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The people, culture and beauty of the land are what keep us coming back to pursue plains game.
The first time I heard about calamari was probably in 7th grade. I remember seeing the word and photo in a Spanish class textbook and upon learning it was squid, decided it wasn’t for me. I was a Hamburger Helper, meat and potatoes kid, and carried that mindset into adulthood.

Eventually, I tried calamari…and loved it, so much so, that to this day, I will not pass up the opportunity to indulge. We all can relate to a food we presumed wouldn’t appeal to us because of a preconceived bias or notion that it tasted awful. In the context of hunting, I thought of Africa in the same light.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to experience Africa (there are some hunters who think they have an aversion to going, getting wrapped up in their own hunting world or finding it difficult to see the draw—I hope this article changes those perceptions). Living in Alaska, I became spoiled with hunting opportunities, and going to Africa remained on the fringe. That changed abruptly after an invite to hunt plains game in South Africa with Norma’s new Bondstrike bullets.

I cut my teeth hunting Alaska, picking my way up rocky ridgelines to slip above an unsuspecting Dall ram, listening to the hermit thrushes echoing through the woods at night on a bear bait, and straining to get the first glimpse of a bull moose thrashing in the brush. We all have a picture of what hunting Africa looks like, positive or negative, but every experienced person I knew said I would love it. Still, I found it hard to get excited about hunting animals I had no experience or exposure to. I think this is very common amongst hunters. We enjoy our comfort zones, often pigeon-holing ourselves into a mindset of disdain for anyone who doesn’t do things the way we do. So, I decided to set all my pre-conceived notions and stereotypes aside, and do my best to learn and enjoy the experience.

Hunting Drives Protection and Management

Not having traveled extensively, it was hard to wrap my head around landing in South Africa, hunting animals that (to me) might as well have only existed in fairy tales. Hunting and wildlife management in Africa is much different than in North America. Hunting drives the protection and management of Africa’s wildlife, and without it, many species would already have perished. Unless the wildlife is valued by hunters (and brings money to the economy) the animals will likely be poached, market hunted or displaced by farming. In South Africa, hunting areas are typically fenced, and the wildlife is carefully managed by landowners. Public-land doesn’t exist there.

We hunted on the Burchell Game Reserve with Frontier Safaris in the mountainous Eastern Cape. The reserve was roughly 75,000 acres, and although fenced, is larger than several “free range” islands I know of. I had some apprehension about what hunting a fenced ranch would be like, but quickly noted that the fence wasn’t like high fences I have seen in the states, more piecemeal, and at about seven- to eight-foot tall, many of the animals could jump it. From what I gathered, it was geared more towards keeping poachers out. I don’t think it came into play in my hunting experience. It was a small detail in a rugged, rolling landscape of rock, sand, sagebrush, and acacia trees.

The first evening in camp, I quickly spotted over eight species of animals, most of which I couldn’t identify. After a night of much-needed rest, I watched my first African sunrise over a cup of coffee. We checked rifle zeroes and verified elevation corrections out to 800 meters (875 yards). I was anxious to start hunting, and thankful for the opportunity to get a feel for a new rifle, a Bergara B14 Ridge chambered in .308, as we discussed our afternoon hunt plans over lunch.

The Experience of Africa

We paired off, two hunters per PH, setting out in trucks to various hunting areas. I quickly learned that although we spent a fair amount of time bouncing along the rocky two-tracks, the strategy for hunting many of these species wasn’t much unlike something you would encounter in the western U.S., just with a much higher game density. The strategy was to hit good vantage points, glass hard, plan, and execute a stalk. But we also walked a couple miles of folds and gullies, trying to spot wary antelope.

These animals were tuned up and spooky. Although with the antelope, it seemed we could get away with more movement at longer distances than you might with a Dall sheep. Should an ostrich see you, forget it. You could also walk anywhere on the hard, dry dirt and rock, unlike Alaska. There was no muskeg or tussocks, just cobras and puff adders, it was wonderful.

