News
Thursday, March 12, 2009 - Gras in print (again)
Another article in Guns Magazine featuring Gras.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009 - Gras in print
Gras and Zingela Safaris were featured in 2 American magazines
Tuesday, March 10, 2009 - Small Changes
We made some changes to the 2008 photo album, and we moved some pages around. Check out the new Affiliates and Useful Websites pages.
Saturday, November 29, 2008 - 2008 Photo album
We have uploaded the 2008 photo album.
Saturday, August 30, 2008 - Gras Ranch Frequent Asked Questions
Errol has compiled a list of Frequently Asked Questions about planning your hunting trip to Namibia and the Gras Game Ranch.
Saturday, August 30, 2008 - Trophy Fees 2009
The Gras trophy fees for 2009 and the Gras daily rates have been updated.
Friday, February 15, 2008 - Gras Game Lodge on Google Earth
Errol has been playing around with the truly amazing Google Earth and has mapped out the location and size of Gras as a downloadable Google Earth file.
Thursday, February 7, 2008 - Photos or Gras Game Lodge
Several people visiting the site have asked us to upload more photos of the Gras Game Lodge. These can be found here.
Saturday, December 22, 2007 - New album, new number
The 2007 photo album is up. We also have a new UK phone number.
Monday, August 27, 2007 - Trophy Fees 2008
The Gras trophy fees for 2008 and the Gras daily rates have been updated.
Sunday, September 24, 2006 - 2006 Photo Album and Trophy Fees 2007
The season has finished, and we have added the 2006 photo album.
Also, the 2007 Trophy Fees have been updated.
Sunday, March 12, 2006 - Trophy Fees 2006
The 2006 Trophy Fees have been updated.
Monday, March 6, 2006 - 2005 pictures are here
The 2005 photo album has finally been added.
Please report any problems or mistakes to the webmaster.
Sunday, February 15, 2006 - Brand new layout!
Zingela Safaris website has been re-launched with a new layout. This version should work in most browsers, however IE6 and Mozilla 1 is recommended.
Some of the new features include individual hunter and wildlife photo albums.
Please report any problems with the site to the webmaster.
Saturday, January 15, 2005 - Nobody is perfect...
Thanks to hunter Jack Armstrong for pointing out some animals on the photo album who were suffering from an identity crisis.
The photo album has been amended with the correct animal names.
Sunday, January 16, 2005 - New photos uploaded to photo album
We have finally spent more time on the photo album and have uploaded pictures for 2001, 2002, 2003 and 2004. Hopefully we wont wait another 3 years to update the photo album again. :)
Thursday, January 15, 2004 - Dan Arnold
A very positive email I receiced from Dan Arnold. Errol
From the moment you set foot on the sun-baked red soil that surrounds Gras Hunting Ranch, an air of history surrounds you; history tempered with familiarity. Originally purchased from the Namaqua trading company in 1904, the original German settlers arrived shortly thereafter and began the difficult task of raising livestock in the harsh African climate. By 1906, they had prospered enough to complete a ranch house that now serves as an elegantly restored guesthouse for tired and hungry hunters seeking the dream of an African hunt.
Though some eight thousand miles and six time zones from Oklahoma, the terrain at Gras Hunting Ranch is reminiscent of the Oklahoma and Texas Panhandle areas: rolling, rocky hills sparsely covered with grass, scrub trees, and thorn bushes. As you would expect, windmills abound in this arid country, providing much needed water for livestock as well as the abundant game animals native to the area.
The original settlers to Namibia were farmers of German and Dutch descent, like many of the pioneers who staked claims on the barren Oklahoma prairies of the 1890�s. Today, the descendants of those long ago German settlers share a culture familiar to anyone has spent any time in rural America. In rural Namibia, as in rural Oklahoma, a cup of coffee and a bit of conversation are absolute requirements before talking of hunting or other business. To do otherwise is as impolite in Kalkrand, Namibia as it is in Guymon, Oklahoma.
Upon arrival at Gras Hunting Ranch, Jannie Spangenberg, my host and Professional Hunter / Guide invited me to treat Gras as if it were my home. In short order I had done exactly that, meeting his young family, parents, cousins, and the families of the staff members that are essential to running the operation. Within days, I felt as if I were a member of the family, albeit a very large and gregarious family.
If a �Hunting Ranch� brings to mind visions of a few thousand fenced acres surrounding hundreds of overcrowded animals just standing around waiting to be shot, think again. Gras is a former cattle and sheep ranch that comprises 92,800 acres. That equates to 145 square miles; or to gain a better perspective, imagine a giant square that is twelve miles on each side. Yes, there are some old cross fences on the property that have yet to be torn down and there is a stout perimeter fence that keeps the game from straying on to neighboring ranches, but the game roams freely across Gras� vast landscape.
The wild game was living on the Namibian plains long before the settlers brought cattle and sheep to the scene and for a century they have coexisted much as our white-tailed deer have coexisted with herds of cattle. Now that the cattle and sheep are no longer raised at Gras, nothing remains to remind of their presence but the numerous windmill driven water wells once necessary to support them, and deteriorating fences which did little to deter the game then or now. To look at it another way, if a barbed wire fence won�t stop a 120-pound white-tailed deer, what would it matter to a 500-pound Gemsbok?
And that brings us to the game. If the Namibian landscape is awe inspiring, the abundance of game truly leaves one dumbstruck. In a single day, it is possible to see hundreds of Springbok bounding above the grass, the erect hair of their backs gleaming whitely in the sun, the stately Blesbok, its white-worn horns shining above its chocolate brown hide, herds of twenty or more of the clown-faced Gemsbok, and Blue Wildebeest snorting and kicking in the air as they run from your presence. If you are observant, you will see the secretive Steenbok, a horned antelope not much larger than our Jackrabbits picking their way carefully through the tall grass, herds of striped Zebra, defying logic as they manage to blend in with their surroundings, and the majestic Giraffes, ignoring you as they go about the business of being� well, Giraffes.
That is the beauty of Africa, the sheer diversity of wildlife. Whether you hunt them with gun or camera, they surround you, amuse you and forever imprint themselves upon your memories.
For the first ten days of August this year, I hunted at Gras Hunting Ranch. For the first two days a party of four hunters from Michigan were there as well. In the final days of my hunt another hunter came in from New York, so in all, I shared the comforts of the dining room with fellow Americans for five out of the ten days. This overlapping of hunts is typical of operations and Jannie has Errol Lambrechts, another Professional Hunter, to assist him when this overlapping occurs. This in no way detracted from the experience as we were all out on separate hunts during our stays and usually met only at the coffee pot in the mornings and in the dining room for supper. With over 92,000 acres available to hunt, running into other hunters is an unlikely event.
The accommodations at Gras are first rate. The original ranch house has been lovingly restored and furnished with a mix of new and period furniture and decorations. In the process of restoration, all of the rooms were remodeled with their own bath. The house has a large, shady veranda on either side that is perfect for resting out of the sun with a beverage and would have been a perfect place for reading had I not been preoccupied with hunting.
