June Edition 2025 BGHA : simplebooklet.com

LEBERKAS STRIP STEAK SHANKLELorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consetetur sadipscing elitr, sed diam nonumy eirmod tem por invidunt ut PAGE 6 Muzzle Loader Elk HuntWhats in this June 2025 edit ion of Big Game Hunter Australia AUSTRALIA MAGAZINE Welcome to Big Game Hunter Magazine Australia? June 2025 Edit ionPublished Quarterly | By JR Hossack G?day and welcome to the third issue ofBig Game Hunter Magazine Australia? your quarterly dose of true stories, field wisdom, and the wild spirit of adventure from across the globe. I?m JR Hossack, writing to you from the Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia. Over the years, I?ve been fortunate to hunt and fish across many continents ? from the deserts and mountains of North America to the plains of Africa, the remote wilds of the Australian outback, the Victorian High Country chasing sambar stags, and across the ocean to the sky-high peaks of New Zealand. This magazine is dedicated to the men and women who know the call of the wild, who?ve faced nature on its terms, and who respect the land, the animals, and the timeless pursuit of the hunt. Every story shared here comes from real experience, and every photo and word is a celebration of our shared passion. This edition is packed with unforgettable hunting adventures ? tracking Coues deer on the San Carlos Reservation in Arizona, chasing giant wart hogs in Namibia, facing down bears in the Yukon, exploring the wild Caprivi Strip for dangerous big game, and going head-to-head with the legendary Black Death buffalo in The Big Boy, set in Limpopo. Thanks for stopping by ? we're glad you're here. Unless otherwise granted in writing, no part of this publication ? stories, images, or content ? may be reproduced or used without my permission. Thanks again for joining me around this digit al campfire. Now let?s hunt. JR Hossackwww.biggamehunteraustralia.comAdvertising or story submissions:john@biggamehunteraustralia.com Big Blue Eland P2 Big Blue Eland Continued Caprivi Chronicals P7 3 Yukon Bears P13Grey Ghost Coues P27 Affordable Africa P33 Giant Warthogs P39 Big Boy Black Death P19 1

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By Rick CasagrandeNo matter how many trips I've taken to the various countries of Africa, the Caprivi always delivers in spades? especially for my hunting buddy, Graham Nicholl. Whilst my elephant hunting didn?t yield much in the way of plains game crossing my path, Graham?s elephant hunt was often distracted by the sheer diversity and number of plains game species. Eland, roan, giraffe, zebra, sable, kudu, lechwe? the list went on.Graham and professional hunter JF De Koker had been checking various waterholes for fresh elephant tracks. They?d also set trail cameras at the waterholes to monitor which animals came in and when. After reviewing the trail cam footage and spoor at several waterholes, they deemed it best to set up a blind at a large pan, topped up by a mechanical windmill hidden amongst the trees some 75 metres from the water?s edge. The animals appeared well accustomed to the groaning and creaking of the metal monster?s blades, which responded to the shifting wind gusts that had plagued the first few days of the hunt. One of the largest troupes of baboons Big Blue Eland 2

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Graham had ever seen, they drank frequent ly here, a testament to how long the old windmill had been spinning. and the creaking of the metal monster?s blades, which responded to the shifting wind gusts that had plagued the first few days of the hunt. Mid-afternoon brought a small family of elephants to the pan? all cows and calves. At 4 p.m., the daily visit from the baboons was a sight to behold. Their raucous bark echoed through the African bush like a samurai sword tearing through flesh. Eerie, spine-tingling noises and sudden, unpredictable movement never allowed a hunter to sit at ease. A single warning screech from a baboon sentry could empty the entire area, taking every species within earshot with them.Luckily, the troupe wasn?t spooked, and day two of Graham?s hunt ended with the reassuring feeling that they were in the right place. It was only a matter of time before a wort hy trophy came to drink from this well of life.Day three found Graham and the crew back in the blind by 3 p.m. That morning had yielded a baboon at another location, and a 7-kilometre stalk on a monster bull giraffe 3

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that seemed to always remain just out of range of Graham?s Verney - Carron .577 double rifle.That afternoon saw a steady stream of plains game. Roan wasn't on Graham?s wish list, but seeing them in the flesh changed that quickly. Still, none of the bulls were old enough to warrant a shot. Firing the .577 Nitro Express could send a warning ripple across five miles, destroying the safety and serenity of this precious watering point.By 5:30 p.m., with the sun drawing the day to a close, the unmistakable clicking of an eland?s independent front toes brightened the eyes and ears of the hunting party. Peering through the blind?s front branches, two monster eland bulls appeared on the opposite side of the waterhole, around 65 yards out.Graham stirred, noting that one of the bulls carried an imperial-sized trophy. He raised the Verney-Carron, but a steadying hand from the PH suggested he take the ot her bull. At first, Graham didn?t understand? the second bull?s horns were clearly shorter. But he trusted JF?s judgment and swung the .577 about 20 degrees to the left. The eland became wary, quartered away, and slipped behind a screen of trees.Graham thought the moment was lost, but then the bull reappeared at 80 metres. Graham sent a 750-grain Woodleigh solid downrange at maxim um velocit y.The shot struck true. As the bull stumbled away, spraying the bush crimson, success had come quickly. The claret trail was easy to follow, and as the team crossed to the far side of the waterhole, they picked up his spoor. At 95 metres from the blind, the bull lay still. Graham Nicholl & PH JF De Koker 4

