Wild Horizons by Greig Caigou

Author:Greig Caigou
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2011-12-21T05:00:00+00:00

I danced and played with the phantom ‘spectre of the Brocken’. Greig Caigou

With the day warming up now and the mist settled in the valley below I worked my way along the broken ridgeline. Then I caught a movement ahead, moving through the rocks at a lower level. I ducked behind a large rock, right on the main ridge. I knew I was out of sight above, so I scurried along just off the skyline to close the gap on whatever was moving my way. As I crossed the top of a steep gutter I saw them. Bulls.

The animals moved through underneath me, completely unaware of my presence in the top of the gut. They were moving along steadily and as soon as they were out of sight I hot-footed it back along in the same direction as they were headed, being careful not to dislodge any stones from on high. At the next gap I saw the tail end bull just going out of sight over into the next rock gut and so I picked up my pace to try to get a better look at their size.

Within a few minutes I was peering down into the next gully as the three bulls sidled around into full view. The lead bull looked pretty good with a bleached white mane and good rise of horn. I noted their pace had slowed somewhat and the animals started to graze on the sparse vegetation in among the rocks. They were about 50 metres below me and I put the scope on the bigger animal to check him over. At that range he looked good through six-power Leupold optics but was not the big bull that still eludes me to this day. He’d keep.

I eased back out of view and quickly rummaged for my camera in the top of the pack. Out of sight and working down through the rocks I figured I could close the gap and get a few good shots in. I checked the camera settings to make sure the shutter speed was going to be fast, with a good aperture, and then I eased into view. The bigger bull was directly below me, nosing into something among the rocks. I seized the moment to grab a couple more steps to the side so as to get a better photo, when suddenly it was all over.

The bull must have sensed something or caught the movement somehow and with absolutely no warning he just took off — no standing up and checking what I was, no whistle; nothing but a hurried exit out of there!

I watched as the bulls charged down through the rocks, their manes flaring at each landing as they leapt along in full flight. Down the crags and out onto the tussock they galloped, picking up another bull along the way that had suddenly materialized out of the bottom of a creekbed. They didn’t stop till they were about a kilometre away. And that was that.

Back to the business at hand: procuring some meat.

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