Thomas Kleinbeck
With my gun case and rucksack I set off to Namibia on my own at the end of May 2024. I was looking forward to my second attempt to bag a mature old kudu bull according to the rules of the Erongo Verzeichnis. Like the previous year, my destination is Hagen Denker’s hunting ground at the south-western foothills of the Erongo Mountains.
My wife and I had some sightings of kudu last year, but no mature bull turned up and we left without a trophy. The chances should be better this year. I am travelling a little later because now the rut is in full swing and the mature bulls are more likely to be with the cows.
It is an uneventful overnight flight from Frankfurt, and we touch down at Windhoek’s international airport 20 minutes early. Entry formalities and collecting my weapons are a breeze, as always.
I am pleased to see Hagen again. He has come to meet me at the airport. We drive into town for breakfast and to buy supplies for the hunt.
Then we are off to Ameib. After greeting Hagen’s family we load our luggage and supplies onto the vintage 1973 Land Rover and continue to the hunting camp. It is already dark when we arrive, but it feels like coming home. I feel deeply grateful that I have the privilege to be here, that this still exists.
My accommodation is a spacious tent with a double bed and a small cupboard. A table and chairs are ready under the awning. The sanitary facilities consist of a bucket shower and a long-drop toilet which “flushes” without water. Using this type of shower and toilet becomes a challenge only when temperatures are low, or a cold wind is blowing.
There are two more tents – one for Hagen, one for his camp assistant Butti – and there is an open cooking area and a fire pit – everything spaced out between large Leadwood trees near a dry riverbed.
Gazing at the magnificent starry sky, my thoughts turn back to Germany. I am utterly happy that I am here.
Hagen and I meet at the campfire and drink a toast to a successful hunt. Over dinner, we discuss the next few days.
The restful night with its full array of African background sounds ends before sunrise. The alarm clock rings at 6.00 a.m., and I go and join Hagen at the campfire for a cup of tea. Then we set off on my first stalk. On the way we check the gun. The test shot is right on target.
We do not spot any game this morning. Back at camp, we have a substantial brunch and a midday break.
In the afternoon we stalk along a dry riverbed and see some springbok and black-faced impala, but no kudu. I can’t stop marvelling at the scenery where no fence disturbs the eye. The low density of game, compared to hunting farms that keep cattle, is due to the lack of artificial waterholes. We are back at camp after sunset, in time for dinner.
The next morning we start on foot directly from our camp, along the dry riverbed. We have sightings of gemsbok and zebra. The wind is constantly changing and I am pretty exhausted. It occurs to me that I should have done a bit more physical training in preparation for this safari.
In the afternoon we climb a rock formation on the other side of the dry Khan River. With our binoculars we scan the surroundings for kudu… without spotting any. On the way back to the car we startle a young leopard. It takes off across the dry riverbed in front of us. In the gathering dusk it seems like a mere shadow to me.
As on the previous day we settle down on an elevated vantage point and spend plenty of time scanning the surroundings for kudu – again without success. In the afternoon we spot a group of kudu for the first time. They are on the slope of a mountain in the same area. But there is no bull among them.
The following morning we drive to a new area. As usual, driving is followed by a brisk walk to an observation post. On the way up we hear a jackal calling in the immediate vicinity, but we can’t see him. Breathing heavily, I make it to the top. Hagen laughs and is already scanning the area. I will never be able to catch up with his level of fitness.
Our position gives us a direct view of a leopard that has apparently killed a young giraffe during the night – which is something quite unusual. Now he is being harassed by three jackals (hence the “concert” during our ascent) that want a share of the prey. Fascinated, we watch the action through our binoculars. After several failed attempts, the jackals finally succeed: exasperated by their relentless persistence, the leopard retreats, having had his fill.
A group of giraffes – probably the leopard’s prey was one of them – approaches in the late morning, sniffs the carcass and stays for a kind of wake, which is a rare sight even for Hagen. All this happens about 500 metres from our vantage point. In addition to the leopard, jackals and giraffes we have seen gemsbok, zebra and a young kudu bull in the course of the morning.
On the way back we stop at the site of the kill and examine it. The skull of the young giraffe is completely crushed. We surmise that the mother accidentally kicked her calf while trying to protect it – and thus inadvertently helped the leopard to its prey. Knowing that the leopard is nearby and probably watching you, causes a peculiar feeling.
During the afternoon’s stalk along a dry riverbed we come across a group of kudu (no bull among them). In the evening, around the fire, we have a lot of experiences to talk about.
It got very cold overnight. The night-time temperatures are probably just below zero degrees Celsius. Due to the strong wind there is a lot of dust in the air. At the early morning fire, I wish Hagen a happy birthday and give him the present I brought along.
During the morning glassing we observe a black rhino bull. Awesome to see these animals moving about in the Erongo again. It puts us in a happy mood despite the freezing cold and the strong wind.
Our afternoon stalk takes us to the rocks at the rim of the Erongo crater for the first time. Gemsbok, springbok and kudu come into view already on the way there. However, once again there are no kudu bulls among them. But the ancient mountains with their huge granite boulders and the panoramic views to endless horizons make up for it.
The next day starts spectacularly. It has become a little warmer and the humidity has risen. Which has caused fog, especially in the dry river valleys.
Our vantage point lies above a sea of fog, and we watch as the rising sun and easterly wind dissolve the mist. The trees and shrubs along the dry Khan River emerge, and slowly a group of giraffes takes shape. It is a mystical atmosphere.
