By McKenzie Sims

I love bow hunting, but must admit I am no expert. Far from it. I get extremely excited when I close in on animals and because of that; I have even lost a couple of animals in the process. I am not proud of it, but if anyone tells you they have never lost an animal, they probably haven’t hunted enough. I do practice and work hard at trying to better my shooting abilities, but when it comes down to drawing back, it’s like I black out and lose all control of my senses. If that ever happens, I think I should stop hunting!

I have traveled to Africa with my bow on three occasions, though have only been on two bow safaris, once to the Limpopo Province in South Africa and the other in the Northern Cape. The third trip was to Zambia where I hoped to try for a hippo on dry land with my bow, and a Cape buffalo. That didn’t happen, but I did get lucky and got a few other different species. On my two bow-only safaris the weather was never ideal for bowhunting, and I got the timing wrong on both.

In July 2013, I traveled to the Limpopo Province of South Africa to hunt a few plains-game species with my bow. I wasn’t with an outfitter because the property I was on wasn’t a hunting property. There were not many different game species, but the game they had was primary for feeding the predators that were there for rehab and for breeding. There were numerous lions, even white lions; there were cheetahs, hyenas, and even a monster of a leopard that had been raised when he was found abandoned as a cub. So, everything I was to hunt would be food for these animals.

July is meant to be a good time for bowhunting as it’s mid-winter when everything has dried up. The water sources are getting lower, and the food has lost a lot of its nutritional value, so the wildlife comes frequently to water and food sources. I have spent a lot of time in Africa throughout the winter months over the years, but this time was different. Our winters in Southwest Wyoming can be brutal; we measure snow not in inches but in feet, and during the winter it is very common to see days and even weeks where we are below zero Fahrenheit. It’s not uncommon to have several days that hit negative thirty-five F with the windchill. The wind is brutal even during our summer days when we sometimes get thirty, forty, and even fifty-mile-an-hour winds, so I’m used to the wind.

But I have never experienced wind in Africa like I did during that week of July. The wind was howling, making it much colder by African standards. And the wind didn’t help in many ways. One, it was colder, so the game didn’t move as much; to move in the howling winds would affect all the senses that keep the animals alive. And shooting a bow and arrow in the wind is difficult to hold steady and your arrow drifts much more. So, from the beginning, we knew we had our work cut out for us, and over the seven days I was only able to get three shot opportunities. One was on the first day from a pop-up blind over a water source where I got a baboon. The next was Day 3 from of an elevated tree blind machan where I took an impala.

Then on Day 5 out of the same blind I arrowed a blue wildebeest that we spent the next two days tracking without finding it. My shot was just a bit high and clipped one lung, and if you know blue wildebeest you know they are very tough animals. They did find it a few days after I left. They figured the wildebeest had died that same day, but with little blood to follow and with so many tracks around, his were lost in the mix. The good thing was the meat was still salvageable for feeding predators, so it was not considered a waste.

My key lesson from this safari was, no matter how much planning you do and how perfect the timing is, Mother Nature can always throw a wrench in your plans, so be prepared for that and take it as it comes. Remember, a bad day on a safari is better than a good day at work, unless that good day at work adds to your safari fund!

My second bow safari was in the Northern Cape in November of 2021, and this is where I say I was a bit late or extremely early for prime archery conditions. November can be great for bowhunting as it’s getting warmer, and the rains have yet to really start to bring back the new growth and much-needed water. However, my timing was a little off. I arrived on 5 November, but the week prior to my arrival they had had a few really good early rainstorms, so the bush was beginning to come to life, making the food source be more abundant – the animals did not have to rely on feed. They still needed water, but rain filled up natural water sources so it was harder to pinpoint where the game would be. My second mistake was making this safari only five days – too short in most cases, but even shorter for the bowhunting conditions we were about to face.

