock he stood next to I had previously ranged at 33 yards. My back muscles flexed as I drew back on the bow. I went through the mental checklist from many hours of practice, my thumb against my cheek, the feathers of the arrow just touching my lip. I sighted through the peep, setting the 30-yard pin on the spot I picked behind his muscular shoulder. "Squeeze the release trigger" I silently coached myself. In slow motion I watched the white of my arrow’s fletching arch through the air and disappear into the bulls side with a satisfying "thunk". Instant pandemonium erupted as 50 different animals thundered away at the sound of my shot. Silence fell along with the dust as I replayed the shot through my mind.
Such is the magic and draw of hunting in Africa. Many hunters, both archers and rifle hunters alike have dreamed of a trip to hunt the Dark Continent. Most believing that a trip such as this is something for dreams only. A dream that they will never actually experience, except in their imaginations. I too had resigned myself to the belief that I would only experience Africa in the stories of Ruark and Capstick. But my loving wife, seeing the little boy’s excitement over anything to do with Africa suggested that I "at least check into what a trip like that would cost". Which I did, (expecting that a very rich relative would need to die, leaving me with a huge estate before I could ever experience such a trip.) Using the Internet information age to my advantage I began with numerous inquiries to outfitters about the costs and availability of an all archery plains game hunt. Anxiously I waited for the responses to my letters, (the little boy inside me still had hope.) As I settled on a quality outfitter, and he began to answer my questions I realized that this dream might actually be a possibility. This dream could in fact become a reality. For the same cost as a quality Whitetail hunt or Alaskan moose hunt I could take 4 to 6 trophy animals, depending on which species I chose. Nine days hunting in Africa, taking the animals I have dreamed about since boyhood, for the same price as a North American hunt? I quickly made up my mind. And thus began a six month stretch of research and preparation for the hunt of my life.
My first experience with a trip to Africa was a success because of a lot of research. I read everything I could find on the subject. Bad hunting trips can happen anywhere, so you must do some research. One of the first things I did was to visit with guides and outfitters at Sportsman Expos such as the one sponsored by Safari Club International. I asked a lot of questions. Asking questions, many times the same question of different people was a key to setting up a good hunt. If you find an outfitter or guide who seems reluctant to answer questions, pass them by. You need to have someone you can rely on and trust for a hunt of this importance. Some of the questions you want to get good straight answers to are: are the animals you want available in the area you will be hunting? Not all species are available in adequate numbers in all hunting areas. Is the hunting concession designed for archery hunters or for rifle hunters? Each style of hunting has very different requirements. What is included in the daily rate and what is an extra cost? This varies from concession to concession. What are the health risks for the areas you are interested in? This also varies greatly from country to country and during different times of the year. You can get good information on the Center for Diese Control web site, such as recommendations on risks and inoculations needed. Namibia, the country we chose has very little risk of diseases such as malaria during their winter season.
Many of the African hunting concessions are on private land with a high fence. This is not the shooting fish in a barrel situation you might expect. Most game ranches consist of thousands of acres of land. These ranches manage the game, providing water and open country to feed and live in, but the animals are unquestionably wild. This can be attested to by the numerous instances such as the one at the beginning of this story where the animals displayed the uncanny ability to sense danger despite our best efforts.
Our African adventure truly began many months before we even left home. My two sons and I picked a destination for our adventure based on the recommendations of our outfitter as well as references from people who had actually been there. We chose a hunting ranch in Northern Namibia, Holstein Ranch. We practiced with our bows at every free moment and fine-tuned the bows until we were all very confident in our abilities. We studied about the animals together and decided which of the many possible species we wanted. Each of our lists became different, showing the differences in our personalities. We talked about and discussed the many possibilities and questions we had. The excitement of our trip preparation became infectious; soon my wife and daughters became wrapped up in the web of desire to experience Africa. Our final expeditionary force would consist of my sons, 22-year-old twin brothers. Also accompanying us would be my wife and two twin daughters, 20 years old, (I’m too wise to tell the age of my young and understanding wife.). The three ladies would serve as our photographers, they would document our experiences to preserve our memories. The preparation was a part of the trip that was an unexpected joy as the whole family grew closer in the sharing of a common goal and experience.
Throughout our hunt we all experienced many heart pounding, exciting moments. Each day brought something new to marvel at, or trophy to admire. The pride in my children’s maturity and abilities grew each day as we shared our successes, our close calls and laughed at the inevitable scewups that we all experienced. Between the three hunters we were able to collect 10 different animals. The varied bag consisted of 2 Gemsbok, 2 Kudu, 2 Springbok, 2 Warthog, a Mountain Zebra and a Wildebeest. On this concession we also had opportunities to hunt Red Hartebeest, Black Wildebeest, Steenbok, Burchells Zebra, Damarian Dik Dik, Leopard, Eland and Cheetah.
In archery hunting there is only one way to get really good, and that is to practice. You can practice your shooting at a target until you are perfect, but being able to shoot well at a live animal is a very different situation. Live animals move, they don’t always give you that textbook perfect broad side shot either. Also, the number one skill to master in all hunting is dealing with buck fever. Being "archery close" to any trophy animal increases the adrenalin surge that complicates each shot we take. Only experience allows the skill to over come this effect to be developed. The high number of animals you will see and the variety of game in an African safari allows a hunter to experience this adrenaline rush more times in a single hunt than in several years of hunting in North America. This experience is an invaluable and fun part of an African safari that will make any hunter more skilled and effective.
All of our group came away from the hunt with our wildest dreams fulfilled, having been privileged to harvest a large part of our "wish list" of species. The animals that we were not able to collect will only feed the desire to return again one day to continue the pursuit of African plains game. We also came home with a wealth of knowledge, photographs, experience and memories that we will treasure for all of our lives.
Was the trip worth it? Was it really affordable? Looking back on what we gained I can only quote my wife who said, "We can never put a price on the value of our families growth, or the memories we will all share." My advice is to go. Live your dream. It is within reach. You may even see me there cause, "I’m findin’ a way to go back!"