Greatest Hunt by James Reed

them on their first safaris. Due to the expense of travel, I would take them one at a time, a couple of years apart. Then the onset of Covid put a halt on all our travel, and during this time my three youngest all reached the ages where I would normally have taken them to the Dark Continent. The travel bans and lockdowns were a jolt of reality that the opportunities for travel and adventure we have taken for granted can disappear in the blink of an eye.

Grabbing my arm, my professional hunter, Phillip, pressed his finger to his lips and in a hushed tone whispered, “James, look at this!”

I turned to see what had his attention, and he pointed to my nine-yearold daughter, Eliza. She was sitting quietly, admiring and studying every inch of the beautiful springbok ram she had just taken. She was running her hands over his coat, feeling his horns, examining his hooves, silently taking it all in.

Phillip said, “James, this is such a special moment.” My heart swelled with pride.

Of all my hunting adventures, my most memorable are hunts with my children. I’ve been extremely fortunate to experience the bounty of Africa numerous times, often with my wife, Mariah. As my kids grew older and earned their hunting and shooting stripes, I began taking

Once the travel bans lifted, I told Mariah we needed to bite the bullet and take them all to Africa while we could. I contacted my friends at Wintershoek Safaris, booked the tickets, and we were set for an epic adventure. Fourteen-year-old Josie, twelve-year-old Sarah, ten-year-old Wyatt, and nine-year-old Eliza were heading for Africa.

Flights to Africa can be grueling, as are the long immigration lines and firearm importation hassles, but it’s all part of the adventure when you see the excitement in your children’s eyes and watch them absorb the experience. The kids passed the time on the flight looking through their Perfect Shot cards, choosing which animals they wanted to hunt, and studying shot placement for each species.

Upon arrival at Wintershoek’s Nyara Lodge, we were greeted by managers Phillip and Bernie Coetzee. We arrived in darkness so I knew the dawn would bring the excitement of a whole new world for the kids. Despite the jet lag from flying halfway around the world, Mariah and I were awakened early by the chatter of the two youngest ones standing on the balcony glassing and spotting different species, and scurrying to our room the tell us of their discoveries. Their excitement was contagious.

On our first morning out, the kids decided Wyatt would get first right of refusal when a species of interest was spotted, then Eliza next, then Josie, then Sarah. The order had barely been decided when Phillip spotted a lone springbok ram on an open hillside. We readied the rifle, grabbed the shooting sticks, and our first stalk of the hunt was on.

I had placed a 100- to 150-yard max range on their shots, not only because I wanted good clean kills, but also because I wanted the kids to experience the thrill of the stalk. Phillip was in the lead, followed by Wyatt, with me bringing up the rear. Phillip is a mountain of a man and he crouched over to stay as low as possible on the stalk. Wyatt was so small he simply walked upright and was still shorter than Phillip’s rear end! It was quite a comical sight.

When I saw Phillip set up the sticks, I knew we were close. Wyatt got ready for the shot and when the ram stepped out in the open he made a perfect one-shot kill on his first big-game animal. Upon approaching the downed ram he gave me a big hug, and I said, “Buddy, I think you now have the biggest springbok in the family.”

His younger and very quick-witted sister, Eliza, replied, “For now . . .”

We got Wyatt’s ram taken care of and continued our hunt. We came to an area where a large number of springbok were feeding through broken cover, perfect for stalking. Phillip led the way as Eliza and I followed. After quite a bit of cat-and-mouse, a ram was spotted in nearly perfect position. We got Eliza set up on the sticks and waited for the ram to feed into our chosen shooting lane. The ram had barely broken cover when Eliza sent a perfectly placed Hornady bullet and dropped the ram in its tracks. She instantly turned and grabbed me in a tight hug and said, “Daddy, thank you so much for bringing me to Africa.”

We walked up on Eliza’s ram, and she had backed up her cocky comment to her brother. At nine years old, she now had the largest springbok in the family! It was a beautiful old ram with heavy, long horns. Phillip and I were walking back to grab some gear when he turned and spotted the scene I described in the beginning of the story. We stood there, taking in her excitement and admiration for the magnificent animal. She sat for nearly twenty minutes with her ram.

Later in the day we went for an afternoon hunt. Wyatt really wanted a waterbuck, and Phillip told me the trackers had spotted a nice waterbuck that had been in a fight with another bull and seemed to be injured. Phillip spotted him lying not far from a waterhole. We circled to get the wind right and slowly crept toward the bedded bull. We closed to about thirty yards, stepped out from behind the cover, and got Wyatt set up for a shot. The bull stood, and Wyatt anchored him with another perfect shot. The bull had long, heavy horns, and he had been gored by another bull and was in bad shape. Wyatt had defi- nitely done him a favor by ending his misery.

Our second day dawned, and Josie and Sarah were now up to bat. Josie was in search of a kudu and Sarah was set on a blesbok. Both took nice springboks early in the morning, so were now on to their main target species. We made a few stalks on blesbok, but they are an incredibly switched-on species and stay far from cover, making it difficult with our self-imposed shooting limits.