The first morning we sat in a hide at ground level. This is a cool system that’s very popular in Southern African bowhunting camps, where the ground is dug out and a solid structure blind placed in the hole – these blinds looked like massive rocks. While we sat in the blind and watched Africa come to life that morning with the sun painting a picture across the African landscape, Danie and I talked about how difficult it was going to be with all this fresh green grass sprouting up.

Nothing came to water or feed that morning so after a while we got picked up from the blind and went about trying the spot and stalk technique. This proved to be the way forward. We first stalked a monster of a white springbok but, as I mentioned at the beginning of the story, I melt when I draw back my bow and that’s what happened. I drew back and sent a 650-grain Grizzly Stik arrow into a buffalo thorn acacia. But I did redeem myself on this same big white springbok just two days later.

This trip was quick, and 650-gr packed with zero luck out of the blinds was not for lack of trying, so we had to do everything by spot and stalk. We managed to end the safari with a few very fine antelope species in the salt, but not all we were after.

That is common on any safari. You will have a key species list and you most likely won’t get them all, but you probably will add a few animals of opportunity along the way that you didn’t have on your initial list.

Sometimes timing of trips isn’t always the most opportune, but you just have to make the most of it and use what conditions you are given. You’re in Africa on safari. Smile. Life is good!

In May 2018 I packed a bow with me on a safari to Zambia where the primary focus was a leopard, and after that the Cape buffalo and a dry-land hippo. Though this was not specifically a bowhunting safari, and I was using a rifle for the cat, it took a lot of our time and quota away with a rifle. We did get the cat early and that gave us time with the bow. However, May in Zambia is the very start of the season. The bush is thick and green, so getting shots on the smaller plains game was tough in thick vegetation.

In conclusion, when planning a bowhunting safari, it’s key to make a plan with the outfitter for the dates he thinks work best. That doesn’t always line up with our busy schedules and I have mentioned a few of my hunts that didn’t happen during ideal archery time. That’s OK. Different times of the year are better for different species and for different methods. Earlier is better for spot and stalk; the ground is fresh and quieter on your feet, but it’s also very thick and can make getting a shot difficult. Later is good for sitting at feed and water, but the caveat is the ground is very crunchy with all the leaf litter.

Pick your top key species and make a plan with your chosen outfitter. Focus on the main species you want, and if others offer opportunities and you can afford to take them, do so.  Hunting is hunting and nothing always works out 100% perfectly. That’s part of the fun in it – the challenges had, and the experiences earned.

By Hal Banasch

Our flight from Calgary via Amsterdam to Johannesburg arrived at OR Tambo Airport close to midnight, and we were transported to Afton Safari Lodge for our first-class overnight stay. With Richard Lendrum’s assistance we were able to book the 10-day safari in September 2023 with Eland Safaris. When I sent Alex Thomson our personal information, he said that we would be the oldest clients that they had ever had at their lodge, and they did a great job looking after all our needs and providing us with an adventurous trip.

I had started planning for this safari many months beforehand. In Canada it is very difficult to secure travel insurance for our age group, especially with pre-existing health issues.  Initially I couldn’t find anyone to accompany me, and finally thought of a couple of longtime friends that I hoped might be interested. To my surprise and relief, they both agreed to come, and were enthusiastic about going to Africa. They did not intend to hunt but wanted to experience the adventure of a sight-seeing safari.

My wife Lois and I had already experienced a wonderful hunting and sight-seeing safari in Namibia in 2016 with Etosha Heights Game Safaris where I took a Hartmann’s mountain zebra, a black-faced impala, a red hartebeest, a gemsbok and a magnificent kudu. We were within short driving distance of Etosha National Park, so we made a one-day trip to the park. It was well worthwhile seeing the world-famous Etosha salt pan which is larger than the Great Salt Flats in Utah. This 160,000-acre magnificent property is now an eco-tourist location filled with abundant wildlife that includes both the white and the black rhino.

