A Hail-Mary Bushbuck

With unerring instinct, Albiño led us at an angle, seeming to head away from the ram’s position, but reducing the distance with each step. When finally stopped by the deep waterway, we found ourselves about 100 yards away from the Bushbuck in a natural Palmetto-hide. Dylan took one final look through his optics and then opened the rest. Laying the rifle slowly into the two rest points, thereby securing the butt and forend, the .300 Winchester Magnum was rock solid. Just as the crosshairs steadied on the ram’s shoulder, I realized that he was preparing to lay down for a late-morning rest; his knees began to bend just as the trigger broke. At the report, he dropped without a twitch.

Albiño wasted no time getting ready to cross over to where the ram lay. Pulling off his shoes and socks, his belt, and emptying his pockets of items that would not appreciate a dunking. I asked him to let me go with him to help bring back the Bushbuck trophy. This led to a huge smile from him and rapid fire Fanagalo – that unique mixed-language consisting of English, Africans, Portuguese with some of the local Sena dialect thrown in for good measure – between PH and Tracker. When they stopped their discussion, Dylan turned to me with a smirk and stated: “Albiño says that the only thing that will happen if you go with him to get the ram is that he will have to carry both of you back.” Though chastened, I assumed Albiño knew what he was talking about. Turned out, that was a wise assumption.