One for the Road

Sep 3, 2024 | Hunting Stories, News

Lunch with Leo, Okavango Delta, 2008. Yes, his tail is flicking. Yes, he was annoyed that we were disturbing his repast. And yes, we got out of there.

By Terry Wieland

RECOGNITION OF REALITY RETURNS TO BOTSWANA

For good, one hopes

There is one inescapable conclusion to be drawn from the announcement that Botswana is reopening big-game hunting: Wonderful. Now, perhaps, the animals have a chance.

Having said that, however, where do you go from there? None of the arguments pro or con are new. The only new thing is the fact that politicians seem to actually be behaving sensibly, responding to legitimate concerns of the people on the ground, rather than bowing to pressure from Internet vigilantes or (in some documented cases) taking outright bribes from international so-called ‘animals rights’ groups.

The problems faced by the people of Botswana, to say nothing of the lions, elephants, and Cape buffalo of Botswana, are not much different from their counterparts elsewhere on the continent: Too many people wanting too much of the land, and the animals having no way to fight back against basic economic pressure — no way, that is, except the price that can be put on their heads (literally) for hunting licences and trophy fees.

In 1990, I made my first safari in Botswana, hunting from a lovely camp on the edge of the Okavango run by Safari South. Our tents were scattered among some towering sausage trees, with an outcropping of the delta creating something resembling what I imagine the Garden of Eden might have been. A resident herd of lechwe waded in the water, against a backdrop of hundreds of birds that came and went in a moving kaleidoscope of color.

Two years later, when I returned for a second, longer, sojourn in Botswana, I got a different look. When I asked about that camp, I was told it no longer existed. It was now pasture land, and the birds and lechwe had been replaced by cattle — the slow, relentless erosion of wildlife areas that herds of cattle and goats perpetrate from the Tswana lands of Botswana to the Masai territories of the Great Rift Valley. It is what some call “the inevitability of progress.”

There was a simple economic equation at work. Cattle and goats are money on the hoof. They can be eaten, or they can be sold to be eaten by others. Lechwe cannot, nor can flocks of water birds. My little paradise was gone.

Four years later, another trip to Botswana. This time, I was ensconced in a camp called Tsum Tsum, on another side of the delta. It was one of four camps operated by Mark Kyriacou; three were hunting camps, while the fourth — as required by game department regulations — was purely photographic.

Every couple of days, the camp manager and I would take a truckload of game meat over to the photographic camp. We took guinea fowl, doves, sand grouse, kudu, tsessebe — anything the hunters in our camp had collected that was surplus to our own requirements. Refrigeration being at a premium, meat could not be kept long. We always pulled up to the back of the cook tent and kept our mission to ourselves if we ran into one of the photo clients, most of whom were virulently anti-hunting and regarded us as barbarians.

The thing was, they were all there on group tours, paid for at discounts, counting their pennies while discoursing loud and long on how much they loved animals and “if you love animals you don’t kill them.” They were told the meat they were eating was goat or some native domestic fowl. I was also told that the only thing that kept the photo camp even close to economically viable was the supply of free meat we provided, as opposed to the very expensive process of shipping in meat either by air or via the ten-hour drive around the delta from Maun.

It was a real-life incarnation of the devil’s bargain in H.G. Wells’s The Time Machine. We, guns in hand, were the Morlocks; they, cameras in hand, were the naive and self-righteous Eloi. Barbarians we might have been, but we made their sojourn in paradise possible.

Another economic fact that is largely ignored by the “green” forces of the world, advocating “non-consumptive” wildlife policies, is that, first, everything dies and, second, everything eats. The only questions are how things will die, and who will eat what. Big-game hunters and, to a lesser extent, wingshooters, are prepared to pay big bucks for a safari. They come in small numbers, and spend large amounts; they try to make a minimal impact on the land, for obvious reasons.

Tourists, either so-called “eco-tourists” or the more obnoxious photo-safari clients, come in large numbers and spend small amounts — as little as possible, in my experience, and becoming ever more so as the goal of any trip, anywhere in the world, becomes merely the taking of a few selfies to post on Facebook.

People in large numbers require mass accommodation. They require buses, which require roads; they need to eat in mass quantities, which requires all the infrastructure of civilization, and this infrastructure requires its own support mechanisms of food, transportation, and fuel.

Through the 1990s and up to 2008, eco- and photo-tourism steadily gained ground in Botswana, partly through government fiat and partly through the rise of low-priced group tours and economy airfares. From my first visit in 1990, to my last one in 2008, Maun grew from a dusty little hamlet with only a couple of paved roads, where the major traffic hazard was an errant goat, into a semi-metropolis of traffic roundabouts, honking horns, sprawling hotel-resorts, and hordes of clanking heavy machinery to build and maintain highways.

None of the above is what you might call “wildlife friendly,” yet much of it was intended to support “non-consumptive” wildlife tourism. Hunters, it seems, are the only people who can see the irony in this.

While all this was going on, a couple of distinct wildlife controversies played important roles in the life of the delta. These concerned the hunting of lions and the hunting of elephants. In the latter case, elephant hunting was closed in Botswana in 1984, then reopened in 1996. Elephant numbers had ballooned, and they needed to be reduced. Not enough licences were issued to make much of an impact, but the fact of hunting affected where the elephants roamed and how they behaved.

For example, in 1996, at Tsum Tsum, I had the experience of waking up around midnight to the sound of an elephant tearing apart the tree overhead to get at the edible pods. The ripping of branches and growling of elephant digestion a few inches from my head, separated only by some eight-ounce canvas, was memorable. A couple of years later, the elephants avoided Tsum Tsum, which made our lives a little less perilous.

Something similar happened with lions, but in reverse. Lion hunting was opened, closed, then opened again, largely in response to international pressure, and lion numbers leapt. By 2004, lions around Mark’s main camp, Splash, roamed among the tents at night in such numbers that none of the staff would venture out before daylight, when the lions withdrew into the undergrowth. Missing one’s pre-dawn coffee, sipping and listening to the birds, made a major impression on me (pre-dawn coffee being an important personal ritual) but I didn’t want to see any of our staff get eaten — which could and did happen.

As lion numbers burgeoned, unthreatened by rifles, they made serious inroads into populations of Cape buffalo, but instead of reopening lion hunting, the authorities suggested limiting buffalo hunting. This was more or less the situation when the incoming president, Ian Khama, announced the closure of big-game hunting on public and tribal land, including the Okavango. This big-game hunter’s Eden since the arrival of William Cotton Oswell in 1849 was turned over to the photo safaris in the zebra-striped vans, all in an attempt to make Botswana the poster boy for the idealistic (and wholly unrealistic) “green” movement.

Meanwhile, elephant numbers increased with devastating effects on habitat, lions became as numerous as goats, the Cape buffalo withdrew into the mopane to escape the lions, and the bigwigs of the international animal-rights groups flocked to Maun to drink to their success on the patios of the new photo-safari resorts.

Too extreme an image? Possibly. You might conclude from this that your correspondent is a tad cynical when it comes to the motives and motivation of politicians, greenies, and animal-rights types. In the end, history has shown, over and over again, that the only people who genuinely care about the welfare of wildlife, and are willing to spend big bucks to help, are hunters, and the only people who can protect wildlife are the inhabitants of the country where wildlife dwells.