As the heat of midday began to subside, we set out for our first evening hunt with Scot Burchell. His family has deep roots in South Africa, including the naming of the Burchell’s Zebra. Even at 23 years old, his experience at spotting and hunting game was superb. I had much to learn from him. We weren’t working with an extravagant trophy list, just on the lookout for culls to get the ball rolling. After locating a couple herds of blesbok from over a mile away, we approached from the backside of the ridge they were on. Peeking around a bush at the top revealed a heard about 180 yards away, still grazing. Scot set the shooting sticks and singled out an old ewe. With the crack of that .308 the ice was broken. Until that moment it was all a dream, solidified as reality by the rolling reverberation across the valley.

I started to realize how fast this adventure was going to pass, and was happy to watch the other hunter in our truck take an impala and blesbok. On the ride back to camp in the dark, with the cool air blasting through open windows, my mind focused on how I could slow down, to milk every bit of enjoyment out of my short time here.

Slow Down, Enjoy Africa

By now, I had taken a beautiful impala ewe, a heavy blesbok ram, and still had time to stalk zebra before lunch the following morning. We returned to camp, a welcome reprieve from the 105-degree heat. “Tyler, grab you rifle!” said Scot. He spotted a troop of baboons in the valley below camp, which was perched atop a cliff.

The PH’s made it clear the local baboon population badly needed culling. Baboons are smart and see very well, so we crawled across the ground and eased the rifle onto a sandbag, peeking over the edge. The first shot was easy at 275 yards. The second baboon stepped out at 495 yards, and the third, a big male, sat atop a termite mound at 814 yards. With an educated guess on wind conditions, I squeezed off a round, and saw him flinch just before jumping off the mound and running out of sight. At this point, all the PH’s were watching, and the consensus was 50/50 on miss or hit. It took half an hour to get out there, but the big male was lying dead not 20 yards away, hit through the chest. I couldn’t believe the size of his canines, longer than a grizzly’s!

I noticed that both Scot and our tracker Mzonke washed their hands thoroughly after touching a baboon, and followed suit. Baboons prey on birds and newborn animals, and are destructive to buildings and property.

As we headed back out, I was more determined to slow down with just three days left to hunt. I planned on only observing for the evening, but that changed when my hunting partner ran dry on ammo after wounding an ostrich. They run fast, and as the bird was quickly approaching my maximum elevation correction, I cranked the turret, and the bird stopped. I held about three feet into the wind and touched off a round. The bird flopped to the ground. Scot gave me a range for another ostrich, and that bird dropped as well. If we’d had a 55-gallon drum of peanut oil and the Colonel’s spices, it would have been a hell of a fry.

The coolness of the night was already melting away as we hopped in the trucks at 6 a.m. It took us about an hour to reach the area we wanted to hunt, spotting a herd of blesbok at the head of a small valley. After a short stalk, my hunting partner made a beautiful shot on a nice ram. Our next mission was to find gemsbok. It took some doing, but we were within about 150 yards of a group of six. Their sharp, straight horns skylined the sagebrush. An Oryx spooked, circling below us to get our wind. We moved quickly down and across the hill, hoping for a shot. Scot saw a bull laying low in the brush less than 100 yards away. My truck-mate Anton capitalized. It was the highlight of the day.
I noticed that both Scot and our tracker Mzonke washed their hands thoroughly after touching a baboon, and followed suit. Baboons prey on birds and newborn animals, and are destructive to buildings and property.

As we headed back out, I was more determined to slow down with just three days left to hunt. I planned on only observing for the evening, but that changed when my hunting partner ran dry on ammo after wounding an ostrich. They run fast, and as the bird was quickly approaching my maximum elevation correction, I cranked the turret, and the bird stopped. I held about three feet into the wind and touched off a round. The bird flopped to the ground. Scot gave me a range for another ostrich, and that bird dropped as well. If we’d had a 55-gallon drum of peanut oil and the Colonel’s spices, it would have been a hell of a fry.

The coolness of the night was already melting away as we hopped in the trucks at 6 a.m. It took us about an hour to reach the area we wanted to hunt, spotting a herd of blesbok at the head of a small valley. After a short stalk, my hunting partner made a beautiful shot on a nice ram. Our next mission was to find gemsbok. It took some doing, but we were within about 150 yards of a group of six. Their sharp, straight horns skylined the sagebrush. An Oryx spooked, circling below us to get our wind. We moved quickly down and across the hill, hoping for a shot. Scot saw a bull laying low in the brush less than 100 yards away. My truck-mate Anton capitalized. It was the highlight of the day.

