We students are all a-tizzy this morning; we’re going on a field trip. We have overnight bags packed, bedding , lots of warm clothes and- most importantly- snacks. Richard picks us up and we get to the kraal sharp. A little while later and we’re hitting the open road. Gus is driving and we’ve somehow managed to fit Richard, Pat, Barry, Josh and myself and our inordinate amount of baggage into this people carrier. It looks like a mobile record-attempt.

Our ultimate destination is Kimberley, 370km away, but by the time we reach Kuruman there are rumblings from the second-class compartment. Gus’s offer of fruit is met with derision- his oranges don’t apeel- so we take a detour past a fried chicken emporium. Starved of junk food for so long, we students make up for lost time and buy up half their chicken stock. I stagger back to the vehicle with a huge bucket of ‘chook’ and- joy of joys- an ice cream. The ice cream doesn’t make it out of the car park.

A strange silence descends on the motor for the next 100km as quiet gnawings are proceeded by lolling heads then supine figures. With the students in their natural state we now look like a tragically failed record-attempt. Whenever anyone comes to, they are met with the offer of another piece of chicken, which they eat and promptly fall asleep again. It’s what they’re born for….

I thoroughly enjoy the trip and the chance to pick Gus’s brains some more and the kms fly by. He accepts my offer to drive the last 100km which I start to regret when we reach the outskirts of Kimberley. I’m in danger of getting stopped and breathalysed when we have a few “right.. no, left…no, straight on” moments but Gus succeeds in navigating us to the De Beers building we are looking for.

There we meet up with Johan, who manages all the De Beers wildlife reserves (of which there are a few) and after a brief chat he asks us to follow him to our accommodation for the night. I gladly jump in his car and get a bit of the lowdown on downtown Kimberley as we go. I met Johan at Rooipoort when I was there for the game counts in March and I was impressed then, as now, by his quiet-spoken, quick-witted way.

He takes us just a few km out of town to a De Beers reserve called Dronsveld where we are put up in a couple of very comfortable, thatched guest chalets. We arrange to meet again at 7pm and he takes his leave. As I look out from the stoep I regret that I wont have time to explore Dronsveld. The scenery of scattered Camelthorn and Umbrellethorn in a sea of golden grass is so evocative of the Africa we see in the movies, I expect Meryl Streep to come walking round the corner at any moment.

But there’s only really time to get ourselves unpacked and have a cup of tea before we’re on the move again. You see, the whole point in this trip is to experience one of the methods of Springbok culling on the nearby Benfontein reserve. We’re going to see them being shot at long distance at night and I’m really looking forward to it.

First, we have to fuel up so we hit the trail once more and go to a nearby burger house. We students are agog at the prospect of two junk meals in a day and, by the time Johan joins us there, heads are lolling again. We have a coffee before we leave.

It takes about half an hour to get to Benfontein and when we arrive we are met with two buckies and their teams. Each buckie has a shooting platform directly behind the cab and there is a driver, a shooter and two spotlight operators on each vehicle. Before we start it’s explained how necessary it is to keep Benfonteins population of 4000 Springbok in check. When I think of how hard it is to keep control of our Red Deer population of 2200, I balk at the thought.

Of course, with this level of shooting, the Springbok are pretty nervous of the vehicles and, in the space of the next 5 hours each vehicle shoots only 9 Springbok. Each one is shot in the neck and not one of ours is taken under 200m, some as much as 300m. I start to appreciate the enormity of the task especially when I realise that Benfontein is as flat as a 10,000 hectare pancake and has hardly a tree or bush on it. Apparently, in the daylight the Springbok will often not let you closer than 1.5km. It’s a tall order.

It’s a beautiful night to be out but it gets colder and colder as the night goes on. Earlier we had a laugh at Josh as he showed us the 6 layers of clothes he was wearing and I called him ‘Onion Man’. Look who’s crying now…

The gland finale of the night is to see the Springbok processed back at the larder. I watch their way then do a demonstration of how we do it in Scotland. Our way is a bit neater, their way is a bit quicker. And it’s 1o’clock in the morning…..

Time to go and hit the sack.