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The huge mop of hair on his forehead forced him to sway his head side to side just to see. He was an ancient bull, close to the end of his life, carrying a body that dwarfed any thing Graham had seen. JF De Koker, in all his years as a PH, had never seen a bet t er eland in the flesh? or even in a photograph. The trophy here was not in the horns, but in the story: a survivor of many dry seasons, a master of his environment.Needless to say, the congratulatory whiskies were poured that night in camp. Even if Graham took no other trophies on this trip, he would have been well sat isfied. But the next 17 days would prove both exhausting and exhilarating, forming the backbone of a hunting journey never to be forgotten. Footnote:Eland bulls (Taurotragus oryx) are the largest antelope species in Africa. Mature males can stand up to 1.6 metres (5 feet 3 inches) at the shoulder and weigh between 600?1,000 kilograms (1,320?2,200 pounds), with some exceptional individuals exceeding even that. Despite their massive size, eland are remarkably agile and can clear a 2.5-metre (8-foot) fence from a standstill. I was fortunate to see this. One of their most curious traits is the clicking sound made when they walk, believed to come from tendons or joints in their front legs. The noise can be heard from hundreds of metres away and may play a role in herd communication or dominance display. 6

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CAPRIVI CHRONICALSauthor rick casagrandeThe days were hot, long, and exhausting; the rewards were outstanding as the history of the Caprivi became the present and showcased all it had to offer the hunter, conservationist, and photo safari tourist alike.Having hunted various countries of the African continent on numerous occasions, my desire to hunt had changed from chasing specific animals to walking across those well-known lands of those famous safari hunters from a bygone era.21 days in the caprivi 7

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This was to be a 21-day elephant hunt to be remembered ? but also learned from, with one hard lesson in particular for the writer.Day 1 started with coffee in camp overlooking the Caprivi floodplains, with buffalo, elephant, and lechwe spread right across our line of sight. With coffee and breakfast done, Graham and I were soon driving across the landscape admired from camp. Graham was guided by JF De Koker and I by Louis Kotse. Both Graham and I had elephant on our hunting schedules, and neither of us was disappointed with the numbers and quality of the elephant seen.I was put on an ele track quite early in the morning on the edge of a small thicket of bush that seemed to be able to swallow an elephant into a black hole. The breeze swirled, mimicking our every change of direction, leaving a checkerboard of footprints in the soft Caprivi sand. On two occasions, we found ourselves crossing our old tracks that had been pressed by the footprints of an ancient pachyderm.Unbelievably, an opportunity came, and the old beast stood before us at 30 yards. In trying to close the distance, we gave the ele a hint that something was up. My apprehension was at full tilt, and PH Louis was trying to position me for a frontal brain shot. My practice at home had been hampered by illness, and I had given my PH instructions prior to the hunt to shoot immediately after the shot rang out of my Verney-Carron 500/416 Nitro Express.My shooting position felt perfect, with the exception of light foliage between us and our quarry. Told to shoot, I fired? immediately . 8

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after which Louis got a shot off, and I fired again, followed by Louis once more. Instead of seeing sand and dust from the body of the six-ton mammot h hitting the ground, we saw sand, dust, and the Moses-like spreading of the bush from the fleeing elephant. My worst night mare had sprung to life. It took many years of hunting the African continent to decide whether I should take an ele, as I had such a soft spot for them. The last thing I wanted was for the elephant to suffer at my hands. The chase was on. Blood spoor was negligible, but footprints guided our trackers, led by Simon, for a kilometre or so, which seemed to take an eternity. The bull?s disorientation was given away by the constant and sudden changes in direction. We caught up with the bull, who had stopped to look back at his aggressors, and as I raised the ?t wo-pipe? once more, all I saw was his rump disappearing once again. An anchoring shot to the right hip was off target, and the ele did his Houdini act once more. Another kilometre, and we caught up with the bull that had pulled up on the sandy banks of the Kwando River. If he crossed into Botswana, he was lost forever. Two more rounds, and the bull collapsed and was peaceful. But now the regret and anguish which I was enduring from pulling the trigger on this magnificent creature was affect ing me ment ally. It took at least an hour for the adrenaline to stop dict ating terms to my emotions.The local villagers surrounded their next protein intake with gusto. 9

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originally had to regret over the punishment the ele had to endure. In a sombre moment in camp, I penned the following:The form of the old pachyderm lay here yesterdayJust a pile of skin and bone where only ashes now remain.The multitudes have plucked the ele's life-saving fleshTo share in a joyous and spiritual communal dance.In the Caprivi life hangs in a balance so fineThat it rarely ends with any logic, and not always possible to define.The elephant?s remains are now on their wayTo that burial ground in the sky where he will no longer play.It is his soul that rises with the wisp of smokeBut some still lingers in a manner profound and almost bespoke.The hunter is Knives and axes at the ready and thankful for their bounty, they dismantled the beast in less than 60 minutes, leaving only skin and some bones, to which they added a large pile of wood to burn the remains and wipe out the last remaining DNA of this magnificent creature from the Bwabwata East Conservancy.We returned to camp feeling elated. My regrets had changed from the guilt I saddened by the ele?s endOf a life well lived and for all he had to give.- Not a trophy, not a photo -- Just a wisp of smoke of soul and grit.Not a poet by any means, but the hunt did leave an everlasting and profound feeling upon me? and with 20 days and another ele on quota remaining, I pondered what was to come. "To be continued in Sept Edit ion" BGHA.Greatful Communit y Gat hers To Honour The Elephant Harvest 10