As we came back to camp in the fading light, Scot spotted an impala ram with a broken horn, perfect for a cull. We raced the coming darkness, and somehow got a perfect, clean shot through a hole in the brush.
The next day would bring even more heat, so we set out early to find a zebra. They had been elusive, but we bumped into some bouncing through the scrub trees. They saw us, so we instantly shut the truck off and stopped, watching their heads and manes stir nervously as the sunrise filtered through the dust . Our PH let them move away, then got on their tracks. We made it to about 50 yards, but never could get a clean shot. This time, they spooked hard, and ran over a mile before turning down into the thick brush.

The sun started beating down while we hiked to the top of a bare ridgeline to glass the basin on the other side. We circled the peak, more reminiscent of sheep hunting, and had just cut the jeep trail when six zebras came spilling out at 100 yards below us. There was no shot as they moved over the next rise. They were still walking away at 350 yards as we crested the hill. I was able to find a rock to lay on, and when they stopped, I shot at 440 yards. It was a solid hit. One more through the lungs put the zebra down.

Stunningly beautiful, and wonderful table fare, it’s one of the coolest animals I’ve been fortunate to take. We quickly gutted the zebra and hustled back to camp to get it skinned and meat cooling. A cold shower and afternoon nap were welcome in the shade of our huts. That evening and the following morning, we helped another hunter in camp get a beautiful gemsbok.

Why Africa Is So Appealing

On the final afternoon, Scot, Mzonke, and I set out to look for wildebeest. It had been a long journey to get here, and I was going to soak up the fleeting moments of this trip. We spotted 40 or so blue wildebeest feeding on new growth in a burned area atop a low ridge. With the wind in our favor, we let them feed away from us and circled above. We eased forward, right behind the herd. A well-aged cow was 80 yards away. I got on the sticks, squeezed off a shot, and put her down as lightning crashed in the distance.

Scot’s dad Barry Burchell and his family hosted us in their home for drinks and stories that evening, and as I stuffed my face with calamari (of all things). I thought about how ridiculous my apprehension to this hunt had been. Everyone that comes to Africa says the same thing, “When am I coming back?” For me, it was not about checking a list or collecting trophy animals. The experience, and dreams and imaginings of the next one, are what matter most. The “trophy” is just the culmination of an experience, the same in Africa as it is in North America.

I’m convinced a hunter who says Africa doesn’t appeal to them is either wrong, ignorant of its majesty, or a scrooge. The shooting itself isn’t what drives the hunger for more, that’s only momentary. The more you learn, the more you realize you have yet to learn. I may never be able to hunt buffalo, sable, or some of the high-dollar trophy animals, but I saw them, and I had just as much fun chasing cull animals, and would do it again in a heartbeat.


All is well, when you are calm and bold.
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Good read and uplifting - thanks Albert.

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Brings back memories. And it does get in your blood. Thanks!


I am continually astounded at how quickly people make up their minds on little evidence or none at all.
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Originally Posted by M3taco
Good read and uplifting - thanks Albert.


You are welcome mate!


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Originally Posted by Blacktailer
Brings back memories. And it does get in your blood. Thanks!

You might want to share pictures with us M3taco?


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I normally don't post ANY photos on-line. However, given the nature of "these times" I'll see what I can do either later this evening or tomorrow. Want to find a hosting service and maybe hot link a few pics in instead of uploading directly on to here due to individual file size limits.

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Originally Posted by M3taco
I normally don't post ANY photos on-line. However, given the nature of "these times" I'll see what I can do either later this evening or tomorrow. Want to find a hosting service and maybe hot link a few pics in instead of uploading directly on to here due to individual file size limits.

Check out Imgur.com

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[img][img]https://i.postimg.cc/RFvqqPwk/IMG-0623.jpg[/img][/img]

This was from several years ago at my friend's place in NW Namibia.

