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The Moment I Became Hooked
Flexibility/First Kill, Africa
Wild Hog Hunt Gonzales, Texas ~ July 2005
Rancho La Rama Del Mezquite Benavides, Texas ~ February 2006
Southern Ohio Hunting Preserve ~ July 2006
Morongwa Bush Safaris in the Limpopo province, Africa~ August 2006
Indianhead Ranch, Delrio , Texas ~ 2007
Big Cat Ranch
Rwanda Africa - Hiking with Mountain Gorillas
Eastern Turkey Hunt - The big one
Opelousas Louisiana – SCI Safari Hunt from Banquet
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The moment I became hooked
“One more step” I heard Jade, my very first hunting mentor, whisper
into my ear. “Now another…stop! He’s looking right at us. Just stay
calm we will wait for him to look away.” Stay calm, what a statement
laced with irony. At this moment, nothing short of a liberal dose
of morphine would have been enough to calm me down. My heart was
racing, the adrenaline was circulating through my blood stream and
my heart was beating out of my chest. “Ok, we are twenty yards away.
Draw.” At that command I slowly applied pressure to the string of
my Mathews FX and it easily slid into position. The next command:
“wait for him to turn broadside.” Those were the longest 45 seconds
of my life. It seemed as if time was playing with me, daring me,
seeing if I had what it takes to make the perfect shot. However,
I had practiced for months for this moment, and nothing would stop
me. I would have held on draw for eternity if it was necessary.
The feeling of my very first hunting induced adrenaline rush I’m
sure made holding that bow a lot easier. Finally the beautiful Corsican
ram turned broadside and I let my arrow fly. For me, the arrow travelled
in slow motion until finally meeting its mark right behind the shoulder.
The ram ran a short distance, and then dropped in sight. I felt
as if I were about to collapse or could run a marathon, all at the
same time. “Great shot!” I heard my Dad and Jade yelling at me.
I finally snapped back into reality, and eagerly accepted the plethora
of high fives and hearty slaps on the back that followed. It was
my first kill but more importantly a clean kill, with the broadhead-tipped
arrow easily passing through the ram’s heart and out the other side.
After a short wait we walked up to my trophy and took the first
of many pictures that would follow in the upcoming years. It was
official, I was hooked.
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Flexibility/First Kill, Africa
My feet touched the ground as we departed the plane at the Johannesburg airport I had finally arrived on the Dark Continent. I had dreamt about hunting in Africa and I felt like Robert Ruark as I waited for my bags to arrive. Unfortunately my bow did not come out with the rest of our luggage, but I was assured it would arrive on the next flight. We made a 3 ½ hour drive to Morongwa Bush in the Limpopo Province where we would start hunting the following day. After dinner I started to get anxious as my bow had still not been delivered. I knew I could use one of the estate guns but I did not want to deviate from my bow hunting plan. I soon learned that flexibility is the operative word when hunting in foreign countries! I went to bed still not knowing if my bow would arrive?
The next morning my bow sat in the main lodge. It had been delivered after midnight and I quickly went out to the range and made certain that it was still shooting dead on. The PH came out to view my technique and offer some bush tactics and some helpful pointers about our upcoming hunt.
For the next three days we sat in ground blinds, surface blinds and elevated blinds but only saw a few non shooters. Again that word “flexibility” crept into my head. Unlike previous bow hunting trips that I had heard about the climate had been extremely gracious to the animals and they had no need to come to the water holes for hydration and the grass and other food sources were abundant. I enjoyed visiting with the PH for 8 hours a day, but when he asked if I would be interested in gun hunting the next day I knew my best planning about bow hunting was better off turning to flexibility.
I was not prepared for the first round out of the 300 win mag, my body reverberated and my shoulder flexed as my first shot was errant. I had spent my entire time fine tuning my bow hunting skills and hoped I quickly would hone my rifle skills. “Whack” as the metal plate rang with each subsequent shot I became more and more comfortable with the high powered rifle. Invigorated with a new game plan again my sleep that night was anxious and short.
It was great to be out of the blind spotting and stalking. A call came in from another vehicle that they had spotted a monster red hartebeest, and we quickly mobilized and met with the other trackers. We had moved to within 300 yards of the animal and would try to get within 100 yards before taking a shot. We silently crept to 200 yards, the thorns of the bush dug into my shins, legs, and arms and each twig thundered as it snapped under our feet. At 175 yards the circling wind caught up with us and the PH said we could get no closer. Freehanding I steadied the scope the best I could and took a deep breath and let out my breath as I slowly pulled the trigger. The bullet missed the animal and it quickly jettisoned away. “Everyone has missed a shot or they haven’t hunted” were the first words from the PH, but my face clearly showed the disappointment on missing this beautiful trophy. My confidence was shaken as this was not how I had envisioned my first hunt in Africa.
