Having grown up in Namibia, surrounded by its rugged landscapes and abundant wildlife, I have always been a nature lover and conservation enthusiast. This love is what guided my life toward the path of storytelling, with a focus on travel, tourism, conservation and, of course, hunting. As the editor of a hunting magazine that celebrates responsible hunting practices, it felt only right that I should experience a proper trophy hunt firsthand. After all, how could I fully understand the intricacies and emotions of a hunt if I hadn’t lived it myself? Elzanne McCulloch
That is how I found myself on Gudrun Heger’s farm, just morning. My husband, Sean, was the hunter, while I had come along west of Okahandja. Gudrun, and her late husband Frank, are legends in Namibia’s hunting circles, known for their dedication not only to the cause of hunting but to the conservation of Namibia’s wild spaces. Frank has served as president of NAPHA, and the couple’s legacy has long been intertwined with ethical hunting and wildlife management. Together they built a philosophy around hunting that went beyond the quarry – it was about conservation, about respect for the land, the animals and the delicate balance that sustains them both. Gudrun, a woman of unyielding grit, still manages the farm with the same passion that has shaped her family’s life for decades.
The land around us was vast, wild, and untamed – its edges softened only by the steady, warm drizzle that had accompanied us since for the experience, to be an observer in this world where patience and persistence seem to weave a different rhythm to life. The day started grey, a light rain falling, as we set out in a small kitted-out Landy. It navigated the rocky terrain with ease, ducking and weaving through the thick bushveld. The clouds hung low, mirroring Gudrun’s cautious hopes for a successful hunt. “Jag werk nie na ‘n plan nie”, she said as we drove. Hunting doesn’t follow your plans. “Ek sê altyd die regte een sal vir jou staan.” I wondered if today, the right one would indeed stand for us somewhere.
Gudrun’s energy matched the gritty determination of the wild landscape. She was flanked by two of her farmhands, Bafana and Asser, who seemed to know every inch of the terrain. We drove in silence, save for the occasional whispered conversation, all eyes scanning the bush for movement. It wasn’t long before we spotted a herd of gemsbok in the valley below. My pulse quickened as Sean, binoculars in hand, scanned the herd from the hilltop. From our vantage point, the gemsbok seemed almost unaware of us – silent figures against the misty backdrop. But before Sean could even raise his rifle, the white masks of the gemsbok turned, and in a blink, they scattered. The herd had sensed us, their swift escape reminding us that nature is rarely predictable. It was over before it even began. But that was okay, because our true quarry for this hunt was the Hartmann’s Mountain Zebra anyway.
As we continued, we spotted our striped prize in the distance, their forms ghosting between the acacias. We followed them on foot, Gudrun leading us down a rocky slope. From its height, we glassed the valley below, watching as kudu and zebra wandered through the scrub. The wind was in our favour and we tracked them for a while, careful not to break the delicate thread of stillness that held them in place.
But again, nature had other plans. The herd disappeared into the distance, their tracks leading us deeper into the bush. Along the way, as we explored the farm, we spotted a black mamba, a rock python and various birds of prey.
At one point, as we made our way through the dense sickle bush, Gudrun shared her thoughts on the state of the land. The drought had taken its toll, but she spoke with quiet resilience. “Every morning, when I wake up here, I’m grateful,” she said, her gaze sweeping across the bushland. “Through all the hardships, being surrounded by this – by nature – makes it all worthwhile.”
“Together they built a philosophy around hunting that went beyond the quarry – it was about conservation, about respect for the land, the animals and the delicate balance that sustains them both.”
The day wore on, and the rain began to let up, but our hunting list remained empty. A small herd we spotted led us on a chase on foot. We wove through the bush, thorns pulling at our clothing, trying to stay as silent as possible, but the zebra kept well ahead of us. Not pausing for a true opportunity for us. The excitement of pushing forward through the wild at this clipped pace both surprised and delighted me. We had come close – closer than I thought possible – but in the end, the wild had won. Our quarry had eluded us.
Yet, as we headed back to the farmhouse, I realised that the tally of animals wasn’t what defined the day. The real treasure had been the experience itself: watching my husband’s steady resolve, learning from Gudrun’s wisdom and soaking in the raw beauty of Namibia’s untamed landscape. The moments of suspense, the whispers of movement in the brush, the quiet pauses where you feel connected to something ancient and enduring – that is the nature of the hunt.
The hunt is not always about triumph. Sometimes, it is about the fleeting moments when nature outpaces you. Sometimes, it is about standing in the rain, watching as footprints vanish, and feeling the quiet wonder of being part of something much larger than yourself. On paper, we may have come back empty-handed, but in truth, we returned with a wealth of memories. In the end, the beauty of a hunt isn’t always in the final shot – it is in the journey, the challenge and the deep reverence for the wild.
From the 2025 issue of Huntinamibia
Every accolade credited to Africa is well earned. Perhaps William Burchell’s thought most accurately sums them all up: “Nothing but breathing the air of Africa, and actually walking through it, can communicate the indescribable sensations.” Words are a paltry attempt to raise images of buffalo charging out of the reeds or burning sunsets beyond brilliance in the minds of those who have not been favoured to set foot on the continent.
For fifty years, the Namibia Professional HuntersAssociation (NAPHA) has stood as a beacon of ethical hunting, conservation and community. This golden anniversary marks a significant milestone on a journey defined by dedication to the land, respect for wildlife and the preservation of Namibia’s unique hunting heritage.
An opportunity arose to hunt a trophy lion in the Torra Conservancy in north- western Namibia. For the past years the lion population had grown in this area and the human-wildlife conflict increased as a result. The Ministry of Environment and Tourism invited professional hunters to the opportunity to hunt these problem animals, rather than taking the risk that entire prides are poisoned by communal farmers who lose their livestock.