After a couple of days, time seemed to slow until it became meaningless. There was only the cool chill of the morning air at sunrise, a day spent stalking through the brush for game, and a gorgeous sunset followed by wonderfully prepared food and conversation around the large dining room table. Day after day continued in this relaxing fashion until it was time to board the plane to return home once again to the hustle and bustle of modern life.
For those who would prefer to �rough it,� a tented camp is available on the banks of the Fish River, where at night you can bask in the warmth of a campfire while enjoying the stars of the southern hemisphere.
Gras Hunting Ranch can accommodate various hunting methods including: bow or rifle, hunting from blinds and towers, or stalking on foot. For hunters with limited mobility due to age or disability, Gras offers the chance to hunt once again. With the hunter seated in a well-padded chair mounted in the back of a truck, the driver will approach game as close as possible. The hunter can then make a short stalk on foot or shoot from the truck, which is legal in Namibia.
If all of this piques your interest, here are some things to consider:
Though Afrikaans is the spoken language of Namibia as well as many of the countries of Southern Africa, all signage is in English, and almost everyone who is a position to deal with foreigners speaks English. All of the staff at Gras spoke excellent English as well. Any native English speaker should have no trouble communicating in Namibia.
The hunting season runs from February through November, which in the topsy-turvy world of the southern hemisphere are the winter months, providing a much needed respite from Oklahoma�s heat. Temperatures usually run from a low of 35o Fahrenheit in the mornings to a high of 80o Fahrenheit in the afternoon accompanied by incredibly low humidity.
Travelers to Namibia who intend to stay less than 90 days are required only to have a valid passport to enter the country. Southern Namibia is a malaria-free area, so no anti-malarial medication is necessary, nor are any other vaccinations.
Namibia has a stable government that values the commerce generated by foreign hunters. Bringing my guns and ammunition into the country required only the completion of one governmental form and a casual inspection by a very polite Namibian police officer. Petty crime occurs in Namibia�s capital, Windhoek, just as it does in any large American city, but at no time did I feel unsafe on Windhoek�s streets. In fact, most of the Namibian police officers I saw were unarmed, testifying to the absence of violent crime. In any event, Gras Hunting Ranch is 145 miles to the south of Windhoek, far from the inconveniences of modern city life.
The Fish River runs through Gras Hunting Ranch for a distance of 17 miles and provides an opportunity to go fishing for catfish during the lazy afternoon period. Guinea fowl are also abundant, as well as doves, which gives shot-gunners a chance to sharpen their skills prior to Oklahoma�s season opener.
Whenever hunting in Africa is brought up, most people exclaim something about it being prohibitively expensive. I disagree. In perusing the advertisements in a national hunting magazine, I see Elk hunts ranging from $2,900.00 to $6,500.00, Whitetail Deer hunts starting at $2,500.00, Mountain Goat hunts from $6,000.00, and Bear hunts starting at $5,500.00, all depending on location. Remember, an otherwise affordable hunt in Canada or Alaska will probably require airfare on both a commercial airliner and a bush plane that are not reflected in those prices.
To hunt in Namibia, I paid for airfare, a daily fee that including lodging, meals, and daily laundry service, and a trophy fee for each animal taken. A ten-day hunt that included six animals was just under $7,000.00. Had I wanted to, I could have opted for a five day hunt and saved a little over $1,200.00. In relation to North American hunts, I would have to say an African hunt is a much better value and certainly has the prospect of seeing more animals.
For those who have thought about answering Africa�s siren call, I would say this is the time to do it. The Namibian climate is healthful, its people friendly, and the abundance of wildlife is beyond belief. In addition, the exchange rate is favorable at the present time, making the entire trip somewhat cheaper than in years past
Friday, October 24, 2003 - Dan Arnold
This is an email that I got from Dan Arnold. Errol
Errol:
Nothing could please me more than to describe my experiences at Gras to any prospective clients.
First, I�ll say that I am an avid hunter, but my previous experiences with large game had been with white-tailed deer and pronghorn antelope only. Deep down inside, I had always wanted to see the game rich fields of Africa that so many writers had described. Luckily, circumstances permitted me to make the trip in August of 2002, shortly after my 37th birthday. This was my first experience with hunting outside the continental United States, and also my first guided hunt.
When I arrived at Gras, Jannie and I sat down over a cool drink and discussed the animals that I wanted to hunt, how I wanted to hunt, and what kind of trophies I expected. My list of animals seemed large to me considering the length of my stay. As it turned out, ten days was plenty of time, and I managed to take a blesbok, gemsbok, impala, kudu, several springbok, a warthog, as well as thirty or forty doves and guinea fowl.
Having had more than my share of hunting from tree stands, I wanted to do as much hunting as possible on foot, a request that Jannie was only too happy to oblige. Due to the huge size of Gras, hunting strictly on foot is almost impossible though, so we traveled to different areas of Gras by truck, glassing the rolling terrain as we went. When game was spotted, we then dismounted to approach on foot. Depending on the terrain and animals, the distances we walked varied from only a few hundred yards to well over a mile, thanks to some extremely wary gemsbok.
As far as the quality of the trophies went, I was interested in �good� heads; not record breaking, but something that I would be proud of. In those ten days, we spent a lot of time glassing animals that Jannie often bypassed, simply explaining that there were better horns to be offered. As a result, the animals that I took exceeded my expectations, and they were pretty high. In fact, all but one animal scored gold on the Namibian standards of measurement, a tribute to both the management of the ranch and the diversity that such a large area can provide.
Perhaps the best part of my stay was the hospitality extended to me by everyone at Gras. While I was there, I met most of Jannie�s family, in-laws, and extended family, as well as Errol, who it seems is almost an uncle to Jannie. Through my entire stay, I was made to feel not so much a guest, but more like a member of their large family. Coming from a rural part of the United States, and having been raised in a farming and ranching family myself, the experience was very much like coming home to my own friends and relatives, albeit with slightly different accents. That kind of hospitality, and the opportunity to spend time talking with people from another part of the world was truly a priceless part of my trip. Without it, my hunt would have been so much less memorable.
After experiencing the hospitality and opportunities that Gras has to offer, I can�t think of any reason to hunt elsewhere.
Sincerely,
Dan Arnold
Friday, September 12, 2003 - New Prices
The Gras Daily Rates and Gras Trophy Fees have been updated.
Thursday, August 07, 2003 - Rennell Barney
This is an email that I got from Rennell Barney. They hunted with us in July 2003. Errol.
ERROL, I WANT YOU AND JANNIE TO KNOW THAT WE WILL HIGHLY RECOMMEND THE
RANCH TO ALL OUR FRIENDS AND HOPE THAT IT BRINGS YOU MANY HUNTERS!!
BUT MOST OF ALL I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I ALSO FELT THE GREAT FRIENDSHIP!!
I FELT AS THOUGH WE WERE TAKEN INTO THE FAMILY AND IT MEANT A LOT TO US.
KERRY AND I HAVE TALKED IN LENGTH ABOUT THE FUN WE HAD AND HE ALSO FELT
THAT WE WERE SPOILED. DON'T KNOW IF THE TRIP CAN EVER BE TOPPED BY ANOTHER OUTFITTER SO I GUESS WE WILL JUST HAVE TO COME BACK AND HUNT WITH YOU GUYS AGAIN!!!
