I GREW up in Dordabis, a tiny village about 60 miles southeast of Windhoek. The surrounding mountains teemed with kudu and my father regularly hunted them. As a young boy, I accompanied my father on one such hunt. We followed a small herd of kudu and I suppose I must have made too much noise because Dad asked me to stay put under a big thorn tree while he pursued the animals. It was late afternoon, that special time of day when the sun bathes the veld in a golden hue. I waited impatiently. There was silence for many long minutes and then suddenly a deep, hoarse bark echoed through the broken veld between the koppies. A kudu somewhere close by had sensed my presence. Startled, I sat down. That bark touched something deep in my soul. I knew then, that when I was old enough, I would pursue kudu at every opportunity – to hunt them yes, but also just to stalk them and enjoy watching them.
The kudu is my all-time favourite animal. My
