Aug 5, 2019 | News
By Kim Stuart
Zimbabwe: 1996 – 2018
It was 1996 when I was with hunting buddy Jim Gefroh. Being novices, we had booked our first tuskless hunt in Zimbabwe in November. The weather was hot and beyond humid. The jesse was thick – in places like a rainforest. We encountered elephants from the beginning of day one, until the last day of the hunt. We were charged, and held our ground. We aborted a shot when, at the last second, a newborn calf was spotted lying under its mother’s belly. We crawled into a herd of buffalo, and realized almost too late that we were also in a herd of elephant. We got lost, ran out of water, got caught in the rain, lost weight and suffered from the tropical heat. We were essentially thrown into a mosh pit of elephant hunting and… we were hooked!
Over the following years we experienced other challenges. An enraged matriarch charged us without provocation. Our PH, with his back literally against a tree, steadfastly stopped the charge. His head-shot to the angry cow was taken at four meters! What had started as a relatively simple quest, to shoot a tuskless cow elephant with a period muzzleloading rifle, essentially took on a life of its own.
First, we needed the correct black powder rifle. A big-bore percussion rifle capable of knocking down an elephant was not one you could order online. The ivory hunters of the past used a minimum of an 8 bore, or .80 caliber. Their rifle of last resort, or “Stopping rifle” was a monstrous sixteen-pound 4 bore, (4 balls per pound, so each of the round ball projectiles weighed one quarter pound). Jim’s mission was to build custom black powder rifles. After considerable research and untold hours of work, he built both rifles, the 8 bore and 4 bore, both in the classic German Jaeger style – full stock rifles – with percussion actions. He also built an 8 bore flintlock rifle for himself.
Moist conditions necessitated keeping powder dry and the rifle barrels moisture free. With the help of a “cow’s knee” over the breach of the muzzleloaders for protection and a finger cot over the barrel, we were successful. Field repairs, what we called, “MacGyver” fixes, raised Jim’s creative gun-building ability to another level. Without specialized black powder rifle-building tools he was limited, but nonetheless he always kept us in the game. A highly recommended new hi-tech projectile turned out to be a disappointment. Jim cut the top of the slug, removed a small ball encased in gel, and filed a fresh tip on the bullet, saving the muzzleloader part of the safari.
More than once we returned home having not fired a shot. Consequently, we critiqued our performance and that of the PH. We were driven back to the drawing board with more research upgrading the rifles and experimenting with new projectiles. Our 8 bore slug now weighed 1,360 grains and was propelled by 270 grains of 2FFG black powder. The 4 bore, or “Big Mack” pushed the quarter pound, one inch diameter ball, with the same charge of 270 grains. The rifles had become very dependable and very capable hunting tools.
In 2015 we had been lucky hunting with our PH Johan on a conventional rifle hunt in a different area of Zimbabwe – our “Safari from Heaven”, taking two tuskless elephant cows with one frontal brain shot each, and two buffalo cows with one shot each. That hunt was the finale of multiple hunts in many of Zimbabwe’s hunting concessions with many different professional hunters, over a period of twenty years! We had been severely skunked, and calculated that the number of days in the bush hunting tuskless cows during those years would exceed 50. Hard to believe, but true.
In an attempt to recreate, “The Safari from Heaven” we booked a rifle hunt with Johan again. This safari would take place in the Dande South area of Zimbabwe. Would it be another bust? Would it be like returning to a fabulous restaurant to experience a memorable meal from the past? Would it be like checking out your high-school girlfriend at a 50-year reunion, and wishing you hadn’t? We had tremendous faith in Johan’s hunting skills and those of his trackers, but in reality, what were the chances of recreating our “Safari from Heaven?”
We had hunted hard for a week. We followed the spoor of many elephants, sometimes finding the animals. We were close and very personal with elephants deep in the bush trying to identify a tuskless cow. Difficult, because of the necessity of checking for a tusk on each side of the animal’s head. We spotted small herds on ridges far away, taking the time to close the gap and look for a tuskless cow. We drove to distant areas, high in the hills of the multi-thousand-hectare concession, hoping to find sign of elephants. We got up earlier each morning, driving to the dry river, attempting to catch elephants returning to the bush after watering in the early hours. We set up lookouts at one area of the riverbank, in touch by radio with Johan at another, hoping to set up an ambush when the elephants crossed the riverbed and headed into the bush to feed. We speculated, strategized, theorized and calculated, all to no avail. All our efforts resulted in seeing one tuskless cow – and she vanished before we could get close enough for a shot.
And now, mid-morning on our last day of our 7-day hunt, Philip the tracker who was leading our team of eight, spotted some unusual spoor from a few yards away. The wide drag marks were etched deeply into the dry sand of the Angwa riverbed. We were about to move from the bush onto the sand, when Philip stopped abruptly and conferred with our PH Johan, and Admire, our second tracker. Their opinion was the same: We were looking at the spoor of an elephant in severe distress. Visually following the spoor to approximately 500 yards down the riverbed, we could see the elephant. Johan raised his binoculars and took a long look.
