Armed with a 22 mag we slowly approached the first bait……As the captain pulled up on the taught line the ancient relic of a dinosaur rocketed from the water! My heart raced as I glimpsed my first swamp monster! I carefully put the sights on the area we had been instructed and quickly disengaged the safety with the efficiency of highly trained reflexes. With a "whack” the bullet smacked the beast perfectly in the brain and it quickly expired.

We carefully drug the animal onto the boat and I looked on with fascination as my first beast was a remarkable 9’6”. Almost driven to extinction in the last century this beautiful reptile has flourished with the assistance of the hunting community and the Louisiana Department of Natural resources. Efforts such as ours to reestablish a viable population has once again created an abundance of these ancient animals for sportman to pursue. I enjoyed being in Louisiana and certainly their slogan “Sportsmans Paradise” rings true to me with every new adventure I have in this great state.

Everyone was speechless and spent the next hour observing the wild animals in sheer awe. We laughed as the younger apes and babies expressed their curiosity, coming so close that we could have picked them up, and marveled at how much they resembled us. When it was time to leave, we knew that it was an experience we would never forget and were ecstatic to have seen these rare, majestic creatures in the wild. Hunting is not only about harvesting animals, but also involves conservation of wildlife. To be a hunter means to have an intrinsic, deep-seated appreciation for nature. On this trip to the Dark Continent, we played the role of both hunter and conservationist, ensuring that these creatures would be available for my children to observe many years down the road. Hunters are the fine balance between destruction and creation that holds the natural world in place, and on this trip, I attempted to emulate how an ethical hunter should toe this line.

The crisp early morning air tickled my face and the darkness enveloped me and a light drizzle began to soak our clothes. I had quickly learned that turkey hunting isn’t for the lazy. It was the opening day of youth season in Ohio, I and was itching to be in the woods in the lull after deer season. Having hunted turkeys in the past with no success, I knew the challenges involved, but I was ready and determined. My good friend Ivan (check out his site) and master caller Frank were accompanying me on this hunt and would work to get a big tom close. We carefully picked our way across a field, the frosty ground crunching under our boots, and entered the forest, surrounded by hardwoods reaching for the heavens. After finding what appeared to be a suitable spot, and having placed decoys, we sat, listened, and waited for the sun to rise. After a few hours of calling without so much as a cluck from a hen, we decided it was time to move. I was extremely disappointed, assuming the worst, and convinced I would return home turkey-less yet again. 

We decided to try the edge of the field we had crossed earlier, though it seemed like years ago, and began calling. It only took seconds for two gobbles to pierce the air. I shivered as adrenaline surged through my veins and I struggled to calm my breath and maintain my composure. I felt as though I were shaking the entire tree I was sitting against. After about another half-hour of calling without the birds coming any closer, though, I had sufficiently calmed down. In fact, I was devastated, thinking we would never see the beautiful creatures and get a shot. 

We made a new game plan: Frank would stay behind as Ivan and I snuck back through the woods towards another field to try and gain a better position. He would continue to call the whole time to cover our sound. We reached a ravine and set up on top of the hill. Ivan called, matching Franks’ cutting in the background, creating a beautiful melody that echoed through the hills. Finally, I saw the toms on the far hillside, mere specks, but the adrenaline began to course again. I raised my gun in preparation, balancing it on my knees. The birds continued to walk our way, then disappeared into the ravine. It seemed like hours before I saw the lead tom peep his head over my edge of the hill. I leaned my face into the gun and he caught the movement, turning to look right at me. It’s now or never I thought, and squezzed the trigger after placing the bead on the only visible three inches of his head that I could see. 

He disappeared down the hill, and Ivan jumped up and told me to run down the hill after him. There was no need, however, and he was stone cold dead at the bottom. He was a beautiful twenty-pound bird with a nine-inch beard and one-inch spurs, and excellent trophy, and superb first bird. I was elated and was greeted at the top of the hill by high fives and congratulations. I was so excited and pumped that I didn’t even notice the weight of the bird as I carried him out of the woods. It was my first bird, but most certainly won’t be my last.

