CHAPTER 10 - JULY 11, 2010

Clouds had slowly become more prevalent in the Botswana sky over the past several days, an unusual climatic turn from the typically blue, winter sky. Kisha, Zach and Taylor decided to join the hunting team as it would be the last day they could be on the Sankuyo trail. Tomorrow was the scenic flight, so everybody was focused on having one more day on the hunting vehicle. July 11 also marked my mother’s birthday, an event that we celebrated without her presence or knowledge.

As we pulled from camp, a strong easterly wind bit hard at the occupants of the open hunting truck. Zach, Taylor and I were sitting on the open bench. We managed to cover ourselves with a wool blanket taking some of the sting out of the wintery weather. As we progressed along the main road, a drizzle developed. Absent rain gear, we managed to cover as much as we could, but the rain became steady and even the warmth and protection of the wool blanket diminished. We had traveled several miles when Ian stopped the truck for a conference. Tracking would be difficult in this weather compounded by the fact that the elephants would probably not move. Given our close proximity to camp, he suggested we return for a hot tea and warmth, to commence the hunt after lunch. All of us exposed to the elements were amenable to this plan, all but the trackers. The trackers insisted that elephant were close by, and they would like to stay in the bush to find bulls. Ian was ultimately agreeable, and he gave them a gun and radio with a communication plan to call in one hour.

The hunting lorry leaves camp on the last day. It would be a day to remember.

The hunting lorry lurched towards camp, with some sense of expediency. Circling into the main camp, we jumped from the vehicle and put our immediate attention to restoring the dying fire. Water was ordered, and some of us started to our tents to find dry clothing. Five minutes did not pass when the trackers called Ian and indicated they found four bulls, one with very long ivory. Ian suggested that we go, and go now as the elephant were actually moving. Abandoning all plans for hot tea and warm clothes, Kisha, Taylor and I jumped on the truck. Zach decided to stay back as he was exceptionally wet from the ride back.

The kilometers moved quickly, and we found David waiting for us in close proximity to where we dropped him off almost an hour prior. Guns loaded, we headed into the bush. Kisha stayed with the truck while Taylor fell into the tracking line as we headed north from the two-tire road, into the thick forest. Our track was quick, and we soon joined trackers Taylor and Sasa, sitting under the protective canopy of a stately camelthorn tree. The trackers let the elephant feed from this location, so the current bearing of the group was uncertain. Excited about the prospects, the team formed the usual line and proceeded on the track, David on point.

Taylor snapped this beautiful picture in the forest as we were on the trail to find the big bull.

An hour later, the progression abruptly ceased, and the hunting party, like the outcome of a pushed string, stacked together in a tight group. Ian signaled the universal “be quiet” sign, and the quietness of the early afternoon riveted our attention. The rain had stopped and the forest was unusually quiet. A soft snap signaled the demise of another branch, and confirmed the presence of an elephant in close proximity. Quietly, we inched forward and within minutes the grey, oblique outline of an elephant formed above the mopane and acacia scrub. Confirming a good wind, we eased into the trees to establish a better view of the bull. Taylor used her camera to snap a couple of pictures of the first bull as he walked slowly, his trunk stretched to remarkable heights in search of new forage. Not the bull we wanted, we backed slowly from our spot and continued our circle to check the other bulls. Bull two, three and four also held immature ivory. Ian and the trackers whispered inaudible tones attempting to determine the whereabouts of the bull that owned the “long ivory.” Quiet waiting and careful scrutiny by the trackers revealed a fifth bull, further into the forest. Re-checking the wind, we again slipped closer to the bull. Ian moved in the last 25 yards for inspection while the balance of the hunting line stood in silence. His return to the hunting party confirmed: this was the bull we were looking for. Estimating ivory in the high 40’s, the bull was big, old and the ivory fairly well matched. Moreover, it was day nine and the pressure to find a shootable bull weighed heavy on all our minds. Ian recommended shooting the bull, and I affirmed the decision.

I quietly instructed Taylor to remain in the rear with Sixteen. Under any circumstances, she was to do exactly what he instructed in the event something went wrong with our final approach or subsequent shot. It was great to have her along, but her safety at this juncture was my priority. Ian, David and I checked our equipment, and moved forward slowly. Still 50 yards from the bull, we needed to reduce our distance over some unusually open ground, a feat I was still attempting to solve as we moved towards the unsuspecting bull. As we approached the open section of woodland, another elephant fed towards our location from our left. We dropped into the soft sand, as the bull snapped one branch, and then another, moving ever so closely to our location. On his current trajectory, he would move directly between us and the big bull, only he would emerge from the thick stand of mopane on our left about 15 yards in front of where we nervously sat. Watching the massive elephant appear in front of us is something I will never forget.

Unaware of our presence, his ears where flapping, and his out-stretched truck was busy at work. His grey, five-ton hulk was massive, covered in the paisley pattern projected by the thick vegetation in which he fed. We lowered ourselves even more as he walked directly in front of us. Without any visible disruption, he turned away from us and walked directly towards the big tusker who remained feeding uninterrupted on the tall trees beyond. Ian turned, and with a quick hand signal, beckoned me to follow the moving elephant as he walked towards our prize. In blind obedience, I rose and we quietly followed the path of the smaller bull until his path veered left of a clump of trees, the last bastion of cover between us and the big bull. It was a bold but brilliant move that cut the distance from 50 to 18 yards in several seconds undetected by either of the elephants.

