I was in the Kwa-Zulu Natal area of South Africa hunting with Gerald Conway of Nomad Safaris. I was booked for a fifteen-day leopard hunt with hounds. We were having a difficult time finding a leopard to chase, so we decided to hunt plains game until a worthy cat showed up. It was after lunch on day ten when Gerald issued the challenge to Stuart and me “whoever kills a Nyala gets a free impala!” Stuart is my adopted son, spiritual pal, and cameraman and one of five hunters accompanying me. We laughed! I had been bowhunting Nyalas for 20 days, over a two-year time frame, and this challenge was supposed to motivate me more. Are you kidding? Poor Stuart had been running the camera on at least a dozen of my unsuccessful stalks on Nyala bulls. What an indictment of my stalking skills. At least he would have a chance to hunt and maybe get an opportunity. Today, I had a pathetically bad attitude, and was tired and unenthused. I needed to climb the mountain to pray and meditate, not chase another Nyala. But, Gerald didn’t know that. He simply wanted to motivate me to press on. To hunt hard! So, Stuart and I put on our guillie suits, strapped on our hip quivers, grabbed our bows and left camp walking in opposite directions.
It was 2:30 pm with three hours of daylight remaining, the wind was right to hunt the mountain on the camp side of the river, at least for now. Stuart went down river to slowly work up one of the mountain roads that had good cover on both sides and had heavy Nyala traffic crossing down to a large open plain. We had seen three or four good bulls each afternoon heading to the plain to graze.
I went up river to a knoll where we had seen three bulls feeding the day before and, also, this morning. One of the bulls looked to have horns over 26 inches tall. As I worked my way along an old mountain road bed, moving away from the river, I began to glass the thickly vegetated slopes above me. I scanned an open field across the river some 400 yards below me where I saw a bull and a few cows feeding under a guava tree a couple of days earlier. As I reached the knoll, I saw a few kudu cows and a young bull feeding on the edge of a pond. This was the same pond where Stuart and I saw the three Nyala bulls feeding the previous evening. As I watched the same kudu feeding I reflected on our hunt the previous day. The sun was setting and time was running out as we closed in on the Nyala bulls. The pond was about 3 acres in size and was almost completely surrounded by impalas, kudu cows and calves, and the three Nyala bulls. The wind was in our face, but there were too many eyes for a stalk, so we decided to stay in the thick cover until it was dark enough to crawl closer. The bulls were 120-130 yards away slowly grazing toward us when we decided to approach them. The light fades fast once the sun sets in Africa, and on this day, it faded too fast, so we had to call off the stalk to avoid spooking them. We thought that they may give us another opportunity later in the hunt, no need to rush it.
This afternoon there was no activity at the pond yet, or on the other side of the river. So, I decided to find a place on the knoll, where I would be concealed, with the wind in my favor and spend the afternoon glassing. As I said earlier, I really wasn’t very enthused about hunting this afternoon anyway, so why not spend a couple hours with the Lord. I was struggling with some sin issues that really needed to be addressed. My attitude about my lack of hunting success was separating me from God. I had fallen into the trap of believing I was a good enough hunter to succeed without His help and when I failed my pride insisted that I pass the buck. I blamed my lack of success on someone else, or the wind, or the terrain, anything but me.
For me, hunting is a spiritual experience that is enhanced through prayer and meditation. Some people believe in luck. I don’t! I believe in the guidance of the Holy Spirit when I surrender my limited skills to His power and authority. When I obey His prompting to move in the direction He leads me, I am improved.
True hunters that are masters of the stalking game talk about the sixth sense. The sense is often described as intuition, or gut feeling, a strange sensation that something, a creature, is nearby. However, I can’t remember anyone referring to it as a spiritual experience. But that is exactly what it is! The spirit of the hunter telling them that some creature which can neither be smelled, nor heard, nor seen, is nearby, sometimes very close. Usually well within the hunter’s anxiety zone, that area where we feel we are too close to the creature for safety sake. Our spirit tells our mind that we need to look out, and search the bushes for a hidden quarry, or sometimes another predator, or even another hunter.
I remember an experience I had while cruising timber on a beautiful spring day. I was in the rural piedmont of Georgia when I sensed the presence of something or someone near me. I looked around and suddenly recognized the silhouette of a person sitting at the base of a tree in complete camouflage with his shotgun pointing in my direction. “Hey” I said in a normal tone “What are you doing?” No response. “I can see you partner” I yelled “What are you doing?” He finally spoke and apologized for hunting over the property line. I just kept inventorying the timber and as the day wore on I thought back wondering how I knew he was there even though I had not seen him.
Animals have no spirit; they rely solely on their natural senses, the forces of nature and instinct. Sometimes they hear a twig snap and flee, and sometimes they hear a twig snap and become curious. Sometimes death awaits them. God created man as a spirit-being in His image to commune with Him and he gave us dominion over the animals. As spirit-beings we are blessed with a great ability, spiritual awareness.
I believe this spiritual awareness is enhanced significantly through prayer and meditation. So that’s what I decided to do as I sat on the knoll overlooking the river valley. I prayed and meditated. I prayed for a spiritual cleansing, and for forgiveness of the sins, which were made aware to me once I humbled myself. As I prayed, the sun began to set. Peace came over me and I rested. The Lord reminded me of my many blessings, my wife and children, my church, my friends, and the place in which I sat, Africa.