“The elephant is standing with most of its weight on the left back leg,” he reported. “Something is definitely wrong with the right front leg. Let’s take a closer look.” We slowly closed the gap another two hundred yards on the unsuspecting elephant. Further inspection by Johan described grossly enlarged teats, one almost touching the ground between the elephant’s legs. “Let’s call Parks and Wildlife and report this right now.”
In rural Africa, like many places around the world, cell phone service does not always cooperate. We had to leave the elephant and drive thirty minutes to a high point on a nearby ridge to find reception and make our call. After reporting the details of the distressed elephant, Parks’ response was, “We’ll get back to you.” Unbelievably, they did, but with the caveat that they must also get the permission of the local village Council before giving us the go-ahead to put the animal down. We expected hours of delay, but amazingly Johan’s cell phone rang in just minutes.
“You must take a video of the live animal, the tracks she made from the bush, a field autopsy, and any other documentation you can to verify the need for putting the elephant down. Also, you must deliver all the meat to the local village, and the ivory and skin to the local Parks office.”
We had been charged with a mission of mercy. There would be zero drama in our duty. No ears-back-vengeful charge. No close-quarters shooting in dense bush. Just a purely ethical service provided by hunters when called upon.
Our trip back to the dry river was a quiet one, and our plan was simple. Johan, Jim and I would proceed to the riverbed downwind and behind the old cow, walking quietly and narrowing the gap as close as possible to avoid being seen. Our trackers and game scouts would remain behind.
As we approached the elephant it was obvious how severely distressed she was. The abscessed and swollen gland was huge and almost touched the ground. She carried as much weight as possible on her left leg, trying to relieve the pain of her damaged right leg. We stalked to approximately 30 yards from where she was standing. Sensing something, but not knowing what, she began to swing her head from side to side. Within a few moments she detected us and turned to face the intruders suddenly appearing behind her.
Jim fired first, a frontal brain shot as she stared us down. I followed with a second shot to the brain, and Johan put a third shot into the side of the head as she turned, collapsing on her rear legs. She folded rapidly with a heart/lung shot by Jim, where she had stood in pain an instant before. Our mission was completed in seconds.
Everything had been recorded on video and camera, and now the work of the autopsy and meat recovery began. We documented large, fluid-filled boils that ran from her hip down the length of her right back leg. As we opened her cavity and exposed her vitals, further illness was obvious. She had numerous melon-sized cysts on her intestines. Also, she was on her last set of teeth, and probably 35 to 40 years old. It was obvious she had been very close to death and might have lasted only a few days to a week longer, provided she wasn’t taken first by the lions we had seen in the area.
Our next and very real concern: How safe was the meat we would be delivering to the local village? As we were the last hunters of the season, and the villagers would be approaching a six-month involuntary vegetarian regime, the meat would be highly valued. However, Johan would be responsible if the villagers fell ill due to tainted meat. The Parks and Wildlife game scout couldn’t make a call about the meat, neither could the local Council game scout for fear of losing their jobs.
Sensing an impasse, I cut a small piece of meat from an area of the rear hip, away from any boils, smelled the meat, and ate it. Tough and grainy, it tasted like elephant meat I had eaten in the past, only raw. I felt comfortable enough to call it safe for human consumption. Field test completed! We continued to butcher the old cow and load the meat for transportation to the village. The trunk, as tradition dictates, was taken to the head of the village, as well as the heart, spleen, and other organs. Protein is a valuable commodity, and what was not eaten in the next few days would be salted, dried, and consumed at a future date.
Our humanitarian mission accomplished, though we hadn’t traveled halfway around the world just to put down a sick elephant. Our reason for this hunt had been to take a tuskless cow.
So, did we get skunked again? No way! It was great spending time again with Johan, and his wife and two boys after the hunt. We ate the best biltong ever. Experienced a new hunting area. Felt part of the village, even if it was only for a week. Our team was terrific. Our game scout, a lady and the new face of African women was a devoted professional without losing her charm and wonderful sense of humor. Her Shona name was, Nyaradzo Shiridzinodya, (in English, Memory Birds Can Eat.) Our trackers, Philip and Admire, worked tirelessly to find and follow fresh elephant spoor. Shumba, our local Council game scout, was a quiet presence of security and calmness, always with a smile and ready to help, no matter what the job.
Over the past 25 years Jim and I have hunted for tuskless elephant cows in, Chowari North and South, Omey North and South, Dande North and on this safari, Dande South, as well as other concessions whose names I don’t remember. In over 100-man days of hunting our one lucky tuskless cow safari had been with Johan.
As Johan reminded us when he bid goodbye at the airport, “Hunting can be cruel. Better luck next time.”
Will there be a next time?
Aug 1, 2019 | Hunting Stories Online, News
By Lavon Winkler
We only get one “first trip” and this was Scott’s. After five years of him listening to me talk for hours on end about Africa, he finally conceded and agreed to join me on my third adventure.