Our pursuit after the grey ghost leads us away from camp along a dry river-bed in the afternoon. We see black-faced impala and springbok leaping. I am always amazed at how much game there is in this dry area. While stalking, we also come across a zebra snake (spitting cobra), which slowly moves away.
The wind picked up overnight. It is very cold when we have our morning tea. This morning’s stalk takes us to the border of Farm Schlucht, and we climb up into the granite rocks. The aim is to spot kudu in the valleys and on the slopes. Such an impressive landscape, and what a privilege to be able to hunt here under these conditions. There are no kudus to be seen, but various other antelopes. In the afternoon we find many tracks of kudu, including bulls, in a dry riverbed – but still no sight of the much longed-for game.
As always, after driving to the starting point, the morning continues with a brisk walk uphill to a vantage point from where we search the area for kudu. Also as always, Hagen chooses the direct route to the top. I arrive there drenched in sweat and immediately start to feel cold in the chilly morning wind. I am still amazed at how easily you can feel cold in Africa. We find a spot sheltered from the wind and start looking for kudu. We witness a leopard being chased by baboons about 400 metres away. He obviously wanted to snatch a young one from the troop.
His attempt failed and now two or three big males chase the leopard, accompanied by barks and squeals from the agitated troop, until the big cat no longer poses a threat. At the same time we also spot the first female kudus in this part of the hunting grounds. We glass the group and the surrounding area for a long time, hoping to spot a kudu bull. But to no avail.
After a chilly night and an even colder morning, we drive to the area where we saw the group of female kudus the previous day. Again the usual quick ascent to an observation post between the rocks, with a view of a mountain slope and into a valley. As we climb over the crest, a herd of zebras becomes aware of us and clatters off to the opposite slope.
After lengthy glassing, Hagen discovers the kudus from the previous day about 1000 metres away. This time there is a bull with the group of three cows and a calf. Another bull is tagging along behind them, but he is forced back by the first bull.
I am getting tenser. Will I be able to bag this beautiful animal today? We discuss the next steps. With the assumption that the group will move down from the mountain to the Khan River we descend from our vantage point, cross a small plain and climb a granite outcrop that lies in the way we expect the kudus to take. According to Hagen’s appraisal the bull that is with the group meets the criteria of the Erongo Verzeichnis. The group is about 750 metres away from our new position. The final clearance will be given when the bull has come closer. The browsing kudus move slowly towards our outcrop. They move from right to left in the bush in front of us, but they do get closer. When the bull pauses, I find it particularly difficult not to lose sight of him. His camouflage is simply excellent.
We wait among the rocks with bated breath and try to get more comfortable in a position from which we can observe the group and at the same time be a little more sheltered from the cold wind and the hot sun. The kudus lie down about 300 metres away from us and ruminate. After hours of watching, waiting and battling fatigue, the kudus start to get going again. They move slightly away from us to the right. After a brief discussion we decide to leave our position and get closer to the group.
While briskly climbing down from the boulders, a supposedly solid rock comes loose. Hunter and weapon tumble down, the rock hits me painfully on the shin. The weapon and sights seem undamaged. I am not entirely sure, however. The plan was to approach the new position quietly. Luckily the kudus have not been disturbed by the incident. Our new position is about 150 to 200 metres away from them. We are standing behind man-size rocks, which provide good support. I set up with care.
Nothing must go wrong after all this waiting and effort. Hagen gives the go-ahead for the bull. I am completely calm, surprised that I feel no signs of hunting fever. I will shoot and hit the target as soon as he is standing unobstructed.
A cow moves to the right across a small open space between the bushes. The bull follows shortly afterwards in the typical majestic gait of the kudu, his head slightly lowered. I follow him with the reticle, and when he steps into the open space and stands broadside and free for a moment, I shoot at the chamber behind the front leg.
The bull disappears into the bush to the right. The impact of the bullet was clearly audible. I chamber a new round.
The cow takes flight about 30 metres from our position down the slope towards the dry riverbed. The rest of the herd heads uphill to the left.
With the rifle scope I scan the bushes for the bull, ready for the second shot, but I cannot spot him. Hagen doesn’t find any sign either. The kudu must still be among the bushes. We wait about 20 minutes and then walk slowly to the spot where we last saw him. I am ready to shoot, if necessary.
He lies some 20 metres from where he was standing when I shot in a slight depression between bushes and small trees. Relief. The tension slowly subsides. The physical exertion, the alternating heat and cold, thirst, pain, fatigue, joy and sadness – they all combine in this moment as I approach this beautiful animal and touch it for the first time. I never feel closer to life than when hunting this way. Hunting is life.
Hagen congratulates me with a pat on the back, no words are necessary.
Then he goes to fetch the hunting vehicle. That leaves me some time alone with the bull. I give the Erongo kudu his last bite and stroke the coat and horn. I can see myself reflected in his eyes. I am filled with infinite gratitude, joy and a deep humility at being able to experience this. Hunting like this and in this fantastic environment is sublime.
The bull is 8 or 9 years old. I start gutting him. When Hagen returns with the car, we load the bull and drive to the guest farm next to the hunting grounds to cut up the meat.
Back at camp we have dinner and drink a second beer to toast the kudu and the success of the hunt. For me, the hunt is over now. After bagging this kudu I would not be able to justify continuing the hunt.
When the fire has burned down, a wonderful memorable day in a great landscape with great game and a great hunting guide comes to an end.
My heartfelt thanks to all those who make this kind of hunting possible and support it.
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