The reopening of big-game hunting in Botswana puts those two groups back into a position to protect the animals and ensure their long-term welfare. Or at least, one would hope.

The Okavango lunch bunch. Six big male lions used our camp at Tsum Tsum as a screen to attack a herd of buffalo out behind. They brought down a bull, with great commotion at four in the morning, and were still eating five hours later when we drove out to take a look. The other three are in the grass, napping. You would not want to cross these guys.

Six Shooting Tips for African Hunting

Sep 3, 2024 | Hunting Stories

Preparing for your upcoming African hunting trip is one exciting part of the overall safari experience. In the months leading up to your adventure, careful planning and preparation can help make the difference between a good trip and a great adventure. Decisions about what type of clothing and gear can be aided by research and good advice and suggestions given by your PH and their capable staff. My trips to Southern Africa have helped me put together the following list of shooting tips.

1: Bring your favorite deer rifle

Said another way, bring a rifle that you are familiar with, shoot well and love. Unless you are hunting the largest “dangerous” African game, like Cape buffalo, elephant, hippo, etc., any “deer rifle” at least as large and fast as a .270 Winchester is plenty of rifle. Most PHs will recommend that you bring a rifle of .30 caliber or larger, and that means that your .308 Winchester or .30-06 Springfield will be more than adequate for even the largest of Africa’s plains-game species. Every hunter worth his salt will tell you that it is far better to shoot an animal perfectly with a well-constructed bullet from a smaller caliber rifle than it is to shoot one poorly with a larger bore. Simply said, there is no substitute for good marksmanship. On my first safari in the Limpopo province of South Africa, I brought along a Browning A Bolt .308 that I had hunted deer with for decades. I took a kudu, impala, warthog, wildebeest and gemsbok with that rifle, all with one clean shot. Talk to your PH about what rifle you would like to bring, follow his advice, and then practice with that rifle, a lot.

2: Use the right bullet

Think about it. Your bullet is the only part of the rifle, scope, cartridge combination that actually comes into contact with the target animal. Bullet performance is critical and is almost always directly related to bullet construction. Lightly jacketed projectiles designed for thin-skinned North American game have no place when hunting in Africa. One might argue that such a bullet is more than adequate for the smaller antelopes like bushbuck, springbok or even blesbok. That may be true, but it is also true that it is not unusual to encounter many species while on safari. I, for one, would hate to have a thinly jacketed, ballistic tip bullet in my .308, targeting bushbuck, and have a 700-pound Burchell’s Zebra or a 600-pound greater kudu present a shot that my bullet of choice might prove inadequate. Such a predicament is, in my view, unethical and easily avoidable. Pick a bullet that will provide optimum performance on the largest game expected to be encountered and know that it will do the job on the smaller animals too. My wife used a .30-06 to shoot a trophy steenbok on our last safari. One well-placed shot with a monolithic solid bullet produced by South Africa’s own Peregrine bullets took him from his waterhole to the salt room in the blink of an eye. Solid bullets out of fast calibers produce impressive results on small targets like steenbok, duiker and other members of the Tiny Ten. Plus, their lack of expansion tends to produce small exit holes and even smaller entrance holes, something that your taxidermist is sure to appreciate. These types of solid bullets will also perform well on the larger, thicker-skinned plains game. On a recent safari, I shot a Cape eland with a similar solid bullet fired from a .338 Win Mag. One frontal shot, taken off shooting sticks at 150 yards, took out the top of the eland’s heart. Four staggering steps later and he was down and done. The skinners later recovered a barely expanded bullet in the 1800-pound giant’s paunch, the bullet having travelled almost three feet along its track inside the eland. Good bullets are a must. Once again, consult your PH, follow his advice, buy the right bullets and practice with them.

3: Practice from shooting sticks

A lot of African hunting is “spot and stalk”. Hours of riding in the back of a Land Cruiser or walking along game trails or two-track roads will eventually lead to fresh sign or sightings of target animals. Once on a fresh track, careful stalking and a bit of luck just might bring you within shooting range of your trophy. When Lady Luck smiles, you will most likely be taking a shot from a standing position with your rifle resting on shooting sticks, placed in just the right spot by your PH. These sticks can be as simple as the traditional three sticks lashed together to form a tri-legged rest, or space-age lightweight carbon fiber quad pods, or anything in between. On my last safari, my PH used the Primos Trigger Stick tripod. Whatever the design and construction, the bottom line is that most shots taken by North American hunters are not taken from sticks. Most of us whitetail deer hunters shoot from blinds or stands, usually from a sitting position and, hopefully, from off a rest. Shooting from sticks is not difficult, it is just different and not something that many of us US hunters do a lot. It isn’t difficult, if it is practiced.

Practice shooting off some type of sticks and you will be ready to make that kind of shot in Africa. Once in the country, find out what type of shooting sticks your PH will be carrying in the field. Shoot from them a few times at their range and get used to the setup. Also, remember to check the height adjustment every time you start a new stalk. It is not the time to find out that the height is wrong with a trophy gemsbok or warthog staring back at you.

4: Study the anatomy of African game

It is a surprise to many North American hunters how different the “kill zone” of many African animals is when compared to the game they are used to hunting here in the US. The heart and lung area of most of the commonly hunted African game species lies more forward than their North American counterparts, tucked in low and well behind the front shoulder. Shots “on the shoulder” and aimed at the lower third of the target animal will almost always do the trick. Frontal shots can be effective, but care must be taken to dead-center the animal in the lower third of the chest. Shots pulled to the left or right of center and/or high can lead to hits in one lung and can make for long tracking jobs that leave little blood spoor. There are many resources on the internet that show X-ray type overlays of popular African game animals, showing skeletal structure and internal vital organs. Take the time to study these types of visual aids so that when the time comes to take the shot you will be able to do so quickly and accurately.

Bonus Tip #1: Bring a good camera!

Or video camera. Or both. On our most recent trip to Southern Africa, my wife and I took over 1,000 pictures! There is a lot to see in Africa, without a doubt. We made a before-the-hunt side trip to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe. I now completely understand why the “Smoke that Thunders” is one of the seven natural wonders of the world! Pictures don’t do it justice, but that didn’t keep us from trying! A day spent on both the Zimbabwe and Zambian sides of these majestic falls left us awestruck, soaking wet and with a camera roll full of amazing pictures to help us remember our magical day in this incredible place. During the hunt, we took photo after photo of flora and fauna that you just can’t see anywhere other than in the bushveld. After our successful hunts, the professionals at Eland Safaris took the time to position our animals and took the time to get the pictures right. I, for one, think that we owe it to the memory of the creature to take that time to immortalize them respectfully. Our many beautiful photographs of trophies taken will help us remember that exact moment when we pulled the trigger. Make good memories and then make them immortal by capturing them on film with quality camera equipment.

5: Bring your bow, or crossbow

Africa is a veritable bowhunter’s paradise. A target-rich environment coupled with outfitters who understand bowhunting and who hunt with archery gear themselves can make for an epic adventure for those who bring their “stick and string” to Africa. Hunters who make the choice to bowhunt later in the African winter, during the months of July and August, will generally find animals that are much more prone to visiting water holes during daylight hours. Careful placement of bow-specific blinds, or hides, near water holes or other key locations, along with the slow burning of dried dung (usually zebra) to create scent covering smoke, should have bowhunters within shooting distance of desired species. Patience is the key. That, and fully knowing one’s archery equipment. Again, I say, practice. Take the advice of your bowhunting PH, gear up with the correct arrow weight, spine and broadhead that they recommend, and practice, practice, practice. Once in safari camp, range-shoot your bow to make sure that you are still “on” and then go hunting! Shoot a little every day in camp to stay loose and let the arrows fly! An additional benefit of bringing archery gear to Africa is the ease of travel. Most airlines don’t have restrictions on archery equipment (just be sure to declare it and cover all broadheads – better yet, keep them in a specifically designed broadhead box). Most African countries don’t have restrictions either. Heck, bring your bow and your gun and have mixed-bag hunt!