Every hunter knows that each time we trek through the bush or sit in the woods it will be different from previous hunts. For some, hunts are measured simply by the taking of the animal, or by the quality and size. For others, it’s the joy of sharing that time with someone close. Whether it’s with friends, family, or new acquaintances, memories are made in the hunt that we carry for a lifetime. We recall and share these adventures through stories, photos, and taxidermy. Because we explored a little corner of creation, life can take on new meaning. Now, five years after my first safari (AHG Vol 23, Issue 1, July/Aug/ Sept, 2017), I was traveling with my son Scott on my third safari to South Africa.
To say I love Africa is an understatement. Once you experience this amazing continent, you are forever changed. Your horizons are expanded and you have greater clarity about a land like no other. For me it’s not only its beauty or the incredible diversity of animals. I love meeting, interacting, and getting to know the people. Whether it is the outfitter, professional hunters, skinners, trackers, or others in the cities and villages, the experience is always enriching. The people of Africa have opened their hearts (and in some cases their homes) and invited me into their lives in a humbling way. I wanted Scott also to have these memories. And hunting with us would be Eric Krichbaum who had cut his African safari teeth when we hunted together in 2013. Scott and I met up with him in Atlanta, GA where we boarded our flight to Johannesburg.
In Johannesburg we stayed overnight at the Afton Guest House. This is a wonderful way to unwind after a long flight, enjoy outstanding food, and get a good night’s sleep. The next morning we were taken to the airport to catch a short flight to Polokwane in Northern Limpopo where we were met by our outfitter, African Trophy Pursuit. By early afternoon we had checked the zero on our rifles and were in the bush. We each had a “wish list” and a “maybe list” of animals we hoped to take. Scott’s definite list had four or five most wanted plains game, with three or four on his “maybe list,” but he would be thrilled to take just a few quality animals. I had told him that he would have a better overall experience if he were flexible and willing to take what Africa offered.
Already, at the close of our first day I could tell Africa was getting a firm grip on my son. Apart from taking a fine blue wildebeest, he had had a chance to glimpse the wonderful animal diversity that is Africa. My day ended with a beautiful white blesbok in the salt. At dinner we decided to begin the second day by searching for those animals at the top of our lists. The owner and outfitter, Freddie van Zyl livened up the conversation by offering an incentive to add to the jewel in the crown of the plains game – a sable! I had taken a sable on my second safari, so passed on it, but Scott and Eric couldn’t resist. Their lists suddenly grew. However, for Scott the kudu was clearly his most wanted, and Eric really wanted the blue wildebeest which had eluded him in 2013. The top of my list was the majestic roan antelope.
On the second day, the three of us, each with our PH, headed in different directions looking for the animal that had lingered in our thoughts and dreams. In Limpopo, hunting the roan is difficult as there are fewer concessions where they can be found. Consequently, we had a long drive that started at 4:00 a.m. though it didn’t matter to me as I had hardly slept the night before with the expectation of another African adventure.
Scott went off searching for a big kudu, though somewhat distracted by the thought of a sable, while Eric hunted a separate concession for wildebeest. I hunted in heavy bush that demanded quick and rather short shots. Around mid-day, after seeing a few small roan, we suddenly came upon a mature bull. The sight of this spectacular animal made my heart quicken. I looked at Freddie and he quickly gave me the nod to take the shot. Using my Browning A-Bolt 30-06 with Hornady Superformance GMX 165gr. and Leupold VX-2 4-12×40 scope, I took aim and the roan was mine. After years of dreaming of the magnificent roan, the dream had come true.
True to Africa, Scott’s kudu was not to be found. However, he wounded a sable but was successful with a follow-up shot the following morning. Now he could concentrate on continuing his search for what was becoming an elusive kudu. Regardless, each day he was having the time of his life. Returning to the lodge each evening, he would be smiling, having added one or two animals to the salt. Many times he took animals that were not on his list. Each one had a special story and set of circumstances that lead him to decide he should seize the moment and take what Africa offered. Each evening after an excellent dinner there would be a long litany of anecdotes of successful hunts, of animals that got away, and of some that ended in the salt. These evening stories around the lapa are among my favorite times. It was another amazing day in an enchanting land. Oh, how I love Africa!
On our third day Eric ended by tracking a wounded sable, but he and the trackers found it the next morning. Unfortunately, hyena and jackal had found it first, which sometimes happens in a land where predators are abundant.
Finally, on the last day, Scott’s PH, Johan Botha and Freddie were determined Scott was to get his kudu. Freddie and I decided to go to a high point on the concession where we could see the bushveld below. After a couple of hours glassing, we spotted two nice kudu bulls in the thick bush and radioed Johan to move there to have a look. It was both exciting and nerve-racking to watch the situation unfold as Johan and Scott slowly moved through the bush hoping for a glimpse of what appeared to be very nice kudu. I was literally on the edge of a rock with the binoculars welded to my face so as not to miss a single moment. Just then, we saw a third kudu! It was an old bull, all by himself, and definitely the largest of the three. There was one slight problem. We could not warn the hunters for fear the radio would spook the kudu. Freddie and I glanced at each other and shook our heads in disbelief. This was a situation where hunting skill combined with a little luck would determine the outcome.