At some point, I noticed a few Nyala cows and impala across the river under a guava tree. Nyala cows are absolutely gorgeous creatures, coats of deep rust with narrow white vertical bands down their sides. They’re about the size of a whitetail doe, but not near as wary. As I continued to glass across the river, I stood up and worked my binoculars, side to side, down the slope until I could see the rocky banks of the river where there was a well-defined trail going up the opposite bank. And, like a ghost, there he stood, motionless, at the bottom of the trail, a magnificent Nyala bull. He appeared to be crossing the river and heading toward the cows and guava fruit. I soaked in the moment, the beauty of the beast, the mountains and the setting sun. I thanked the Creator and continued in prayer. The next thing I noticed was that the bull was standing in a clump of trees 40 or 50 yards above the river heading for the guavas on the other side of the plain, another 125 yards up the ridge, at the edge of the tree line. I begin to watch him more intently as he approached the cows and began to feed on the fruit. He chased the cows and the impala away from the tree and began to greedily consume the fruit. After glassing the surrounding slopes for twenty or thirty minutes I noticed that the bull, along with his entourage, was heading back across the small plain toward the river. “Maybe I can beat the boy to the river and catch him as he crosses.” I thought. “No way,” satan said. Do you believe that satan works on us that way? You better! He’s been doing that as long as I can remember, and earlier. “What are you waiting for?” the Holy Spirit said, “The sun has just about set and your opportunity is at hand.” I stood, stretched out the wrinkles and slowly headed down the slope. After a few steps, I saw a herd of 10 zebra quartering toward me as they came up the mountain somewhat into the wind. I put my head net on and pulled the guillie suit hood over my head. Concealed and enthused I started sneaking down to the river. I passed within 60 yards of the zebras without being noticed until they caught my wind as they got above me. I heard a few whinnies and snorts and they disappeared. I found the trail the donkeys had walked up and followed it through the scrubby bushes and down to a field of high grass. I found another trail that carried me about 150 yards to a wooded drain down river and down wind of where the Nyala bull had crossed. I eased down the drain to the river and began walking from rock to rock. I crossed the 40-foot-wide river diagonally, moving slowly upstream. Any noise I made was concealed by the rushing water. I found myself within 20 yards of the trail the bull had walked up earlier. I couldn’t believe my good fortune as I was within easy bow range of where I expected the bull to come, and the wind was in my favor. “But what if he does what every other nyala bull has done and go an absolutely different direction.” I thought. I realized that I only had 10-12 minutes of shooting light left. I tried to decide whether to hold my position or ease up the trail.
Before I knew it, I was sneaking up the same trail he traveled up earlier. I knew about where the trees were that he had stopped under before going to the guavas. I thought that I might be able to see him from there. I crawled up the bank slowly and methodically, trying to watch every step, so as not to make a sound. I could see the top of the tree 25 yards away. A few yards in front me was a rock about a foot and a half tall and two feet in diameter. I needed to get to it to see over the grass I was crawling through. Up to that point, I had exceeded my natural ability and had not heard the all too familiar sound of running hooves. As I knelt behind the rock, I had the sensation that some creature was close. I could feel it.
I reached the rock and slowly rose to see if there was anything in front of me. As I looked at the tree in front of me I tried to focus on the bushes in the shadows below it. Horns and two faces were looking in my direction. I slowly sunk down in the grass and put an arrow on the string. I peeked again and saw all heads down and the bull walking forward quartering away. There was one limb between us. “God please don’t let me screw this up,” I prayed. I drew my bow and stood. All I could see was his ivory tipped horns and his back. I quickly moved the pin to the front of his silhouette and turned it loose. I heard a thump and then the bushes exploded. Where’d he go? I could here the cows barking at me 80 yards away at the edge of the woods. Did he cross the field that fast? I slowly approached where he was standing and began to look for him in the direction the cows were barking. I couldn’t see squat. I started looking for blood in the fading light. “You must have gut shot him.” satan said. I searched the plain desperately with my binoculars, looking for horns. Then I heard a strange gurgling sound close by, too close. I lowered the binoculars in time to see horns rising out of the grass 5 yards from me. “If he comes he has me dead to rights,” I thought. I stood there frozen. The bull rose and began stumbling away. At 15 yards he began to stagger, tremble, and then slowly sank into the grass. I nocked another arrow, drew and missed. I slowly approached the spot where I saw his horns sink into the grass and listened. Nothing. Suddenly I saw his rump lying motionless in the grass. I gently touched it with my bow, then, I kicked him. Nothing. He was dead!
I stared at his incredible beauty, in awe of the art work of God and in awe of Christ’s’ blessing when I least expect it. I couldn’t believe what had transpired in the last few minutes of light. As I turned to walk away the emotions of the experience overwhelmed me. I dropped to my knees, buried my head in the grass, and thanked my Lord and Savior for restoring me. Amen
THOUGHTS OF THE HUNTER KIND:
It’s hard to explain the spirit realm and even harder to believe, even for those of us who believe. Do I really believe God gifted me that opportunity? Hail yeah! I don’t believe He pulled the bow back and turned the arrow loose, but I do believe He set up the circumstances to bless and encourage me. Why would He do that small thing for a sinner like me? Cause he loves me! I’m one of His favorites! Ha!
PRAYER OF THE HOLY SPIRIT: For you shall go out with joy, and be led out with peace; the mountains and the hills shall break forth in singing before you, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands. Isaiah 55:12
Lord, you have poured out so much on me that I can’t imagine not being grateful. The guava tree produces fruit and the fruit feeds the Nyala and the Nyala feeds the hunter. What an awesome God You are, I love and praise You for every breath I take! Feed me Jesus! Amen
No Comments