Busy snapping another branch from the tree, the big bull never noticed the gun tripod set firmly in the sand on the right side of our hide. I stepped behind the tripod, and steadied the rifle in the crux of the sticks. The safety long removed, my focus was upon the wrinkled earhole, the slot of which was readily identified in front of the elephants left ear, and marked the aim point for the most significant shot in my hunting adventures. Ian moved to my right and steadied his rifle for the off-hand shot that was sure to follow my trigger squeeze. In full concentration, I steadied the crosshairs on the bottom third of the earhole and slowly squeezed the trigger. The report was deafening, and covered the report of Ian’s .458 Lott as the second shot was quickly administered. The elephant, hit hard, immediately dropped to his front knees, the damage of the first brain shot and follow-up heart shot, displaying their potency. Ian called for a second brain shot, his words instantly followed by my second trigger squeeze. Again, the bullet found its mark dropping the elephant onto his stomach, causing him to list tenuously on his right side. We moved quickly forward and Ian directed me to take another shot towards the heart/lung area, the result of which pushed the massive bull onto his side. Moving to the backside of the elephant for safety reasons, we approached the bull from behind. Ian moved forward and checked the eye to confirm any sign of life. There was none. All four bullets found their mark, and the lethal conclusion to the hunt confirmed that the elephant literally never knew what hit him. In less than 15 seconds, it was all over.

Ian and I hugged, the satisfaction and happiness of a successful hunt muted only by the remorse of the reality brought on by taking such a stately and majestic animal. Taylor’s hugs and kisses were also special. She had witnessed the entire final stalk, and even had the presence to pull her small handheld camera and take an amateur video to document the final seconds. It was very special to have her with me during this memorable occasion, a moment that each of us knew in our own way we would always mutually cherish and never forget. Kisha, sitting several miles away in the hunting truck, heard the four distant shots and was sure it was us. A tracker dispatched to collect her, soon had her elephant-side for congratulatory hugs, kisses and of course, endless pictures.

Taylor and I moments after the completion of the hunt. Taylor stood several yards behind me during the entire episode, and used her camera to shoot a video of the final moments.

Word travels quickly in Africa, and within 45 minutes Zach and all the members of the Mokolwane Camp surrounded the elephant. Congratulatory praise, pictures, and outright celebration abounded. Boy, the village skinner assigned to our hunting team, also arrived. The large infectious smile of this elderly man greeted the hunting party, and was a harbinger of the joy the villagers would display around the fallen elephant within a few short minutes. Placing his simple steel box on the ground, he opened the single padlock revealing the presence of two seasoned butchering knives. Sharpening the knives by rubbing the blades over each other, he stared in anticipation at the job at hand, his small seemingly insignificant blades facing over six tons of butchering work.

As he started to work, more members of the village arrived. Their happy demeanor and expressed gratitude were quickly replaced by the eventual organized chaos of over 25 villagers simultaneously butchering the carcass. Words cannot express the process, scene and emotions that one experiences as a witness to this event. The ability to feed a village from the death of this animal is a testament to sustainable hunting, not only in Botswana, but the rest of the world.

The butchering of the elephant was a very emotional experience. The efficiency of the process, the excitement and gratitude of the villagers was extraordinary. Look closely at the picture and you will see the simple knives used to butcher the six-ton elephant. In four hours, it was all over. The fallen elephant will feed over 500 villagers of Sankuyo.

Over the course of the afternoon, spectators and villagers left one by one. Cloud cover persisted, and it was apparent that the absence of the sun would mute daylight hours, especially in the thick forest. Kisha, Taylor and Zach, long returned to the comfortable confines of Mokolwane, had probably enjoyed their hot afternoon showers, and already assumed comfortable positions at the camp fire. The butchering effectively complete, the trailer was loaded with thousands of pounds of meat. Covered by the now-tired, but insatiably satisfied villagers, the sight and sounds of the tractor and trailer eventually disappeared into the forest.

Elephant hunting is heavily regulated and all permits are allocated after rigorous biological surveys and data analysis. A myriad of data is collected from each elephant shot. Here, Ian completes a blood sample from our bull. The sample will be sent to Texas A&M for analysis.

Quietness enveloped the scene, the final characters of this stage being the hunting team and the remnants of the elephant, the original cast who entered this little portion of the Sankuyo forest almost five hours prior. As the trackers checked and replaced equipment, extinguished a small fire built to provide warmth and byre (barbeque) elephant meat, and Ian marked GPS coordinates and completed some paperwork, I stared in awe at the scene before me. Reflecting on the prior days, I thought of the many footsteps and trails through Sankuyo that led me to this place and time. The elephant, a seasoned old bull, also walked many miles and could testify of many trails and adventures he experienced during his nearly 50 years in Africa. Without a doubt, his feet had covered thousands of miles, probably across several countries of the Dark Continent, and certainly through the Okavango tributaries of Sankuyo. The final chapter of his life, including the last five kilometers to his final resting place, included me. While I am certainly proud of this accomplishment in my hunting career, I will never forget that he, the elephant, was the primary actor. Forever, we will be connected in time and space, and as long as I live, I will celebrate the life of this extraordinary animal, and the few short hours I enjoyed the privilege to walk with him on the trails of Sankuyo.