My wife and I were up in the main house having breakfast when one of the workers came speeding up on the quad bike very excited and animated and had a quick exchange with Jan in Afrikaans and I could pick up something about elephants and kudu but that was all.

We hoped in the truck with Jan and followed the worker down the hill towards their quarters a couple of kilometers away. On the way, Jan translated that during the night, the workers heard a terrible commotion near their quarters and thought it was elephants and didn't dare to venture out to see what it was.

At first daylight, the head man discovered these two kudu bulls just as you see in the pic. They had been fighting all night and one of them had gotten his front leg stuck and locked into the curl of the horn of the other one and they both died.

Damn shame to as once we got them apart, both were 55"56" bulls. It had been pretty cool in the night and both carcasses were still warm to the touch so at least the meat was recoverable.

Still trying to sort out how to link in photos.

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Himba Village

About a 45min drive from my friend's place in NW Namibia is a little Himba village ENE of Kamanjob. This is from one of our first visits there maybe 12-13 years ago. At that time, the people there still lived mostly the "traditional" life and just allowed a few "tourists" in occasionally.

Unfortunately, over the years it has devolved into a tourist trap. Took some friends there the last time 3-years ago and swore I'd NEVER go back or take anyone there ever again. They had tour buses full of people coming through. Selling the same tourist trinket crap souvenirs you could buy anywhere and most of those were made in Zimbabwe or Malawi and shipped in.

They had been able to build conventional block and mortar homes and just dressed and "lived" like this during the day for the tourists. Our "guide" was pretty much worthless and just pointed to huts and the boma and that was pretty much it. I just took over and started explaining the women's dress and what the various ways their head pieces meant and how they actually lived. It was pretty pathetic.

When I say, "if you ever dreamed of going to Africa go and go now because it is changing so fast - some for the better and some...not so much", this is an example of what I mean. While on the one hand these people have been able to better their lives with better houses and cell phones and cars etc. There is a lot lost as well.

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For those who've been to Namibia, Joe's Beerhouse in Windhoek is THE PLACE you have to go at least ONCE.

[img]https://postimg.cc/KKk52KHr[/img]

This is the roasted kudu knuckle. They also do and "eisbien" (pork ham hock) either roasted or deep fried and it's about that same size. I've tried to eat them both several times and never finished either one and they are both fantastic. Our next favorite dish there is the kudu steak.

[img]https://postimg.cc/1fm2ZHcG[/img]



Last edited by M3taco; 03/29/20.
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I need to sort out how the linking in pictures work. Once I do I'll post up some more.

I like the Postimage hosting service, just need to figure out how to get either the links to work or the images to appear directly.

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Originally Posted by M3taco

For those who've been to Namibia, Joe's Beerhouse in Windhoek is THE PLACE you have to go at least ONCE.

[img]https://postimg.cc/KKk52KHr[/img]

This is the roasted kudu knuckle. They also do and "eisbien" (pork ham hock) either roasted or deep fried and it's about that same size. I've tried to eat them both several times and never finished either one and they are both fantastic. Our next favorite dish there is the kudu steak.

[img]https://postimg.cc/1fm2ZHcG[/img]




I like the menu at www.joesbeerhouse.com, but got a little sticker shock until I looked at the exchange rate and discovered that $1 Namibian is worth $0.067 U.S. The crocodile filet at $223 ND seemed expensive until I realized that it was only $14.94 USD.

What beers do you recommend at Joe's?

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Originally Posted by M3taco
[img][img]https://i.postimg.cc/RFvqqPwk/IMG-0623.jpg[/img][/img]

This was from several years ago at my friend's place in NW Namibia.

My wife and I were up in the main house having breakfast when one of the workers came speeding up on the quad bike very excited and animated and had a quick exchange with Jan in Afrikaans and I could pick up something about elephants and kudu but that was all.

We hoped in the truck with Jan and followed the worker down the hill towards their quarters a couple of kilometers away. On the way, Jan translated that during the night, the workers heard a terrible commotion near their quarters and thought it was elephants and didn't dare to venture out to see what it was.

At first daylight, the head man discovered these two kudu bulls just as you see in the pic. They had been fighting all night and one of them had gotten his front leg stuck and locked into the curl of the horn of the other one and they both died.