6: Don’t bring your rifle at all

No, I am not arguing with Tip #1! I am just offering an alternative solution. Any big-game outfitter that I have ever hunted with has offered the option to rent or hire a rifle from them. While it may seem like heresy to some folks to shoot another man’s rifle while hunting, in my experience it is often much easier to travel without a firearm, especially if your travels include side trips for sightseeing, etc. On our most recent trip to Africa, my wife and I visited Zimbabwe, Zambia, Botswana and Namibia before heading to South Africa for our safari. It would have been virtually impossible to drag my rifle along through all those border crossings. So, instead, I set it up in advance with Alex Thomson with Eland Safaris to hire rifles for the both of us. Upon arrival in camp, my wife and I shot several rifles of various calibers until we found the ones that we liked. Serious outfitters pride themselves on having top-notch equipment, including firearms and optics. Talk to your PH, decide if renting a rifle is right for you and then practice with that rifle until you are confident and ready to go. If your air travel takes you through either London or Amsterdam, you may want to seriously consider NOT traveling with a firearm. There are lots of horror stories out of those two airports. I’m just saying…

Bonus Tip #2: If you elect to bring your own firearm, utilize a service like the one provided by Afton Safari Lodge

Their Gun Permit and Meet and Greet service provide expertise and understanding of how the system works, both on the US and South African side, and will provide peace of mind and assurance when navigating the seemingly unfamiliar waters of international bureaucracy. Their fees are reasonable and their service is top notch, a small price to pay to make sure that ‘I’s are dotted, ‘T’s are crossed, and your gun and you arrive at safari camp ready to make your hunting dreams come true.

Fair Chase Buffalo Hunt in South Africa

Aug 15, 2024 | Hunting Stories

It was early 2023 and Cal was someone I was getting to know; appreciated for his incredible knowledge and love of big bores, buffalo, and Africa. He was also a huge fan of controversial but very well-known hunter, Mark Sullivan, explaining the public and private profile of this gent. We were about to ship his skulls from a precious safari, and he was due to stay at Afton.

And then he died. On his way to the airport. This was an article we had lined up and I will share some of the skulls at Afton as our tribute to him. – Richard Lendrum

Four-Bore Bulls

By Cal Pappas

Basie and Angela Kuhn’s Haakdoorn Safaris has become for me to be the ideal place to hunt Cape buffalo. While the ranch abounds in plains game it is the buffalo that turns one’s head. Many have been critical of my hunts there and others on South Africa’s game ranches. So please allow me to state my observations of South Africa and other hunting countries in Africa to begin this article.

The most common criticism of South Africa is, “It’s not fair chase.” Fair chase is a vastly over used term in my humble opinion. Rightly so – many small farms in South Africa are “put and take” hunting. I have seen it in person: lions in small paddocks separated by mane size and mane color, 60-inch kudu bulls purchased and released the day before the hunter arrives, rhino and other animals darted and measured then sold by the inch, etc. But this is not the entire scope of hunting in South Africa.

And I will state the “fair chase” hunting countries of Zimbabwe, Zambia, Mozambique, Namibia, and Tanzania are not always so. In Zimbabwe a hunter and PH relayed to me their strategy for a big kudu bull was do drive at night in the hope a big bull would be frozen by the headlights and then be shot from the back of the Land Cruiser. In the Tsholotsho area, a waterhole sits 100 feet from Hwange Park’s southern border. Hunters there wait at night with a spotlight in the hope of shooting a 60+ pound bull as he comes to drink. Are baited lions and leopards fair chase? We will never know how many plains and dangerous game are shot from the vehicle when encountered on a drive. I write the above not in critical words of hunting, but to illustrate “fair chase” may have many different definitions.

Haakdoorn Safaris is a ranch about an hour’s drive north of Thabazimbi, South Africa. It is a huge property. The perimeter fence is 57 kilometers! A small portion of the ranch is set aside for breeding buffalo, and hunting is not allowed there. However, the majority of the ranch is not divided into paddocks, and herds of buffalo, impala, hartebeest, waterbuck, gemsbok, blue wildebeest, sable, roan, bushbuck, eland, nyala, giraffe, and kudu run free and are born, live, breed, and die on the property. Warthogs are everywhere. Bird watching is second to none. Leopards live on the ranch but, of course, are illegal to hunt.

The size of the ranch drew me there in 2018 for my first hunt. Also, the legendary PH Mark Sullivan was there as the guest of the owner, Basie, and I wanted to have the experience of being in the field with Mark. I have known him for 20 years and published an extensive three-part article about him for the African Hunter magazine. I wanted to set the record straight and dispel so many of the rumors about this wonderful PH and patriotic American. Mark was not to be here in 2019 and I had the pleasure of hunting with Johan Biewenga, the ranch manager and resident PH. (Basie also holds a SA PH license). The hunting world was paralyzed in 2020 by COVID but in 2021 I returned to hunt Haakdoorn again with Basie guiding me for buffalo.

In 2018 I took a wonderful 43” buffalo with average bosses. My first shots with my beloved John Wilkes .600 double were high as I took too much bead in the back sight’s V for a quick shot. Later in the day the bull dropped instantly when I took the time to aim better. 2019 saw a 39” buffalo fall as well as an impala, two warthogs, bushbuck, and an immense hartebeest of 26”. Game that year was taken with a .450-400 Harrison and Hussey boxlock ejector that belonged to the big-game hunter and famous (or infamous in Australia) cricket champion Douglas Jardine; he owned the rifle from 1933 until his death in 1958. My buffalo was down with a quick left and right and all plains game here (and 11 more in Botswana the following week) fell to one shot. The hartebeest was killed at 214 yards which is my longest shot with a double.

As mentioned, COVID ended my hunting hopes for 2020 but all was open in 2021 and it was time for my second hunting trip and vacation to Africa. As double rifles are the love of my life, and as I try to bring a different one on my hunting ventures, I thought it proper to bring this year a 4-bore double rifle by RB Rodda. Made in 1885 and weighing 23 pounds (24 when loaded!) I felt it proper to return this monstrous antique to the hunting fields once again. Twenty rounds of ammunition balanced the scales at the airline limit of 11 pounds and would be enough to hunt with as well as let my friends at the ranch have the once-in-a-lifetime experience of shooting a big 4-bore.

For readers who enjoy ballistics, my load for the Rodda was 120 grains of Blue Dot shotgun powder, a 1/8” over powder wad set to 100 pounds of pressure, several foam or felt spacer wads, topped with a 1400-grain round ball sized to .970” and held securely with a light crimp. Muzzle velocity averaged 1655 feet per second with a muzzle energy of 8516 ft.lbs. and John Taylor KO (knock out) value of 321.

