Stalking wild game

Before leaving the vehicle, the wind was studiously checked, to determine which direction to travel. The stalk began with a careful, single file walk along a game trail into the bush. After a little while, the guide paused, and everybody instantly froze, their heart rate jumping with anticipation. Silently, their guide beckoned them to come forward and join him.

Wordlessly, he pointed out fresh buffalo tracks where muddy water was still circulating like milk freshly poured into coffee. He put finger to mouth, reinforcing the need for utter silence then indicated they needed to keep a sharp lookout.

The heart rate stayed high. They moved on, intently looking about them. The guide stopped every twenty or thirty metres. They would stand stock still for minutes, slowly and intently scanning the surrounding bush. The trail led on and the bush became thicker as they approached rolling dune country.

After a longer pause the guide beckoned them forward again. They put their heads together and, in the barest of whispers, the guide explained that the big bull had gone off to the left and the wind was no longer favourable for a direct approach.

He knew where the bull would be heading and they would have to detour back aways and then go with the wind until they got ahead of the bull and could tack back in towards where he would be found. The visitors admitted to being secretly relieved at the prospect of increasing the distance between them and their unseen quarry. It was described as a curious, competing mixture of desire and dread. They cut through fairly thick, scrappy bush nevertheless making good time now that they could travel faster and with less care.

After about half a kilometre their guide slowed them down and they resumed stealth mode. They headed back towards the more open dune country, again taking their time and pausing to look around regularly.

The breeze was in their face and the sun was getting low in the sky behind them. As they discreetly emerged into the open dune country they could see a buffalo, then another and another.

Being on foot and out in the open they felt intimidated by the size of the beasts. Hearts were racing again. Their guide called them forward for another hushed conference and the game plan was explained, and the protocols of the stalk reinforced.

The final stage of the stalk began. There were a couple of younger bulls between them and the big fella. The buff were scattered and feeding along on the fodder in the hollows between the low, undulating sand dunes. The breeze was blowing in from the sea and the buff, through experience, obviously expected any trouble to be coming from that direction. The three stalkers had to detour around behind the younger bulls, being constantly wary of any shift in the wind, or any of the animals looking up from their feeding.

That seemed to happen regularly and they were often obliged to freeze and wait for the animal to resume grazing. Luckily the sand was soft and the sighing breeze covered the sound of their passage through the short, sparse coastal grass.

They managed to bypass the younger bulls and were then within a hundred metres of the old bloke. He looked enormous. His wide and battered horns and scarred hide made him look wild and unruly, dangerous even.

They edged closer. It became difficult to use cover anymore. There were now only smaller, scattered shrubs between them. They struggled to contain their breathing, which sounded amazingly hoarse and loud. And surely the bull could hear their racing hearts, thumping about in their rib cage like kettle drums? But, no, the bull gave no sign he had heard that.

There were only fifty metres separating them by then. The bull looked to be at least as big as a council bus. At that moment they suddenly realised that they hated their guide. He was clearly a maniac. It had seemed like such a good idea back at the house. Now, as much as they wanted to run, he had somehow bewitched them. Like well-trained zombies they mimicked his every move, freezing when he did, then tip-toeing even closer.

The bull drifted out of the hollow, over a low dune and into the next hollow. At last! Now they could abandon this madness and go home. But no!

The guide, with a look of demented glee, hastened them along on rubbery legs and up to a small, scatty bush on the top of the dune. He mimed the need to get ready for a photo opportunity. They could hear the breathing of the buffalo and the crunch of each mouthful of grass it took. A large and ominous shape loomed ever closer behind the thin screen provided by the scraggy shrub.

The rich smell of buffalo was heavy on the afternoon air. With shaking hands the camera was pointed into the hollow. Moments later the buffalo obligingly walked out from behind the bush into full, unimpeded, sun-lit view.

It was less than twenty metres away. The guide poked the photographer in the ribs, rather harder than was really necessary, in an unspoken command to take a photo. It sounded like somebody had just dropped a tonne of building supplies from a great height. The bull looked up and straight at the group — OMG! The buffalo took a few steps closer, paused for what seemed a very long moment, then wheeled and galloped off into the scrub.

The story-teller says that she believes in that long moment one of two things happened. Either, through sheer will power she managed to stop time or, perhaps, she was temporarily in a state of clinical death induced by extreme fright.

She is a dramatic sort of lady. My friend summarised the afternoon neatly as half a day gone in what seemed minutes and a moment that lasted a lifetime. She also added that she had never before, or since, felt more alive and aware of her surroundings than she did on that afternoon in Arnhem Land.

Stalking may not always be as exciting as that, but it is always a buzz. To some folks game stalking is almost a religion, and they are much better at it than me. Some of my bow-hunting buddies are in that category and, of course, my Yolngu mates are in a class of their own.

I have to admit I love stalking game, whether it is for a photo, just for the hell of it, or the occasional shot.

I find it thoroughly enjoyable and quite addictive. Also, to me, the meat I get from a well planned and executed stalk seems somehow to be sweeter than that from an animal shot from the ute in a spotlight. When stalking with a shot in mind I like to travel light. Email us or give us a call to discuss your next outdoor adventure.

Check all that apply:. Find Your Perfect Adventure! Give us a call to book your trip of a lifetime! Continuing on from part one. Here are some more tips on stealth stalking wild game in Africa: 6. Find Your Next Adventure! Devin and Brodie, Texas. Ann and Bill, Mississippi. To say that the trip exceeded ALL our expectations would be a great understatement. November 16, The international world of hunting, wingshooting, and fishing is expanding again as more countries open their borders.

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I am interested in Fishing. I am interested in Adventure trips. I am interested in African Photo Safaris. Please enter the Securty Code shown below:. The result is that your stride will be much shorter. If the animal is being alert and looking around or listening… Stop and freeze. Wait until it goes back to feeding and starts making a bit of noise. Go barefoot or use soft padded footwear that absorbs the impact of your bodyweight and lets you feel the ground.

You want your eyes to be free to watch the animal. Use your peripheral vision to watch the path ahead of you, while also being tuned for any shifts in the animal. Your feet can be like eyes. Be still when the wind is still, but take more risks when a gust blows through to mask your movement.

Use visual cover. You want to think ahead about the overall landscape ecology and plan your approach accordingly. Crawling is even more quiet than walking. Sometimes you need to be absolutely silent. Pay attention to bird language. If you disturb the birds then many deer will pick up on the alarms and give away your location. If you notice the animal is already coming in your direction sometimes the best thing you can do is get really well hidden and position yourself in a great spot.

Use your common sense. If this all sounds like a lot of things to think about just remember… Human beings are fundamentally wild animals. Whether you realize it or not… You already have a natural intuition about how to stay hidden and move quietly. Just put yourself in a stalking situation and let your innate hunter instincts kick in!

Balance Competition — Have a friendly competition to see who can stand on one foot the longest. You can also do this blindfolded for extra challenge. Slow motion standup — Start in a seated or lying position. Your goal is to stand up VERY slowly, smoothly and silently. Start with one minute. Then go to two minutes and longer.