Safari Club International sponsors a number of very well run educational summer programs available to teenagers that provide education and experience on ethical hunting practices and SCI in general. I have attended two such programs, the American Wilderness Leadership School (AWLS) in Wyoming and the Advanced Apprenticeship Program at Indianhead Ranch in Del Rio, Texas. The latter offers the opportunity for young hunters to learn about all facets of hunting, from shooting rifles and bows, to tracking, to identification, to obtaining their hunters safety training. Furthermore, students are allowed to hunt a management animal of their choosing, or opt to pay the remaining balance for a trophy animal. My dad had told me earlier that year, “If you make the grades I’ll pay for the trophy.” With this further motivation, I met the goal, and had the opportunity to choose a trophy to hunt on this beautiful property.
My initial plan was to hunt an aoudad, and for the time allotted into our schedule, we hunted hard every day. At one point we came within five yards of two young rams fighting. How I longed for a bow! It is only because I am a hunter that I had this opportunity. Most people have never even heard an aoudad, let alone been five yards away from a wild one.
Having been unsuccessful and with the week wearing on, I decided to pursue new quarry. My fascination with the oryx family and successful harvest of a Gemsbok the previous summer turned my gaze to the herd of Scimitar Horned Oryx residing on the property. Their majestic sweeping horns are hard for any hunter to ignore. On our first stalk, we came in contact with a handsome old bull. One of his horns was well broomed, but he had beautiful mass In fact this animal that continued my trend of shooting animals with great mass, giving this site its name. Furthermore, I am a firm believer that an animal chooses you, not vice-versa. I lined up the sights on the single shot Thompson Center Encore .30-’06 and placed the bullet right in his shoulder. His front legs dropped immediately, and the scar on his nose is still visible in the mount. This beautiful animal signified the perfect end to a wonderful experience, and I highly recommend every young hunter apply and attend.

This was a memory forever etched in my hunting legacy. The Gemsbok was a handsome 38-inch male and scored 92 1/8, making it silver in the SCI books. That night around the braai, barbecuing South African style, I relived the hunt with my family and friends and beamed with excitement, as I was the Bwana for the evening. The day had started with my first African animal, a bronze Impala, and my face being "painted," a tradition of hunters in recognition of their first animal harvested in Africa.

We were guests at Morongwa Bush Safaris in the Limpopo province (check them out), seven kilometers from the Botswana border. This beautiful facility is nestled on 6000 acres of bush and plains and is home to many different species of African animals. Catering to bow and gun hunters, I had planned to spend my time in bow hides waiting for the big game to come within range. We spent two "educational" days in the hides, but did not see the big animals and had to re-adjust hunt planning to spot and stalk with the gun. Due to the wet summer and abundance of grass the animals had not visited the watering holes as they had for my father the year before. This was difficult for me to accept, as I love bow hunting, but I remembered many hunting stories told to me before this: the key to a successful hunt is to be flexible.

Morongwa Bush Foundation and my father had also scheduled three days to work with the local school, Vaalpenskraal Primary School. My family and I were to share our assistance with the local school children, as well as culture, education, and the musical talents of my sister, who is an accomplished bagpiper. You should have seen the children's faces when the bagpipes echoed through the bush. We all sang, danced, laughed and became friends. I also learned about SCI's Blue Bag program, we had collected school supplies, pencils, rulers and clothing from the SCI Ohio Safari Chapter, with the assistance of President, Scott Bagi.

The final day of our trip we left camp an hour earlier in hopes of finding another trophy animal. Through the binoculars we spotted a nice red Hartebeest soon after sunrise. My previous hunts had quieted my nerves a little, but the thrill of the hunt made my heart feel like the beating of African Drums. From a prone position I leveled the 30-06 and squeezed the trigger. I watched as the animal jettisoned off into the bush. Lung blood and shoulder bone helped the tracker find the spoor which we followed for the next 8 hours. When sundown approached I marveled at the toughness of the African animals, and was disappointed that I did not get my final trophy. On the way to the airport the following morning the owner of the lodge called to inform me they found the hartebeest and because of the cool temperature the cape was in excellent shape! At 63 5/8 it scored bronze for the SCI and completed my dream hunt in South Africa. (See more Pictures)