The three of us on this trip have been for close to forty years. The oldest member of our group, Wayne (Cinch) Arthur was 86 years old, having had quintuple bypass heart surgery and carotid artery surgery. He was once a horse trainer, rodeo announcer, cowboy, a great public speaker, a singer (Richard had a guitar for him so that he could sing for us at the lodge), a songwriter and all-round raconteur.

Our youngest member, Darrel Riemer, a retired judge, was about two months short of his 79^th birthday. He is one of the Canadian directors for Samaritan’s Purse Canada and the member of our group that gives us emotional stability as both Cinch and I have a tendency to become a bit excitable at times. I am 81 years old and, except for having had both of my hips replaced (about ten years ago), I am in reasonably good health with no mobility issues. I managed an insurance office, and my son and I own a wholesale flyfishing supply company. For many years we hunted Spring black bear on the Peace River in Northern Alberta, Canada and we called our hunting party “The Boys of the River” and, as time passed, we changed the name to, “The Old Men of the River.” We have also hunted in Southern Alberta (where I live) for deer, antelope, elk and upland birds (mostly pheasants). We love hunting pheasants with Kona, my German Wire-haired Pointer, and have hunted with many other dogs that I have owned over the years.

After a good night’s rest at Afton, we had a five-hour drive to Eland Safaris.  I always enjoy driving in Africa and seeing its diversity and beauty, and Eland was like an oasis with great amenities. The next day our PH Johnny Thomson (part owner) and our tracker Petrus showed us around the thousands of acres of bushveld, looking for sable and nyala, which were the two animals that I was hoping to shoot, and deciding on others as the opportunities arose. We were surprised at the variety and numbers of animals, and saw nyala, but we did not see any sable although they were there.

That evening Johnny had an email from the owner of the neighboring hunting property saying that he had a trail camera picture of a very good sable bull. We hunted that property the next day but did not find the sable. I was told that they are very smart. We did find a very large impala ram which Johnny said I should take if the opportunity presented itself. It was very cautious, and we had to wait quite a while until I finally got the chance to shoot. I was successful, and it was a beautiful animal.

We hunted every day without finding a sable bull. Then one day Johnny told us about a good one on a hunting property that consisted of thousands of acres of bushveld that was about one and a half hours from the lodge. We decided to leave early in the morning, and when we arrived, we picked up the tracker who was familiar with the property and had seen this sable bull before. We hunted hard the whole day and saw plenty of game, studied many tracks, but could not find the sable that we were after.

The following day we decided to take the day off from hunting so that the three of us could enjoy a sightseeing safari. Johnny told us about the Palala Lodge and game reserve a little over an hour from Eland. We went and had a great time seeing animals that you don’t normally see hunting because of time constraints and the elusiveness of the animals. We saw lions, sable, leopard, wild dogs, cheetahs, snakes, crocodiles, hippo, and various other antelope.

We spent three afternoons in a blind waiting for a warthog that we saw on a trail camera, but he never showed up – that is why it is called, “hunting not shooting.” One day we decided to concentrate on a nyala bull that we had previously seen. We got ourselves hidden away and waited until he appeared out of the bush. Johnny told me where I should place the shot, and then gave me the OK to shoot when it was broadside. I shot, and it ran off into the bush. We waited a bit and slowly followed the blood trail and found him lying down, and I was able to put in a final shot. When I got close, I could not get over the beauty of this animal. I was thrilled.

The following day Johnny suggested we go back to the property that we had previously hunted and see if we could find the sable bull that had eluded us previously. We again picked up the local tracker and hunted hard for many hours, spotting much game, checking tracks – but no sable. Our whole group was very quiet and subdued. After lunch as we were hunting, the tracker whispered to Johnny and asked us to back up slightly. We did, and he pointed to some heavy brush, and there, mostly obscured, stood a sable bull looking at us at about 100 yards. Johnny asked if I could see any part of his shoulder, and I whispered back that I had only had a very small window, but he encouraged me to take that shot as there were no other options.