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HUNGERCALLSLiving in our village here in Caprivi, meat is hard to get . We don?t have fridges, so when we do get meat, we dry it to make it last. When the hunters come, they help us? when they take an elephant or ot her big animal, the meat feeds many. It?s not just food, it ?s strength for our bodies. The safari men and their hunters, we thank them. They bring more than money? they help us live and keep our families going.Hunting For Hunger 12

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Even the name "The Yukon" fires up the imagination? its vast wilderness, towering mountains, and untamed rivers calling to those who crave advent ure. My heart pounded just thinking about the chance to hunt 3 bears there, Colour-phase black bears and grizzlies were at the forefront of my mind when I saw the hunt come up for auction online. Determined to win, I had two phones and a laptop going. One device froze at the worst moment, but I wasn?t backing down. The bidding started at $2,000, climbed to $5,000, and I was in the lead? then it jumped to $7,000. Without hesitation, I hit hard at $8,000 and won.OMG! My heart was racing, and I even shook a little as I danced around the kitchen table. Two black bears in the Yukon, with the option to add a grizzly for an extra $10K? and all in Canadian dollars, with Yukon Big Game Outfitters, making it even more attractive for this Aussie hunter. The hunting adventure of a lifetime was locked in and I couldnt wait to be there!. 14

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The following day, I drove to the ferry terminal, hopped across to Vancouver Island, and spent a few days exploring. I made time to visit to Jim Shockey?s Museum of Man. Meeting Jim again was a highlight, and hearing his personal story made the trip even more worthwhile. On my return to the airport, the scenery was spectacular ? snow-capped peaks and jagged ridge tops. It was everything I?d imagined about the Yukon. Landing in Whitehorse, I had arranged two nights to explore the town and experience this little gold mining hub before the hunt.The Outfitter, The Guide, and My First Bear My outfitter picked me up with his jet boat in tow. The countryside was remote and cold, the final stop for fuel before heading off into the wilderness.H and of M an Jim Shockeys M useam The Journey to the Yukon I booked my flight to Vancouver via Qantas, with all the travel, I?m a Qantas Gold member with access to the club lounge and extra luggage at no charge. The connecting flight to Whitehorse in the Yukon was ahead, but I planned to explore a little of British Columbia first. After touching down in Vancouver, I booked a hotel nearby to help with jetlag and rest. Brown Bear Skeleton 15

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We made a pre-arranged stop to meet my Facebook mate Jeff Eno, who lived in the area. It was nice to finally meet face to face. As we neared camp, it looked like the river was still frozen, so the hunt would begin by vehicle and foot. We dropped off the boat and made our way to camp. After unpacking and getting settled, we prepared for supper. I had met the outfitter at SCI the previous year, where we had discussed the hunt and what to expect. I had made it clear that this was my last chance for a grizzly, and he understood my determination. He promised to do his best.Later that evening, however, he was called away for a meeting.He left me with the guide? a man who seemed more like a ranch hand who happened to hunt. What did I know about guides? I?ve had my share of experiences, and I thought I knew what to expect. But this one was different.The next morning, we set off and spotted a few small bears. When the guide suggested one might be a shooter, I shook my head.I had hunted bears before, both with rifle and bow; I knew what I was looking for. Finally, a beautiful chocolate-phase black bear presented itself.He was off a ditch at about 470 yards. I set up, got comfortable behind my 338 Win Mag, and squeezed the shot off clean. The bear dropped. We gave him 20 minutes before walking in cautiously. He was on his feet but obviously hurt badly, so I anchored him with a second shot into the shoulder ? textbook. 16

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Then, without warning, as I stood back, the guide ? who had been hovering nearby ? fired two shots into the bear?s head.Ruining the skull completely.Right then and there, I realised what kind of "guide" I was dealing with, mmm more like a ranch-hand.The Grizzly That Got AwayTwo days later, we saw a grizzly from a distance and began a stalk.The bear was to our right and on an old trail below us. The wind was in my face, and the bear was closing in. We were both poised in silence, waiting for the bear to clear some thick alder. His view was slightly different to mine. At less than 40 meters now, I raised my rifle, ready for the shot.Then, without warning, the guide decided to chamber a round? not just chamber it, but rack the actual round.The bear bolted into the timber. A good bear. The one I thought I was going home with. But the timber was too thick to risk a shot, and the chance was lost.I was absolutely gut t ed. For most of the afternoon, I didn?t speak. I knew that grizzly could have been mine.The Bit t er EndOn my final day, I managed to shoot a golden colour-phase black bear. But the lessons were hard-earned. No matter how much research, planning, and time you put into it, everything can change depending on who you?re with and their level of experience.This was a bitter pill to swallow. I?ve wondered why it had turned out this way. All the planning and saving, all the coversations and anticipation, had led to this? I?ll be honest : it left a sour taste in my mouth on this occasion. I decided right then and there, that this was to be my last auction hunt, as Ive had mostly bad experiences with them over the years. 17

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Final ThoughtsA guide?s experience, or lack of along with preparation, planning and respect for the hunt can make or break the experience. The Yukon Dream Was Gone Looking back, it wasn?t the bears that were the most difficult part of the journey? it was the shattered expectations.experience. Unfortunately, this time it was broken.As hunters, we often think we can control every aspect of a hunt? only to realize that?s not always true. What we can control is how we learn from these experiences and carry on.And that, my friends, is what keeps the adventure alive. 18