We got back in the truck; after three days of bow hunting and not seeing an animal, and my first shot not reaching its mark everyone could tell I was in need of some confidence boost. The farm owner told me to take a “lodge” impala on the way back for lunch to gain some comfort with the rifle. We came upon a group of impala shortly thereafter and the PH informed me that two of the bucks were shooters! We belly crawled to 75 yards of the animals and from a prone position the stability of the rifle was much more manageable. This time as the shot rang from the rifle I saw the antelope drop in my sight. High fives were all around and I reset the tone for the rest of the hunt.
We slowly approached the fallen animal and quickly assessed that the would be lodge antelope was a 24” trophy! This being my first African animal was also a cause for celebration and my face was painted with the blood of the Impala signifying my initiation into every hunters first memories of hunting on the Dark Continent.
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Wild Hog Hunt Gonzales, Texas
This is where the tall tale goes for this hunt.
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Rancho La Rama Del Mezquite Benavides, Texas
This is where the tall tale goes for this hunt.
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Southern Ohio
Hunting Preserve - Elk
Darkness crept in with the silence of Death. Vibrations, the adrenaline pumping, pursing my veins, waking the night , sounds of animal hooves rustling the undergrowth, this is what I love about hunting.
We are living in a time of resource, I think out loud, hoping not to disturb the lurking shadows.
Each breath echoes as it bounces off the sides of the blind, sending new waves of shock into an already tensed situation. The shadows of monsters dance on the surrounding brush as their razor sharp horns pierce the fading light. As quickly as I blink the trophy buck appears in the bow sights. Trying to maintain what was left of my composure I tell myself to wait and let the shot present itself. I stealthily draw the bow not even noticing the resistance being exerted by the string. Hold. Hold. Each moment seems to last a lifetime, I am aware of each hair that is in the sight. Hold. Hold.
The buck taunts as he quarters away behind a nearby tree. My arm quivers as now the string tension becomes quite noticeable. Hold. Hold. My breathing becomes more rapid and I feel my heart pushing closer to my throat. The approaching darkness is sapping the brilliance of the fiber optic cables in my sight. Locked in, two more steps turn and the arrow vanishes. I hear the broadhead hit the target and immediately see it escape the other side of the animal. This is the scenario I had played continuously in my thoughts, and now in real time I knew the outcome.
My adrenaline was now injected by the arrow into the buck. He sprang from his position and catapulted himself through the thick undergrowth. Had I been mislead by the sights and sounds I had just experienced, doubts immediately led to second guessing. Was I too high? Too low? Was the dull thud a nearby sapling? It was nearly impossible to contain all these emotions within the ever shrinking confines of the blind. I take a deep breath and try to wipe these ghosts out of my mind.
After 15 minutes I stealthily rise from the blind. The adrenaline transfer has weakened my legs.
I looked a bit more and discover a bit of dark-red blood, so I knew the bull was hit.
My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and then I entered the present moment, seeing as night creatures see. The trees stand as black, many-armed, wise, though not sentient presences in the blackened forest.
Feeling knackered, I take the photos in my memory and pursue stealthily through the bush. Evil has slipped this way before and my premonition on the arrow placement holds true. 100 yards from the blind lay the majestic 6 x 6 bull elk.
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Morongwa Bush Safaris
in the Limpopo Province, Africa
My
heart raced as I found the Gemsbok in the sight of the 30-06, I
told myself to breathe slowly and squeeze the trigger as I had been
taught. The adrenaline pumped as the beautiful animal moved broadside
at 150 yards, the rifle rested on shooting sticks, and PH, Brad
Phillips, instructed on proper shot placement. This was the animal
I had dreamed of hunting since my father had told us we would be
going to Africa. I was confident and when instructed fired the weapon
and the animal vanished from my scope. I had made a perfect shot
and the animal fell where it had been standing. This
was a memory forever etched in my hunting legacy. The Gemsbok
was a handsome 37-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, 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, Valpenskraal
Primary School. My family and I were to share our assistance to
the local school children and share culture, education, and 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 hope
to return next year on a two-week mission to build a new school.
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 track 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.
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Indianhead Ranch, Delrio , Texas
This is where the tall tale goes for this hunt.
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Big Cat Ranch
This is where the tall tale goes for this hunt.
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Rwanda Africa - Hiking with Mountain Gorillas
This is where the tall tale goes for this hunt.
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Eastern Turkey Hunt - The big one
This is where the tall tale goes for this hunt.
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Opelousas Louisiana – SCI Safari Hunt from Banquet - Alecgator
We ventured out early into the mist covered cypress bog. The humid air clinging close to our skin as our senses were on high alert for a gator to jump out of the water into our small craft. I did not know what to expect on this hunt as the only reptile hunting I had done before was for snakes in the backyard. We had assisted the previous evening with putting some new gator hatchlings into an existing nest and had vanished before the peeping gator babies could alert the female to come back their aid. We had also learned of the Cajon people and had an excellent alligator creole for dinner.
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 and “Whack” the bullet smacked the beast 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. 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.
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