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Guest Blog: Tim Herald, The Two-Year Sable

Tim Herald
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Tim Herald is co-owner and host at Worldwide Trophy Adventures. The Two-Year Sable originally appeared in African Hunter

To me the sable antelope is worthy of its royal status, and personally I find a jet-black bull the most striking of all the antelope on earth. Some may argue that the beautiful bongo, the elusive mountain nyala, or the majestic Lord Derby’s eland are superior trophies, and to each their own, but the fact that sable are a bit more common as far as numbers and distribution than these others does not diminish my reverence for this absolutely magnificent creature.

The first time I hunted sable I was unsuccessful in bagging a bull, but that isn’t really a fair statement. I did have a sable on license, and I did want one badly, but I was also trying to squeeze sable in with a leopard, buffalo and tuskless elephant all on a ten-day hunt. I was successful on all the others, but only got to hunt sable one afternoon, and the herd we found gave us the slip in some thick mopane.

When I booked my first hunt with Kambako Safaris in the wild and rugged Niassa Reserve of northern Mozambique, I again made sure to have a sable on license. I was once more hunting leopard and buffalo, but I wanted to devote more time to hunting sable on this trip. The fact that I killed my leopard fifteen minutes after daylight on the second day of the hunt certainly opened up some time to pursue sable.

To put things in perspective, one needs to know about some special rules that Kambako Safaris abides by. First, they only shoot six year old or older lions to work within the Niassa Carnivore Project’s parameters. Secondly they only shoot cats in daylight even though night hunting is legal. Third, Kambako only hunts dagga boy buffalo bulls and leaves the herds alone so they flourish and stay in the area, and lastly, they only take past prime breeding sable bulls.

I had never heard of such a rule on sable, and Kambako Managing Director Jumbo Moore explained it to me. “We want our sable population to grow, and we want the herds comfortable within our area, so just like with our buffalo, we only take sable bulls that are out of the herds. We also look for secondary horn growth. If you look closely at the base of a sable’s horns, you will see a thickening on old bulls. The rings, or ridges, sort of fill in down at the bases. This secondary growth only starts when a sable is six years old, and it grows approximately an inch a year. We are very particular and try to make sure all the bulls we take are out of herds and have secondary growth. So you have to get a good look at a sable before you shoot it.”

I was to learn a lesson on this during the afternoon of the day I took my leopard. My friend, and PH, Stu Taylor, told me about a big sable bull he had seen a few times in a certain area prior to my arrival. He knew it was the same bull because he had lots of secondary growth and the tip of one horn flared out while the other was straight. We went and checked the area and found the bull’s tracks by a waterhole in a dry creek bed, but the tracks were a couple of days old and not worth following.

Stu then wanted to go up in the hills to an area where there are a few spring seeps and sable traditionally have called home. About 3:00pm, we were slipping around a hillside when our head tracker Davey pointed out some sable across a ravine 250 yards away. We crept ahead another 100 yards, and we could see about twenty sable calmly feeding on the slope. There was a big black bull in the middle of the herd that immediately caught my eye, and I looked at Stu pleadingly. He smiled and whispered, “I wish we could go after him, but he is a herd bull and is off limits. I would guess him at about 42″. He is a gorgeous bull, but we just don’t shoot those herd bulls, sorry Tim.”

To say that my heart didn’t sink would be a lie. This was the sable of my dreams, completely unaware of our presence, and I had to just watch him feed. To top that, even though Kambako’s average sable is right at 40″, a bull of 42″ is a super trophy for the area. Though the official line for Roosevelt’s sable is the Ravuma River on the Tanzania border (only forty miles away), all of Kambako’s PHs think that the sable in Niassa are indeed Roosevelt’s, and I believe some DNA testing has been done that supports this. The Niassa and Selous Game Reserves have a common corridor for wildlife, and it makes sense to me that the sable can easily move back and forth like the elephant and lion do. The sable in the Selous are Roosevelt’s, so…

We took our buff on day seven of the safari, so we really ramped up our sable efforts then. We ended up putting a trail camera on the waterhole where Stu knew the big lone bull was drinking, and through the remainder of the safari, we found and followed his tracks a number of times. We felt that we were close on a couple of occasions, but we never actually laid eyes on the bull.

When I hit the ground the following August, Stu told me that he had recently seen “our” sable twice in the same area we had hunted him the year before. We were both keen to give this bull a try, and after checking lion baits and having an exciting encounter with two young males the first morning, we decided to go check on our flared horned sable during the afternoon.
Our waterhole from the year before was completely dry, so we followed the sandy creek about a kilometre to where it joined a small river. There were a number of elephant bore holes close to a small seep where a herd had been digging in the sand to get to water, and it was there that Davey found the tracks of a lone bull sable.