ONCE AGAIN THANKS FOR ALL YOU HAVE DONE FOR US AND GOOD HUNTING !!!!
Wednesday, September 04, 2002 - William C Brown
This is what I got from William C Brown M.D. He hunted with us in August 2002. Errol.
Ryan, my son, Jim Lessig & I hunted at Gras and some of the surrounding areas in Namibia in August of 2002. The service that was provided was spectacular. The pre safari planning was uncomplicated and being picked up and transported was a breeze. We did an eight day hunt and collected some truly spectacular animals including a 561/2 inch Kudu, an enormous blue wildebeest, and a nice gemsbok & zebra. We also did grouse, dove and guinea fowl hunting on our days when we decided to take it easy. The PHs, you and Jannie were true gentlemen and great fun to deal with. I appreciated you being picky and selecting mature excellent trophies for us to harvest. The ranch and staff were spectacular. It was very easy to get spoiled.
Every detail was taken care of and everything was upfront. My son & I remember the hunts with great fondness. We will be back and will bring our friends.
Friday, August 30, 2002 - Michael Griffin
This is what I got from Michael Griffin. He hunted with us from the 14th of August 2002 to the 23rd of August 2002. Errol
THIS IS MY STORY OF MY FIRST DAY IN AFRICA.
What can I say? I'm 48 years old and have never gone anywhere. Plus I am not rich by any means, try working for the State of Oklahoma. But some friends jumped out of an airplane when they turned 50, and that got me to thinking, "What do I want to do for my 50th?" I mentioned to my wife that I wanted to go to Africa, and go on a hunting safari. I was having my 48th in March of this year. She turned to me and suggested I go now. Who knows how long we have to live. So I had some serious talks with myself. I mean when your wife wants you to go to AFRICA, what do you say??? I'm one of those folks that makes sure everyone else comes first. I am usually not even on the LIST so in time after lots of emails to my outfitter and patience on his part.
On August 11th I started the journey of the greatest adventure of my life. The only hunting I had prior to this was deer and turkey hunting in the fall here in Oklahoma. Again gasoline and groceries and car payments and house payments eat up our meager budget each month. So the idea of spending $7500 for a safari was incredulous. (Forget that I indebted my self to $25,000 for a new van for my wife.) And so it began. I spent the next 10 days on a safari in Africa, (I'm still pinching myself) I get on the airplane in OKC my wife and daughters see me off. I have no idea what I am getting myself into. My track records with vacations have been terrible. I have high hopes for this trip. I fly to Atlanta. Pick up my luggage and catch a ride to the hotel. It is late and I am hungry the bar fixes me a great hamburger and fries and some sweet ice tea. My wake up call is for 6:30. I call home to let them know I made it that far. "Honey, I stepped on the cat and I think I broke the cat's tail what should I do???" "Well, call the vet, or just take it to the vet", I sure cannot do anything 1500 miles away! Off to sleep. (When I got back home she still hadn't taken the cat to the vet and YES the tail was broken but healed nicely!)
The wake up call comes and I grab a bite at the restaurant before I leave. Back to the airport and on to the plane. It is huge I am in the tail end. Tight fit for 14 hours. I watch movies, and try to use the bathroom, another tight squeeze. Still after a long time I do catch some sleep. Then it is up and they are passing out immigration papers for SA. It is raining in Cape Town. The attendants have umbrellas. They whisk us into the airport. One little bushman type asks if I have a large silver gun case I say yes and he shows me where to go and wait for the South African Police.
We wait about 20 minutes before he shows up. It is early in the morning here. Like 5:30 or 6:00. After my 14hour flight to Cape Town, I was very tired and excited both. Cape Town is a small airport. Only four gates. All lined up one thru four. They have a small caf�, upstairs on the second floor. I went up there after one of the black fellas that work the airport got my luggage squared away. Got the South African Police forms all filled out and safely tucked away. I go up to the caf� and order some milk. Two cartons. Then I order a breakfast of scrambled eggs on a croissant covered with Swiss cheese. Very tasty and inexpensive too. I charge it to get a better exchange rate. (Or so I'm told) I then go down and wait for the flight to Namibia.
The great Table Mountain of Cape Town fame is framed by the windows of the airport. Its summit shrouded in clouds. The plane arrives and everyone gets on board. The flight is longer than I thought. First you can see the South Atlantic, then it fades Then trees and fields of green then slowly you can see nothing but desert for miles and miles. Below us is the Kalahari Desert. Someplace I would not want to crash. (Visions of "Flight of the Phoenix") I look out the port side and see an extinct volcano. Hope the picture comes out. Soon the pilot comes on as says we will be landing soon. The hills of Windhoek start appearing. We land and disembark. Got a picture of that too. The Eros Airport, palm trees and all.
Errol Lambrechts meets me at the airport and helps me get thru customs. The customs people are very nice and friendly. We get my gear out to the truck and get loaded. I get to meet Jani the landowner and his lovely wife, Anri, and their new baby who is asleep. Wayne Nish, another hunter, just picking up his guns. We start driving heading out of town. I don't realize it right then but I won't get to do any shopping on this trip right now.
It is hard to believe I'm really in AFRICA. Until I see a road crew working on the highway and a troop of baboons is sitting there going thru garbage. Later I get hungry and Errol offers me a meat pie. Springbok fried meat pie. Very tasty. The land looks like New Mexico. Lots of desert terrain. Soon we see ostriches and Kori bustards walking by the side of the road. Three hours later, then we come to a dirt road turn left and keep going. We stop and go thru a wired gate. Another 45 minutes and we top a rise. There in the afternoon sun is the Gras Hunting Ranch house. Gold and green, neatly trimmed grass and bushes.
We drive into the yard and unload. They have a person take my stuff to my room. Errol asks if I want to sight in my guns, I say yes, and it is off to a makeshift range to sight in the guns. . Both survived the trip and are still sighted in perfectly.
After that we drive around a little before dinner just to get the lay of the land. Then it is dinnertime. The bar is nice. I have a Windhoek beer. Nice smooth stuff. Dinner is game meat, kudu, and springbok; with common vegetables and something called "green monkey brain sauce" they are just kidding me, of course. Then it is off to my room to square things away. And get ready for bed. The room is nice but cold there is no heat in the rooms. The place is designed for 114-degree heat. Not 60 degree cold. Memories of my grandma's house. No heat on the second floor and you had to make yourself a warm spot to sleep in. Sleep soon overtakes me and I don't remember my dream.