I fired well over 100 shots over a rest at my front yard shooting range at my home in Alaska at 50 yards. Six shot strings group averaged four inches, and I was confident I could hit a buffalo at that distance. June arrived and I flew United Airlines to Chicago, and on to Newark for the flight over the pond. United’s overseas flight was fairly new after COVID and the plane was a third full. It was an absolute joy to have an empty row of seats to lie down on and sleep well on the last seven hours of the flight.

After a quick and effortless pass through passport control, my checked bag was first on the carousel. Johan Nel greeted me and a short while later we left the airport with firearm license in hand for the 3½ hour drive to the ranch. A stop at KFC in Bela Bela about halfway on the drive, then arriving in camp shortly after 11 pm. (Bela Bela was formerly known as Warm Baths because of the hot springs there).

The next day Basie greeted me, and we spend the day driving the ranch looking at several varieties of game. Having 21 hunting trips in Africa I was not looking for any more plains game, and a 4-bore is not a plains-game rifle by any stretch of the imagination. The center of Basie’s ranch is a huge flat plain of perhaps eight square miles of tan dead grass, about two feet in height in this dry season. We glassed but saw few buffalo – they were lying down in the heat of mid-day. A closer examination with my Leica 10x42s allowed me to see horn tips and bosses throughout the plain, about the level of the grass. We spotted plains game at several of the pans, or waterholes, we visited. Tomorrow would be a good day.

In the next morning’s coolness before the sun warmed the land, I was able to see several groups of buffalo in the vast plain and also in the bush and woods surrounding the plain. With the wind in our favor, Basie and I began several stalks that all ended in frustration. If the buffalo did not notice us, it was wildebeest, gemsbok, hartebeest that did, and when they ran, they spooked the buffalo. In all this commotion throughout the day I did notice one bull with an absolutely huge boss. Widthwise he would be 40 inches or better, but the boss was larger than any buffalo I have taken. The small group of bulls would feed the remainder of the day, and we decided make an early day of it and glass the open area from a distance and try to spot him tomorrow.

The next day we glassed from several vantage points and in the afternoon finally spotted the bull. He was in a different group now, with both bulls and cows. It would be impossible to stalk him in the open without any trees to hide our movements. Basie had a wonderful idea. The small herd was slowly moving in a constant direction. I understood if they kept moving that way there was a waterhole in the trees they would eventually come to. At Basie’s suggestion we left our vehicle and moved to the grass in the area they would eventually walk to. It was a guess, as they could move in any direction they wanted.

Towards day’s end they were approaching shooting distance. We sat for a few hours, watching and glassing. Hartebeest and gemsbok came into us from different directions, saw us, but thankfully walked away rather than break into a full run. Wildebeest that came our way did run, but as they run at anything, anytime, it didn’t seem to matter.

As the sun was rapidly approaching the horizon the buffalo was there. I could plainly see the targeted bull in my binocs, and now the glass was not needed as he was close. The only problem was waiting for the bull to present a shot. I wanted a side-on shot and didn’t want another buffalo directly behind my bull in case of a pass-through shot. (11 years prior I shot two bison in South Dakota with a Robert Hughes 4-bore and the spherical balls passed through both bulls). At 60 yards the Rodda was on sticks as I waited for the best time to shoot. Then, when it was about the time, we were noticed. Time stood still as one, then another, then all stopped grazing to stare at us.

After what seemed like an eternity, some cows and young ones broke and ran to our left. The bulls followed suit. and I thought, “Damn, will I ever get this close again?” But as the younger bulls slowed, a shot presented itself as my bull turned and was quartering on to me at 50+ yards. I took aim at the bull’s shoulder and, consistent to my shooting, I shot high and to the right. At the shot, all the buffalo ran, as did my bull. But he was hit and hit hard, as when he ran, he did not run with the others. Also, as he ran, Basie and I could plainly see a lump protruding from the bull’s back right side as he turned and ran. The ball hit just behind the left shoulder and passed through several feet of soft tissue and came to a stop just ahead of the rear right leg.

He was on the run now and so were we. Then he stopped and we were able to get within shooting range. A second shot at 80 yards hit him in the same place and we found out later a second ball was near the first one on his back right side. He was moving, but slowing down, and two more shots were “Hail Mary” shots that hit him but not fatally. The big bull stopped, staggered, but though he tried to keep on his feet, the loss of blood caused him to fall. As we approached he tried to rise, and Basie had his stunning Westley Richards .577 at the ready as was my 4-bore. The bull could not hold his stance and fell one last time. He was still breathing but not moving as we came in from his behind and I put the last shot between his shoulders through his spine. I didn’t really need the last shot as he was about dead. But he may not have known it, and a last injection of adrenaline could give him the energy he needed for one last moment of glory. A moment I wanted to avoid.

At close examination Basie was as amazed as I was. Final measurement was a width of 42½ inches and his bosses measured 17” on the right and 18” on the left. Not the widest horn spread I have shot but the best overall and by far the largest boss! We returned to camp after last light for a hot shower and dinner, then early to bed. Hunting was done, or so I thought.

What to do the next day? Well, as I had my buffalo down (and what a buffalo it was!) Basie offered me an impala or warthog at no charge. Great! I could not see me walking with the 4-bore all day in the bush and I doubt I could make a quick snapshot with a 24-pound rifle. The range limitations were also a factor. We decided on a quick blind under a tree with a few branches in place to conceal our presence as well as provide a rifle rest. As the bush was open I could see a couple of hundred yards to spot game. The hours passed easily in the shade of the tree, sitting on folding chairs with a cooler box close by.

Two trophy impala in the 26 to 28-inch range were seen as were several warthogs coming to a nearby pan to drink, as well as kudu and a waterbuck. All of which were out of range. Giraffe, too, wandered close by, within shooting distance of the big rifle but not on the docket for the hunt. Realizing the odds were not in my favor Basie called for the Land Cruiser to come pick us up. We loaded the cooler box, the chairs and my rifle in and climbed aboard. Sitting there discussing the futility of the day, Basie’s PH, Johan Nel, quietly said, “Shhhhhh,” and pointed. A roan bull was making his way through the bush, angling in our direction. Basie looked at me and whispered he was an excellent bull and to take him if I was confident of the shot but that he was not a free one as was the impala or warthog offer.

We three were all still as I moved the 4-bore into position. The roan changed direction a bit as he noticed us but did not quickly run off. We were all in the vehicle, but the vehicle was not moving and was also behind the blind and the tree. Now the bull was walking to our left and moving away. He was still in motion when I touched off the left barrel. Again, I hit to the right behind the shoulder (perhaps because he was moving) and a bit high. The bull jumped and kicked, ran a very short distance and collapsed from massive blood loss from the entrance and exit holes and out of his nose and mouth. As with the buffalo, there was little meat damage as would have occurred from a high velocity expanding bullet. Rather, just a one-inch hole from a heavy spherical ball at moderate velocity.

The range was 55 meters or about 60 yards. Better than we thought at first, the roan was an excellent trophy at 28¼” with a base circumference of 9¼ inches. Shot from a vehicle, yes, but not spotted from a vehicle, and also the vehicle was not moving. It’s your judgement call. While the recoil from the 4-bore is significant I can tolerate it well and not flinch. But when Basie told me the trophy fee on the roan bull, I was set back more than from the recoil of the 4-bore!