Stu and Davey felt like the tracks were fairly fresh, and soon it was evident that the sable was meandering in no particular hurry. He was weaving around in the riverbed, and Stu said he was feeding a bit on the edges, but he seemed to be looking for a water source. The elephant sign was as fresh as the sable tracks, so he might not have been able to drink if the elephants were at the water.

We continued to follow the tracks for another twenty minutes or so, and suddenly Davey dropped to his knees and Stu threw up my BogPod. When I stepped up to the sticks, Stu was glassing, and I asked what he saw. The area was quite thick riverine and looked more like bushbuck habitat than that of sable, but when he whispered, “sable bull”, I had already seen the black spot in the dense tangle.
I could see the bull’s horns sweeping back toward his spine, and I slipped the safety off on my .300 Win TC Dimension. All I knew was that he was alone, he was about eighty yards away, and I had his shoulder covered with my Nikon Monarch’s crosshairs. I was just about to ask Stu if he could see secondary growth when he told me in no uncertain terms to “Shoot that bull now!”

I didn’t need to hear more than that, and I sent a Winchester Supreme 180gr Accubond toward the sable at 2950fps. The bull bucked and dashed into the thick vegetation, but I felt 100% confident that I had hit him well.

We found his tracks and about twenty five yards after that we found good blood. After twenty five yards of following this sign, the country opened up, and the blood spoor dried up. I was really second-guessing my shot and wondering if I had hit a branch or some other obstruction as we continued on the sable’s tracks. With no blood for fifty yards, I was breaking out in a cold sweat even though it was 85º F out, but then Stu pointed ahead, and I could see the sable was down about seventy yards in front of us.

When we reached the fallen monarch, I was simply in awe. He was all I had ever hoped for in a sable bull. His dark coat was glorious, his long thick horns swept back like scimitars, and he had 6 ½” of secondary growth at his bases.

Best of all, Stu pointed out that one horn flared out, and that confirmed that this was our bull from the year before.

Even though I killed him on the first day of my second safari with Kambako, Stu and I felt like we had definitely earned this bull. We had put in at least parts of seven days looking for him the year before, and there was not another sable in all of Mozambique that I would have rather taken. Not that it mattered, but his horns stretched the tape at 42″. The real prize to me was that our bull was aged at over twelve years old. He truly is royalty to me.

 

This article originally appeared in African Hunter Vol 20 No 2. http://www.africanhunteronline.com

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The Central Flyway is a waterfowl superhighway—a vital corridor for migrating ducks and geese—and for those of us lucky enough to be waterfowlers, it offers unmatched opportunities to hunt and experience the migration from September through January.

Over the past 40 years, I’ve had the privilege of chasing ducks around the world, but many of my favorite memories come from following this flyway, especially during those early years when my duck-obsessed father would pull my brother and me out of school every Fall to chase birds.

That’s right! We missed school every year for dedicated waterfowl trips. No regrets.

In the true north country, along the edges of Canada’s boreal forest, early-season hunts are nothing short of magical. The birds are just beginning their journey south—hungry, unpressured, and eager to settle into newly harvested grain fields. It’s a waterfowler’s paradise. The decoy spreads in these northern zones are often among the first the birds see, and their eager, uneducated responses can be absolutely breathtaking.

One of the most unforgettable sights is the famed swirling cyclone of Canada geese funneling down into a field. I can still hear my dad yelling over the deafening honks, his voice barely audible, “They can’t hear us!” The birds were so loud that those at the top of the funnel couldn’t even hear the gunfire below. If you’ve ever experienced it, you know exactly the kind of spine-tingling moment I’m talking about.

When the birds pushed south, so did we.

The prairie pothole regions of North Dakota are pure waterfowl gold. The right pothole on a cold morning—especially if you can find open water—can be magic. And if the water’s frozen? My dad had a fix: get there early, break trail through the skim ice, and push it under itself to create an opening. Voilà…open water.

I’ll never forget one frigid morning. After breaking ice, my hands were bright red and on the edge of frostbite. I looked at my dad for sympathy, but he just grinned as the puddle ducks cupped up and said, “Do you want warm hands, or do you want to shoot ducks?” Like I said, he was a fanatic. I grabbed the old Winchester pump and did my best. That day, I also learned the value of hand warmers and Gore-Tex gloves.

There are so many unforgettable moments:

  • Slipping and sliding at a Nebraska reservoir, laughing hysterically as we wondered if we’d ever get the old Suburban and trailer back up the icy boat ramp. After limiting out on greenheads.
  • Rowing across the Delta Marsh in the dark to find the perfect crescent-shaped bulrush island to set the decoys that the canvasbacks couldn’t resist.
  • Chasing snow geese in South Dakota and realizing we’d finally picked the perfect field, the one that made it worth all those hours spent spray-painting sheet-metal shell decoys in the garage.