Damn shame to as once we got them apart, both were 55"56" bulls. It had been pretty cool in the night and both carcasses were still warm to the touch so at least the meat was recoverable.

Still trying to sort out how to link in photos.

Lovely pictures mate, when are you going to Namibia again? I might be interested I just have to plan the luxury lol.


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Originally Posted by 260Remguy


I like the menu at www.joesbeerhouse.com, but got a little sticker shock until I looked at the exchange rate and discovered that $1 Namibian is worth $0.067 U.S. The crocodile filet at $223 ND seemed expensive until I realized that it was only $14.94 USD.

What beers do you recommend at Joe's?
These are the ones that are brewed in Namibia - Namibian Beers
Because of the countries strong ties to it's German past and history, they follow the same German Reinheitsgebot, or Purity Law, which requires the exclusive use of three ingredients: malted barley, hops and water. Very hard to beat an ice cold Tafel or Windhoek Draft. The Radler is the same as they do in Germany - 1/2 and 1/2 Pilsner with Lemon/lime soda. Sounds bad unless you've had them - extremely light and refreshing. With the exchange rate there, a bottle of beer there in a restaurant will run you maybe $.75 US.

The menu they currently have on their website is just a very limited one with only their "take-a-way" items due the country being on the same "lock down" we are here now. It's too bad you can't see their selections of REALLY good Scotches. I joke that Namibia is the only place I can afford to drink the really good stuff. Bottles of various ones that will be $75-$100 US in a liqueur store here and you'll pay $12-$20 a shot in a restaurant here will be somewhere under $6 US for a double. Really good RSA wines, if you can get them in the US are 50%-75% less per bottle there then here. A 750ml bottle of Jack Daniels No. 7 is under $20.

Originally Posted by albert23456


Lovely pictures mate, when are you going to Namibia again? I might be interested I just have to plan the luxury lol.


I'd like to put together a small group of 3-4 to go in 2021. I LOVE Namibia. As I've mentioned before, I've spent nearly a combined total of just under 3-years in the country. With the exception of the first two year, every year after that, my wife and I would spend 3-4 weeks either before or after hunting, just renting a car and driving all over. From that third year on, I've made at least one trip a year with my wife and 2-3 trips a year taking friends/family or clients over.

Biggest problem with Namibia the past couple of years has been a really, really severe nation wide drought. Has been devastating to the game and livestock and the people. Lots of water for the game and livestock to drink from the boreholes (wells) just nothing for them to eat. This years rainy season is just about over and some areas have gotten some decent rains and some not nearly enough. My friend's place in a "normal year" will get a round 350mm on average. Last year his area got less than 50mm and this year so far has gotten maybe 100mm. Other areas E and NE of Windhoek have done better but still well below average.

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I'm trying to keep with the Title/Subject line of the OP and not post of bunch of trophy pics. I agree, hunting in Africa is not just about killing a bunch of stuff. So....

PH School Class Photo

After multiple trips to Namibia, starting in 2007, in 2011, I decided I wanted to learn as much as I could about African game. I had been emailing back and forth with a Brit who had spent 30+ years in RSA and ZIM as PH. His name is Steve "Shakari" Robinson. He was retiring and moved to Portigal and he wrote a book "So, You Want to be a PH". He also has a website The Shakari Connection I bought a copy of his book and read it. He did his PH training and apprenticeship under in RSA under a gentleman named Ian Goss. Ian was one of the founding members of the Professional Hunters Association of South Africa (PHAZA) and I believe it's first and very long time President. He also had a game farm in the Natal Province of RSA near the town of Pongla called Goss Game Farm and PH Academy. Ian's PH school was one of the first to offer fully accredited PH training and if you graduated, and wrote the exams, you finished with a PH Apprentice Lic.