A day of reminiscing the hunt and talking of further hunts followed. Game viewing at hides at waterholes and lunch with Basie and his wife, Angela, and two youngest daughters, Shayla and Sheena (the oldest daughter, Chene’, was attending college in Texas). Basie, the salesman he is, said casually, “Cal, you have ammunition remaining and some time on the ranch, let’s have a go at another buffalo.” Still shell-shocked from the roan’s trophy fee, and perhaps not thinking clearly from the recoil of the Rodda 4 slamming my brain within my skull cavity, I agreed. (I could also sell my insulin to help cover the trophy fee).

We spotted buffalo, but the day was getting on so we returned the next day—my last on the ranch this year. Basie and I had the whole crew with us that day: Johan Nel, Mike the ranch manager, and two clients from Michigan also joined us. The brother and sister (Mark and Jenny) had completed their buffalo and plains-game hunt and were relaxing for a few days before their flight home. Both took a nice selection of plains game and Mark an excellent buffalo.

Having a bull of a lifetime already down, the pressure was off. We spotted a pair of bulls perhaps two kilometers away lying in the open—their horns just above the level of the grass. If I shot another bull that would be wonderful, and if I didn’t, I would have some money to come home with. We began to stalk with the wind in our favor to get a closer look at the headgear. Closing the distance to less than half of when we first spotted them, we could see their horns clearly though our binoculars. Both bulls were in the trophy class with the wider one being soft in the boss. The other was an old bull, narrower, but with a solid boss. Nothing, however, to compare with my first bull.

Basie, Johan, and I moved in, all in a line one behind the other to keep the buffalo from seeing too much of us. We walked the last three-quarters to half a kilometer in the general direction of the pair but moving ahead, lined up behind a small bushy tree to conceal our movement. As we approached the tree we stopped and glassed. The older bull on the right swung his head in our direction as his companion stood. Johan set up the shooting sticks ahead of the bush and I leveled my rifle’s sights on the old bull. Then he stood. As they could run at any moment, I put the fine bead in the rear sight’s shallow V and on bull’s chest and pressed the rear trigger. A solid hit it was, and the bull jumped and staggered backward. A second shot dropped him instantly. The first shot was ranged at 85 yards and the second at 95. Not a great bull, but 37 inches wide with a nice solid boss.

The day was done as was the hunting. The sun was going down as rapidly as my bank account when we stopped at the camp’s rifle range and everyone there had a go with the Rodda. They burned up what remained of my ammunition, giving them all the once-in-a-lifetime experience of shooting a rare and massive vintage double rifle in the largest of the shoulder-held sporting rifle calibers. Tomorrow was a sad day to say goodbye to Basie and his family as they have become good friends, and it would be another year until I saw them again. It was planned for Basie and his family to visit me in Alaska in 2023.

The next morning Johan drove me two hours south to Langkloof Game Farm where I would spend four days with friends there who managed that property. Johan and Joey Biewenga are also good friends, and I saved a few rounds from the Rodda so Johan could have a go at his target range.

After my visit to Langkloof I was to fly to Zimbabwe and vacation there for two weeks. But when I was at Haakdoorn, Zimbabwe had a COVID border closure and restricted travel within the country, with curfews, and shortened business hours. I changed my return ticket thanks to Steve Turner’s help at his Travel With Guns travel agency. The decision was sound, as a few days later Zim restricted all city travel to emergency and medicine delivery only.

Seeing Langkloof was a joy, with its mountain range dividing the property and its varied game populations. Johan and I spent my final day in Pretoria at Safari and Outdoor, showing the Rodda to interested employees and customers, and buying a pair of my favorite footwear: Courteney Boots’ Selous model. I also ordered a magnificent rifle rack from Uvami Gun Accessories. I had seen Johan’s rack three years ago at Basie’s ranch and wanted one ever since. Now, that I was about out of money I was able to spend my last dollars on a 5-gun rack made from African teak wood. The craftsmanship is 100% and it was made to my design. The owners of Uvami are superb craftsmen in wood and leather. I would encourage fellow hunters to order one when on safari, and collect it on the way to Tambo airport as the shop is only 15 minutes away. Even with the extra bag fee, the total cost is well under half of what similar racks sell for when imported to the states. Look at the photo and judge for yourself. My rack will be used several times a week in Alaska when mates come to my home range to shoot double rifles as well as clays. Plus, like my Courteneys, it is yet another piece of Africa I can bring home.

As a side bar, I would like to give a positive thumbs up to Cliff Williamson of Savuti Taxidermy in Johannesburg. I visited Savuti on my departure from SA and Cliff had completed my 16 trophies from my 2019 hunts in SA and Botswana. It was difficult and time consuming to get the skulls from Botswana. Cluster you-know-what is more like it. The agent for my hunter in Botswana, kept the trophies for over a year and said nothing. When they were finally delivered he did not bring my best eland skull. A year later the missing eland was delivered but all of my flat skins were not. While I would hunt in Botswana in a minute with Jaco Viser of NKWE Safaris, I will never do business with his agent in the south of that country. And, to add insult to injury, the agent still has Cliff’s Botswana trophies and Cliff hunted with Jaco one week after I did. Within a couple of months as I write this my three skulls from this hunt will be added to the completed batch and I should have them to decorate my Alaska log home.

The Africa experience gets better with each passing year!

Best Friends, Indeed!

Aug 15, 2024 | Hunting Stories

By Ken Bailey

It’s funny how preconceptions can influence your opinion and impressions. Take dogs, for instance. Over several big-game safaris across three decades I discovered that a lot of PHs own a Jack Russell terrier. Of those that didn’t, many had a Rhodesian Ridgeback. As I came to understand, and to witness firsthand, the Jack Russells were equal part companion dog, tracking dog and varmint control dog; I’ve watched with interest as a young Jack Russell thrashed a snake that came a little too close to a lodge in Natal one afternoon, and was the recipient of another’s largesse as it led us over and around some nasty, thick cover to a kudu that we couldn’t have found without a little canine assistance. The ridgebacks I’ve met, meanwhile, were largely companion dogs, although they also played a role as personal and property defenders.

It seemed few safari camps in South Africa or Namibia were without one breed or the other (in some cases both) and I came to expect one of them to come trotting up, tail wagging, whenever I arrived at a lodge. Over the week or two I’d spend in camp, these dog would become a constant and meaningful part of the experience that I enjoyed immensely.

What I didn’t see, however, were any dedicated bird dogs, and my impression was that African safari lodges and PHs just weren’t dedicated “hunting dog” people. As it turns out, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Over time I began to make wingshooting an increasingly greater part of my safari experience. At first it was just a day or two of bird shooting as a break from big-game hunting. Eventually, however, I began to seek dedicated wingshooting operators, and it was then that I discovered there’s a history and culture of bird hunting in southern Africa that rivals that of North America and Europe. And wherever you find hardcore wingshooters, inevitably you’ll find keen, competent, game-to-the-core gundogs.

I have many great memories of a week I spent with Mark Haldane, Dylan Holmes, Robbie Stretton and the crew from Bird Hunters Africa (https://birdhuntersafrica.com) a few years back, not the least of which was my first experience hunting revered grey-winged partridge. Behind Robbie’s wonderful English pointers, we hunted in the high rolling hills of the Eastern Cape where the coveys of partridge were widely dispersed. But Robbie’s pointers were more than up to the task, covering the vast grasslands with easy strides before locking-up, rock-steady, on one covey after another, confidently holding the birds until we caught up. At the shots they marked the downed birds precisely—is there anything more perfectly designed than a fine pointing dog?