I was quite nervous, but knew it was now or never. I had a very solid rest and held my breath as I slowly squeezed the trigger. We could hear that the shot was a hit, at which point the bull jerked and ran off and out of sight. Johnny said that we needed to wait about 15 minutes for him to die, otherwise we might pressure him, and we could lose him. I knew this was the right thing to do but I was nervous the whole time, and time moves very slowly in those situations. Finally, we walked in the direction that the sable had run, with the little Jack Russel dog in the lead. We were still walking when the dog barked, and Johnny said that it had found the sable! I was so overcome, I actually threw my arms up and thanked God! Such an amazing and beautiful animal, and even more beautiful up close. I had seen one in Namibia in 2016 and thought that they were one of the most beautiful and unique plains-game animals. We took some pictures, and I thanked Johnny and the trackers for their assistance – without them this would have never happened.

On our last hunting day Johnny encouraged me to try to take a blue wildebeest bull if we could find an old one. We hunted and saw a lot of hogs, and Cinch and I were looking for the warthog that had eluded us thus far. While we were looking at the hogs (but not my warthog) Johnny said, “There he is.” I could not see what he was looking at and finally Johnny said, “Look where my finger is pointing.” Then I saw a blue wildebeest bull standing facing us at about 100 yards. Because he was facing us Johnny told me to shoot him dead center at his chest. I do not like frontal shots as they often end up wounding the animal if you are not in the proper kill area. I had a good solid rest and I aimed, but my shot was a little off and hit him through the chest a little left toward the shoulder.

At the shot he was off on a dead run. Johnny, Petrus and I followed him, while Cinch stayed in the vehicle. I was carrying the gun, and as we were running Johnny told me to stay close to him as there were buffalo in the area. Now I had two things to worry about: the buffalo and the possibility of losing this wildebeest. I had read many articles about the tracking skills of the native trackers, and I saw this firsthand. I watched Petrus as he pointed out some small specks of blood that I had to practically get down on my hands and knees to see. The blood trail ended, and I don’t know how he was able to track this animal, but he did. Occasionally, we would get a glimpse of the wildebeest in heavy brush but moving along very quickly. After some time, Petrus and Johnny made a plan for Petrus to pressure the bull out of the heavy brush to cross a two-track. Johnny told me to put the gun on the trigger stick and watch the two-track, and if the bull ran across, I was to shoot. If it was going to happen, it would happen fast.

I waited. Then suddenly the bull, going at full speed, crossed the two-track. I shot, but I missed. I was dejected and thought that it was probably my last and only chance to get the bull. “Everybody misses, and those that say they don’t, are just liars,” said Johnny. He told me to follow him and Petrus, and by this time my arms were getting chewed up by the infamous African bushveld. It was a warm day, so I was perspiring and getting rid of some of my excess fat. Finally, Petrus found the bull again and I was able to shoot and put him down for good. This whole adventure took us about an hour, but what an adventure and memory. I thanked Johnny and Petrus again for their patience and helping me to get my last trophy on my African safari. I should mention the gun that I was using was supplied by Eland Safaris, a Tikka .308 with a Leupold 3 X 9 Scope. It was a beautiful gun that performed flawlessly.

On my return to Canada I decided that this experience in beautiful Africa was worthy of a repeat visit. We had a wonderful time, made more special for being able to share it with my great friends. My advice to those of you that are thinking about Africa and a safari, don’t let the ages discourage you for they are only numbers. If you have reasonable health, a few bucks, and some great friends (hunters or non-hunters) then go to Africa for a trip of a lifetime. Compared to what it costs in Alaska or in the Yukon in Canada for moose, elk, Cariboo or sheep, Africa is a bargain. The lodges will cater a hunt based upon your physical condition or any mobility issues you may have.