Scott and Johan spooked the two bulls which quickly moved to an area very close to the third larger kudu. As the hunters continued their stalk, they saw the three animals, and Scott quickly took a shot. His Browning, X-bolt Medallion, 300 WSM, with Barnes TTSX 165gr and Leupold VX3 4-14 scope echoed, and the kudu all moved further away. I wondered if his bullet had made contact or if the quick shot had resulted in a miss. A very tense situation seemed to worsen. I felt utterly helpless watching the drama from high above. We had no choice but to stay put and let the scene play out. As the hunters pursued the kudu they again spied the bulls and Scott took a second shot.
“He got him!” Freddie turned to me with a big smile.
“Which one?” I asked.
“The big one.” As Scott was striding in the direction of his prize, I couldn’t get down fast enough from my high position. How thrilling! On his last day, after many hopeful long and tiring hunts, Scott finally got his kudu, the “Grey Ghost” of Africa.
Scott and Johan were beaming as both had worked so hard to make it all came together. After sharing stories and making sure we had plenty of photos, Scott’s kudu was loaded into the truck for its journey to the skinning shed. Scott ended his safari by taking ten animals, several of which qualified for the SCI Record Book, including his kudu. Eric Krichbaum also had a tremendous week and took eight animals including his long-awaited blue wildebeest, a zebra, nyala, and of course his sable.
I enjoyed being with Scott on his first safari, and sharing the splendor of Africa with him. For the first-time hunter in Africa, it is an entirely different experience – almost like a dream, yet living it firsthand. Many times I have reflected on my first safari and how I was certain I would only visit Africa once. But my list had grown, and I had finally taken my kudu on the morning of the last day. And Scott, like me, thought he was only going to hunt Africa that one time. Well, we are already planning our next trip to the Dark Continent. Scott has been forever changed by the magic of Africa.
It is hard to explain how my life has been altered by experiencing such a wonderful place. Each trip is different, with memories formed around the ups and downs, the highs and lows that are so common to the sportsman. There are several great sources of reliable references – the African Hunting Gazette is a valuable resource with the Visited and Verified service, and Craig Boddington has his Endorsed Outfitters program. There are many wonderful outfitters ready to make your safari truly one of a lifetime. And one of the best sources of reliable information is the experience of fellow hunters. Also, I also encourage you to join Safari Club International and get involved with a local chapter. They comprise everyone from squirrel hunters to those who chase elephants. I have found them to be great people who are so willing to help you get connected with an outfitter you can afford and trust.
“When will you start planning your next safari to Africa?” I was asked recently.
“I started on the return flight from my last safari,” I said.
So, what’s next? Cape buffalo! And to think, I was only going to Africa once. Little did I know how it would forever change my life. Save your money, make your plans, and go visit this amazing continent.
Bio
Lavon Winkler loves the outdoors and the challenges of hunting and fishing for a variety of species in North America, Africa, and the South Pacific. He started hunting at age 10 with his dad and brother for small game and whitetail deer in the mid-west, and later developed a passion for hunting different animal in South Africa. In three safaris, he achieved the SCI African 15 Continental Award, and has numerous entries in the SCI Record Book.
Hunt Details
Year of the hunt: May 26 – June 2, 2018
Country: South Africa
Hunting area: Northern Limpopo
Outfitter and satisfaction rating: African Trophy Pursuit – Very good rating
Professional hunter and satisfaction rating: Freddie van Zyl – Excellent rating
Rifle and cartridge details: Browning A-Bolt 30-06 – Excellent rating
Ammunition: Hornady Superformance – GMX 165gr – Excellent rating
Riflescope details and satisfaction rating: Leupold VX-2 4-12×40 – Excellent rating
Taxidermist (have received trophies): Jim Rice, Cutting Edge Taxidermy – Excellent
Hunting Contact Information Sheet
Name: Lavon Winkler
Address: 123 Tucker Road West Brookfield, Massachusetts 01585 United States
Telephone: 816-914-2124 (cell)
Email: lavonwinkler@att.net
Jul 31, 2019 | Hunting Stories Online, News
Into the big herds!
By Craig Boddington
The buffaloes we could see were starting to lie down on the far side of a short-grass savanna. Egrets swooping over sawgrass beyond indicated it was a large herd, only a portion in view…but how many buffaloes do you need? We ran out of cover at three hundred yards, good breeze in our faces. Protected with gloves and kneepads, we went on hands and knees and crawled straight in.
It seemed there was no cover at all, but then a last few scraggly tufts of weeds stood above the rest. PH Mark Haldane, in the lead, flashed a quick grin. “Time to leopard-crawl!” he said, as we crabbed our way from one sparse clump to another. We kept at it, gaining a few yards at a time and going to ground when a sharp-eyed cow got suspicious.
