Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick ( Chapter 9 )( Page 2 ) The Impala Stampede

What always seemed to me so curious and full of meaning was that he never once looked back in the direction of the unwounded game, but seemed to put them out of his mind altogether as of no further interest. It was very different when he got on to the trail of a wounded buck and I had to call him off, as was sometimes necessary when the chase looked hopeless or it was too late to go further.  He would obey, of course—no amount of excitement made him forget that; but he would follow me in a sort of sideways trot, looking back over his shoulder all the time, and whenever there was a stop, turning right round and staring intently in the direction of the game with his little tail moving steadily from side to side and his hind legs crouched as if ready to spring off the instant he got permission. Twice I thought he was lost for ever through following wounded game. The first occasion was also the first time that we got among the impala and saw them in numbers.  There is no more beautiful and fascinating sight than that of a troop of impala or springbuck really on the move and jumping in earnest.  The height and distance that they clear is simply incredible.  The impala's greater size and its delicate spiral horns give it a special distinction; the springbuck's brilliant white and red, and the divided crest which fans out along the spine when it is excited, are unique.  But who can say which of the many beautiful antelopes is the most beautiful?  The oldest hunter will tell you of first one, then another, and then another, as they come to mind, just as he saw them in some supreme unforgettable moment; and each at that moment has seemed quite the most beautiful animal in the world. It is when they are jumping that the impala are seen at their best.  No one knows what they really can do, for there are no fences in their country by which to judge or guess, and as they run in herds it is practically impossible ever to find the take-off or landing-place of any single animal.  Once when hunting along the Wenhla Mohali River we managed to turn seven of them into an old run ending in a rocky gorge; but suspecting danger they would not face the natural outlet, and turning up the slope cleared a barrier of thick thorn scrub and escaped. When we looked at the place afterwards we found that the bushes were nine feet high.  We were not near enough to see whether they touched the tops or cleared them; all we were sure of was that they did not hesitate for a second to face a jump nine feet high at the top of a sharp rise, and that all seven did it in follow-my-leader order with the most perfect ease and grace. Every hunter has seen a whole troop, old and young, following the example of the leader, clear a road or donga twenty feet wide, apparently in an effortless stride.  It is a fine sight, and the steady stream of buck makes an arch of red and white bodies over the road looking like the curve of a great wave.  You stand and watch in speechless admiration; and the first gasp at a glorious leap is followed by steady silent wonder at the regularity of the numbers.  Then suddenly you see one animal--for no apparent reason: it may be fright or it may be frolic--take off away back behind the others, shoot up, and sail high above the arch of all the rest, and with head erect and feet comfortably gathered, land far beyond them--the difference between ease and effort, and oh! the perfect grace of both!  Something is wrung from you--a word, a gasp--and you stand breathless with wonder and admiration until the last one is gone.  You have forgotten to shoot; but they have left you something better than a trophy, something which time will only glorify a picture that in daylight or in dark will fill your mind whenever you hear the name Impala.