 I like to look out of the windshield and not spend too much time looking in the rear-view mirror. For me personally, I would like to think that I can make one more African trip in my lifetime, but only the good Lord knows that, and I am at peace with that fact.

Remember, life is not a rehearsal.

By Glenn W. Geelhoed

Safari, 2021

“Most all Gnus are Good Gnus,” we said in the lame abuse of the Ki-Swahili term for the wildebeest. But this term is easier to say than Connochaetes taurinus, the scientific name of the common blue, or brindled wildebeest. These common antelope number in the millions in Africa and have been exported as exotics into other arid parts of the world’s grasslands. Their migration patterns in following the rains and grasses they nourish constitute one of the great wildlife spectacles in the wild kingdom as a million migrants move through the Tanzanian Serengeti into the Masai Mara of Kenya in search of grazing grasslands. As they migrate, they drop calves while on the move, and attract a host of carnivore predators that stalk them. They must endure natural impediments such as their crossing of the crocodile-infested Mara River and unnatural obstructions such as road traffic.

Their fecundity has overcome their many other deficits in intelligence and visual acuity, and they frequently borrow the assets of other species, such as the superior vision of zebras with whom they congregate. The wildebeest are ruminants, with multiple stomach chambers to digest the grasses they mow down in prodigious quantities, while the zebra is a horse Equs barychelid with a single-chambered stomach. They do not compete for the same food stock, and the zebra might tolerate their company as distracting alternative lion fodder.

I had scored on a big bull blue or brindled wildebeest and was eager to explore the variants and nuances within this numerous species and its close relatives. I had spotted on an earlier hunt in the Limpopo Province of South Africa the light-colored Golden Wildebeest, a trait that can be selected for and seems to breed true as a variant of the more common brindled wildebeest. I had hunted with SCI incoming President John McLaurin as we went in pursuit of the golden wildebeest but did not close the deal on this elusive color variant at the time, as I looked into it further with Charl Watts of Watts Trophy Safaris with whom I had enjoyed hunting.

The common blue wildebeest has a recessive gene for determining blonde or lighter color within the same species, a trait first noted along the Limpopo in Botswana bordering the South African Limpopo province. The distinctive golden color can be selected in breeding programs in game farms, and such selection began in the 1990s in South Africa to produce expanding populations of this color phase. The other features of its same-species mates remain similar, but the exotic golden hue makes this variant an exotic hunting trophy.

 Charl Watts and I teamed up with P J Erasmus of MEGA Springbok near De Aar in the Great Karoo Desert of the Northern Cape Province and went in pursuit of the golden wildebeest amid the bachelor bull herds of the vast game farms of the Karoo. While hunting springbok, we had encountered a few small herds of blue wildebeest herds numbering from four to eight, with most all of them of the characteristic brindled blue color pattern. Each herd, however, contained one or more golden wildebeest which did not seem to realize that they stood out in contrast to their more standard issue dress code neighbors. We had been within two hundred meters of the wildebeest while we were intent on the pursuit of the Springbok Slam, but when our attention was attracted by the golden wildebeest, they were on to us and vanished first out of range and then out of sight.

When we had set about in earnest to pursue the blonde wildebeest, they turned into a very elusive quarry. As we cast about in the tens of thousands of hectares of Kampfontein, we saw a few small groups of blue wildebeest, but their golden siblings had vanished. When we saw the tail end of one in rapid retreat into a dry river bed amid a series of rocky hills, we took off on foot in upwind pursuit.

We crossed the riverbank, which had last seen water seven years earlier, we spotted the wildebeest tracks and followed them into the desert scrub of blackthorn. This thorn bush blooms for a week with a white flower and it was this week of the Vernal Solstice in the Antipodes that the blackthorn was in bloom.

We followed the tracks through the white-on-black scrub and over bowling-ball size rocks to reach a spot where we might push the blackthorn aside and scan the far side with our binoculars. There were three blue wildebeest bulls standing facing us at 170 meters range. Between the two on the right was a flowering blackthorn that was unusually white in patches we had not seen before when glassing the area. On more careful view, it was a golden wildebeest bull staring at us with a large mop of white mane tossed over its forehead.