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BIGBOYBLACK DEATHThis was my second hunt in Limpopo, having previously hunted here just a year earlier. This adventure took me across three remarkable locations? Limpopo, Marpamalunga, and Namibia? each offering its own unique thrill, and I was eager for another adrenaline-packed experience.Cape buffalo, with their sheer power and unpredictability, pull you in like no other game. The challenge of shot placement, the tough terrain they call home, and the wild unpredictability of their behavior all combine to make the hunt as dangerous as it is thrilling.Hunting Cape buffalois no ordinary pursuit. The danger is real, and the experience is unlike any other. Limpopo, with its rugged landscape, is an ideal dest ination for anyone seeking to hunt dangerous game. 19

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"Black Death," they call it. Africa?s most dangerous game: the Cape buffalo. This was my fourth trip to Africa and my second time chasing buffalo with my PH, Magnus Crossberg from Ranchero Safaris in Limpopo. The first hunt was a success, but now I had bigger plans? dreams of a bull over forty inches.The Toyota Hilux rolled down the dusty track to Magnus?s lodge at Ranchero Safaris. The sun was savage.?It?s mostly hot here,? Magnus laughed. He showed me to my deluxe tent? air -conditioned, shower, toilet? the works. I unpacked my gear, knowing tomorrow the real work would begin.We checked Magnus?s .375 H&H. A couple of shots? tight group. Good enough. Back at camp, stories flowed over supper. I spoke of hunts in America? of deer and bear? and life back home in Australia. I had brought a gift: a signed Wallabies rugby jersey. Magnus was stoked? South Africans love their rugby like I love hunting.Dawn came fast. A hot shower, a cup of tea, and some quick bites. We picked up the tracker and headed into the low country, where thick bush closed around us like a green wall. The trackers had cut a trail the day before. Before long, we glimpsed black shapes moving a hundred yards off. The wind turned against us, fickle and mean. For days it became a game of cat and mouse.Magnus showed me trail cam photos of the Big Boy? a buffalo huge in the body, horns sweeping wide, maybe 20

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Lim popo Cape Buffalo African PorkupineLarge Buffalo H oof42?44 inches. My blood pressure went up just seeing him.The next 2 nights we hunted for predators too, when the heat gave up its grip. Old school double -barrel 12 gauge in hand, after African cats and porcupines. Luck was with us. We bagged a porcupine and a genet cat? beautiful little predator.Back on the buffalo trail, next dawn - the thick thorn bush swallowed us again. This time, close. Real close? the kind of close that makes the hairs on your neck bristle. 21

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Genet Cat - A genet is a member of the genus Genetta, which consists of 17 species of small carnivorans.""Then the tracker froze, signaling Magnus. Movement ahead. Poachers? No. Tobacco smugglers, from across the boarder with great packs on their backs, walking right through the buffalo grounds.The tracker went over told them to bugger off before the buffalo killed one of them? or worse. The scent and racket blew the herd to hell. We called it a day.Campfire smoke curled into the warm night as we sat with a drink, laughing at the madness of it all. We relaxed around the fire with a whiskey in hand.Next morning we headed to a rocky range where trackers had picked up fresh sign. Dry country. Every step cracked and snapped. Slow going. We crested a hill and spotted buffalo bedded below. No clean shot. Nothing to do but wait? and drift into a jet-lagged nap while Magnus kept glassing. Wind changed, damn it and the herd stampeded off, giving no chance.We shifted strategies, tracking into a dry riverbed. Hard going.Always a step behind, it seemed.On the way back toward camp, Magnus suddenly jerked the Suzuki to the right.?What?s up?? I asked."Snake," he said.A Mozambique Spitting Cobra, six or seven feet long. These snakes are nothing to fool with. They can spit venom up to eight feet, aiming straight for the eyes. 22

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MOZAMBIQUE SPITTING COBRA CAN SPIT VENOM UP TO EIGHT FEET AIMING FOR THE EYES""Blindness, permanent damage? it?s no joke.Best to leave them be, and that?s exactly what we did.Earlier that day, before the snake encounter, an unexpected surprise:A waterbuck had crossed our path, about ninety yards out, walking away.Waterbuck had been on my list someday, but when opportunity knocks, you take it. I moved into position, slow and steady but fast enough to make the shot. Feet set, one slightly forward, leaning into the rifle in the classic hunter?s stance. The crosshairs settled just tight to the shoulder. The .375 H&H barked, and the waterbuck folded. Just like that... a surprise trophy. Another bucket list animal down.But my mind was still on the Big Boy.It was my last day.Doubt crept in. Would we even get another chance?We headed back toward camp, along a sandy track crossing a dry riverbed we hadn?t used yet. And then we saw them? buffalo crossing ahead, about 150 yards off. Seven, maybe ten in the herd.Time was short, about thirty minutes of shooting light left. They hadn?t spotted us. Magnus and I slipped out, closing the breach quietly on a 270-grain Barnes load. Soft African footsteps lead us Into position. The old boy was last in the line. Big. Wide. The crosshairs settled, right tight to the shoulder. Crack. Then again and again. Four shots, each one solid.He stumbled and crashed int o the bush, maybe a hundred yards away. We waited fifteen minutes, rifles ready, letting the herd clear out. Then followed the blood trail, sharp-eyed, every sense alive.There he was. Down, but I wasn?t taking chances. A finishing insurance shot ended it clean.I sat down beside him, heart thumping. 23

