Thirteen and a half kilometers one way
Monday, 5 May 2014
A decent old-bull spoor and a pile of still-warm dung on the gravel road at five past seven. Thirteen and a half kilometers later, we find him under a shady tree in a half-open clearing. Right tusk broken off entirely. Left tusk, fifty pounds. Thirteen and a half kilometers back.
A decent old-bull spoor and a big pile of dung on the gravel at five past seven. Felix felt the dung — still warm at the bottom. He was not far ahead.
Four point three kilometers on, he had stopped at a pan to drink. He was traveling north, mostly on an elephant trail, barely stopping to feed. We were making good time for once — a trail under his feet, and ours.
He stopped at a few more pans and a mud hole, and lost us at each one for minutes at a time. We spotted him at five past ten, after thirteen and a half kilometers, resting under a shady tree in a semi-open clearing.
Right tusk broken off completely. Left tusk fifty pounds. Not our bull. On the way back we saw a couple of warthogs — a big boar, a good trophy, and the bushmen needed meat. But we were thirteen and a half kilometers from the cruiser, and a sixty-kilogram carry was more than we could honestly do.
Lucky we did not take him. Felix was not feeling well on the way out.