I contacted Ian and he asked for a resume and asked why in hell would a 50-year old American would want to do such a fool thing? He said even IF I passed his course and the written exam, RSA would NEVER give me a license because I wasn't a citizen or a resident and I would NEVER be granted even residency status because "I wasn't TAN enough". Sent him my CV and basically told him I didn't give a rats ass about getting a license, I just wanted the training and knowledge for my own personal knowledge to improve my skill sets. He emailed back and agreed, BUT I had to come two weeks before the class started to hunt with him to see if "I knew my ass from an impala track". I agreed and even stayed an extra week after the class to actually hunt. Again - keeping in line with the OP Title/Subject line. This part of RSA sits on the south end of the "Great Rift Valley" and is close to where the Zulu wars were fought. Think of the old movie "Shaka Zulu". Even took an afternoon trip before the school started to see the battlefield where that final battle scene actually occurred. Unfortunately, I lost all the pics because I lost the little freaking SD card somewhere.

When I arrived in Port Elisabeth and met Ian, we actually hit it off right away. We had about a 3 hr drive to the property and he got to know more about my background and my previous 6 years of hunting in Namibia. Got settled in the room in time for "afternoon tea". My Bungalow Inside

After tea time - we took a little familiarization drive. His property consisted of two 7500 acre rectangular high fence tracts. One was where the school and main lodges were and the other across a main dirt road that actually had the beginning of one side of the mountains that formed the Great Rift Valley. Lot of impala, nyala, blue w/b, giraffe, zebra (plains), warthog, red h/b, red and gray duiker etc. Stopped by the rifle range on the way in to confirm the rifle zero. Ian asked me what I brought and I told him a Marlin 1895 in 450 Marlin. The look on his face was priceless. Combination of shock and wonderment and disbelief! He asked why on earth did I decide on that? I told him that I knew one of the practical exams was the simulated charging DG test and while there is nothing faster (non-auto loading) for fast shooting than a double rifle, there is nothing faster than a lever gun for shots number 3-5! He said, we'll see! Zero checked fine and back for sundowners and dinner. After dinner we moved over into the main room of the main lodge for a little more Scotch. Main Room in Main Lodge Photo is a little dark and the wall goes a good bit higher.

We settled in to a couple of chairs and I asked Ian, "what's the story behind that" and I'd point to something on the wall. Ian's face would light up and he'd go into a long detailed story about the year, and where and who he was with and, and, and....you could see in his eyes he was reflecting on a great time in his life. I'd occasionally interrupt to just get more detail on something. By 9pm or so, it was time to call it an evening. I still had to unpack and sort out my kit for the next morning's "hunt" with Ian. Not going to bore you with all the details but we had a grand two weeks of tracking and sneaking around the bush and at some point he quietly declared, "you know, you CAN hunt!". The afternoons still tea time at 4pm and the remaining light back out in the bush. Spent lots of time just watching game and their behaviors as well as how they reacted to certain sounds and bird calls etc. NEVER fired a shot. The evenings after dinner were a repeat of the first, me pointing to a particular trophy as asking to hear "the story".

The actual school was actually WORK and hard crash course of academic studies along with having to memorize the RSA and Natal Province's "The Ordinance" - the entire RSA and KZN game management, hunting and firearms laws. There was animal identification, preferred habitats, game management, hunting camp design/building, ballistics, fundamental weapons knowledge and safety. Classroom The days actually started at first daylight. One of the practical exams was trophy identification and judging. The exam was Ian would load the back of his bakkie with skulls and drive off 100m. Then he'd hold up various skulls/horns and you had 15 sec to look at them thru binos and the write down the species, male/female and horn length. Species and sex had to be 100% and each horn length had to within 10%. So at first light, we'd be up digging old skulls/horns out of the storage room, hanging them on the fence and backing off 50m and "judging" them. Then grab our tape measures and measure both SCI and R/W methods. Practice Judging

Class started at 7am for an hour and included a pop quiz with over all the literature and handouts from the previous days. Breakfast at 8am and back in the classroom at 8:30. Morning tea and biscuits (cookies) at 11am. Back in class till 12:45. Lunch 12:45-1pm and back in the classroom.