Later that week we hunted Swainson’s francolin near Polokwane in Limpopo Province. A local gentleman, who I knew only as “Willie,” guided our hunts, led by an English pointer and a German Shorthaired Pointer named Anna. Anna proved to be as fine a hunting dog as you could hope to find, ranging far without being too far, and never missing a bird along the way. I don’t recall exactly how many Swainson’s we shot, along with a couple crested francolin, but it was a remarkable day afield.

That evening we sat around the campfire recalling the shots made, and those missed—the latter, I learned, a humbling tradition that extends to bird camps beyond my home in Canada. It was an evening of laughs and enchantment, and we were all ears-forward as Mark captivated us with tales of leopard hunts gone wrong, charging buffalo, and too-close elephants from his many years hunting and PH-ing in Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe, Mozambique and Tanzania. As captivated by his stories as we were, it was clear he enjoyed telling them just as much. I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed an après-hunt as fully. The next day we repeated our efforts, with Willie and his pointers leading us to almost 40 flushes.

Fine wingshooting dogs I’ve met in Africa are by no means restricted to pointers, however. I’ve also been privileged to hunt waterfowl over several superb Labrador retrievers. Two in particular come to mind.

I’ve had the great fortune to hunt on a couple of occasions with Mike Currie, owner of Wild Wing Shooting Africa. And while his pointing dogs (one English, three GSP) have provided superb shooting on francolin, including grey-winged partridge, being a Lab man myself, I particularly appreciated watching his retrievers work.

The two that stand out to me were Jess, a yellow Lab, and Shadow, a solidly-built black Lab. Over several duck and goose hunts I’ve marveled as they marked and retrieved one bird after another.

Just last year we hunted waterfowl together, positioned along a tree line between a large wetland where untold numbers of ducks and more than a few Egyptian geese were staging, and a small pond where the birds wanted to feed. Pass shooting was the order of the today, with the birds flying high over the trees we were backed up against. Pass shooting can be challenging for the gunners, as the birds fly high and fast and the shots are longer than when decoying them into a pond. It can also be challenging for retrievers, as invariably birds that aren’t killed outright have a tendency to sail a long way before tumbling from the sky. It requires that dogs be able to mark multiple birds accurately.

We took 40 birds that afternoon, a mix of yellow-billed ducks, red-billed teal, southern pochards, Cape shovelers and Egyptian geese, calling it quits long before dusk so that we could just sit back and enjoy the spectacle of flight after flight of birds winging overhead. Jess performed as beautifully as any Lab could. The few birds that she didn’t mark on her own, Mike skillfully handled her to; if we lost a bird that afternoon, I don’t recall it. Jess handled every retrieve with enthusiasm, including water retrieves from the pond behind us, retrieves that required her to use her nose to find birds hidden in the long grass, and birds that sailed into the adjacent crop field, requiring her to “go long.” Watching Jess at work reminded me why you miss out on one of the great pleasures of waterfowling if you don’t have a capable retriever as part of your team.

My favorite memory of Shadow, meanwhile, is of an evening duck shoot on a little dam. Six of us were nestled in blinds along the water’s edge, while a vapor trail of yellow-billed ducks and red-billed teal piled in. The shooting was fast and furious; we would barely have time to reload before the next flight was on our doorstep. As duck after duck splashed into the water or crashed into the adjacent uplands, Shadow adopted a workman-like approach to his job. He retrieved non-stop while we continued shooting, never hesitating nor tiring. The soft-bottomed wetland did not make for easy retrieves. When it was all said and done though, Shadow sat upright, staring at us eagerly, like he could have performed all night.

I’d barely moved through the hunt, yet was bagged when I finally hit the hay. I can’t begin to imagine how tired Shadow must have been, but if he felt anything like I did, he slept the sleep of angels that night, all the while dreaming of similar hunts to come.

Western Savannah Hunt – Benin

Aug 15, 2024 | Hunting Stories

West Africa has a special appeal not only for hunters. The mix of geographically diverse zones offers savannahs, marsh and rainforest lovers plenty of opportunities to explore fauna and flora. This time is Benin our hunting destination. This elongated, small West African country is considered the cradle of the voodoo religion. In Abomey, you can visit the old royal palaces as well as the voodoo temples. The capital is Porto Novo. The international airport where our journey start is in Cotonou. A typical West African city. Stinky, hectic and a lot of traffic. Surprisingly fast, by African standards are the immigration formalities and weapons import documents are done by customs and police. After that, the luggage will be stowed in the waiting Land Cruiser. Our host and outfitter from Pendjari Safaris wants to start as soon as possible. It is still early in the morning and he wants to reach the end of the city of Cotonou before morning traffic starts. Ahead of us is a nine-hour drive. Cotonou is located on the southern border of Benin, directly on the Gulf of Guinea. Our destination and camp is located in the north of the country, on the edge of the National Park Pendjari. The 700-kilometer drive gives us another insight into this, for West African conditions, very stable and peaceful country. No religious or racial tensions make Benin a special oasis in West Africa and is gently governed by a democratically elected government. The influence of the former French colonial era can not be denied and is reflected not only in the French official language. The main income of Benin, one of the poorest countries in the world, comes from agriculture. In addition to corn, sweet potatoes, cashew and pineapple, it is mainly the large cotton plantations that catch the eye. It is exactly this cotton that we can see again and again on completely overloaded trucks on our way to Batia.

After about eight hours of driving, we leave the paved road and after another hour on a sandy road, we reach our camp. In addition to the typical round huts stands a completely newly built building with four rooms. Each bedroom with its own bathroom and toilet and, of course, with air conditioning. Anyone who has ever hunted in West Africa will be extremely pleasantly surprised here. After a long shower, we meet again at dinner. There, we will also be introduced to the two professional hunters and our trackers, who will guide us in the next few days. One of the two professional hunters is a Portuguese, who works in Benin from December to May, during the hunting season in Benin, and earns his living as a professional hunter from June to November in Mozambique. The second professional hunter comes from neighboring Burkina Faso and has been working here for over 15 years as a professional hunter with Pendjari Safaris. How valuable the experience of our two professional hunters is will already evident on the following first hunting day.

We take the first day of our hunt calmly and after a good breakfast we go out for the first terrain exploration. The camp is located on the edge of a small village. The people wave friendly to us and children run after our car. Here, too, the ethical and serious hunt has written its success story. Conservation programs, a rigorous anti-poaching, and appreciation for wildlife has contributed to the development of not only a high stock of wildlife but also a small but considerable wealth in their village. Not only the meat of the hunted game support to the local villages with protaine, also a large part of the revenue of the trophy fees is used to expand the infrastructure. After twenty minutes, we are already in our hunting zone. Here my two hunting clients check their weapons and after a threefold series, it’s ready to go. Khalid has opted for a double rifle 9.3×74 and my second hunting guest Rodrigo leads a 375 H&H. Our hunting area is especially known for its abundance of Western savannah buffalo and Western roan antelope. But also Western Hartebeest, Nagor Reedbock, Harnest Bushbuck, Defassa Waterbuck, Oribi, Warthog and two different Duiker are huntable here. We chose the month of January for our hunt and therefore the high grass is not dry enough to burn it down. Despite the sometimes high grass level, we can still recognize the typical savannah character. Small to medium-sized bushes and trees dominate the landscape in addition to the extensive grassy areas. The first game drive should serve primarily to get a small overview of our hunting area, but after one of our professional hunters has discovered fresh tracks of buffalo is instantly aroused our hunting fever.

