Rolling planes, wind driven waves of grass flowing then ebbing in the swirling breeze. It could be a hundred years ago, Boer farmers in oxen carts staring across virgin land for the first time. Instead, 100 years later, it’s us staring across pristine veldt.

Phillip Bronkhorst, one of Africa’s pre-eminent professional hunters led us to his hidden Eden. We are miles from Pretoria, yet deep in old Africa. Nootitgedaght, in the province of Mpumalanga (translated as “Where the Sun Rises”) , is a government project re-establishing the original free ranging herds. Wild wildebeest frolic across thousand upon thousands of acres, as does the springbok and zebras. An amazing slice of historic Africa. Phillip has the exclusive concessions to these state land gems.

We commenced stalking the elusive springbok. There is no cover, no trees, no bush, only the undulating hills. We have to stalk up the backsides of slopes using the rims as blinds. Leann has always wanted a springbok and up we creep. Distance is very deceptive on these rolling hills, we had to go a lot further than we thought to make the hill ridge. We peeked over – the binocular glint spooked the antelopes. Off they surge at speed, across the valley and over another hill. Rather than go directly across we trek the long way down. Crossing parallel to the valley, then follow a rift across, we work the up the next ridge. This time we have the sun lined up. Leann crawls up the slope walking on her knees. She works it up, I stay back in case I spook the skittish devils. Up she goes, slipping her rifle from her shoulder. A sweet, cut down 30-06 Weatherby Vanguard, my what a tight little out of the box shooting rifle, her Swarovski scope, the cross-hairs gently kissing the springboks shoulder at 300 yards. The peaceful veldt is shattered by the rifle report.

Down, the springbok’s down – the herd skitters away across another ridge. We see mountain reebok prancing amongst the rocks , curious, on the next ridge as we collect our springbok. The herds are magnificent, large, healthy, running freely across the plains. Later, I stalk a black wildebeest, blown as I hit the ridge top, I bounce my gun on the sticks and miss a neck shot at 150 yards. I’m disgusted. Phillip has worked two hours to put me on these blackies, they have proven this day to be unusually wary. I’m shocked I missed, and thoroughly disappointed.

Phillip rather than being put out, is as cheerful as ever, and swears we will still get one. As I see the wildebeest running miles in the distance I wonder. I need to be in better shape next year. The climb didn’t seem that high, but it had been a long steady trudge up the ridge. I can’t quiet get the hang of all this openness. Then, Leann and her zebra. Talk about ill fated. She had always wanted a zebra. Her first trip she said that was all she wanted to shoot (the list had really grown this year). After weeks of hunting she just hadn’t had any luck on a zebra. She had missed her first couple of easy shots, then they were always out of range, or she wasn’t ready when they appeared, just bad timing all around.

Now she began stalking them in earnest. They on the other hand didn’t want to cooperate. We tried to out think them: hiding Leann and her beautiful female PH, Maja, on a ridge; we went ten miles across the planes and walked back towards them to block the zebras. The striped contrarians in a massive herd, moved ahead of us, as they got within shooting range of Leann, they slipped by unseen, nimbly skirting through a small almost unnoticeable rift that left her without an angle to shoot. I was amazed they could find a small cleft in the land and use it to stay unshootable. I don’t think a professional surveyor could have eyeballed it better.

So the day went on – and on. We worked a shot, the zebras slipped by. I was becoming frustrated, we had worn our boots out across those fields. Finally Leann stalked up on a beautiful stallion, perched on the side of a draw. She snapped her rifle to her shoulder and fired. Her Barnes X hit perfectly, the stallion reared and went over the cliff. About 50 feet down we found the stallion, dead from the first shot. I have always had trouble taking zebra even with much heavier rifles. The damage created by the Barnes X was astounding.

Phillip, was the hero of the day. I must say he runs a top notch camp, the food and companion ship was spectacular. We had purchased his hunt in an SCI auction the first time not really knowing much about him or his concessions (the best in South Africa). He has become a dear friend, and as I write he will be getting married to his beautiful bride JoAnna next week, and as you read this, the confirmed incorrigible stereotypical bachelor will be well settled in matrimonial bliss (JoAnna made me write this!). Phillip has always been an outstandingly generous patron of many many local Safari Clubs this one included. Join him, you will find not only a great hunter, but a lifelong friend.

Oh, and the black wildebeest, I suspect your wondering? Phillip did put me on one, we snuck up on it behind some of the only boulders in miles. I popped up, less blown I’m thankful to say, took a safer shoulder shot, and dropped him with one shot at 75 yards. I had always wanted one of these comical antelope, and now he can join his cousin on my trophy wall! No question, Nootitgedaght was our honey hole. An odd word, its translation? “Never Thought”. How appropriate to this little Eden. It could be carved out of an aging plate illustration from an antique hunting book on Africa as it was – and for us, as it is now.