PJ eased forward to my right and pushed the blackthorn aside as Charl put up the shooting sticks and I slipped the .300 Ultra Mag into the fork. PJ had put his index finger into his left ear, aware that the rifle’s muzzle brake would be next to his left side. The big wildebeest bull was twitching its tail, and the other blue wildebeest were restless and preparing to bolt. The full-frontal view would be all that I would have on the golden bull, but I had a good rest, and softly squeezed the    trigger.

With a resounding “thump” the golden wildebeest was lifted up by the 150-grain solid and jumped free of the blackthorn bush to run to its left, where it collided with a big boulder and spun around to run across in front of me. Even before I re-chambered another round, it collapsed on top of a rocky ridge in full view of each of us who had watched this brief drama. We advanced to see that the golden wildebeest bull had been hit in the left chest and had fallen to a heart shot. It was not even necessary to move the bull from the position where it had fallen as if to pose in the rays of the afternoon sun slanting across a vast desertscape of the Karoo.

It was work getting the 260 kg bull winched into the pickup truck for caping  and processing back at the MEGA Springbok facilities where the 14½ year-old bull, several years past breeding, measured a respectable trophy scoring. It would be matched next to its brindled blue counterpart on the game room wall, but that left a space still for the other wildebeest species Connochaetes gnou, or the unique black wildebeest.

For this hunt, Charl Watts and I rode over to a vast stretch of the Great Karoo Desert and climbed up a ridge to scan the distant vistas as we glassed and saw white springboks and a group of black wildebeest. We swapped stories while sweeping vast Karoo scrub as we recounted events of the Boer War era that had occurred in this Northern Cape Province with its proximity to the Kimberly diamond pipe. We moved to get a wider angle perspective when we spotted a distant group of wildebeest coming toward the ridge on which we were stationed, still well over a mile away.

A group of six black wildebeest with their characteristic upswept curled horns appeared within five hundred meters and scattered such that the biggest of the bulls stood clear at a range of 351 meters. With a steady rest and compensating for the cross wind, the .300 Ultra Mag sent the 160-grain solid precisely where it was aimed and the wildebeest dropped.

We posed in front of the hilltop ridge on which we had sat as the backdrop with the setting sun gilding the black, or white-tailed, wildebeest in its native habitat.

We collected the trophy and went to the MEGA Springbok Lodge for its further processing while the sun set on our Wildebeest Slam. The cluster of the two species in the two-color phases is now heading toward display in the gameroom as a crystallized memory of an enjoyable shared experience in the Great Karoo.

By Ken Moody

The subject of what constitutes a trophy Cape Buffalo is one that causes me great irritation. There is a contingent of hunters who firmly believe that for a buffalo to be considered a ‘trophy,’ it must be at least 15 years old, a day away from death, and sport a scrumcap on top of its head.  These are the keyboard warriors who chastise, belittle, and criticize every photo posted that doesn’t depict a buff up their nonsensical standards.  These are also the very same hypocrites that will shoot a mature whitetail buck or elk in the rut, even though the animal is still of breeding age.  These guys really don’t know what they’re talking about but somewhere along the line, have listened to some disgruntled professional hunter who likely only hunts a handful of buffalo each season, bemoan and cry about all the breeding age buffalo bulls being killed.  Trust me, these guys aren’t buffalo gurus, they simply like to appear to be. 