Khalid gets the preference and we start our first stalking in the Savannah of Benin. As usual, the stalking is led by one of the trackers. Then Burkina, as our professional hunter from Burkina Faso is affectionately called and then Khalid the Hunter. Because of the tracks, we estimate that it has to be a smaller group of five to eight buffaloes. The tracks are relatively fresh and since they are not particularly deep, it also tells us that they are moving slowly ahead of us. The direction of the wind is also perfect and after about an hour of stalking, we see the small buffalo herd in front of us. As already suspected, there are six Savannah buffalos. Four cows and two bulls. This little group already shows us the special of the Western savanna buffalo here in Benin. It is the variegation of these buffaloes. From almost black to dark brown but also reddish, the buffalos are colored here and very often these different colors are found in one and the same herd. That is also the case here. The Western savanna buffalo is the third largest buffalo species in Africa alongside the Cape and Nile buffalo. Despite the successful stalking, we do not come to a conclusion. The two bulls are too young and should be given the opportunity to pass on their very good genetic before they get hunted. But no reason to be disappointed. On the contrary, the first stalk was already excellent, and we had a successful overview. Our trackers and professional hunters have been able to prove their skills and experience at the first stalk, and my two hunters already have the feeling that they are in good hands. After a short time, we are back on the road where our car is waiting. After a little refreshment, we continued our game drive. We pass two larger waterholes that are full of tracks, but due to the time of day, no game can be seen. Since there are some larger trees next to the last waterhole and the sun is directly above us at the highest point, we set our lunch break here. A shady place with a great view.

Hunter heart, what do you want more. Lunch tastes particularly good here and we enjoy the boundless freedom in the middle of West African nature. But after a long rest, things continue. It is already an hour before sunset when Burkina gives the driver the sign to stop. He points to the east and still the sun is in our backs, I can see nothing without my binoculars. Burkina instructs me and with the help of the binoculars, I can then also recognize what he has already identified only with his eye. A dark, almost black dyed Dagga Boy, as here also the single living buffalo bulls are called. You can already clearly see Khalid’s excitement. The buffalo is 300 meters away, and our professional hunter decides at short notice that he will only stalk with Khalid and a tracker. The terrain between us and the bull is too open and too many people would make it much easier for the buffalo to discover us. Me, Rodrigo, and the rest of the team follow the stalk out of good hidden place. The buffalo is still grazing and shows no suspicion, even though Khalid and Burkina are only 50 meters away from him. I can see that Khalid has his gun on the shooting stick and is already aiming the bull. The shot does not wait. The buffalo immediately draws and breaks to the right. After ten meters, he stops and the second shot breaks. Although the first shot was excellent for me and, in my opinion a deadly hit, the second hit finally drops the Bull to the ground. When Burkina and Khalid are by the buffalo and both give us signs to come, we are on the way to go to the harvest buffalo. Of course, a heartfelt congratulation to the shooter and congratulation to the professional hunter to this successful conclusion of the first hunting day. A really old fighter lies here in knee-high grass. Numerous traces show of old turf wars and one or the other scar suggests that he was also the target of attacks of lions. An excellent launch. Khalid is overjoyed and describes in detail the course of the stalking and the killing of the buffalo. The loading of the bull is routine for our experienced team and then it’s back to the camp.

Just at sunset we arrive at the camp and there we are greeted. Despite the enjoyable beginning of our safari, we are in bed shortly after supper to rest and be fit for the next day. The second day is similar to the previous day. Game drive through the vast savannah and a part of our team is looking for fresh tracks and the other half explores the environment for movements that could close on antelopes or buffalo. And again, Khalid is challenged when we discover a three-headed group of roan antelopes. All three are old and strong trophy bulls. This time I accompany Khalid with his stalking. Very slowly and over again we observe this second largest antelope of Africa. Up to a distance of 90 meters, we stalk closer and Khalid sights the extreme left roan of this group of three. Optimal shot distance for his 9.3 caliber and the Roan antelope breaks down after firing. Already on the second day of our safari, Khalid killed both main game species from Benin. Of course, always a big dose of luck with it, but also the experience of our professional hunters and trackers and over years game management, here are fruits of success. In the afternoon we still see the first Hartebeest and waterbuck, but all female or young animals. Nevertheless, a successful hunting day comes to an end, and we let it end comfortably. The next three days of hunting also show us that we are not here in a fenced hunting farm in South Africa or Namibia and really hunting in the wild. Three days of stalking for hours, with backsliding by a sudden change of wind direction, attentive game or carelessness on our part. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for me, and I know that from my many previous savanna hunts.

However, it is important for my hunting clients to prepare for such a hunt so far that they can handle even those thirsty streaks that a savannah hunt entails and that they do not lose the desire for the further safari. For Khalid and Rodrigo, however, the last three unsuccessful days leave no trace. On the contrary, I have the impression that they absorb everything in and this hunting trip will keep a special positive memory. The sixth day of hunting is again at its best. On this day, we return very successfully to the camp. A West African Hartebeest, a Harnest Bushbuck, and a Nagor Reedbuck could be killed after successful stalking. We were able to detect and shoot the latter two at two different waterholes. Now only the buffalo of Rodrigo falls to complete a completely successful safari.

Two days are still available and we look forward to these days. The penultimate day is already starting promising. Fresh traces of a larger herd. We try to stalk these herds. We succeed and I count more than twenty Savannah buffaloes. It is a mixed herd, with cows, calves and also some bulls. I even see two of the reddish-colored bulls what Rodrigo wants to hunt. But we do not want to shoot a buffalo out of a herd. Our goal is to find a single Dagga Boy. We just enjoy the big herd we were able to stalk so successfully and then continued our hunt. Although we can not see a red-colored loner on this day, we still have plenty of material for our cameras. Herd of young roan antelopes, some hartebeest, oribis and a young waterbuck can be photographed and filmed.

The last day of our safari is approaching and this time it starts earlier. Today we want to look for the Dagga Boy in the northeastern corner of our hunting zone. The idea does not come from somewhere. Some of the rangers employed by our outfitter, who implemented the anti-poaching program and are busy patrolling the hunting grounds, have just seen a reddish bull at this northeast corner. And just where these rangers last saw the bull, we also find him. An old, mature bull. The red is almost reminiscent of a forest buffalo occurring in the rainforest, but which is much smaller than the Western savannah buffalo. An absolute dream buffalo. This time, Jorge, the professional hunter from Portugal, introduces us. The buffalo stands in the shade of some trees and the wind is excellent for us. I estimate between 250 to 300 meters separate us from the bull. Jorge, tracker Rodrigo, and myself start the stalking. Each step is checked twice. Just no hasty movement or a careless kick now. Suddenly Jorge stops petrified. He makes us understand that we should not move and shows something in the left direction of our stalk. An elephant bull watches our approach. A fantastic experience to experience the elephant so close, but still we are glad when he makes off and pulls back into the dense undergrowth. Finally, we can continue our stalking. Our buffalo seems to have heard and seen nothing of all this. The rangefinder in my binoculars shows 80 meters. After another 15 meters and a tree with perfect rifle rest, Rodrigo is ready to go. The weapon is already unlocked and he just waits until the buffalo shows him his broadside. I can understand that this moment has to fill up like hours for him. Finally, the time has come. Uncovered with the full side of the bull shows up and the finger writhes on the trigger. The red draws immediately and breaks in place in the fire. Jorge keeps track and asks Rodrigo to reload immediately. After another minute, Jorge gives the ok and all-clear and lets Rodrigo secure the weapon. It needs no further shot. A red-colored buffalo with an extremely strong trophy lies in front of us. We give Rodrigo alone for a few minutes with his harvest bull. A sensitive moment that probably every hunter can understand too well.

