CAMPFIRE TALES...
CONVERSATION around the campfire had turned to fluke shots. I had little to offer personally; the only fluke shot I ever pulled off was as a schoolboy visiting a non-hunting friend. Their sole farm gun was a single-shot 12-bore for snakes; I suggested we take it wingshooting. We flushed two doves from a ploughed field; I focussed on one, and was as surprised as my friend to see two doves fall from the sky. “Hell, you’re a crack shot!” he exclaimed, “Both birds flying with one shot!” But the goingaway flight paths of two doves often cross. Having chosen my target, I never even saw the other bird – their convergence as I fired was sheer coincidence. Naturally, I didn’t tell my friend that.
“However,” I added, “my friend Brian Marsh had a fluke shot that bears telling. He was guiding a client who’d never hunted elephant, but after reading Karamojo Bell, insisted on brain shots. Brian agreed on condition he himself fired an immediate backup shot for the heart in case the client missed the brain. Together they aimed at a big bull in patchy bush and Brian fired the moment he heard the client’s shot – needlessly, for the client’s perfect brain-shot dropped the bull where it stood. It rolled onto its near side, covering the entrywound.”
“So, what was the fluke?” asked Corrie Nel. “Well,” I continued, “during the congratulations, their tracker announced that a second bull lay dead just further on. Dismayed, Brian approached the carcass to find it freshly shot through the shoulder. Initially he assumed his shot on the first bull had over-penetrated. Then, to his bewilderment, he realised there was no exit wound on the first bull. It had dropped so instantaneously to the client’s brain-shot that Brian’s reaction time resulted in his own shot going over it, killing an unseen bull behind.”
“That’s amazing,” said Corrie Nel thoughtfully. Then he grinned, “You know, I once had a fluke shot that was equally amazing – but a lot cheaper!” “Tell us,” I urged.
“A friend offered my family a weekend on his game-ranch near Alldays. He couldn’t join us, and hadn’t mentioned hunting, so I took only my .22 for plinking and a lever-action .357 Magnum I’d recently bought to introduce my eightyear-old son, Tiaan, to centre-fire rifle shooting. That evening, my friend phoned to check if we’d arrived safely, adding that, if I saw an impala or a kudu, I could take it on the house. I explained that, not expecting to hunt, I’d brought only a .357 rifle, but if I saw an impala close enough for a safe shot, I would gratefully accept his offer.
“Next morning, I set out with Tiaan and the .357 to enjoy the bush. Not wanting to overtire the lad, I asked Frans, a farm-hand, to drive the bakkie to a corner of the farm and wait for us, so we could ride back to camp. As we ambled along, I shared many observations with Tiaan, including the fact that, coincidentally, we were more-or-less following the spoor of two kudu heading in the same direction. This was merely an observation to interest and instruct him.
“As we were nearing our planned rendezvous where the farm’s two boundary fences met, Frans, who had heard us coming, called out from beyond some dense bush to say there were two kudu between us and the road where he was waiting. I had no serious intension of shooting but still prepared myself to go through the motions for an exciting experience. Next moment, I heard branches breaking and saw a young kudu bull dashing in full flight across our front only fifteen metres away. Instinctively I cocked and raised the rifle and followed the bull through the bush in the open sights, purely for practice and for the thrill of it. Besides, the kudu never offered me a clear, certain shot.
“Having enjoyed the experience, I lowered the rifle. That was when the loud bang of the .357 shocked me to my boots and a cloud of dust rose so close in front of me I thought I may have shot my foot. Ensuring that my son was unhurt, I checked that my foot had escaped injury. I realised I’d inadvertently fired the rifle as I lowered it. I was still shocked and trying to figure out what I’d done wrong, when I heard Frans calling to me, ‘Jy het hom, jy het hom!’ Disregarding his calls, I concentrated on ensuring Tiaan was calm. I was busy explaining my indiscretion when Frans repeated his call, ‘Jy het hom!’
“We found Frans standing over a dead kudu bull that lay beside the fence. I was astounded. I could not believe I’d shot it, yet there it was. On examination, the still-warm carcass revealed no wound, no blood, only a large lump on one side of its neck. The spoor told the story: startled by the shot, the young bull had run headlong into the fence, breaking his neck. One shot, instantaneous death with no meat damage – beat that!” Readers are invited to share true humorous or intriguing short stories via Campfire Tales. Email mail@ manmagnum.co.za for guidelines on how this works