My PH, Errol Lambrechts was fantastic. He got me my first trophy at 7:30 the first morning I was in Africa. (There is something about that phrase that just gets me!) We were sitting there in the truck. Drinking coffee and eating a springbok meat pie, when two springbok come walking by about 100 yards away. He glasses them and says the first is a female but the second is good enough to take if I wanted to. So I set down my coffee and picked up my 30-06, (My 30-06 I've had for 30 years that I have put thousands of rounds through) chamber a round and try to shoot this thing. Let me see this is a rifle? Ok and I are supposed to sight thru this thing called a scope and look thru there and see a SPRINGBOK! THERE IS A SPRINGBOK IN MY SCOPE!!!!!!!And I am supposed to slowly pull the trigger. (Good thing there were no blood pressure cuffs around they don't go that high. Buck fever was nothing like this!!!!!) Thank goodness for blood pressure medicine. There he is, slowly Yes Mike take the safety OFF. Now, this thing hasn't run off yet! There we are slowly, BANG! What was that! I see it hump up and start to run with its head down. Errol is slapping me on the back saying that it was a good shot right thru the heart. I chamber another round and Errol is telling me there is no need for a second shot. So I pop the second round out and close the bolt on an empty chamber. I set the rifle down and pick up my coffee cup and finish my coffee. My First African Trophy Animal, a Springbok.
We stow the breakfast stuff and drive over to it. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The colors and the feeling of the hair. The morning sun shining on it alone. The whole world shrinks to just it and me. The others are taking pictures and congratulating me. I touch the horns, rubbing my fingers over them. He is still warm, and soft. His eyes shining. His back hairs have pulled up. And he is showing the white inside. His hooves are clean and black and shiny. I pat him and try to soak all of this in so I can remember him. I touch the bullet hole where I shot him. His blood is still warm on my fingers, I raise them to my nose and smell his blood and I put it to my lips and taste it. I may take other animals on this trip but he is my First and, and there will only and ever be MY FIRST AFRICAN Trophy. To me it didn't matter if he was 6" or 60" Size was not important. I look at the surrounding hills and the sky; there never was such a blue sky as today. A memorable day, a day that I will carry with me always. That will be there when I need it on a drab, depressing day when nothing goes right. I can go inside and relive this special time.
As the day goes by he will get stiff, and his eyes will dull and his blood will clot and will lose this luster of this time. And his body will get hard. He will change from an animal to a thing. Meat and hide and skull and horns. These things and my pictures I will have to show my friends who come to my house to see my trophies. But I can never share that morning, with them. That is the trophy I get to carry and show to myself. I apologize for where this thread has lead. It was to be a comment on my safari. It is. I would like to say that I had the absolute BEST time of my life. But more than the trophies, more that the scenery or the food or the camaraderie. It was a spiritual journey for me. And I got to take it with the most wonderful people I could ask for. I don't think I can write anymore right now. Sometimes I get overcome with the grandness of it all... And God bless my wife for encouraging me to go.
I will try later to fill you in on the rest of my voyage of discovery. Well let me see if I can get back to where I was. After all the pictures and the handshakes and backslapping. We loaded the springbok into the "Bakkie". Such a cool name for a pickup. If this were Oklahoma, my gun deer season would be half over. And there are lots of years when all the deer have just disappeared from the woods. And you get real creative with hamburger. But here in Africa, Errol just turns to me. He has the biggest grin on his face, saying something to the effect of "Let's go see what else we can get today." And this is 7:30 in the Morning! Hey, I could get used to this! So off we go. Bouncing around on the top of this crazy "Bakkie". You hang on for dear life. The "Bakkie" has a seat across the rack in the back with a padded seat on it that helps cushion the ride a little. There is a box on the roof of the Bakkie where you can store you rifles. I brought my 30-06, *you've already met!* and a CZ 550 Magnum in .416 Rigby. For all the technical folks I shot Remington factory 150 gr Core-lockt in my 30-06 and 300 gr Barnes X using 105 gr. H4530 with a CCI Mag primer in Norma cases. Figure about 2850 fps. Yeah I know it is a little big for plains game, but hey this was my fantasy trip and who wouldn't take a good-looking gal on a trip like this.
Yes I admit it! I'm a nostalgia nut. Could have bought a .375. But it is kind of like a race car. Sure you drive the kids to school but the looks you get. So now we are bouncing around like two of those little figurines with the bouncing head. The going is slow especially if you are going across a field. The roads are just a little bit worse. You don't realize that all the rocks in the world are throwing themselves under your tires. Glad I have something to hang onto. The black bar you hang onto takes on a decided lighter shade of black as you hands take on the appearance of tire factory workers. But these hills. These hills are gorgeous. You can see forever. And what did Errol say this morning after the springbok, if you get bitten by a gecko you either have to see a cloud in the sky or eat your own poop or you'll die before sundown! Well looks like I will watch out for geckos, as I haven't seen a cloud all day. Cold too. It is every bit a cold as an Oklahoma winter day. The idea of Africa being hot I can imagine. They say it gets up to 122 F here in the summer. But cold Lord have mercy. There were mornings there was ice on water left outside.
We are continuing our journey across the African savannah. I could call it a prairie but it is too cool to not use the African words. We see some kudu cows and an immature bull. The cows stand and stare at us they know they don't have anything to worry about, but junior has remembered an appointment with his buddies, no doubt, as he is showing us his BEST side. Highly similar to what I see of deer during deer season. And you know why they are called whitetails. The cows are a pretty brown, but kind of gangly, huge ears sticking out from the sides of their heads like radar. But big very big. Long legs. I understand why we hunt from vehicles, oh heck! "Bakkies". There I go again sorry, the brush / trees are at least six feet high. And the hunter in this case is only 5-4". So you ride so you can see the game. And what game. We take our leave after watching the kudu cows kind of saunter off over a hill.
You see springbok everywhere. Running up that hillside! Running on the horizon. Prancing like they have St.Vitas dance. My mind flashes on a scene, Julie Andrew, singing, "the Hills are alive with the sight of Springbok!" Yeah kinda corny, but hey! They run and cut across in front of the Bakkie, daring us to catch them. We soon come across a herd of Gemsbok; this too is on my wish list. So Errol has the driver go after them. They run like the wind with an intentional swishing of their horse-like tails, like they are whipping themselves to run faster. The muscles on these beauties you can see thru your binoculars. They ripple in their bodies as they run. And they run and they run. After a few kidney-damaging miles we realize that they could only be a figment of our collective imagination as they have disappeared into thin air.
We are still in the same "pasture" at least we haven't crossed a fence yet. When what should appear on the horizon but Giraffes. Wild ones, not raised by zookeepers. Huge beyond belief! They have a rocking gambol about them reminiscent of a ship rising and falling with the waves. The old male is really dark. Errol shows me the track. It is twice as wide as my foot. I take pictures hoping they will turn out. Yes TWO cameras. A little flash one and a Pentax SLR. Keep telling myself, "You brought 40 rolls! Use it!" We take a potty break, much needed by this time. As the giraffes walk over the horizon. And the coffee has been working on my kidneys. It is around 9:45 of my first morning in Africa and I feel like I am on top of the world. We are looking around and Errol spots a lone gemsbok. "He looks good, let's go after him." OK and we are off. Rolling over hills, he tries to fake us out. He goes down in the gullies and runs down to the end. Cuts over the foot and doubles back. Reminds me of a quarterback trying to get into the end zone. This time I have my .416 out. We haul up and he is standing 300 yards away. Now, you have to remember I have shot the .416 lots in practice, but never at any game yet, so was this to be her maiden voyage. I had sighted both rifles in at spot on at 100 yards, and had memorized the drop tables for both rifles. Anything over 100 yards, pretty obvious! I would have to hold over for. Well I here I am sighting in on my second African trophy. I line up on his back knowing that they carry their heart and lungs more forward I easy off my first round. Whap! I see the gemsbok go down like he was hit with thunder. The neatest thing though was I heard the bullet hit. Didn't really notice the recoil or the muzzle blast. Did hear it hit. Something I would hear again. I remember reading about this in some of my hunting books. Too cool. In all my years of hunting in Oklahoma I have never heard the bullet hit. I chamber another round, caught the brass in my hand. Expensive stuff. Errol is really impressed with this rifle. He says this is only the second time he has ever seen a gemsbok go down like that. Boy was I glad I had brought this baby. I had read about how tough the gemsbok is, and from what Errol was telling me it was the truth. I take the second round out and mash it back down in the magazine.
