One Heck Of A Ride

120 Two Memorial Hunts In Cameroon before it got too dark to try to follow the bull, and although Borge and I both felt my shot had been good, we agreed it would be best not to push the animal. When we returned to the spot at first light the next morning, we found another drop of blood and were able to track the bull to where we found him dead ten minutes later. He had died facing his backtrail, waiting to ambush whatever had caused his pain. I was pleased that he had not suffered long, and relieved that we did not have to track him for two or three days, which has been known to happen. The western roan is probably one of Africa’s toughest animals to kill, ranking up there with Cape buffalo. Not long after first light on the fifth day, we drove up on a herd of western hartebeest with a great bull, and followed it on foot for a short distance before I put the bull down with a heart shot. While our two skinners removed the hide and butchered the animal at the site, Borge and I went after a western bush duiker we’d seen while stalking the hartebeest. When we found him and started the stalk, the little animal disappeared in the tall grass and then reappeared, apparently clueless that we were nearby. Borge again set up his shooting sticks and I soon had my fourth trophy. I was concerned that my .375 H&H Magnum would be too much gun for such a small creature, but I needn’t have worried. The heavy solid bullet did little damage to the thirty-pound animal’s hide. When we returned to the truck, we found that our crew had cooked some of the hartebeest’s meat on a small fire. After loading the remaining meat, head, and hide in the Toyota, Hamadu (Borge’s head tracker) shared a piece of the liver he was eating. I ended up eating that piece, as well as most of the rest of the liver. I had never tasted better. Such things as this make big memories. We came across the tracks of another group of eland the next day. A brisk, forty-minute walk caught us up to the herd. We carefully moved ahead of it to position ourselves downwind, but we backed off when we could not see any bulls. However, a short time later, we met up with the same herd and it did indeed include a bull. We stalked that herd all morning, but the cows intervened every time we got close. Borge felt we had pushed that herd enough, so we headed back to camp for a lunch break. As we walked toward the Toyota, we found the tracks of a huge lion in the dust. When a quick search of the area revealed that a small group of lions were “working” the area, Borge said he would have to warn nearby villagers that a pride was roaming the area. We had seen a few warthogs while stalking the eland that morning, including one with very large tusks. We allowed him to go on his way because we wanted to avoid alarming our main quarry. Later that afternoon, when it was too late to stalk them, we encountered a big herd of eland with three trophy bulls. We left them before dark, promising to return the next morning. Borge and I knew it would be “The Big Day.” We found the herd’s tracks at 6:45 AM, and Borge parked our vehicle off to one side of the two-track trail. He and I loaded our rifles while the trackers picked up our extra water bottles. We definitely would need them. An hour and a half later, we spotted the herd as it moved away in front of us. The eland hadn’t seen us, but as I mentioned earlier, their long legs allow them to travel faster than we humans can walk. To catch up, we walked briskly, then trotted, and even ran for a while. We caught up to them several times – almost – but there were no opportunities to shoot. Eventually, I had a one-shot opening, and Hamadu hastily set up the shooting sticks, but I wasn’t quick enough. A cow and a small bull walked in front of my target, then the entire herd moved away. Borge said the eland had allowed