After snaking through the bush for about half an hour, we close the gap on the gemsboks. Though we are rarely able to see more than 25 yards in any direction, Naftali maneuvers us into position to view the rapier-horned animals through a break in the vegetation. They file past us one by one about 70 yards away, their black horns glinting in the sunlight and bushy tails swishing against their gray and tawny flanks. Finally the last animal in line, the herd bull, steps into view. Naftali makes a loud cowlike moan, freezing the bull in mid-stride. He swings his head our way, offering us a view of the black diamond pattern on his face that gives the species its name. My father, set up on shooting sticks, drops him with a single shot from his .30/06. Watching this picture- perfect hunting scenario unfold, a wave of satisfaction sweeps through me. I feel as proud as, well, a father.