I attended a recent hunting expedition with my husband (Captain, as he is fondly referred to by his staff and colleagues), his twin brother Len and some fellow Amatola Members and boy was this an eye opener!
I mean, here I am, a novice hunter versus collectively over 70 years of experience… Who was I to suggest sitting in a hideout, in place of the good old walk ‘n stalk!
This is how the day begun….
Eagerly anticipating everyone’s arrival, the group of men stood waiting patiently at the farm gate, all accounted for except 3.
Well I did want to make a good impression and was the first one up that morning, but technically it was not my fault we were late. None of my make up goes with Sniper cammo’s! Too cut a long story short, a mother’s job is never done.
Anyway we finally arrived at the farm gate and after the customary chit chat, made our way to the farmhouse.
Everyone was in high spirits anticipating the adventures the day would bring. All the do’s and don’ts and how the group is to be split up and which territories to roam etc etc...
Like riding a bicycle, I remembered what I had been taught on previous hunts from years gone by, remembering to walk at a good distance behind the person in front, keeping watch to see when I would get the “halt” signal or when I should crouch down low, all the while thinking that I was really enjoying the fresh open air, the smell of the trees and the beautiful Eastern Cape surroundings, and very briefly wondering what the kids were getting up to at home!
We spent the morning scouring the hills for signs of the buck, even came close to some Impala, but the inevitable snort of one very wide awake animal had them scattering like mice. We had the wind in our favour, the foliage as cover, what went wrong I wondered out loud, still maintaining that the idea of sitting and waiting would have been a better idea!
We finally met up with the group for a brunch of “saamies” and “wors” from the night before, and liter upon liter of juice and water. Sitting there amongst the cow dung, cows and bulls, who eagerly wanted to welcome us, we sat there - rethinking our game plan.
I once again mentioned that it was too hot, and suggested that sitting in a thicket somewhere would be a good idea – I mean there were three of us in our group alone and although we tried to walk as quietly as we could, we probably still sounded like a bunch of buffalo on the stomp.
Once again my suggestion was frowned upon, and fell on deaf ears… ok so off we went again, having filled our bellies to the brim, we merrily went on our way, anticipating that the afternoon would deliver the goods.
I had earlier turned down the suggestion of wearing a cap, but as the morning sun turned into an afternoon ball of fire, I started to regret not taking “Captain’s” advise of a bottle of SPF 30 and a good old peak hat!
Furthermore, I had just the day before purchased a new pair of brown tekkies, as my good old hunting boots were just too heavy on my feet. I dared not utter a word about the pain and thirst I was enduring, for fear of being reprimanded like a teacher would a naughty pupil – No way!
Stubborn old me decided to brave the blisters (later realizing that even though – what fitted in the shop then, was aching terribly now - I had in fact bought a size too small!) now I could see why one of our Associations’ members went hunting in flip flops, at this stage it seemed a more appealing option!
By now it felt like it was 40 degrees out there, the animals were still nowhere to be seen and after hours and hours of walking and stalking, creeping and crawling, stopping and listening, we arrived back at our agreed meeting rendezvous.
Well after a short discussion we were dropped off at our various points, and low and behold as we rounded the corner of a thick bush, out runs a big Impala ram!
The two men jumped out eagerly stalking off after this elusive ram. It was not long thereafter that they came back huffing and puffing and empty-handed!
So be it, we thought, we still have some time… but by now it was late afternoon, and once again off we went, this time after much pleading to avoid any more sun, we went though the riverbed.
Too late - the damage was already done, by then I looked like a ripe old tomato and felt like I had run the Comrades, but still I never complained. I mean I just had to prove that since my earlier hunting days, when I was a good few pounds lighter, and much more agile - I would prove that I could still maintain the pace. After all I had just shot my first Warthog two days before and felt as fit as a fiddle!
Much much later that afternoon, as the sun was setting and we had all returned “buck-less” to the farm house, there was much chin wagging about close calls and full moon and the heat that kept the buck at bay, all I could secretly do, was smile to myself – all the while wanting to say the words out loud, “I told you so!”
There were a few lessons to be learnt; that a gym contract is only any good if you actually attend the gym on a regular basis! And that a ruffled hair do and discomfort of a hat is a small price to pay to prevent looking like a sun dried tomato.
But still, no regrets, it was a good feeling of exhaustion that I felt and I can’t remember when last I slept so well!
I can’t wait to do it all over again!