The buffaloes were spread in a crescent like a Zulu impi regiment, horns to our right and left, advance guard to our front, loins still hidden with swooping egrets behind them. We had reached the center, the nearest buffaloes forty yards to our front, tips of the horns a hundred yards to either side. There were no mature bulls among the closest buffaloes…but one cow had us and was playing the “look away” game. She would casually turn away, then snap her head back to see if anything had changed.
Off to the right, near the tip of impi’s left “horn,” a beautiful bull lay peacefully ruminating. With heavy bosses and tips starting to wear, he was easily the biggest and oldest bull we could see…and we were running out of time. It was inevitable that they would soon spook, so it was decision time. Flat on our bellies now, we picked a spot a few yards to our right and low-crawled to clear some weeds. The old bull was still bedded at about eighty yards, but now the sticks were spread low, nothing but a flat putting green between us. In time he would stand and offer a calm, unhurried shot…and he did.
At the shot I expected pandemonium and we got it…plus a whole lot more! Instead of retreating into the sawgrass, the group to our front broke to our right and headed out across an endless open plain. The stricken bull tried to stay with them, fell behind, offered a second shot, and was down in the short grass. And then curiously, instead of retreating deeper into safe cover, the unseen buffaloes trooped out of the sawgrass in ranks before us, passed our downed bull, and drifted slowly away.
I suppose we’d had three hundred buffaloes in front of us. In coastal Mozambique’s Coutada 11 this is not a large herd, but we’d assumed we were looking at the main herd with stragglers beyond. Now, as buffaloes streamed out of the sawgrass, we understood how wrong we had been. Just how many buffaloes might there be in a packed phalanx stretching nearly a mile from front to van, half a dozen buffaloes deep? We couldn’t count them, and no camera could encompass this endless black line. I figured minimum 2500 buffaloes, possibly three thousand.
MIRACLE IN MARROMEU
The Marromeu complex is essentially the delta of the Zambezi. Epicenter is the Marromeu Reserve stretching south from Marromeu town and reaching tidewater to the east. The reserve is a flat and seasonally flooded expanse of papyrus-lined channels and sawgrass flats interspersed with short-grass savannas. Surrounding the swamps proper is a huge floodplain; beyond lie a few million acres of miombo woodland. Bordering the unhunted reserve to south, west, and northwest are hunting areas Coutadas 10, 11, and 14, with Coutada 12 just inland of 11.
Mozambique was long famous for its wildlife, but Portuguese control was loose in the interior and it was a choice haunt of ivory poachers, including famous names such as Ian Nyschens and John Taylor. Safari hunting opened in 1959, grinding to a halt in about 1973 with the Portuguese pullout and the beginning of the long civil war. The swamps of the Zambezi Delta were difficult to hunt, but the area was known for its concentration of buffalo and was a favorite hunting ground of John F. Burger (Horned Death, 1947), who shot Marromeu buffaloes to feed workers on nearby sugar plantations.
In 1970 it was estimated that Marromeu held 40,000 buffalo, probably long overpopulated and known for small, stunted bulls. During the civil war wildlife was used to feed both sides. Worse, helicopter gunships strafed buffalo herds, picked up the carcasses, and whisked them off to Russian refrigerator ships anchored offshore. A peace accord was reached in 1992 and intrepid outfitters started to move back in. Mark Haldane’s Zambeze Delta Safaris (ZDS) has been in place in Coutada 11 since this new beginning, but the wildlife was in tatters. Only 1200 buffalo remained. Existence of cover-loving antelopes like nyala and suni was in question, and less than fifty sable remained. Those first few seasons were lean, but with conservative management and investment in anti-poaching the buffaloes prospered…as have most other species.
The most recent aerial survey counted 25,000 buffalo in and around the Marromeu Reserve. Sable antelope run about 4000. Nyala, waterbuck, and Lichtenstein’s hartebeest have similarly flourished, and the rare Selous zebra, as few as 20 in 1990, now exceed 500. Interestingly, instead of small, ugly buffaloes, today the herds contain beautiful bulls. Supported almost entirely by safari outfitters and their hunters, the Marromeu complex is truly a miracle of what can be achieved in wild Africa.
BETTER AND BETTER!
I “discovered” coastal Mozambique nearly fifteen years ago and have since hunted there almost annually. I have hunted all the Coutadas surrounding Marromeu, but have spent the most time in Coutada 11, which holds perhaps the best combination of swamp, floodplain, and woodland habitats. For forty years my track record has been to “hunt and peck” across Africa. I’ve hunted many African areas a few times, but it’s uncharacteristic for me to spend as much time as I have in the Zambezi Delta. It holds no animals I haven’t hunted, no trophies I desire to improve upon. But I keep returning because, so uniquely in wild Africa today, I see it getting better and better. There are noticeably more nyala, waterbuck, and eland than a decade ago. As often happens with many animal populations, growth is slow and steady…and then a mysterious tipping point is reached. In the last few years I’ve seen Lichtenstein’s hartebeest grow exponentially, and the smaller animals are also exploding: Reedbuck and warthogs, and the little guys: Suni, blue duiker, red duiker, and oribi.