These weren’t just hunting trips. They were memories shared with family, with friends, and with the great outdoors itself.

In the end, missing a week of school every year was worth every single minute.

The last duck hunt I shared with my admittedly duck-crazy father was a world away and half a lifetime ago. The hunt may be long over, but the memory will always stay with me.

At WTA, we’re proud to connect our clients with trusted partners so they can experience these same one-of-a-kind adventures.

We offer incredible destinations and outstanding outfitters all along the Central Flyway—from Alberta and Saskatchewan to North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma—so you can create your own lasting memories.

Call Worldwide Trophy Adventures at 1-800-346-8747 today to book your trip of a lifetime.

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The food is reason enough to make the trip. Muy Grande’s French chef has 20 years of experience with serving up everything from ribs to authentic Mexican dishes, hearty breakfasts, and appetizers. You’ll need the delicious calories for the long days in the open country chasing Toms. Mornings start early and you may spend up to two hours on ranch roads before reaching your spot. Dry mountains, steep valleys, and big country define the day. Want to call birds from a pop-up blind? They’ve got you covered. Prefer run-and-gun? This is prime terrain for it. With one-on-one guides, the hunt is tailored to your style.

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Getting your bird back home is simple. The outfitter freezes it—whole or just the fan—and handles the paperwork. Flying back through Phoenix is smooth—customs deals with turkeys regularly. Just bring the address of a USDA-certified taxidermist and a sturdy suitcase big enough for your trophy.

The gear list for this trip is straightforward: good hiking boots, lightweight shirts, face mask, hat, gloves, and a jacket for the cool mornings. Days can hit 90° F in April, but the temp drops quickly at night, so pack for variety. After tagging out, you’ll head back to Hermosillo for a final night at the Fiesta Americana, a top-notch hotel, before flying home—though early successes can open the door to earlier flights.

Muy Grande is a place of raw beauty, from stone-fenced corrals to mountain views stretching for miles. Hermosillo itself might surprise you—not a rough frontier town, but a safe, vibrant city where families are out and about. If you’re looking for an authentic Gould’s turkey adventure in a spectacular setting with unmatched hospitality, this hunt should be on your wish list. Book through WTA and come chase the turkey that towers above the rest.

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Expanding into quail hunting was a natural fit to complement Salt River Outfitters’ already thriving deer hunting operation. With a clear vision and a commitment to quality, we set out to create a quail program that could stand among the best in the region. Drawing on the expertise of skilled dog handlers, seasoned habitat specialists, and our experienced guides and habitat managers, we’ve built something special.

Over the last few years, we’ve been steadily transforming Stonewall Plantation’s land from cattle pasture to high-quality bobwhite quail habitat. We aimed to create hunts that feel as close to wild as possible, and unlike confined shooting preserves, our hunting grounds span diverse terrain including ridges, hollows, and rolling hills. That transformation hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth it. A huge part of that effort has focused on the removal of invasive fescue which had taken over much of the pasture. Fescue chokes out native grasses and eliminates the natural cover and food sources that the quail depend on. Through persistent spraying and management, we’ve brought back the native species and laid the groundwork for wildlife to thrive.

In addition to native grasses, we’ve planted food plots throughout the property—carefully selected mixes of grain sorghum, millet, sunflowers, corn, and Korean lespedeza. These plots not only support healthy quail populations, but they’ve also created a boom in other wildlife. Watching our dogs lock up on a big covey of birds is a rewarding moment, and those moments are coming more frequently each year.

Our last season proved that the work is paying off. Hunters enjoyed productive days in the field, with strong bird numbers and multiple coveys flushed during most outings. Many visitors left with full game bags, big smiles, and stories they’ll tell for years. Based on the success of a limited trial last year, we’re also excited to expand access with guided day hunts this upcoming season. In October and December, we’ll offer morning and afternoon hunts for up to three hunters at a time. Each hunter will have the opportunity to harvest up to 30 birds, with lunch included in the hunt package. It’s a new way to experience Salt River, whether you’re a first-time guest or a returning visitor.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard: “My dad and I hunted quail when I was younger, but with quail numbers down, we haven’t hunted them in years.” Last season, a gentleman booked a hunt for his father, his son, and himself—three generations in the field. The stories they shared around the dinner table that night were moving and unforgettable. The joy in their eyes and the bond they rekindled through the hunt reminded me why we do this.

Being part of such an experience—where a grandfather and father can introduce a young man to something they’ve cherished for decades—is priceless. Our goal at Stonewall Plantation Outfitters is to continue creating new memories for many seasons to come.

The habitat is stronger. The lodge is more comfortable. The birds are flying better. And our program now has a proven track record of delivering exceptional hunts. Whether you’re coming for a full three-day experience or joining us for a day hunt, we can’t wait to share this quail hunting heaven with you.

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