Jock Of The Bushveld by Sir Percy Fitzpatrick ( Chapter 11 )( Page 1 ) The Koodoo Bull

Jock had learned one very clever trick in pulling down wounded animals. It often happens when you income unexpectedly upon game that they are off before you see them, and the only chance you have of getting anything is with a running shot.  If they go straight from you the shot is not a very difficult one, although you see nothing but the lifting and falling hind quarters as they canter away; and a common result of such a shot is the breaking of one of the hind legs between the hip and the hock.  Jock made his discovery while following a rietbuck which I had wounded in this way.  He had made several tries at its nose and throat, but the buck was going too strongly and was out of reach; moreover it would not stop or turn when he headed it, but charged straight on, bounding over him.  In trying once more for the throat he cannoned against the buck's shoulder and was sent rolling yards away. This seemed to madden him: racing up behind he flew at the dangling leg, caught it at the shin, and thrusting his feet well out, simply dragged until the buck slowed down, and then began furiously tugging sideways. The crossing of the legs brought the wounded animal down immediately and Jock had it by the throat before it could rise again. Every one who is good at anything has some favourite method or device of his own: that was Jock's.  It may have come to him, as it comes to many, by accident; but having once got it, he perfected it and used it whenever it was possible.  Only once he made a mistake; and he paid for it--very nearly with his life. He had already used this device successfully several times, but so far only with the smaller buck.  This day he did what I should have thought to be impossible for a dog of three or four times his size.  I left the scene of torn carcase and crunched bones, consumed by regrets and disappointment; each fresh detail only added to my feeling of disgust, but Jock did not seem to mind; he jumped out briskly as soon as I started walking in earnest, as though he recognised that we were making a fresh start, and he began to look forward immediately. The little bare flat where the koodoo had fallen for the last time was at the head of one of those depressions which collect the waters of the summer floods and, changing gradually into shallow valleys, are eventually scoured out and become the dongas--dry in winter but full charged with muddy flood in summer--which drain the Bushveld to its rivers.  Here and there where an impermeable rock formation crosses these channels there are deep pools which, except in years of drought, last all through the winter; and these are the drinking-places of the game.  I followed this one down for a couple of miles without any definite purpose until the sight of some greener and denser wild figs suggested that there might be water, and perhaps a rietbuck or a duiker near by.  As we reached the trees Jock showed unmistakable signs of interest in something, and with the utmost caution I moved from tree to tree in the shady grove towards where it seemed the water-hole might be. There were bushy wild plums flanking the grove, and beyond them the ordinary scattered  thorns.  As I reached this point, and stopped to look out between the bushes on to the more open ground, a koodoo cow walked quietly up the slope from the water, but before there was time to raise the rifle her easy stride had carried her behind a small mimosa tree.  I took one quick step out to follow her up and found myself face to face at less than a dozen yards with a grand koodoo bull.  It is impossible to convey in words any real idea of the scene and how things happened. Of course, it was only for a fraction of a second that we looked straight into each other's eyes; then, as if by magic, he was round and going from me with the overwhelming rush of speed and strength and weight combined.  Yet it is the first sight that remains with me: the proud head, the huge spiral horns, and the wide soft staring eyes-- before the wildness of panic had stricken them.  The picture seems photographed on eye and brain, never to be forgotten.  A whirlwind of dust and leaves marked his course, and through it I fired, unsteadied by excitement and hardly able to see.  Then the right hind leg swung out, and the great creature sank for a moment, almost to the ground; and the sense of triumph, the longed for and unexpected success, `went to my head' like a rush of blood.