We drive up to this huge. Sorry but please remember I have never shot anything bigger than a deer. This was the size of a horse. Take the horns off and it kind of looks like one. This is a DREAM come true. Reading magazines of other hunters' safaris, there is no description that can fit that experience of this Is YOUR GEMSBOK! Beautiful, the striking black and white pattern on the face. The black and white on the legs and the almost blue grey color of the body. I see I have hit him somewhere in the area of the spine. Horns, black and long and sharp on the ends. I can see where you could wind up "en brochette" If he was of a condition to provide you with a riposte. But now he is yours. Uh OH! Well let's make that SHE is yours. I have shot a female. Do I mind NOPE! Not in the least. She is a pretty as He was moment ago. And nothing can change that and no one is going to take her away. So now I am an old pro at the picture taking. Still I rub my hands over her back, as the springbok was soft this lady is hard and solid. She must weigh 300-400 lbs. Big long and solid. The horns as just something else. Those horns will hang in my house. Unbelievable!!!!! It takes everyone to get her in the Bakkie. Now the springbok has company. It is 10:30 of my first day in Africa. Errol tries to get Janni on the radio. No luck so we head back in. only about 20 miles from the house.
Driving back I see these huge nests in these trees. Weaver Birds, Errol says, they start off a single nest then another builds next to it and then another and another. Soon you have this multi-storey apartment complex of all these little brown birds. . Oh Birds I forgot to tell you about the Kori Bustard, they are all over the place here a protected species, they are in a word, ready for this HUGE! Stand about 4 half five feet tall, about 50 pounds. Stork like, or heron like beautiful and then you have the black Koran a bird that the Good Lord let the male have the last word the females are mute.
We head back to the house with our Bakkie full of game. And it isn't lunchtime yet. Back to the Ranch house, Artoo drives us. We get there and no one is around, save for a few of the blacks that work there... From them we find that we are to have a cookout in the field. We back up to the old sheep shearing shed, where they do the butchering and skinning and unload my prizes. I still do not quite believe all this, but just keep on enjoying it. Even now, cold and stiff they are things of beauty. Errol runs to the house and we all make for a potty break. We all meet back at the "Bakkie" and he tells us about the cookout.
Up on our transport we climb and off we go. Down thru a gate and over several long hillsides we arrive at a windmill and water tank. They call them "dams". Christo, the ranch manager has brought the food and has arranged wood for a fire. We stand around and shoot the breeze telling him about my springbok and gemsbok. Shortly after we arrive the other "Bakkie" comes into view and pulls up beside ours. Out pile Wayne Nish, the other hunter and his crew. They have shot several springbok and have them in the "Bakkie" still.
The fire is quickly lit and the fire crackling merrily in the breeze. The wood smoke is heady fare. Makes you want to stand down wind. Soon the fire has died to embers and the grate is filled with "wurst" *sorry no umlaut* and fresh springbok liver. Now I am not normally a liver person but even to me the smoking hot, flame-seared liver of a springbok that only hours ago had only matrimony on his mind is too good to pass up. Very tender and not even a bloody taste to it. Very tasty. It tasted different from any, liver I have eaten; it didn't have that "livery" taste to it. The "wurst" was absolutely wonderful, juicy, hot, smoky, with that tang of coriander and a coarse ground texture. Springbok, of course. Finger-width it came in long coils, kind of pinkish till you let them get comfortable over the fire and the grease starts to drip and they get all brown. Then you haul them off the fire and you burn your fingers trying to break it apart to get you a chunk to eat. It is juicy, but not greasy. In addition we had fresh. Yeasty, homemade bread, in this huge loaf, fresh tomatoes, fresh butter and jelly, hard-boiled eggs, and sodas. Never did an orange pop taste so good as when chewing down on some springbok "wurst".
After we all sitting around scratching ourselves and groaning from too much wonderful food. Someone said they had seen some zebras earlier and thought some on us *namely me* just might be interested in finding them. With much picking of teeth and wiping of hands on pants, we remounted our mighty steed and sallied forth. Gemsbok we found, standing there, they must have know that I had already taken one of their kind cause they sure didn't look worried. Off they trotted with that swishing of their tails. You sit there and just shake your head. After about an hour and a half. Having shooed the springbok out of the way, and a few more bone jarring miles of rock-infested savannah, we see a cloud of dust. There through the dust you see their black and white striped forms. From a distance indistinct and flowing together, you realize that thought black and white are in contrast to the greys, browns and tans of the savannah, their black and white coloration is a very good defensive pattern. You see the stallions rearing back and kicking and biting at each other. They are milling about and one is limping. I ask Errol if I should shoot the limping one.
He said yes, so I shoot. Just then we see the other "bakkie" pop over the ridge just opposite our position. They had seen the zebras first and had shot, but being on the other side of the ridge we had heard no shooting. Knowing that they were on the scene and the limping zebra was theirs we took off mad-cap after the rest of the herd. Soon we see them milling about in a draw. We edge up to them in the bakkie an Errol says to take one. "Which one?" Errol says, "Any one just pick one!" I tell him I see one standing under a tree. And that is the one I am going to shoot. The .416 speaks and again I feel no recoil and no noise other than the "Whap" of the bullet. The zebra rears back on its hind legs and then drops back down on all fours. It drops its head and the other zebras start to move off. Slowly, my zebra starts to move off with the herd. I tell Errol I am shooting again, and fire once more. Errol fires a round from his 7mm magnum. We sit and watch the zebra through our glasses. I am worried and ask Errol if I should shoot again. He says "No, he's dead he just doesn't know it yet."
