by Sebastian Fechter
We were kneeling in the hot sand. It was early April, yet the sun was burning down on us mercilessly. Poldi was sitting behind me. It was his second visit to Namibia and therefore he now knew that in Africa, too, the scorching heat and biting flies do come to an end.
In situations like this you sometimes wish you were relaxing in a pool instead, with an icecold gin and tonic in hand. I briefly glanced back at Poldi and was delighted by the sight of his fine .470 NE double-barrelled rifle.
It brought to mind the exciting buffalo hunt of the last few days in the Zambezi Region (formerly Caprivi), and suddenly I was fully focused again.
After his buffalo hunt, Poldi wanted to try to go for a very good eland. The plan was to stalk up to close range and deliver a lethal shot with the .470 over open sights. A real challenge!
But I was happy to go along with that. We chose a 15,000 hectare hunting area directly adjacent to the so-called Bushmanland in northeastern Namibia.
With other hunting friends I had previously hunted for eland in this area and I was fairly certain that here, in the deciduous forest, the quest for a trophy bull could work out.
“In the morning we were lucky enough to find promising tracks of a small group of eland bulls. The tracks were easy to follow in the thick sand, and it quickly transpired that there had to be at least one trophy bull among them.”
In the morning we were lucky enough to find promising tracks of a small group of eland bulls. The tracks were easy to follow in the thick sand, and it quickly transpired that there had to be at least one trophy bull among them. We thought that the group consisted of four bulls.
Initially the tracks led into a small but dense patch of woodland, characteristic of this area. Based on the tracks, the eland seemed to have been browsing there for quite some time. Fresh droppings made us hopeful, and so we continued to follow the tracks with utmost attention.
Suddenly, I spotted an animal in the shade between some half-height bushes! All of us crouched down cautiously, and I explained to Poldi where I had seen something and that I thought it was at least one of the bulls.
“That must be the group”, I whispered to Poldi. Fortunately, the wind was blowing towards us, and so we stayed put for a few minutes to see if we could spot some more animals. Then I heard quick clicking, a sound that never fails to give me goosebumps.
“There it is again, do you hear it, Poldi? Click… click.”
Then we saw the bull slowly moving out of the bushes and to the right. A massive body leisurely pushed its way through the dense vegetation. Looking through my binoculars, I could only guess at the size of the trophy, but I was convinced it was a good one. “That must be a trophy bull”, I whispered to Poldi.
We let the two trackers, John and Gideon, stay behind, and crouching down we tried to move to the right, parallel to the bull. He was feeding in the bushes just fifty metres ahead of us, but he was virtually invisible. All of a sudden the clicking stopped and the bull had disappeared from sight, too. Surely he had moved into the nearest shade again.
Extremely cautious and with all our senses focused ahead of us, we laboriously crawled forward through the thick sand. I assure you, dear reader: Thorns and sharp stones may be unpleasant enough, but hot sand in the midday heat feels like a stove turned to maximum heat!
When after about thirty metres we still couldn’t see an eland, I dared to stand up slowly and look around a little.
I hadn’t even straightened up completely when, less than twenty metres ahead of us, I caught sight of the horns and massive head of an eland bull! In slow motion I knelt back down beside Poldi and whispered softly, “There is a huge bull right in front of us, facing our way, but I don’t know if he has noticed us yet. We’ll wait a few minutes, then you can rise slowly, slowly. He will probably spot you. As soon as you get the chance, aim straight for the chest!”
Poldi took a moment to collect himself and run the situation through his mind, then he was ready.
I gave him a hand signal to let him know he could rise now. Half at the ready and with slightly trembling knees, Poldi got up in slow motion. I tried to rise as well, at an angle behind him. My heart was pounding in my ears. It is unbelievable how tense one becomes after strenuously stalking so close to such shy and alert game. Now we had to hold our nerves! One wrong move and the giant would bolt in an instant. When I noticed that the eland was scenting in our direction, everything happened very fast.
Poldi was at the ready, stood up fully and aligned the sights on his target. I saw the bull lift his head and neck still higher to get a better look at us. At that very moment, the thunderous crack of the .470 Nitro Express broke the silence.
The bull reacted instantly to the heavy bullet from the double rifle. He flinched noticeably at the front, then turned sharply to the left. When Poldi had clear vision at about forty metres through a gap between the bushes, he diligently released again. That shot struck perfectly as well, entering behind the last rib and travelling forward into the bull’s chest cavity.
The powerful bull moved only a few more metres before we heard a loud crashing and cracking in the thicket. The bull was down!
Neither of us could quite believe what had just happened. We stood motionless for several minutes, listening intently into the dense bush. Gideon and Johnny approached cautiously, full of expectation. Both smiled and patted Poldi on the shoulder – a good sign!?
Everything was dead silent, except for the shrill whining of the cicadas. It seemed as if the bull had succumbed. We slowly moved forward in the direction of the last sounds, scanning the sandy ground for blood. We found none, but the heavy tracks of the mighty antelope were clear to see.
After about seventy metres we suddenly stood next to an enormous body. Poldi reverently knelt down beside the fallen bull, tears of joy in his eyes as he looked at the magnificent trophy. “That truly is a giant!” he said. I nodded in agreement and slapped his shoulder. “You have really earned this one, Poldi! This is something one doesn’t experience every day.”
The giant of the forest will certainly stay in our memory forever. Despite the burning sand, the biting flies and the tremendous effort it takes to get such a magnificent animal in your sights, I think I could hunt old eland bulls every single day.
The eland is simply an absolutely fascinating species. One can try to describe it, but it is something you definitely have to experience yourself.
From the 2026 issue of Huntinamibia
Hunting for me goes beyond the obvious, beyond the daily grind and the collecting of trophies. Even beyond the now hackneyed phrase of “collecting memories” ‒ something probably nobody can really define. Once you allow yourself as a hunter to actually and consciously take in moments and breathe in air,
We were kneeling in the hot sand. It was early April, yet the sun was burning down on us mercilessly. Poldi was sitting behind me. It was his second visit to Namibia and therefore he now knew that in Africa, too, the scorching heat and biting flies do come to
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