Angus, wasn't it Hemingway who never got his kudu? At least you still have the chance to do so!
That was one of my African must-haves; the buffalo was what actually brought me there, but I needed to hunt 3 other critters as well: kudu, warthog and zebra. Warthog was a laid-back, fun sort of hunt, not to be taken too seriously. Zebra? Lots around, and I let the PH choose one; let's face it, a zebra trophy is a zebra trophy, beautiful beyond belief but pretty much the same as every other zebra trophy.
But, man, kudu is the sort of critter with which it is easy to become obsessed. The area I hunted was thick with kudu...good kudu...and so hunting hard and being picky became the way to go. They're a difficult animal to judge without experience, so again I trusted the PH, but I passed a few that he thought I should shoot just because they didn't fit the picture I had drawn in my mind. Too wide...too narrow...curls too tight...I eventually just thought of them as caribou, i.e. tell me which one you want me to shoot, and I'll tell you if I like it or not...but don't expect me to tell you why 'cause I really don't know!
After I took mine, the PH insisted on measuring it, and then turned and started to speak...and I stopped him and told him I didn't want to know. He was a bit taken aback, but I don't measure trophies, don't care about numbers and didn't want to start. He was practically twitching for the several more days I was there, kept trying to get me to ask, but I didn't. At the end of the hunt, driving me to town where I would spend the night before my flight, he was just about bursting on the half-day cross-country road trip. We shook hands and said our good-byes, and as I walked through the door into the hotel where I would be spending the night he yelled from the parking lot "John! JOHN!!!" I turned and the sneaky devil yelled out the number, laughed and disappeared. To this day it's one of only two trophies I have ever shot that I know the number on...still wish I didn't...