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Five days of hard hunting, near-misses, close calls? and here he lay. The Big Boy.Magnus and the tracker joined me, standing over the bull in the fading light. Darkness settled around us. Photos were taken. Stories already beginning to form.It took the full team to load him up and bring him back. Into the salt he went. Jewels, Magnus?s dad, came down to take a look.He shook my hand and said, "He really is the Big Boy. Glad you got him, old boy." Big Boy and old boy seemed fitting. He measured 43 inches. I was stoked. Magnus got me to the airport in Polokwane for my flight to Joburg. Before I knew it , Rhoan Gardiner, my friend, was at the airport , ready to pick me up. He didn?t just offer a ride; he put me up in what felt like a palace. The seafood feast he laid out for supper was a treat, and we cracked open some fine whiskies? some of the best African hospitality I?ve ever experienced. His trophy room, lined with stories and memories, felt like a living archive of adventures, each piece whispering tales of the wild.We spent the better part of the night talking hunting, trading stories, and planning for future hunts. I?d say we swapped dreams, but I think it was more than that? we were already planning our next adventure together. And no, it wasn?t the whiskey doing the talking? Rhoan is a true gentleman.Eventually, sleep took me. It was the kind of sleep that comes after days well lived, when your bones are weary and your heart is full.The next day, Rhoan took me around to some outfit t ers' outlet s? places I?d always wanted to see. 25

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PICTURED WITH RHOAN'S FRIENDS AT SAFARIS OUTDOORS OUTLET AT JOHANNESBURG ""*As I reflect on this adventure, I can?t help but think of Rhoan Gardiner. He was not just a hunting companion but a true friend. We had many conversations ? both in person and through social media? about our shared love of the outdoors, hunting, and life. Rhoan?s kindness, hospitality, and the genuine care he showed made every moment spent together unforgettable. I can still pict ure the seafood feast he prepared, the fine whiskies we shared, and the way his trophy room seemed to come alive with his stories.Sadly, Rhoan passed away during complications from COVID, and the world became a little quiet er without him. I?ll always treasure the time we spent together, the laughter, and the plans for future hunts. Rhoan was a man of true character, and his spirit will always live on in the memories we made. He?ll be missed, but his legacy will continue to inspire me every time I set foot in the bush. Rest in peace, my friend.* All good things come to an end as i found myself alone at Joberg International Airport all checked in, cleared customs and off the to Qantas lounge for a meal and beverage and that my friends was an increable adventure! 26

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my spot. The hunt was scheduled for the following November.Then, disaster struck. While vacationing with my family in Boston, our Lyft vehicle was rear-ended by a truck. We were in the back seat when the impact lifted the car off the ground. It was a horrific scene. I suffered neck and back injuries and was rushed to the hospital by ambulance. My family returned home for treatment, but I stayed in the States to recover and praying I could still make the hunt in a few weeks.I was diagnosed with a herniated disc and severe whiplash. Thankfully, I found a great practitioner in Payson, AZ, who helped me get moving again. Two weeks later, I headed to San Carlos with my hunting buddy JG, a local from Arizona, ready for the adventure ahead.On the first day of the hunt, we were up well before dawn, preparing to enter unfamiliar terrain in search of Coues deer. The mountain we would be hunting was massive, and I wondered how my body would hold up. But I was determined.Bit by bit , step by step, I started the trek. The ground was covered in melon-sized rocks, making the climb tough? especially on my back. I was thankful to have my buddy with me incase anyt hingSan Carlos Coues DeerArizona Cactus The conversation sparked something in me, and I eagerly joined in, asking about how the hunt worked.Two days later, I was driving from Silver City, NM, to Phoenix Arizona. As I passed through San Carlos, I spotted the Fish and Game office. I did a quick U-turn, walked inside, and inquired about the Coues deer draw. I filled out the form, paid the $25 lottery fee, and continued on to Phoenix? never imagining the chain of events that would follow. About a month later, I received an email saying I?d been successful in the draw. The tag would cost $2,500, and I needed to pay quickly to secure Coues Deer M ust Haves 28

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went wrong.By noon, we reached a beaut iful vant age point overlooking a draw. We split up to cover different sides of the area. The landscape looked perfect for Coues deer? and sure enough, two deer emerged from the brush below me at 80 yards.I watched them intently, studying every movement. At 25 yards, I signaled to my buddy, but he was focused on his side, glassing the terrain, I could risk the slightest noise. Then, a mature Coues buck walked up the draw toward the does. My heart raced. This buck had everything I was looking for.The mind games began. Should I shoot now, or wait? It was only the first day. But I told myself: if I?d take him on the last day, why not now? My pain was growing by the hour, 10 30