Toward evening, Phillip spotted a group of kudu bulls feeding out in the open. There was no cover for a stalk so we decided to gamble and walk straight toward them. After a mile or so of stalking, the bulls started to circle us. We let them get behind some cover and ran to close the distance. As the bulls emerged, Phillip picked the best bull and Josie readied for the shot. It was an agonizing wait as the target bull always was either at the wrong angle or his vitals were obscured by other bulls. Finally, just at sunset, the path for a clean shot opened and Josie had her kudu. The sunset was brilliant in hues of blue and purple, and made for photos as magnificent as the bull itself.

The kids enjoyed the days spotting game, counting the numerous leopard tortoises we encountered, and excitedly recounting each stalk they made. Phillip enjoyed teaching the kids about the different species of animals and plants and African life in general, and they were like sponges, soaking it all in.

Eliza made a tough quartering-to shot on a nice gemsbok, snaking the bullet between the bull’s neck and a tree it was peeking out from behind. Sarah still hadn’t had any luck getting in range of a blesbok, but that was about to change.

On our last day at Nyara, Phillip had the driver stop the truck. Sarah, Phillip, and I got out and the rest drove on. We followed Phillip as he began to move to the right in a quick, crouched walk. We kept moving from bush to bush until I finally saw what had his attention: a string of blesbok bulls were on course to walk right to us. Phillip had put us in perfect position to intercept the bulls. He got Sarah set up and calmed her for the long-awaited shot. Our chosen bull, old and worn, walked in front of us at seventy yards. Phillip made a noise and the ram froze and looked our way. Sarah squeezed off a shot and hit the ram solidly but, we feared, a bit too far back. We began tracking the ram and soon entered some dense brush. The ram stood, and after a quick follow-up shot, Sarah had her blesbok bull. To say she was excited would be a vast understatement. She was grinning from ear to ear.

For the second phase of our safari, we drove to another of Wintershoek’s five lodges, Wag n Bietjie. This area has much different terrain from Nyara, with mountains and rock kopjes. We were met at Wag n Bietje by Roedloph van der Linde, son of Wintershoek owner Wiaan van der Linde. The kids all wanted warthogs, so Roedolph drove us to an area with a dry riverbed. We parked the truck in the shade and Eliza and I followed Roedolph, still-hunting our way up the riverbed. We hadn’t gone 100 yards when Roedolf froze. He moved Eliza up and got her set on the sticks. Within seconds, a nice old warthog boar stepped up and Eliza hammered him with a textbook frontal shot. The old boar never took another step. Wyatt followed up with another nice old warthog not long after. The kids all took nice steenbok rams and springhares, shot guinea fowl, and enjoyed joking with Roedolph and giving him a hard time.

The only animal I was after on this safari was an old giraffe bull. I had wanted to hunt one for some time, but the right circumstances just hadn’t come about. I discussed this with Wiaan, and he told me about a bull he wanted to remove from his area. I took him up on the offer and was thrilled when he said he’d join us on the hunt.

Morning arrived with us glassing for giraffe. I know people can’t fathom how it can be hard to spot a twenty-foot-tall animal, but I can tell you they do blend in extremely well. I can also tell you they are extremely wary and see everything from their lofty perspective. Many a stalk has been blown by Africa’s “silent sentinels.” We finally spotted the giraffe in a herd, and the stalk was on. Now, mind you, it is not easy stalking giraffe in the first place, but our stalking party was eight deep, making it even more challenging!

We followed the herd for several miles. Finally, after several hours, we caught them in a clearing. The rest of the herd ran, but the old bull stopped to look at us, probably confused by the odd caterpillar of critters following him. I took aim a foot below the jaw, on his neck. The bull crumpled at the shot, coming down like a building that had been imploded.

The old bull was magnificent. The kids were in awe of his size. Mariah looked at me and asked, “What are you planning to do with him?” I had been thinking of a shoulder mount. She smiled and said, “You have to life-size him.”

The skinners were all looking at me silently. I laughed and said, “Skin it life-size!”

Mariah took a beautiful impala ram, and about an hour later I did the same. We were heading back to the lodge when Roedolph spotted a herd of gemsbok. There was a monster bull in the group. Josie wanted a gemsbok, and this was our last chance. We set up under the canopy of a tree. Josie got on the sticks as the bulls filed by. The big bull stopped, and Josie took her shot. The bull bolted but when he didn’t go right down, we took up the blood trail. We caught up after quite a tracking job. The bull finally stood up from a brush patch and revealed himself and Josie dispatched him with a finishing shot. He was everything we had thought he was, and then some. His horns stretched to 41 inches. Truly the bull of a lifetime. Well, in her case, a second bull of a lifetime: She had taken a 32½-inch waterbuck in Mozambique when she was nine.

Whether it’s their first rabbit or squirrel, a spike deer, or just shooting grasshoppers with blowguns, the hunts with my kids surpass all others. I know that my kids treasure wildlife and wild places, but to see their gratitude and appreciation for the hunt, the animals, and the experience of Africa was beyond my expectations. All of it filled this old hunter’s heart—and eclipsed all the taxidermy bills I knew were coming! The memories, the hugs, are priceless.