One of the things we were supposed to memorize where the SCI and Roland Ward minimums for a couple of dozen species. The next morning after we had gotten the tables, Ian passed out a pop quiz with the same tables with just the species. We had to fill in the scores. I signed my name and passed it back to him. Ian said, "WTF is this [bleep]". I told him, "Ian, that is not why I hunt. It shouldn't be "about the inches" and getting your name is some stupid record book. A "trophy" should be to memorialize the hunt, the people and place where it happened and to pay respect to the animal". He looked at me for a long time, looked down at my paper and said, "I don't care, you need to know this for the exam". I sain, "Ian I know that but, in all those evenings over Scotch before the school began did I EVER ONCE ask you how many inches or how many pounds your trophies were? I ALWAYS asked you to tell me "the story" didn't I ?" Another long silence, "damn it I feel the same way but you still have to memorize the table for the exam". Needless to say, I didn't.

After lunch, we'd be paired off in two or three person groups. One would be designated "the PH" and the other(s) as the "clients". We'd load up in the bakkie and Ian would take us to the far side of the 7500 acre property and drop each group off at certain places. The scenarios were, the "PH" and "client(s)" were supposed to act as though this was their first ever meeting and the "PH" had a list of things he was supposed to cover or ask the "client(s)" while Ian watched over and took notes. Once all was done, the hunting party proceeded to hunt their way back to the school. We were allowed to carry our rifles with rounds in the magazines but chambers empty. We were NOT allowed to shoot any animals unless it was a serious threat and their were DG (leopard and buffalo) on the property and elephant and lion on a neighboring property. The "goal" to having a "successful hunt" was for the PH to get the client(s) onto at least two of their stated primary species, within 100m on the sticks. The "shot" was actually a picture taken over the shoulder of the client, looking down the barrel at the animal. We also had a hard rule that we HAD to back at the lodge before dark - if not and Ian had to come looking for us, the PH automatically failed.

Sometimes later in the course we'd do the practical exams. Shooting, being able to re-sight in your rifle with just 3-shots, skinning, tracking, flora/fauna identification, folklore etc.

Range Day

The "shooting" was broken down into several sub-set over a couple of afternoons. The first was just general shooting ability/skill. You had to put 15-shots into the vital area of an impala from 100m. 3-each from the bench, sitting, kneeling, prone and sticks. Next was, Ian would have you turn your back and he would take your scope caps off and move your turrets a bit and put the caps back on. You had to pull the bolt and bore sight it and you had 3-shots to get back on zero. The guys with the bolt guns just hit the button and pulled the bolts. Me with a lever gun, I had to pull the lever and then pull the bolt. Since I knew this was part of the course before I arrived, when I did my initial sight check the first day I arrived, I made sure the little marks on the index rings were at zero and hoped Ian wouldn't notice. He fidled with my turrets, I pulled the lever, pulled the bolt, looked down the bore and the scope a few times, looked at the turret and index ring marks and just set the turrets back to zero. Reassembled and put a shot down range. Was close to original zero, moved I think a click of elevation and maybe one for windage and was back on with the second shot. Ian just looked at me and I just shrugged my shoulders.

Next afternoon was the simulated "charge". The test was 2" black squares on sheets of paper. One set at 35m, next at 25m and last was 15m. You loaded 3-rds in the magazine, chamber empty with rifle slung on your shoulder or "African Carried" on your shoulder. At the whistle, you had 15 seconds to put a round in the black starting with the 35m target in to the 15m target and then make sure you rifle was cleared/empty. We were all lined up abreast with our individual sets of targets. Whistle blows and the shooting begins. Got'a love those lever guns! I was done and cleared before any of the other got their second rounds off. Ian looked over at me and said, "hey, your supposed to shoot all three!". I said, "I did". He looked thru his binos, "son of a bitch, bet you can't do that again!". "Ian, I can do this all day long". Second time they videoed me doing it.

A couple of days later we were back doing our "PH/Client" hunt exercises. Ian dropped us off on the farthest side of the property. We'd all taken this area before so no big deal. But, in order to exit out of the electrified high fence, you had to go through a paddock where Ian kept his "prize Brahma bull". He said he was "safe" just don't get too close. Ian's "Prize" Bull. So, Matte and I finished our "hunt" got to the gate and went into the paddock and the ol' bugger was just giving us the evil eye. We got out of the gate on the other side and told Matte, "lets have a little fun with Ian". He looked at with a quizzical look on his face and I fired two rounds into the air and started walking the 2k as fast as we could back to the school house. We got about half way there and Ian met us in the bakkie and was a bit....excited. "What was all the shooting about?!!".