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Its possible we could be back at the hotel before midnight , and the pain in my body would ease. How many days could my body go through this what if what if. The buck looked like he?d score around 100 points. I closed the bolt on my rifle and got set up? quietly and solidly. The shot was a short 110 yards. Just as I lined up, the buck moved and stood side-on. I took a deep breath. My right index finger moved with precision. The shot rang out, breaking the silence of the mountain. ?What the hell?? my buddy exclaimed. ?He?s down and done, mate,? I replied. The other deer stood still, unfazed whilst I was overwhelmed with joy. A beautiful Grey Ghost was down on day one! But the real work was just beginning. We had to descend into the draw to retrieve the buck. My hunting buddy and I took photos, then began field dressing ? backstraps, legs, cape, and head all prepped for the journey to our truck and then Motel. The descent was brutal. Night fell fast, and the big rocks made every step a challenge. My injuries didn?t help. My buddy was a great help, but the pain was intense. We finally reached the truck at 9:30 PM. Exhausted and drained, we ate a quick meal and drove back to the hotel. I spent hours fleshing the head, trimming meat, and packing it all into the cooler. At 1:30 AM, I finally crawled into bed? sore but smiling. I?d just completed one of the hardest hunts of my life. The elusive Grey Ghost of the desert was mine. San Carlos Indian Reservation Arizona USA 31

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For my Coues deer hunt, gear is everything. I had a durable, and functional backpack with a water bladder is essential for hydration during long hikes. My rifle was a Remington Sendero in 7mm Rem Mag, topped with a Huskemaw 5x20 scope, paired with a Harris bipod and custom handloads for precise shooting. A Jet boil stove and dehydrated meals kept nutrition simple. I relied on a Garmin GPS wit h satellite messaging for navigation and safety. For clothing, Sit ka gear struck the right balance of comfort and toughness. Chrispy high-quality boots were a must for tackling rugged terrain. Having the right gear made all the difference in being prepared for anything this tough and rewarding hunt threw at me.What would I change?I now have a 6.5 PRC Browning Xbolt pro with a Mc millan game scout carbon fibre stock fitted with long range optics - Leupold Mark 5 HD 5x25 scope fitted with a Atlas Bipod and a few boxes and 143 grain Norma Bondstrike. This light er more compact long range set up will be ideal on 90% of hunts and more comfortable on my old body around the mountain tops! 32

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There?s a feeling that creeps in when you land in South Africa for the first time, rifle case in hand, heart thumping. A blend of excitement and nerves. It?s real. But trust me ? once you?re in the hands of your outfitter, it all melts int o pure anticipation.You can hunt in South Africa for less than you think. In fact, for the cost of a modest holiday, you can have a world-class plains game hunt that fills your soul, leaves you with unforgettable memories, and, if you choose, even a few trophies on the wall.Plains game packages are where you get the most bang for your buck. For around AUD 5 to 7K, you can hunt multiple species ? impala, warthog, blesbok, wildebeest, kudu and more. These animals aren't just ?add-ons? either ? every hunt tests your skills, your patience, and rewards you richly. But what about trophies? Here's where the real cost difference comes in.Planning your first African hunting trip is thrilling ? a dream coming alive. Here are some insight s to help you Hun t in g A f r ica : It Co st s Less Tha n Yo u Thin k "" 33

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and skulls must be thoroughly cleaned and veterinary inspected.- Cust oms are strict? if your shipment doesn?t meet standards, it?ll be rejected and sent back at your expense.An alt ernative: Take professional phot os or have a video production made by your outfitter. In this case, you still pay trophy fees locally (which supports conservation and community development), but you skip the hefty importation charges.This is an important consideration when budgeting your African dream hunt.Fair is fair:When done well, taxidermy is a magnificent reminder of your hunt ? of the community that benefited from the meat, the conservation efforts funded by your adventure, and the memories forged deep in wild Africa. Splitting Image Taxidermy based on the Eastern Cape in Port Elizabeth is a well know taxidermist company and it travels over most of South Africa collecting trophies. Splitting Image can normally pick it up for you, dip and pack for the USA or mount . They can tan skins and bleach skull or mount your trophies. Chapm ans ZebraBlack W ildebeestTaking trophies home can add up.- There are taxidermy fees in South Africa.- Shipping, crating, permits, and paperwork costs.- Transportation costs from South Africa to Australia.- Australian customs taxes, inspections, import permits, fumigation.- Plus, final mounting costs here in Australia if you choose to have them finished locally.- Australia doesn?t accept ?dip and pack? skins anymore ? hides must be fully tanned before import, M idday H eat Rest Stop 34

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"Bringing memories to life with mast erful art istry, preserving every detail, emot ion, and story behind your unforgettable hunt."""Finding the Right Outfitter Choosing the right outfitter is everyt hing.I?ve hunted with great prices with Magnus Crossberg Ranchero Safaris South Africa, and JF De Koker in South Africa and Namibia ? both first-class operators who delivered outstanding result s without hidden costs. For Australians, Markus from Downunder Taxidermy offers a concierge service? arranging full hunting packages, paperwork, permits, even quality control on skinning and trophy prep. This takes the guesswork and worry out of the trip. If you're shipping trophies back to Australia, work with experienced importers like Joe Rait t from Raitt Freight ? he'll handle the tricky paperwork and customs clearance. Trust me, this isn?t something you want to DIY. Pre-Hunt Planning: A Few Insider Tips Plan one extra day when you land at Johannesburg Airport.There?s a hotel inside the airport complex? just 400 or so steps and an elevator ride away. It?s safe, clean, and gives you a night to beat the jetlag, recover from the flight, and calmly await any delayed baggage or firearms. A buffet breakfast, lunch, and dinner are available, and upstairs the airport food court even boasts Ocean Basket for excellent seafood. Rest. Hydrate. Prepare.Your outfitter can then pick you up fresh the next morning, ready for the adventure. Aft er the hunt , I recommend another day at the airport hotel before flying home. After days of adrenaline and action, you?ll appreciate the breathing room. 35