Mostly, it’s the swamp buffalo that bring me back! Although we encounter bachelor groups, in this area mature bulls seem to stay with the herds. Or, put another way, most herds contain bulls of all ages, and somewhere in the press there will be hard-bossed bulls. Hunting bachelor groups is fun, but prowling the edges of Mozambique’s big herds is an amazing experience!
It is not “traditional” buffalo hunting in that there’s little tracking. You can, and will track if needed…the passage of several hundred buffalo isn’t hard to follow…but most frequently you are glassing for white cattle egrets that circle every buffalo herd. The birds are often visible at a mile, sometimes more. This is when the swamp buffalo hunt really begins!
The papyrus swamps and sawgrass flats are a different world, and not for everyone. For a decade I’ve taken a camp in Coutada 11 and filled it with friends (old and new). Not everyone loves the swamp as much as I do! It’s a harsh area: No shade, temps about 50 degrees Celsius on clear days. Decomposing swamp stinks as you traverse the channels. Fortunately, it’s not particularly buggy…until dusk, and then hungry mosquitoes threaten to carry you away.
The swamp hunting has progressed, greatly aided by increased buffalo numbers! Some of the PHs who were there at the start remember accessing the swamps by foot safari and dugout canoe. In the Eighties I did that in the Okavango, but those were clear-flowing channels! I have accessed the Marromeu swamps on foot (with lots of porters for meat recovery) in Coutada 14 (tough!), and by Argo. In Coutada 11 Mark Haldane and brother Glen hit upon the amphibious Hogland BV, a monstrous tracked Swedish military vehicle designed for tundra. The intent was not to make things easier for old guys like me, (honest!) but to facilitate full meat recovery. So, today, we swim across the papyrus channels in the BVs. Typically, we go in teams, at least two hunters/PHs and two BVs. If things go well, we come out of the swamps with two buffalo bulls…and the articulated trailer behind the BV can carry three.
Tracks of the several hundred (and increasing) buffaloes in the miombo forest may be found and followed on any day, but “swamp days” are in rotation. Because of numbers and mature bulls within the herds, some success is expected on swamp days—but never assured. So, try again! I was with my friend John Stucker, who shot a brilliant swamp buffalo in ’16. He commented that I was either tough or nuts, making repeat trips out there. Yep, true enough, I like it. On my annual ten-day Mozambique hunt I’ll usually go to the swamps three or four times.
EVERY DAY IS DIFFERENT
That massive herd I described was unusual. Even Haldane, who has been there for twenty-five years, described it as the largest herd he has ever seen…and it’s the biggest concentration of buffalo I’ve ever seen. Two days later we couldn’t find it again, so we assume it was a temporary gathering of several herds…but who knows?
Movement in and out of the reserve depends on rains and grass but after a normal rainy season bigger herds start to appear later in the season, September and on through October. “Average” herds are into the few hundreds. Most herds will hold mature bulls, but in herds it’s very difficult to see all the bulls. Typically, the swamps dry out a bit later in the season—but the channels hold water throughout, and it very much depends on the year. When Haldane and I got into that big herd, it was the very rare (and long-remembered) “foot-dry” buffalo hunt…but don’t be counting on that! In recent years we’ve gotten rain in September and October, and the short-grass savannas were covered with an inch of water!
As with most hunting, you don’t really know exactly what you might run into. Except …the swamps are buffalo country, and there isn’t much else out there! Once in a while, warthogs or bushpigs will ruin a stalk, and every year there are a few more waterbuck and reedbuck ‘way out there, but mostly buffalo…and mostly in big herds. A while back, with Swift Bullets’ Bill Hober, we almost drove over a couple of old bachelor bulls in thick sawgrass—one was irritated enough to charge the BV, impacting right where Bill was sitting.
Another time, hunting with my friend Zack Aultman from Georgia, we crawled through muddy sawgrass for a couple hundred yards and were looking over a herd when a lone (and very nice) bull detached from the sawgrass we’d just crawled through, and sauntered into the herd. Zack shot him, and I was happy we hadn’t blundered into him when we were on hands and knees! Several times, sitting on the BV while other hunters stalked herds, I’ve seen lone bulls cruising. So dagga bulls are out there…but without luck, I don’t know how you could reliably hunt them. We can find the big herds, and the herds contain good bulls…so we hunt the herds.
SORTING THE HERDS
Ten years ago, I would have said coastal Mozambique was a great place to hunt buffalo…but not necessarily a great place to look for a big bull. There has always been the occasional outsized bull, but most buffaloes taken are just nice, mature bulls. Perhaps this is true everywhere but, slowly over time, I think quality is improving. Every year we see—and pass—awesome youngsters that need another year or two. And, every year, a few more great bulls are taken. I don’t think the area will see a time when the “average” buffalo is a hard-bossed bull exceeding forty inches—if such an area exists—but such bulls are there. In October 2016, hunting with several friends, we had a magical week for big bulls. On the same day John Stucker and Tim Lesser took “cookie cutter” bulls in the low forties with big bosses; later in the hunt Paul Cestoni took another big bull, Donna got her best swamp buffalo, and I got a very fine bull out of the same herd. Our average for that week was spectacular!
