Was summer, flowers everywhere:
13,000 hectares named after a rock fig tree, this one:
A lot of game but I wanted to hunt older animals, a lot of spot and stalk:
We finally saw a Blesbuck bedded on a ridge, had good set of horns, coat was lighter than other we had seen earlier, Clayton told me it was the mark of an older animal. The stalk was on. We were above him but were 500 odd yards away, with a strong crosswind not a perfect shot, we had to get closer while making sure that the wind was in our favor. We slowly moved down and around the hill and then crawled to a ridge ,it was below us, still bedded ,we set up the shooting sticks, placed my rifle on top and found him in my scope which was set at 8 X, it saw us and stood up, I fired trying to take into account that I was shooting down and had a strong crosswind, the Blesbuck was hit, it staggered, fell and then struggled to its feet, a little behind then what I wanted, still a lung shot, reloaded and hit him in line with the back of his front leg, 1/3 rd of the way up his body, he was down and not getting up.
Post killing a magnificent animal I always have a strange mix of elation and sadness, it flooded by senses again.
Clayton had talked to me about the history of the ranch, Blesbuck was nearly eradicated to make room for cattle, ever since cattle was removed the Blesbuck had slowly recovered and was now thriving. The meat would be sent to a butcher, resident Zulu would buy the meat and were fond of it. I derived some satisfaction that hunters were contributing to the revival of some of this game,
Next installment, Wildebeest.
, what is the weapon of choice.