With this last buffalo we killed on this hunt, we can say that we had a hundred percent success. The passing of Benin ends with a promise from the two hunters. We are infected with the Savannah virus and we promise to see each other again when it says: Savannah hunting in Benin!

One for the Road

Aug 2, 2024 | Hunting Stories, News

By Terry Wieland

M’BOGO MAN

It’s very difficult to write anything new about the Cape buffalo. It seems that everything that can be said, has been said, and more than once. From Robert Ruark (Horn of the Hunter) to South African novelist Stuart Cloete (Turning Wheels) to John Taylor (Big Game and Big Game Rifles), the character, personality, and even the personal hygiene of the Cape buffalo have been analyzed, dissected, admired, and written about in vivid and eloquent terms that are impossible to compete with.

Many hunters have much more experience with Cape buffalo than I do. On the other hand, a vastly larger percentage of hunters have considerably less. Over a 16-year period, I killed seven Cape buffalo — six in Tanzania, and one in Botswana. Of the seven, only one (1) was a one-shot kill. In case you’re wondering, of the seven, only one was poorly hit with the first shot. I’ve been present at the deaths of four or five others, acting as back-up gun.

I mention all this by way of presenting my credentials, such as they are, for offering a few opinions on the animals known as M’bogo. They are my own most-admired big-game animal, which doesn’t mean I like them personally. I feel about them much the way they seem to feel about me, as well as every other person they run across. Ruark said a big Cape buffalo looks at you “like you owe him money.” No one ever put it better.

Many years ago, I read an entry in a wildlife encyclopedia that described them as “peaceful grazers,” and all the old stories of their ferocity dismissed contemptuously as “hunters’ tales.” Having grown up reading Ruark, Taylor, et al, I was infuriated by this, but later found that to an extent it is true. The Cape buffalo is Jekyll and Hyde: Peaceful enough (usually) until you annoy him.

In 2004, two men were killed by Cape buffalo in separate incidents, one in Kenya and the other in Tanzania. In the first incident, Simon Combes, a wildlife painter I knew quite well, got out of his car to look at the view of the Rift Valley and was flattened by a buffalo apparently enraged at being disturbed. Something similar happened to a Canadian hunter who was casing a waterhole. Neither animal was ever found, so we don’t know if they were carrying a poacher’s bullet or a snare on their leg or were just cantankerous. Among the Masai living along the Rift Valley, incidents of buffalo taking out their ill feelings on women collecting firewood are quite common, but these are not reported in the pages of hunting magazines.

That same year, I was hunting buffalo along the Rift and a herd was grazing its way across a mountain meadow to where it fell away in a steep slope covered with tall grass. We crept along the edge and crawled up through the grass to the lip of the slope as the herd moved toward us. Lying there, not daring to move, wondering what they would do when they got wind of us, as they surely would, is one of my most vivid memories of buffalo. They were so close we could smell them, and out of the corner of my eye I could see Lekina’s handsome Masai face grinning at me wickedly.

In such a situation, the danger is that they get in among you and, when they realize you’re there, you’re close enough to pose an immediate threat that needs to be dealt with, not fled from. That’s how people get stomped, tossed, and flattened. It’s a memory I treasure, albeit from a safe distance.

The moment when Dr. Jekyll becomes Mr. Hyde usually occurs when a bull is struck by a bullet, not killed immediately, catches his breath, and sizes up the situation. Then you’re in trouble.

It used to be said of young professional hunters in East Africa that it was good to have a close call with a buffalo early in their careers. Otherwise, they might kill 500 buffalo without incident, become complacent, and it was the 501st that took them out.

In his Mr. Hyde phase, a Cape buffalo becomes relentless, cunning, and unbelievably durable. The word vindictive is often used, but that seems unfair given the fact that you are the one who opened hostilities. It is not so much vindictiveness as a desire to settle the score, and that seems fair to me. Also, a mere gesture, such as tossing the offender, does not suffice: They feel a need to stomp you into marmalade.

John Taylor wrote about a buffalo that was wounded, treed the hunter, and then stayed at the base of the tree, slowly dying but refusing to leave. He was dreadfully thirsty, and could have drunk at a waterhole a few yards away, but

revenge was more important. In the morning, when the hunter cautiously climbed down, he found the bull with his head down, as if sleeping — stone dead, but still at his post.

In Turning Wheels, Cloete tells of a very accomplished woman hunter, similarly treed, but unable to pull her feet up out of reach. The wounded bull began licking, eventually removing boots and flesh. He died right there, but she bled to death, and was later found by her brother. Her feet were mere skeletons. Tony Henley, the Kenya professional who finished his career in Botswana, discounted that story because a buffalo’s tongue is not all that rough. He had no quarrel with the sentiment, though.

My own personal experience with buffalo tenacity occurred in 1993, high up in the crater of Mount Longido, a vast extinct volcano near the Rift. At 75 yards, I put a bullet into his lungs, he disappeared into a thickly wooded ravine, then lay down to watch his back trail. Duff Gifford, my PH, and I stood on the lip of the ravine. We could hear him breathing. He could hear us talking. We decided to give him ten minutes, then go in after him. At ten minutes, almost on the dot, the bull came for us instead. A flurry of shooting ended with my final bullet in his forehead, shot from the hip, and he died four feet off the muzzle of my rifle. That was unquestionably the best shot of my life.

In recent years, an American professional hunter who operates in Tanzania has made it fashionable for clients to face a contrived buffalo charge. This is accomplished by deliberately wounding a bull, then choreographing it and using camera angles in such a way that the bull looks bigger than he is, and closer than he is, and the shooter more heroic than he is, all captured on videotape for the folks at home. One guy of my acquaintance hunted with this individual, and supposedly shot five Cape buffalo this way. It took considerable effort, since many higher-ups in Safari Club had hunted with the PH in the past, but he and his obscene videos were finally barred from the SCI convention.

At one convention, I was signing copies of my book on dangerous-game rifles when one of these clients came up to me and started gushing about how he had learned to do the wounding and the provoking himself, and how “it adds so much to the safari.” He was actually proud of this, and presumably expected me to congratulate him.

The whole idea violates so many principles of ethical hunting that it’s hard to know where to begin, so I’ll just leave it at that. Sad to say, stories are starting to filter back of other professional hunters, working with game-ranch buffalo, doing the same thing. Where there’s money to be made and egos to be fed, it’s hard to stop.

Thinking back to the bull up on Mount Longido, I find myself admiring him to the point of love. How can you not admire an animal of such tenacity? He could have slipped away down the ravine at any time, we would not have seen him through the canopy of brush. Instead, lying in wait, he must have realized he was dying. All that was left was vengeance. When we did not come in after him, he came out after us. He did not go quietly. They seldom do.