No sooner spoken that the zebra drops to the ground. We drive over to it. The rest of the herd has departed for parts unknown. But that doesn't matter. There lies a magnificent animal. Breathtaking is the only word to describe your first zebra. It's striking black and white. Errol is pounding me on the back saying "good job, and Well done." He really likes that .416. No problem with tracking. NO need to. They don't go far enough. I get down off the bakkie and walk up to it. It is just too big. It is literally a horse. I tell Errol, It must weigh 800 pounds. It is more impressive the closer you get. I sit down next to it and rub my hands over it. Errol is admiring its mane and saying its hide is in beautiful shape and that it is big for mare. I look back between the legs and say "Errol, I don't think its a Mare with that plumbing." He really got excited then, knowing it was a stallion. Errol explains that normally the stallions are all cut up and the mane is chewed up from fighting, that is why he thought it was a female. This one is perfect not cuts, scars and the mane is perfect. He tells me it will make a beautiful rug. He suggests I hang it on the wall so as not to damage it from being walked on. A suggestion I intend to follow. I kneel down and examine its hooves, a horses hoof for sure but even the hooves are striped. I comment about the pink tint to the hide. Errol explains that they have special places where they like to roll and that are where they get their pink tinge. But that when I get it from the taxidermist it will be snow white. We stand around Errol and I. The boys have gone back to help load Wayne's zebra. Has there ever been a more glorious day. Not in my life. You cant count the days you children were born, that are different!!! Nope, the sky was never this blue nor the sun so brilliant. We take pictures. And talk,
I ask Errol how he came to be a PH and what else he does for a living. He tells me about his family in Cape Town and what his two sons do for a living. All too soon we hear the sound of approaching vehicles. The other bakkie has come along so everyone can help load the zebra. It takes everyone's help to load it in the back. NO I think now it weighs about 1000 pounds. With a heave and a push we finally get it loaded. Three animals in one day. I am a little concerned; I bought 10 days of hunting and had a list of seven animals I came for. And this is just the first day. Oh, to be so concerned. Right now I am higher than a kite. It is around 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and with my zebra we head to the house.
By Michael Griffin
Michael continues with a tale of his second hunting day, Errol.
THIS IS MY STORY OF MY SECOND DAY IN AFRICA.
The insistent ringing of the alarm clock slowly drags me to consciousness. Through a thick fuzzy head I realize I am really in Africa. The warm spot I have built for myself is comfortable. Reminiscent of my growing up in West Virginia at my grandmother's house. The furnace to the two-story house was, of course, in the basement. And the bedrooms were, of course, on the second floor. The jump into bed last night brought back icicle memories of sliding between cold sheets and the accompanying tingle that went with it. Ahh the warm spot you make in those icy sheets and lo! Help you if you strayed across the bed. Cold. I risk my arm to the cold and reach over and shut off the horrible beast. I lie there and think of the whirlwind of yesterday. Yes, I really shot all those animals and saw hundreds more. I want to savor the day today. So Up I get. Clothes quickly on and double-check all my gear. I take my medicines and perform my toilet. The house is quiet at 5:30. Though I have only been here a little over 24 hours it feels comfortable.
I walk to the dining room. The coffee is ready and I grab a cup. Coffee and Rusks. Must be the national breakfast of Namibia. The dinner last night was wonderful. Kudu steaks and springbok some strange looking vegetables and homemade bread. had a Windhoek beer made right here in Namibia. Very tasty puts American beer to shame. There was not much to do after dinner, as it was very late around 9 PM when we were all finished. They mainly speak Afrikaans to each other and English to me. I mainly sit and listen. After a while I realize how tired I am, so I retire to my room and read. I brought a book along to read on the airplane but of course I never opened it on the airplane. Then is off to the icy sheets.
The coffee is hot and the rusks are very tasty. So I have s couple of cups of coffee and a handful of rusks. I suspect breakfast will again be in the field. But at least I am learning the ropes. I greet Errol as he comes in and we make small talk. Getting ready to go out. The down vest I have feels good in the outside morning air. The sun is beginning to make its ascent across the heavens. The last of the stars are winking out. The sky last night was fantastic. I saw the Southern Cross for the first time. A very humbling experience. Stars down to the horizon. Stars I have never seen before and do not know the names of.
The blacks come walking up from their houses across the draw. They are smiling and waving at me. I climb up into the bakkie and take my seat. Errol climbs up next to me and one of the blacks climbs in the back with us. Errol says he is our spotter. We will go after Hartebeest this morning. To see if we can find a good trophy. We drive for hours. Around 8 we stopped for breakfast and brother did that coffee taste good. The breakfast was sandwiches again. And homemade bread with jelly on it. Oh, boy, reminds me of when I used to bake bread. The little girl who does all their bread sure knows how to cook.
Well after chasing springbok out of our way for about 4 hours we finally find a herd of Hartebeest. Only they are three hillsides away. So naturally we go after them. They fly over the rocky ground as we waddle over it like a large tortoise. An hour later we see them for the last time as they fly in formation over a hilltop like a group of bombers in the sky. With fighter squadrons of springbok flying cover for them on either side. Running and leaping just for the joy if it. We are a long way from home so we are starting to wind out way back. The things we saw today. Hmm, lets see springbok and more springbok. We stopped and checked some live traps for jackals and wild cats. They have feral cats over here. Just like house cats only very wild. Birds lots of birds. We saw the little Weaver birds fly in and out of their apartment complexes. Kori bustards, Hornbills. Doves and sand grouse. Vultures we found where they and cleaned up a springbok. How it died anyone's guess. As big as this place is probably old age.
Errol explained what jackal proof fence was and how they were made. We saw some baboons in the distance but didn't go after them. Along about 4 we stopped to take some pictures of some Kori Bustards taking off. Nice sequence shots. When the spotter yelled "KUDU" we all swing around and by the time we do the spotter says the kudu has gone over the hillside. Soon we are hot pursuit. Really we drove across the foot of the draw and up the other side. Once up there we looked back across the draw. Errol points out the kudu. Standing behind a bunch of brush out of which are curling two nice big horns. Errol looks at him and tells me that he is not the biggest kudu but a nice one. Asking me if I want to take it. I decide to shoot, as I really wanted a Kudu. And again not knowing if I would even see another! (In retrospect, I saw other kudu bulls but none as nice as the one I shot. One had one horn and the other one was a young bull with one turn.)
The kudu is standing behind this brush. Errol says that should he turn and walk out to shoot him at the point of the shoulder. Well after a few minutes he turns left and walks out behind the brush. He stops and I fire. Again I don't feel the recoil nor hear the shot. I do hear the bullet hit. Whap! The bull rears back on his back legs and then drops back down. He tries to walk but drop his head. I chamber another round but Errol tells me to hold off. He saw where the bullet hit and knows he will go down. Down he drops. And we drive over to him. I see that he's mortally wounded, but I tell Errol I don't believe in letting animals suffer so I shoot him in the neck right behind the head. And he is mine.
Excitement floods over me. I am so excited I have done something that I have wanted to do all my life. Every since I read Ruark writing about hunting the HOLY GRAIL of African hunting here in Namibia I have shot MY KUDU!!!!!! I had taken a couple of photos of him before I finished him off. I hope they come out. He looked so grand. We get down and make sure he is mine. Yes. He is. I walk up to this creature of mythical proportions. Larger than Life. He is magnificent. Lord of all he surveyed. He is Old! I pat him and comment about the bald patches on his hide. He wore them off fighting other bulls, Errol says. His face is all scarred and torn He has a bullet hole thru his right ear. His ears are huge like mules. But his horns are beautiful he has his two turns and his ivory tips.
