Line of Sight
The goal of Wild in the Heart is to be a place of everything from gun talk to deer camp stories. I hope you enjoy this blog and find some useful information or at least a good read.
"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God" ~ Philippians 4:6
"I can do all thing through Christ who strengthens me" ~ Philippians 4:13
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
The Savannah grass swayed with the wind as it lifted the wheat-like smell up in the air; heat from the sun beat down on the plains mercilessly and unrelenting. Still early in the morning the birds calling to welcome the return of the light after the dark of the moonless night. Like the large feline predators of this land the hunter sits in the grass waiting with his weapon in hand surveying the almost portrait like scene in front of him. Sweat rolled from his forehead to his chin, dripping onto the sand below where he sat. He heard the call of the Baboon off in the distance as they fought each other for scraps. Off in the distance there was a large herd of Wilda-beast grazing gently and though they looked oblivious to everything they were fully aware of their surroundings and waiting for the slightest unknown factor. There must have been a thousand or more in this herd and he saw quite a few small ones near the center of the mass. In an around the heard was also a few Antelope and Zebra and a few of what he was here after. Large and ugly but some how delicate and beautiful was one the most deadly of all of the hunts on the Dark Continent, the Cape Buffalo. There was about 6 of them grazing no further than 100 yards from him. He turned and felt the grass blow against him and he prays that the wind doesn't shift and blow his scent right at them. It blows hard and the grass still sways and he looses sight of them for a moment and then he sees them again. His prayers answered the wind didn't shift it blew straight at him and the herd still grazed unaware of his presence and he relaxed a little more. One of the bulks of muscles moved slowly towards him closing the distance. Looking over his shoulder at the fella sitting next to him the hunter pointed and motioned to the large bull that was moving closer. His guide nodded and handed him the shooting stick. The hunter took the stick and placed the stock of the rifle in the crook. He pulled the wooden stock in close to his shoulder and placed his cheek in the same spot he had done a thousand times and the heat from the sun was radiating from the stock. Looking down the barrel of the rifle he could see the Bull coming closer and closer moving its mountainous muscles with little to no effort to move himself as though he were gliding along the plains carried by the wind. The rifle was hot and heavy in his hands but the stick took most of the weight. He pulled tight and felt the checkered grip bite into his hand and the rubber on his stock squish into his shoulder. Breathing slowly and steadily, in through his nose and out through his mouth and concentrated but not on the Bull, but, rather on the front sight. The Bull was a little blurry out in the distance but the front sight was clear as a bell in front of him. The animal bounced a long at a steady pace for another 10 yards and then came to a stop. He raised his head and looked around before he bent his neck and began to graze once more. Sweating still, but not so much from the heat now but rather the adrenaline rushing in his veins waiting for the shot to come clear. He steadied himself bracing for the recoil of the rifle that he had learned through practice and other hunts this rifle sporting it two barrels side by side one of large and one of smaller caliber though larger than normal hunters use. He front sight was now so clear and he had been staring at it for so long now that it had be become a black abyss that was swallowing it entire being. He focused and concentrated on it until he felt at though the rifle wasn't even there and then as the Bull turned to his broad side the wind stopped. The Hunter squeezed the trigger to the back of the guard and the rifle slid back into his shoulder. The power absorbed by his body and jarred the breath he has been holding out of him. The Herd was on the feet and churning at full power toward the crest of the hill charging all out. But one wasn't with the rest, he was staggering to and fro trying to stay on his feet. Soon he was on his front knees and the not long he was on his back knees and then on his side. The hunter loaded another round into the large bore of the weapon and headed toward the large creature. They gazed at each other as he approached it. Those black eyes blinking with wonder at what was happening. But the light was fading even now, Soon there would be no more light and this great bulk of muscle and bone would leave this world behind and soon be in another place. The hunter lowered his rifle from his shoulder and eased the hammer forward to the safe position. There was no need this great beast wouldn't be getting up ever again. Then as quickly as his eyes had opened on his day of birth the Bull's eyes closed for a final time and as he faded the Hunter gave thanks to the Bull for laying down his life to feed him and his family.