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Safety FirstSouth Africa is beaut iful, but it can be dangerous if you wander into the wrong places. Your outfitter will guide you and ensure you're safe under their care.At Johannesburg Airport: Stick to well-lit areas. Avoid unsolicited help from strangers. Do not drink tap water ? only bott led water at all times. Keep valuables out of sight. Arrange secure rides through your hotel or outfitter.Medical preparat ions are vital. Visit your doctor beforehand, explain your destination and activities. Get prescriptions for preventative treatments. Check that your medications are legal to carry into South Africa and countries you?re transiting through. Always carry a doctor?s let t er listing your medications. Leave medications in original packaging with your name clearly printed. Most importantly: Comprehensive travel and medical insurance is non-negotiable. Costs skyrocket quickly if something goes wrong. 36

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Practical Shooting SkillsMost South African Professional Hunters (PHs) expect clients to use shooting sticks.Spend time practising ? get comfortable setting them up quickly, adjusting height, and steadying your shot. You?ll be glad you did.When you arrive, check your rifle carefully. Confirm it?s sight ed properly for your eyes ? not the last client?s. If they reload, check they all chamber and eject satisfactory Practice feeding rounds smoothly and unloading safely. Read and study a good guide on where to shoot African game? it?s often different from what you?re used to on deer or pigs. The difference between success and heartbreak can come down to preparation.Add Some Touring If You Can If time and budget allow, build in a few sightseeing days.A quick Kruger Nat ional Park tour is unforgettable. If you?re adventurous, Vict oria Falls is a breathtaking side trip. Locally around Johannesburg Airport, stores like Safaris Firearms have terrific souvenirs, and Wildebees offers tough, high-quality African clothing and footwear. Always arrange a secure ride to these shops through your hotel. If you?re travelling with your own firearm, remember: There?s a significant amount of pre-paperwork in Australia and South Africa. 37

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like it. The advice shared here comes from personal experience? what worked for me, what I learned along the way. However, every hunter must do their own research, double -check requirement s, and prepare thoroughly.Governments change rules frquesnt ly. If your taking your family with you there are conditions for children: Birth certificates , and if your taking them as a single parent you need a letter stating the other parent is ok leaving the country for example... Never assume ? always verify. Prepare well. Hunt hard. Live the Trophy W arthogH unting Blind In Lim popoI recommend using an agent like Mr. X (ask your outfitter ? he?ll know) to handle permits, meet you at the airport, and expedite police clearance. If you?d rather avoid this, renting a rifle from your outfitter is a simple and smart option.Footnote: Courage and Caution It?s normal to feel nervous before your first African hunt ? the unknown, the distance, the responsibility. But once you're there, it transforms into pure, addictive excitement . There?s nothing quite Eastern Cape H unting Safaris 38

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GIANT WARTHOGSThe wheels touched down at Windhoek International, and with that, a lifelong dream began to take shape under Africa?s wide skies. I?d left Texas behind with my Mathews Helium in tow with me. This wasn?t just another hunt? this was my first foray into Africa, and I wasn?t chasing lions or leopards. I was after something lower to the ground, but no less formidable: giant Namibian warthogs."Namibia?s Giants: A Bowhunter ?s Pursuit of Monster Warthogs" 39

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Boarding in Dallas was on time, and we were headed for London. A four-hour layover there was just enough time for a hot shower and a meal before boarding again? on time? for Johannesburg, before connecting to Namibia the next day. This was my first experience in Africa, so it was raw and new.From the moment the wheels touched down in Windhoek, Namibia, I knew this trip would be different. The sun was just rising? rich amber light pouring across the tarmac like spilled gold. My boot s hit African soil, and I drew a deep breath. Africa. Finally.My bow case and duffel came through without drama, and a friendly handshake from Nico, my PH, set the tone. We hit the road right away to Nico's friends lodge in Windhoek, so we'd be fresh for the long drive early the following morning to his ranch. After a hearty breakfast we headed heading north through ochre plains and acacia-dotted savannahs, passing warthogs trotting along the roadside like they owned the place. By late afternoon we reached his place? Eldoret Safaris? a charming, functional lodge nestled in low scrub country. Simple, clean, full of character. Nico's wife Vasti greeted me with a warm smile and a cold drink. Wit hin hours, I felt like part of the family. The first afternoon, we checked my Mathews Helium bow at his range. The arrows grouped tight and Africa-ready. 40

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?Let?s not waste the evening light.? That was all I needed.We drove around the ranch so as to see the lay off the land here in bushman country. The radio call came in from Vasti, supper was almost ready and it was time to head back to the lodge.The next morning we quietly packed my bow and back pack in to Nico's vehicle and headed for a tower blind over looking a long water trough. Slipping in quietly, we made our way to the tower, climbed the ladder and in and got set up.The dry bush around us pulsed with unseen life. Birds flitted. Distant calls echoed. My heart pounded louder than any of it . We had a thermos or hot teaand some toast wrapped in foil.It was a good start to a new day my first day hunting in Africa as the sun started to rise. The morning heat grew quickly, when mature warthog boar trotted in, unaware. To me it was a trophy, a great boar. I looked over at Nico, he knodded as I slowed down my breath and controlled my diaphragm, Nico whispered 40 yards and l released. The arrow struck home with that unmistakable thwack. He arked up into the air, sumersalted, stumbled, and dropped. My first African animal was on the ground.The warthog lay still, its final moments echoing in the dust and silence. I turned to Nico, heart thudding, and said, ?That was such a rush. 41

