Not that it mattered, because this particular waterbuck had the uncanny ability to hear the unheard and see the unseen and, once again, it vanished like an ace in a slick card trick. My PH Hennie and I had long since settled into a monotonous game of cat-and-mouse with this bull, and I despaired for an outcome in my favor.
“These big bulls,” Hennie whispered, “are super cunning—we just need to keep working this one until he makes a mistake.”
“Hopefully, before I die of old age,” I added.
We were four days into this safari, but the hunt for this particular animal had spanned three years. The area was renowned for good waterbuck sporting heavy-based horns with classic bell-shaped curves, so there was no reason for me to fixate on an individual bull, other than, sometimes it just gets personal.
Last year, I