The spotter looks at his teeth and just shakes his head. Errol looks to and tells me his teeth are all worn down. "Over twelve years old." He says. "He probably would not have survived the winter" Now he will not have to. He is huge about 400 -500 pounds and beautiful. Errol measures his horns. Around 42 inches. I look at him he is just right for my little trophy room. He will match my gemsbok.
By Michael Griffin
Thursday, August 15, 2002 - Dan Arnold
Got this from Dan Arnold.
Friday, August 2nd, 2002
Arrived at Gras in the late afternoon. Squared away my gear and relaxed while enjoying the view. Jannie, Errol, and a group of hunters arrived just before dark. The group is finishing their hunt and should be departing in another day.
After supper, Jannie and I sat down over a beer and discussed what kind of hunt I wanted: did I want to hold out for the biggest trophies, shoot the first thing we saw, or do something in between. Jannie assured me that if I did my part, and with ten days to work with, I could get several "good" trophies; not record book quality, but very nice. That's good enough. More importantly, he wanted to know how I want to hunt: spot and stalk, or shoot from the truck, which is common for the Europeans. Jannie seemed pleased with my decision to spot and stalk. I guess he likes to crawl around after animals too. I think we're going to get along well. We have a lot in common: close to the same age, young families, etc.
Saturday, August 3rd, 2002
Sighted in the 6.5mm and the .375 just after sunrise. Temperature is chilly, about 40 to 45 degrees. Jannie said we needed to shoot three springbok for meals around the ranch, so we cruised around looking for any that had damaged or misshapen horns. I thought Jannie was kidding when he said he wanted headshots. Turns out he was serious, and I managed to oblige on two. The third was a little farther out than I thought, so the round went in center-chest. We spotted a herd of gemsbok and spent the better part of two hours trying to get close enough without success. Toward evening, we glassed the river for kudu, spotting a nice bull. Unfortunately, the kudu slipped away to the neighbor's property, but we spotted a nice warthog down in the riverbed. After chasing him down on foot, I spined him just as the sun disappeared. Carrying him back in the dark took a long time. Springbok liver cooked on the grill is really fantastic!
Sunday, August 4th, 2002
Gemsbok is the goal for the day. Jannie is disappointed that we hadn't been able to get any closer yesterday.
Stalked two different herds today. The first eventually caught wind of us and departed at high speed. Either that, or they just got spooky when a group of four giraffes cut in between us. The second herd was feeding along a dry wash, moving in and out of the thorns and brush. After a lot of hands and knees crawling over the rocks, we got into the brush and circled around in front of them. Luckily, they crossed an open area single-file about 175 yards from us. There was too mush brush to shoot kneeling, so Jannie offered up his shoulder as support while I shot standing. The gemsbok stopped totally still when the bullet hit him, bit he didn't go down. After Jannie and I untangled ourselves from our unorthodox shooting position, he told me to hit him again. This time I took the shot offhand, hitting within three or four inches of the first shot and the gemsbok was down for the count. One bullet had exited completely; the other was just peeking through the hide on the off side.
After lunch, we dropped off the gemsbok at the ranch and loafed a bit until evening when we went to the river to look for kudu. Didn't see any bulls, but a nice springbok was waiting on a ridge top, picture perfect. The .375 was a little big, but I took the shot anyway. It's surprising how many different kinds of animals are here. There's always something to see. Today I saw 4 giraffes, 4 blesbok, 5 hartebeest, and 15 kudu in addition to the gemsbok and springbok.
Monday, August 5th, 2002
Went out after blesbok with Jannie and Errol. Stalked a trio and took a nice one with the 6.5mm, using Jannie's rifle as a sort of monopod to firm up my kneeling position. Later in the afternoon, we spotted two springbok sparring on the side of a hill. While they fought, Jannie and I slipped in close enough to shoot the winner, a nice, old male with lots of character and good horns.
On the way back to the ranch we saw a jackal and gave chase in the truck. He outdistanced us because the ground was too rough to go very fast. The jackal made the mistake of stopping to look back when he got about 200 yards ahead. Jannie and I both fired at the same time. One of us hit the jackal in the foot and the other hit him squarely in the head.
Jannie paid me a nice complement today. He said that it was a pleasure hunting with me because I could shoot well and didn't expect a record book animal to be just over the next ridge. That, and I took everything in stride, good or bad.
Tomorrow, we hunt impala!!
Tuesday, August 6th, 2002
Sunrise over the Kalahari is incredible! The sun really looks like a flattened ellipse as it rises, just like the National Geographic pictures. We hunted a neighboring ranch that is really a collection of 30-foot tall red sand dunes that stretch on forever. Each dune was about 200 yards apart. In the trough formed by the dunes was a thin covering of grass that supported the sheep and impala. Tough hunting. Charge to the top of a dune and look down into the trough for impala and, if none were in sight, cross the grass and charge to the top of the next dune. Visibility was limited to what was between each dune, so I think I saw the ranch in a series of 200 yard strips.
Took a shot at a male that ran by with his herd and hit him too far back. When he finally slowed down, I got a good rest and held over his back by about twelve inches to put him down. I think I like the open country hunting at Gras better than the dunes.
A group of Austrians had arrived at Gras when we returned. Jannie says I can go out with them tomorrow on their springbok hunt as a back up. I guess Jannie trusts my shooting even with the miffed shot on the impala. The Austrians were amazed that we had been hunting on foot. After talking to them, I get the feeling that they hunt out of stands exclusively.
Wednesday, August 7th, 2002
Went out with Errol as a back up shooter for a pickup load of Austrians. Each of them shot from the truck and anchored their animals with single shots, so my rifle went unfired today. Jannie's group had some trouble, losing one animal that was definitely wounded. After packing the Austrians off after lunch, I went sightseeing with Joe, an American who is staying at the ranch for an undetermined length of time. We saw zebras, giraffes, springbok, and a group of four jackals.
Thursday, August 8th, 2002
Went with Errol and Joe to Jannie's father's farm to track down some warthogs that were tearing his fences up. Didn't find the warthogs, but ran into some acquaintances of Jannie's father's who were out meat hunting. They were after 12 springbok and had only shot six so far. They asked us to shoot a few for them if we ran into any. Joe and I couldn't believe our good fortune. We dropped off two nice springbok at Jannie's father's house when we left.
Later that evening we shot guinea fowl and checked the river for kudu, seeing one immature bull. In all, I saw 9 blesbok, 10 or 11 zebras, 30 or more wildebeests, scads of springbok, 15 kudu cows, and the one bull today.
At this point, I've collected everything except the kudu and still having a great time. Another American is due in who wants to have a try at kudu as well. Jannie says that when he gets in, we'll all go upcountry to hunt kudu.
Friday, August 9th, 2002
Loafed around Gras today. Set out jackal traps with Errol, then went bird hunting. Saw a troop of baboons that immediately took off when they saw the truck. All of them disappeared except for one that sat down and watched us from a long way out. Errol told me to take a shot at him. I guessed the range at about 400 yards and held a full body length above and to the right to account for the wind. The bullet kicked up dirt almost at the baboon's feet. Then, Errol pulled out his rangefinder - 440 yards. Not bad for the 6.5 Swede!