The bottom line is this…the MAJORITY of Cape Buffalo killed on safaris will be mature bulls of 8 plus years in age, possess reasonably hard bosses, and likely still be capable of breeding.  This is a fact and anyone stating otherwise, doesn’t know buffalo hunting.  Here’s another fact.  There is absolutely nothing wrong with shooting a mature bull regardless of its age.  ‘Hard bossed,’ is another misnomer that is not fully understood by the uninitiated.  Some mistakenly believe that a hard boss is one that is solid completely across the top of the buffalo’s head, with no gap or hairline present.  While this horn configuration represents the ultimate in cape buffalo, horn density and growth is primarily a result of genetics, not age.  Many buffalo bulls and their offspring will never fully close on top of the horn and always have a gap between them, sometimes with a thin line of hair showing.  These are not immature bulls, per se, but bulls genetically predisposed to growing horns the same way, generation after generation. 

Other considerations when discussing trophy buffalo are client preferences and likes.  Some clients prefer to hunt the oldest buffalo that can be found regardless of horn size, while others insist on hunting for a bull with great drops and width.  These are generally 10- to 12-year-old bulls that are fully mature and in their prime, but not yet past the point at which horn deterioration occurs.  The professional guiding these clients is not there to satisfy his own ego, but to hunt for buffalo consistent with the wants of the client, though advising the client on area production, genetics, and what to expect is advisable.  In my many years of operating a safari company, I’ve found that most clients just want a great hunt with a good buffalo bagged at the end of it.  For me, that means a mature buffalo bull regardless of age. 

It generally takes 8 to 9 years of age for a buffalo bull to grow a hard boss.  A hard boss can be defined as horns that are solid in the front and on top, with or without a gap between them.   There may be a softer under cap which is visible, but there should not be the soft, salty looking, two fingers or greater, growth on the front or top of the horns.  Bulls displaying these traits are immature buffalo and should not be shot, in my opinion.  Other traits of older, mature bulls are an obvious dewlap hanging down under the chin and neck, a large, box-like head, and the classic Roman nose. The following photos depict both mature and immature buffalo bulls.  

Blunted tips, worn face and horn, this buffalo is a very old buffalo, well past breeding age.

These three bulls are from same genetic line. Notice the similar horn configurations and that the horns do not close on top. 

Immature buff.  Notice the soft top and salty front.

Two good, mature, trophy buffalo.

Young buffalo.  Notice the bosses are not developed.  The center one on the right is almost there. 

Immature bulls in both these pics.  Notice the soft appearance and salty look to the tops.

Trophy assessment is best left up to the professional, but all clients should confer with their hunting outfit and discuss the trophy quality present in the areas to be hunted.  Each will have a prevalent horn type present in the buffalo due to the genetics within the herds hunted. 

With regards to horn width, 40” has always been considered the ‘holy grail’ amongst trophy buffalo hunters but any mature bull sporting horns 36” or wider is a good buffalo.  When assessing in the field, a good rule of thumb is to use the width of the buffalo’s ears as a guide.  Generally, the ears will extend around 35” in width from the head, total distance between both ear tips.  Other factors such as head size come into play, but the above is an easy way to make a general assessment.  If the horns are a hand width wider than the ears, you’re likely looking at a 40” buffalo, but a smaller head buffalo may be 39” so rely on your professional for the ultimate assessment. 

Here he is grounded.

Left: 48” giant bull.  Spotted in the evening, tracked, and killed the following day around 10 am.

A trophy animal is always in the eye of the beholder.  Don’t let internet heroes with limited knowledge determine what is and is not a trophy buffalo.  It’s your hunt and together with your professional you’ll make the decision as to whether to shoot or pass.  It’s the adventure that counts and if it’s a mature animal, you’ll cherish the memory forever.  That’s the real trophy

By Ricardo Leone

Do you remember the 1970’s American sitcom, “The Odd Couple”? The comedy’s two lead characters were Felix Unger and Oscar Madison. Felix was the uptight, neurotic, OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) photographer whose wife threw him out of the house. Felix then moved in with his old friend, Oscar Madison, a sportswriter who, in a word, can only be described as a slob. Can you imagine hunting with an Odd Couple? Well, I can – in fact, I did!