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He nodded, smiling. ?Let?s see what else comes by before it gets too hot.?About 45 minutes later, something emerged from the thick bush? a mammoth warthog, a battered old warrior with scars etched across his face and thin flanks. Nico leaned in and whispered, ?You must take this one. It ?s a true trophy of a giant, John!"Nico ranged him at 43 yards. As I released the arrow, the old warrior shifted slightly rearwards. The shot was still lethal, but less centred than I?d hoped. He staggered and rolled, and then, to our amazement, another two warthogs ? perhaps a companion? rushed to his side. Incredibly, it seemed to help him up. The three disappeared into the bush together.We waited an hour before taking up the blood trail. It was steady, and our tracker, a real-deal Bushman with eyes that missed nothing, followed it like a reading from a book. He gave us a fascinating account as we walked: three warthogs had been travelling together, but now only two remained.Eventually, the trail led us to a burrow. There, the giant had expired. We retrieved him? deep cutters, big-bodied, and every bit the old monarch Nico had claimed. He was scarred and weathered, the kind of boar hunters dream of. 42

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fervour, often hunting alone and relentlessly. They killed many of the biggest males, leaving the gene pool diminished. Since then, true giants like this one had become rare.John, tomorrow we move camp, I have arranged a great place. Nico arranged access to a couple of other properties. He wasn?t a man who sat still, and he wanted his hunters to have every chance. It was a cold Namibian morning when we set out again, sipping warm tea before heading to a blind on the edge of a waterhole. Everything was quiet except for the birdlife? bright flashes of colour and calls unlike anything back home.Then the meerkats arrived like a moving rug, nearly eighty of them scampering across the sand. Warthogs rolled in for a mud bath, unconcerned. Eventually, a lone old baboon came within rifle range. I couldn?t resist. Boom? the 375 H&H rifle barked once, and he was mine.Warthogs rolled in for a mud bath, unconcerned. A tower of giraffes arrived, so close they looked directly down into our blind, it was both awe-inspiring and, frankly, a little terrifying.JR Hossack & M athews BowLots Of Local W iuldlifeWarthogs are tough, tenacious animals, known for their gnarly tusks and fearless attitude. To the trained eye, a mature boar is not only a formidable creature but a true prize. Their tusks can curve like ivory sabres, and old boars often bear the marks of countless battles? torn ears, broken tusks, gnarled faces. They?re not easy to hunt, especially the old giants.Nico later explained that once, many years ago, large numbers of giant warthogs roamed the area. But times had changed. Local legend and some quiet truth said that Spanish and other hunters had once come through in waves, targeting the boars with reckless Inquisitive Giraffe 43

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By mid-morning we returned to the guest house, cooling off with cold drinks and enjoying a proper Namibian lunch. Later in the afternoon, we cruised the ranch trails and came upon a zebra. A clean shot from the .375 H&H and he was mine. Not long after, a blue wildebeest? a tank of an animal? was spotted. Even with a solid hit, he ran 175 yards before going down. Tough beasts indeed, no wonder they?re called the poor man?s buffalo. I also took an antelope before we called it a day.That evening, back at Nico?s, we sat around the table recounting the day. Vasti listened intently as Nico showed her the photos, smiling with pride. Their hospitality was unmatched.We gave the waterhole one more try for eland. While waiting, Nico pointed and said, ?John, shoot that caracal at the end of the trough.? I hesitated, thinking of the damage to the trough. Nico grinned, ?If it hits, we can fix it. Take him.?I did. The shot was clean. No eland that day, but the caracal was a special prize? a sleek, rare predator, and a stunning addition to the safari. 44

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One afternoon while checking fencing trampled by giraffes, Nico turned to me and said, ?Well, no eland? how about a giraffe???I?m not sure,? I replied.?The numbers are too high here,? he said. ?We need to cull at least one. Not too old, not too young? I?ll pick the right one.?With the .375 in hand, I aimed high on the shoulder. A solid hit. The giraffe summersaulted and disappeared into the brush. Despite his massive size, it took time to locate him in the low scrub. As night fell, we lit a fire and waited for the farm tractor. The trackers worked fast, gutting him on-site. Soon, his heart was roasting on the fire, slices passed around? an age-old tradition I watched with awe.Back at the lodge, the giraffe hung from a block and tackle. A massive beast, dest ined to feed many villagers. I?d have a great skull and skin to remember him by. The next morning, we stopped at Caspers Taxidermy? an impressive operation. We talked mounts, and I picked up a local knife as a keepsake.By late afternoon, we were back in Windhoek, staying again at Nico?s friend?s place. After a hearty breakfast the next morning, we drove out to the airport. My route home would take me from Windhoek to Joburg, on to London, then Dallas.It had been a remarkable first safari? full of adventure, new friendships, and unforgettable game. Taking a giant warthog with my Mathews Helium bow. That was the blessing that started it all.Africa is a land that lingers in the blood. I will return? but that?s another story.If you want to experience Namibia through the eyes of a true professional, contact Nico at Eldoret Safaris. His passion and expertise make every hunt a lifetime memory. Visit Eldoret Safaris Namibia for more det ailed information. 45

June Edition 2025 BGHA

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