We will keep names out of this one due the work we do for those that can't protect themselves in regions where they need it.
My hunt buddy the spotter - "SP"
“I should have trained harder for this hunt,” I thought, with sweat running into my eyes. We had just climbed to the top of a large koppie (a small rocky mountain) that overlooked the vast Limpopo Valley plain below. The sun cast long shadows of baobab trees over the landscape as I caught my breath. Gavin our PH and I crawled to the edge, every movement deliberate and silent, wondering what we would find this afternoon. Our friend "SP" smoothly set up the spotting scope a few feet back not to be skyline'd, ready to glass for a group of kudu we had seen earlier that morning.
In the distance, Gavin's keen eyes spotted a magnificent old kudu bull, its horns curling toward the sky as it fed just a few hundred yards away. My pulse quickened as I crept forward to the edge of the cliff, setting up for the shot. I got the range, 220 yards, and realized it is walking away! In my haste, I fumbled with my rangefinder. A slip of the fingers changed all the settings, rendering it useless at the crucial moment. My heart sank, but I quickly whispered to SP asking for the range as I gathered myself.
SP, a great hunter and always unflappable, calmly replied, "440 yards." A quick glance at Gavin told me we both knew something was off. "What range is that for?" I asked, my voice low and urgent, ballistic calculations firing in my head.
"To the baboons," SP responded, his eyes still fixed on his spotting scope. To my surprise, he had missed the kudu entirely, thinking I was targeting a troop of baboons instead! For a moment, I was perplexed and disbelief washed over me, but there was no time to waste.
We swiftly corrected the miscommunication. SP recalibrated and gave the accurate range: 244 yards to the kudu. I took a deep breath, checked my dope sheet on the stock of my rifle, dialed for elevation on my NightForce scope and settled in behind my trusted Gunwerks Nexus, focusing on the bull. This was the moment that would justify the hours and hours of training and agonizing over rifle and gear setup for the last two years.
The world narrowed to a pinpoint as Gavin gave out his infamous “meh," stopping the kudu broadside. I squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, the suppressor hushing the 6.5PRC’s familiar crack that would have typically echoed off the koppies around us.
You could hear the bullet's impact, a thud like a baseball bat hitting a leather sofa cushion. The bull jolted in confusion then ran a short distance as I quickly chambered another round, getting back on him. I fired a follow up shot through a narrow gap in the brush, hitting it again behind the opposite shoulder. SP had the bull in his spotter the whole time, calling direction and position, big objects and small details, just as we had trained. The magnificent creature spun in a final, frantic circle before collapsing. “He’s down” said SP calmly. I was in disbelief... “He’s down.” SP said once again.
As we descended the koppie, my thoughts were a whirlwind of anxious triumph, disbelief and nostalgia. Reaching the fallen kudu, I shared with Gavin and SP how shooting a kudu had been a dream since my childhood. We turned and looked back at the rocky ledge from where I had taken the shot, and there it was: a lone fig tree, defying the harsh elements to grow out of the rock face. I stopped in my tracks, memories flooding back. I had seen this tree before, as a young boy with my father, mistaking its twisted white trunk for a giant snake climbing up the koppie. Unwittingly, I had returned to the very place of a childhood memory to fulfill a lifelong aspiration.
It was a moment of profound connection, between past and present, dream and reality. The African sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the bushveld, and I knew this extraordinary day and the people I shared it with would be etched in my memory and our lives forever.
Stats for nerds:
Gunwerks Nexus | 6.5PRC ELD-X | 244 Yards | 54.5" Horn | 675lb