By Mike Arnold
“OK, that is a bitter one!” Nicolai grimaced and spat the remnants of the so-called Kalahari melon, a.k.a. t’sama in the Khoekhoe language, onto the sand. Frances and I were on the expansive and beautiful Kalahari Oryx property in northern South Africa. Our Professional Hunter, Nicolai Raubenheimer, co-owner of Chapungu Safaris which operates Kalahari Oryx, had stopped the Land Cruiser a few moments earlier. He showed us this favorite food, and a water source due to its liquid-filled flesh, for the object of our hunt, a Gemsbok. Though according to our PH, some of these ancestors of the watermelons sold in my local supermarket were sweet, most are not. And, looking at the tears in his eyes, and puckered mouth, Nicolai seemed to have found the type that resulted in another common moniker, ‘bitter melon’.
Also, on the list of food and water sources for the Oryx and other desert mammals, was the Kiwano fruit, also known as the Horned melon or Horned cucumber. Scientific nomenclature refers to this cucumber relative as Cucumis metuliferus. The species name metuliferus reflects the weird looking outside of the fruits, specifically the sharp spines. The name is a combination of the Latin, metula and ferus, ‘small pyramid’ and ‘bearing’, respectively. In fact, as Nicolai picked up the funky-looking green ball with its ‘hedged’ covering, I thought of weird and terrifying encounters in Science Fiction movies. The kind that end with the alien eating some scientist-nerd like yours truly…
As we examined these two sought-after foods of the Gemsbok, the largest of the Oryx clan, we saw evidence that they did indeed enjoy chewing on them – bitterness notwithstanding. Their elegant hoof prints leading to the patches of ‘melons’ or ‘cucumbers’ contrasted with the deep stomp marks left behind by resident Black rhinos who ignore the fruits from the two plants, devouring instead the vines trailing along the ground. As fascinated as I was in hearing about the plants – and as a professor who works on conservation of plants and animals, I really found it cool – I was even more excited by the thought of finally taking a trophy Oryx, on the stunning 230,000+ acres named after this spear armed antelope.
Two years before encountering the Gemsbok foodstuffs, Frances and I visited, spending time working with the Kalahari Oryx staff, darting and collecting data from Black and White rhinos. At the time, I also wanted a chance at one of the wonderful, old, Oryx bulls resident on ‘KO’. Though we had great success with capturing rhinos, the small amount of time left over for hunting was not sufficient for locating a trophy Gemsbok. Fast forward two years, and a major goal of this return visit was just that. Stacking the deck in our favor for a successful hunt was sending Frances and me out with two of the top pros from Chapungu Safaris – Nicolai and Simon.
Finished with our botanical examination we loaded back into Nicolai’s Land Cruiser, with Nicolai driving, Frances and I bouncing and swaying inside, and Simon keeping a sharp lookout from his elevated seat in the back. Within 30-minutes of leaving the patches of melons and cucumbers we began seeing the rapier-horned Oryx. The striking black and white facial markings, contrasted beautifully with the red Kalahari sand. Though hunters and scientists alike refer to the body coloration with words such as taupe, gray, fawn and brown, to my eye, the animals encountered on KO seemed to give off a slight pinkish reflection. This unique hue added to their beauty.
As we crested a dune, heading slowly into the interdune valley (i.e., ‘slack’), Simon tapped gently on the cab. Speaking Afrikaans, he apparently said “Look to your left!” because that is what Nicolai did. Raising his binocular-rangefinder to his eyes, he immediately stated “Gemsbok” as he lowered the optics, and let out the clutch on the truck, slowly continuing on the same track. He kept his eyes focused on the herd of Oryx that Frances and I finally spotted and watched as well. Though obviously nervous, unlike the previous individuals and small groups seen, they did not race away in the animal’s ground-eating gallop. Instead, they stood staring with switching tails and flicking ears as we eased into the interdune and out of their line-of-sight. “I did not get a good look, but the herd has about 30 animals in it, so I want the chance of checking it out. Let’s go for a walk.” The last pronouncement by Nicolai came with a big smile.