On my first Zambian safari my hunting partner brought a third hunter who I had never met – an Austrian named Werner (aka Felix). Our outfitter, who loves a good laugh, paired Werner with his PH, Jody (aka Oscar).  Jody was a colorful character – a boisterous young South African who grew up on a crocodile farm. The first time I saw Jody he was on his cellphone arguing with his fiancée. Jody was in flipflops, short shorts with an untucked shirt exposing more of his belly than I really wanted to see. Juxtaposed was Werner, who was physically fit, well groomed, and impeccably dressed, although I am not sure who his cologne was meant to impress in the bush. Werner brought all the right kit, and be it cutting edge or traditional, it was all in impeccable condition. Jody had an old CZ rifle whose stock broke in two on their first game drive without even being shot. As the old saying goes, “opposites attract” and in little time, Werner and Jody became thick as thieves.

As a PH, Jody initially stayed in our outfitters hut. Sadly, for all of us, our outfitter’s snoring could be heard above the usual night noises of laughing hyenas, two lions roaring at each other from across the Luangwa River, and the mumbling and rumbling hippos in the river. Thus, you cannot blame Jody for seeking a bit of quiet in Werner’s hut where there was the only spare bed in the camp. Jody soon moved into Werner’s hut full time, which provided the rest of us with great amusement.  Before long the two of them seemed to coordinate their clothing – Werner with his blaze-orange shirt and Jody with blaze-orange short shorts – they were running around like two giddy schoolgirls.      

If the two of them were not amusing enough, soon Werner claimed he wished to hunt a hippo and provide the camp with the culinary delight of hippo ribs. His planned motive and perhaps primary mission was to bring back the tale of his rib creation and present the recipe and pictures to his local Austrian Gentleman’s Cooking Society. Seriously, you cannot make this up.

the rib’s glaze. Werner and his sous-chef Jody had their day’s work cut out for them as they commandeered the cook hut and went to work. The first order of business was to select the ribs to keep for the camp, while the rest of the animal went to the village for some welcome meat. I kept my distance except for a quick peak at the ribs cooking in the wood-fired oven. I must confess, they looked spectacular. Werner and Jody’s sole focus that day was the ribs. They even sacrificed their afternoon game drive. At sunset we gathered by the campfire and had our obligatory sundowners on the riverbank – always a great time of day to exchange tales of our respective adventures. Most conversation was either focused on my first buffalo or the hippo ribs. Of course, we had to keep from cackling too loud about the Gentlemen’s Cooking Society. Drinks were cut short by the much-anticipated dinner in the communal hut.

Instead of our usual buffet, we were treated to a show – the unveiling of the hippo ribs followed by the carving. As good as the ribs looked in the oven, they looked even better before carving. We had our first hint that things were amiss when Werner started to carve the ribs – either the knife was dull, or the ribs were tougher than one would hope. Jody volunteered to taste the ribs. The image looked like Fred Flintstone eating a brontosaurus rib. We all watched as Jody bit down and pulled as hard as humanly possible. When Jody eventually gnawed off a piece of meat, he was less successful chewing – the meat clearly had the same properties as his Land Cruiser’s tire. Nobody could tell you how the ribs tasted as the mission was immediately aborted – even Jody was uncharacteristically speechless as he carefully checked his teeth.

The one person who predicted this outcome was our outfitter, who had instructed the camp’s chef to prepare dinner as usual. Once the hippo rib show was mercifully terminated, our outfitter had a proper meal served. 

While the hippo ribs were a complete failure, the entertainment value was not to be denied – perhaps the end of the perfect day for most of us. As for Werner – the outcome was a real disappointment. He had meticulously documented every step for his cooking club. I will bet you a box of ammo of your choosing that The Gentlemen’s Cooking Society never heard a breath about the hippo ribs extravaganza. If I lose that bet, it’s because Werner had his accomplice, Jody, flown to Austria and lie through his teeth which, luckily, had survived the ordeal.