Come to think of it, in October 2018 my daughter Brittany’s fiancé, Brad Jannenga, shot a beautiful forty-two-inch bull…and a couple days later I took a fine bull right at forty. So, I suppose our average on that hunt would have been pretty awesome as well…but I wouldn’t count on it every time! In those big herds we probably don’t always (or often!) see all the bulls. Also, getting a glimpse of a big bull isn’t the same as getting a shot. They keep mixing and shifting…and sorting them out is a large part of the fun.
Often, this is also the difficult part. Hundreds of black buffaloes in harsh light, no landmarks, a bull seen for an instant, then lost again in the press. It doesn’t work to say, “Can you see the hundredth buffalo from the right?” Even though distances are short, optics are important. “Can you see that cow in the middle with the egret on her back? Go two to her left, see the small calf…there’s a big bull just behind it.” This can go on and on, and is often frustrating but that’ s part of the deal. Sometimes there’s no shot—or there isn’t a suitable bull. You crawl some more…or you go look for another herd!
BRING ON THE LIONS!
By older accounts, in the Sixties there were a lot of lions. After the civil war there were almost none and, although the occasional lion passes through, unlike all other species the lions have not increased. Absence of lions probably has something to do with how well the buffaloes have prospered…and almost certainly has much to do with how calm these buffaloes are! Even so, wild Africa needs lions and this has been a glaring gap in what is otherwise a magnificent slice of African wilderness.
This gap is now closed. Funded by Mary Cabela, her son Dan Cabela, and the Cabela Family Foundation, in 2018 two dozen wild lions from various South African Parks were flown into Coutada 11, habituated, and released. This was the largest international transfer of lions in history…and a huge effort by hunters, purely for conservation. When I was there in late October the lions had been roaming the floodplain unrestricted for several weeks. They had split into several small prides, and were making natural kills—mostly reedbuck and warthog, and the odd hartebeest. Even more promising, videographer Bill Owens was present when a wild Mozambican male—one of the few local lions that come and go—joined one of the prides.
Lions don’t like to get their feet wet, so it may be a while before the swamp buffaloes have to re-learn how to deal with lions. For sure, they have already changed the way we blithely stroll along the floodplain! And at night, the Marromeu complex will once again be part of wild Africa…where lions roar.
Jul 25, 2019 | Hunter Proud Foundation, News
Tourism is a tough sector. Competing global markets with a smorgasbord of products makes for stiff competition. It is also a fickle business; the slight hint of civil unrest can sink that country’s prospects overnight. Intensive marketing is the name of the game and developing a strong brand is key. When it comes to selling Africa that brand must appeal to the sensitivities of a pampered Western clientele’s world. In that “Lion King” universe of Simba and Pumba, the endless, untamed wilderness is free of humans and the human touch -nature is left to manage itself.
175 000 people, 130 000 cattle, 50 000 goats, 9 000 agricultural fields, 130 000 elephants per national park (Chobe 11 000 km²) and a game reserve (Moremi 5 000 km²) are all components of a 130 000 km² constituency. These are the semi-arid Ngamiland and Chobe districts of northern Botswana. Within this region lies the Okavango Delta, one of the world’s largest inland deltas and a UNESCO World Heritage site. Thousands of remote islands encircled by endless palm-and-papyrus-fringed waterways teem with prolific wildlife and countless bird species. It is easy to see how the Delta has attracted the rapt attention of foreign photographic safari companies. This is high-end market territory with daily rates reaching as high as USD 2 500 per person.
The Okavango Delta is unique in its own right, but the photographic safari companies yearned for an extra competitive edge over rival regional destinations. Eliminating a thriving safari hunting industry, with scant regard to the implications for both people and wildlife, was just the ticket. A president who valued wildlife and profits above the interests of his people was just the person to implement it. In 2014 president Ian Khama banned safari hunting. Brand Botswana was now a hunting-free destination; no blood thirsty killers welcome here.
And so, photographic camps multiplied across the Okavango Delta and along the Chobe River where mollycoddled clients could indulge in the Africa of their imagination. It was the perfect backdrop for making award-winning movies about the trials and tribulations of cutely named animals, a lucrative marketing avenue to reinforce the Eden illusion. Meanwhile, in the areas where safari hunting once thrived and which were unsuitable for photographic operations, the waterholes that were previously pumped and maintained by the safari hunting companies dried up. Wildlife species that were able to migrate to alternative water sources did so, while those that couldn’t, perished. The hunting concessions were left barren, a land use option denied. Jobs promised by the photographic companies to the unemployed hunting companies’ staff never materialized.