"Ian, I'm SOOOOO sorry! That damn bull of yours charged us as we were cutting thru his paddock and I had to kill him?" You could see the rocket fuel rising in his face and then he started calling me every name in the book, in English and Afrikaans!! After about a minute, Matte and I couldn't keep a straight face any more and told him. Wound him up even more!!! We climbed in the back of the bakkie with him still cussing us so he could check on his bull. That evening we all and even he had a good laugh about it all.

Few days later one of our "practical" afternoon tests was having to skin out a head properly, keeping the eye lashes, getting the cartilage out of the ears and making sure the nose and upper lip was properly done. We all assemble at the skinning shed right after lunch and Ian comes out of the cooler with a couple of gunny sacks. Inside were our goat heads to skin out. We had three hours and would be graded on how few holes we made and the completeness of the skin. He passed out a head to each and then got to me and put mine on the bench and said, "this one is just for you!". That bastid was frozen SOLID! He smiled and walked away and said, "gentlemen your time starts, NOW! Good luck!" and looked at me and smiled!! [bleep]!!! I spent the next 3 freaking hours running that frozen head under a hose bib with a little water trickling out and my scalpels and numb fingers trying to get that skin off and keep my fingers. I did manage to get the hide off but it wasn't pretty.

In the end, I did pass all the practicals, and the formal written test administered by the RSA Game Dept. And NO, I did NOT fill out the SCI and R/W tables.

Ian and I stayed in touch over the years and he had developed some serious health issues. Sadly, Ian passed away in Jan 2018. I honestly think about that ol' bugger everyday and miss him. The PH school closed after nearly 40 years but his grandson's are still running the game farm. Anyway.....

As the OP title says...it's not all about the hunting.


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Agreed fully, Wife didn't shoot an animal when I took her to Africa, she hunted/walked with us, however, each night by dim light and a glass of wine, she kept a journal of the days events, she was heavily moved deep inside by life in that little Bush Camp on the Limpopo, I've caught her reading it all again with the most pleasant smile on her face at least a half dozen times.


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Originally Posted by gunner500
Agreed fully, Wife didn't shoot an animal when I took her to Africa, she hunted/walked with us, however, each night by dim light and a glass of wine, she kept a journal of the days events, she was heavily moved deep inside by life in that little Bush Camp on the Limpopo, I've caught her reading it all again with the most pleasant smile on her face at least a half dozen times.


I bet you gave her a wonderful journal forever. She will held on to it till she is 99.


All is well, when you are calm and bold.
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Originally Posted by albert23456
Originally Posted by gunner500
Agreed fully, Wife didn't shoot an animal when I took her to Africa, she hunted/walked with us, however, each night by dim light and a glass of wine, she kept a journal of the days events, she was heavily moved deep inside by life in that little Bush Camp on the Limpopo, I've caught her reading it all again with the most pleasant smile on her face at least a half dozen times.


I bet you gave her a wonderful journal forever. She will held on to it till she is 99.


Exactly right Sir, plus, now that I've taken her, and how that whole trip moved her, it will remain much easier to crack a checkbook to go back, she's ready to go now, we have a pending trip, but of course have to watch cv-19.


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Gunner - Hope we can plan a trip to Bots next year with you and your wife. Wouldn't you know it, just a few days after Gerhard and Jaco won some concession with elephant and buffalo, everything got shut down. All the new concession holders are working with the Govt and Community Elders to extend the season to the end of the year.

Come on guys - 850+ posts and no body else is willing to share their African experiences that don't "necessarily" involve "the shot"? You MUST have seen or done something that was more.

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I've been to SA once and Namibia 4 times. I fell in love with the Namibians, and the hunting is obviously world class, and addicting. I became especially fond of the cull hunting there. In spite of the perpetual awe I felt hunting in the Namibian bush, the most satisfying thing I got to do was to take some of the meat we culled to the small village of Dordabis and help the hungry folks there. It became my favorite passtime over there.


It is irrelevant what you think. What matters is the TRUTH.
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