I’ve quoted Robert Ruark before when he described the “stalk in that half crouch that looks so easy at first then forcibly reminds you of age and girth as it continues.” The effort needed from the ‘half crouch’ in Nicolai and Simon’s wake also resulted from the slip-sliding in the sometimes ankle-deep, red, Kalahari sand. Each time our leaders hesitated I breathed deeply through open mouth, but there was never enough time for replenishing my oxygen starved cells. Finally, PH and Tracker slowly slid into position behind a young, Camel thorn, Vachellia [Acacia] erioloba. This plant truly lives up to the second part of its common name; more about that later.
As I panted like an aged carthorse, Nicolai and Simon scanned the herd of Oryx. After 10 minutes or so, our PH slowly turned and whispered, “There is a great bull in the group. The problem is, we have no cover unless we crawl, and we’ll still be 300+ yards out when we reach the top of that last dune 50-yards in front of us. You up for some crawling on hands-and-knees?” Again, the statement came with the bright smile. I smiled back like an idiot, answering “Of course I am!” Leaving Frances ensconced against the Camel thorn, camera silently recording our progress, we crawled with me trying my best to not drag the Blaser R8 through the deepening sand.
We once again sidled up to a thorn-ridden piece of vegetation, the last on the dune overlooking the valley containing the herd of Gemsbok. Some of the animals stood swatting at insects with the bushy ends of their tails, while others slowly bent at the knees and lay down. I crouched on my knees and tried to not move while Nicolai and Simon examined each animal for the umpteenth time. When my PH turned and smiled yet again, I knew the next in a series of ‘suggestions’ was on hand. “If I take the top off your StableSticks, we can push it into the sand for a rest.” I waited for the dropping of the other shoe. “We need to crawl to the edge of the dune crest; you can take the shot from a prone position. But we’ll need to crawl on our bellies. Is that, OK?” And again, my grin came straight from the crazy genes that run rampant in my family when I whispered, “Let’s do it!”
As we crawled, I realized that the sand was not pristine red grains. The long sharp needles from Camel thorn sheds rested just below the surface. Recently, I spent a delightful evening removing the tips of those barbs from infected points scattered around both knees. Yet, I would not have missed that crawl for all the thorns in the Kalahari. OK, that’s hyperbole, but the future discomfort was trivial compared to a Gemsbok trophy.
Once we settled into our final destination, me with the forearm of the rifle cradled on the rest, Nicolai did something incredibly smart. He slowly raised his phone and snapped a shot of the herd. He then showed me the photo, pointing out the landmarks – in this case mostly other Gemsbok – near the chosen animal. With his whereabouts established, I could take the shot. Yet there were still two potential obstacles, the distance from firing point and target, 310-yards registering on Nicolai’s rangefinder, and the 30-40 mph wind sailing across the dunes and slacks. I knew the R8 was accurate out beyond 300+ yards, however, this is where I made a tremendous blunder that could have been catastrophically bad. I whispered to Nicolai “The wind is straight into our faces; it won’t affect the bullet’s path.” He nodded, and soto voced back, “Whenever you’re ready.” A few seconds later, the trigger broke, and with the lack of muzzle rise thanks to the brake installed on the Blaser, I saw the Oryx drop like a rock. Nicolai slapped me on the back and said, in a normal volume, “Fantastic shot!”
I must admit feeling pretty smug as we made our way the 300+ yards to the downed animal. However, as we drew up to the Gemsbok, I saw a tell-tale exit wound on the off side of its neck. ‘Flummoxed’ described how I felt, since I remembered clearly my crosshairs resting solidly just above the quartering-to-us-Oryx’s shoulder. Then I felt the wind push me. I looked at Nicolai and asked, “What would you say the wind direction is?” He looked up, grimaced, and suggested, “Nearly 90-degrees to your bullet path?” The ‘windage’ drift had been ~12 inches. I realized of course that I could have easily missed, or much worse, wounded a magnificent animal. As we posed for photographs, I felt both fortunate and chagrined.
In retrospect, maybe the necessity of digging out those Camel thorn tips from deep in my skin was a fair penalty for such a boo-boo!
Author profile
Mike Arnold is professor and Head of the Department of Genetics at the University of Georgia and author of the 2022 book, BRINGING BACK THE LIONS: International Hunters, Local Tribespeople, and the Miraculous Rescue of a Doomed Ecosystem in Mozambique. Mike’s newest book, BRINGING BACK THE WILD – Stories from Revitalized Ecosystems Around the World and How Sport Hunting Supports Them, appears July 2025. You can find a description of Mike’s travels, talks, articles, and books at mikearnoldoutdoors.com.