Wayne, the other American we've been expecting showed up this evening with only the clothes on his back and his camera equipment. The airline lost everything else. He's upset, but even though I can sympathize, I couldn't be happier. Tomorrow we leave to go kudu hunting!
Saturday, August 10th, 2002
Drove upcountry to the Gobabis area, relatively close to Botswana. Jannie's in-laws have a dairy here. They're great people, friendly, very much like farm families back at home. We arrived late in the evening, having only enough time to shoot 28 guineas before supper.
Sunday, August 11th, 2002
Hunted a cattle ranch that is close to Jannie's in-laws. The owner shoots kudu cows for the meat, but leaves the bulls. We drove around, stopping frequently to glass. There was a lot of brush that was shoulder high or better, so we were looking for the sunlight reflecting off the kudu's horns. That is literally all that was showing above the brush. Jannie spotted two sets of reflections about 200 yards away and we were off, winding our way through the brush and thorns. We got to within 75 yards before we could even see their bodies. One bull had good horns and the other had really great horns. When the biggest moved out of the brush, I put him down with a single .375 round. Jannie thought the bull could easily have been 12 years old. He said that they can live to be 18 years old in areas where predation is low.
Wayne connected on a kudu later in the afternoon, something Jannie said had never happened before two kudu bulls on the same day!
Monday, August 12th, 2002
Anri, Jannie's wife is here at the dairy with the baby. Jannie's sisters and brothers in-laws live close by, as well as Anri's grandfather, so the house is full, especially at mealtimes. Like most farm families, adding one or two additional mouths doesn't seem to be a strain. Grandpa taught Wayne and I how to play the Boer version of "horseshoes," using ox-pins instead of shoes.
Wayne, Jannie, Errol, and I spent most of the day hunting doves and guineas. I think we burned up two or three cases of 12 gauge shells. Tomorrow, we leave the dairy. Jannie will drop my trophies off at the taxidermist and then take me by the airport for the long trip home.
Tuesday, May 29, 2001 - Cal McCallum
This is what I got from Cal McCallum. He hunted with me from the 6th of May 2001 to the 12th of May 2001. Jannie and Anri had malaria at the time. Errol
I found the Gras Hunting Ranch through the booking agent Wendell Reich at www.huntersquest.com. The service at the ranch was second to none. My taxidermist used to work at Jonas brothers, and he said my capes were some of best taken care of trophies he has seen.
All shot with a Winchester model 70 featherweight .308 with federal high-energy 180-grain nosler partitions.
Day 1 we spotted one lone Blesbok. After about 30 minutes took broad shot at 310yds turned out to be almost 18". One of the best Blesbok to come out of Namibia.
Day 3 found a herd of wildebeest, about a 220yds broad shot, it went down immediately and never got back up. It's horns stuck straight up in the air instead of curving in, not the biggest but a very unique trophy. I picked that one instead of a bigger one.
Found a small herd of gemsbok. Took first shot at 350yds. It looked like I hit it but could not find any blood. We tracked them for about an hour and once we got a second look it was hit high in the neck. Took 2 more shots to finish him at about 50 yards.
Saw a herd of gemsboks took it at about 230yrds in high wind. A high neck shot. Turned out to have both sex organs and his or her horns are very unusual looking. They a split extremely wide and bend.
Day 4 one lone springbok was spotted. About a 210-yard shot and it went straight down. It was over 14"
Found a herd of Hartman's zebra and chased them for hours. This is after we chased them four about 3 hours the previous day. They were getting away again when Errol said the last one to come out of the brush was stallion. The last one hesitated just a second and at 330 yards it went down with a high shoulder shot.
Day 5 we tracked 4 cows and two bulls and at 210 yards the two males we standing and Errol said "to shoot the one on the right in the open, I said "I like the cork screw of the other one." Errol then said "shoot the one you want on your wall they are booth good but do it fast." So I shot through the bushes because all I could see was the horns. Only five of them ran back up the hill so we know that one was down. 52 with a thick beard and good ivory tips.
Day 6 and 7 the winds picked up and we hunter for hartebeest, but never got close enough.
It was a great experience, and I would not have changed a thing.
Saturday, July 28, 2001 - Reginald Denton Henry
E-mail from Reginald Denton Henry. Errol
My son and I hunted on the Gras Ranch in July, 2001. Our wives aaaccompanied us on all the hunts and enjoyed it as much as my son and I aadid. The service, food and accommodations were excellent. The animals aawere plentiful with many outstanding trophies. We took twelve animals and aaall were excellent trophies. The weather was super nice the entire aatime. We had planned to stay seven days on the ranch, and then tour part aaof Namibia. But we enjoyed the Ranch so much we spent our entire time in aaNamibia on the Ranch. We became good friends with all the people at the aaranch. They treated us as if we were long-time friends. All four of us aaagreed this was our greatest vacation ever. We hope to return some day.
Tuesday, April 03, 2001 - Hedilio Torletti
This is what I got from Alberto. He is my agent in Argentina and acted as a interpreter for the hunter who was Hedilio Torletti. They hunter with us from the 19th of March 2001 to the 26th of March 2001. Errol.
Gras Hunting Ranch Report(Information from Argentine Hunter Alberto Guillermo Foerster)
I was lucky enough to assist Mr. Hedilo Torletti from Argentina our homeland, to a plains game safari in Namibia at Spangenberg's family Farm; the Gras Hunting Ranch.
How could I describe the place? Some questions & answers will be the best.
What quality of game did we hunt?
The following trophies, in this order: 1 Blesbok, 1 Black Wildebeest, 1 Red Hartebeest, 1 Zebra (Hartman's), 1 Blue Wildebeest, 3 Springbok,
1 Gemsbok (Oryx), 1 Kudu, 1 Impala, all the trophies qualify for medals of SCI, two bronze, 1silver and the others gold. We could also hunt free, some Wild Cat, Rabbits and even a fish! Ask Hans (the black driver what was is it like to hunt a fish with the .22!)
How did we hunt each day? How many animals did we see?
We hunted every day by vehicle, once we arrived to the hunting area and sight the prey we could shoot it from the truck or stalk it. It was common to see herds of the same type of animal, and easy to choose more than one good trophy.
What about the professional hunter?
The PH is qualified as so. I can say that he is an excellent professional as well as a nice fellow, as an example: he spot the trophy, chose the best one and assured the measure and medal qualification, seldom times he missed. He really takes pains to find quality trophies
How did we find the quality of the lodging, food, staff, and hosts?
Regarding these topics, I can assure the best quality in every sense, the hosts, Jannie Spangenberg, his wife Anri, Errol Lambrechts (excellent friend) and Jannie's parents are very fine people, we felt homelike, a special mention for Jannie's cousin and the tracker Simon. For adding something else, and not less important, we enjoyed excellent meals accompanied with a fine selection of the best South African wines. During the night we enjoyed the wonderful Namibian sky spotted with stars, sharing the tales of the day and good drinks next to the campfire. We had other pleasant surprises as well; actually I can't advance them, let them be so: surprises!!
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