With the demise of safari hunting, Brand Botswana could now promote itself as a safe haven into which elephants could escape from the persecution of safari hunting in the neighboring countries of Zimbabwe and Namibia. An endearing elephant orphanage à la Kenya’s Sheldrick model was established, no doubt to prey on the ignorance and wallets of the general public.
All was going well for the new “bloodless” Brand Botswana, except for one pesky problem – that of exploding elephant numbers. Growing concern among scientists and ecologists about the impact of elephants on biodiversity, as well as habitat destruction, could not easily be dismissed by marketing spin-doctors. It would be unconscionable to admit that there were simply too many elephants for the habitat to support. “Carrying capacity” is a swearword in the preservationist world.
The Botswana Environment Statistics Wildlife Digest 2014 reported that the results of an elephant census carried out by the Department of Wildlife and National Parks (DWNP) in 2003 showed the number to be around 109 500. In 2004 it was 151 000 and in 2012, 207 500.
In a 2008 paper written as a submission for her doctorate degree (under the supervision of Professor Rudi van Aarde who unashamedly admits to being funded by the animal rights group the International Fund for Animal Welfare, IFAW) Jessica Junker contends that between 200 000 and 400 000 may have lived in Botswana at the beginning of the 19th century. One has to wonder how 1 000-year-old baobabs could have survived the onslaught of that many elephants. Accepting a 2008 figure of 156 000 elephants, she goes on to surmise that numbers had stabilized.
A 2010 aerial survey carried out by Elephants Without Borders (EWB) covering some 73 478 km² showed that the country’s elephant population in 2010 was estimated to be 128 000. The next survey in 2014 was part of the Great Elephant Census, which was an attempt to establish elephant numbers across Africa, and 129 939 was the estimated population in an extended range of 98 425 km². The 2018 census covered an even larger area of 103 662 km² and revealed a population of 130 000. These figures certainly seem to reveal a stabilizing elephant population even as the species’ range expanded. If Botswana was indeed providing refuge from safari hunting in Zimbabwe and Namibia that alone would surely have affected the elephant numbers?
So, what is the magic number that shows a stabilizing elephant population in Botswana? Is it Junker’s figure of 156 000 in 2008, EWB’s 2018 number of 130 000, or should it be closer to Junker’s claim of 400 000 at the beginning of the 19th century?
The 2016 IUCN African Elephant Report showed concern:
“Although a new total of 129,939 ± 12,501 from the Great Elephant Census in 2014 (Chase et al., 2015) has been included in the AED, this result raises questions with respect to the 2010 and 2012 surveys. It indicates no significant change since 2010 although a population that shows no evidence of serious poaching, excessive natural mortality or high levels of net emigration would be expected to show some increase. Compared to the 2012 survey results, the 2014 estimate would indicate a marked decline that is unlikely in the absence of any other indicators.”
The 2018 numbers would undoubtedly have been even more disconcerting.
It is generally accepted that under normal conditions, a 5% per annum elephant population increase is not unusual. There is nothing to suggest that conditions had been abnormal but even if a figure of 2% is used, the projection would show a population increase from 128 000 in 2010 to around 150 000 in 2018.
The 2018 EWB report may well have been peer-reviewed by a number of impressive professionals, but things just don’t seem to add up.
Perhaps if Elephant Without Borders released the raw data from the 2010, 2014 and 2018 censuses for neutral experts to assess, the controversy could be put to bed. But this is not going to happen. If the figures and conclusions drawn from these Botswana surveys prove to be unreliable it will cast into doubt the integrity of entire continent-wide Great Elephant Census project. And that would be something.
Jul 23, 2019 | News, Richard Lendrum
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]“He can track a butterfly…”
Reading Terry Weiland’s back page gave me the nudge I needed – I am actually ashamed that it’s taken me all this time to get down to writing this.
Thirty-five years ago, a family friend in Bulawayo, now a retired hunter and co-owner of Southern Comfort Lodge, mentioned that his tracker Hlayisi – (pronounced Shlice, except clients called him Slice), was so talented that he could track a butterfly! Having collected butterflies as a youngster, I will never forget that comment.
Fast forward to 2012 when I was at an African Professional Hunters (APHA) dinner in Reno, where the Dangerous Game Award was given to John Sharp. When John walked up to the stage, he interrupted the applause to say that the trophy was not for him, but for his faithful and loyal tracker who he would like to recognize and honor, and he asked him join him on stage. As Isaac Ncube walked up, completely bewildered, a thundering ovation erupted. There couldn’t have been a dry eye in the house. John had flown him in from Zimbabwe, and what a gesture of recognition. What an eye-opener for Isaac. As John said, hunters take the glory and yet when the chips are down, where would they be without the tracker?
Fast forward again to just last month, and even I can answer that question! Hacking like a blind woodsman, I was an observer on a buffalo safari with Bobby Hansen (and I hope he gets to write up the full safari, because that was something to behold) but this particular segment was tracking a wounded buffalo. George, Bobby’s tracker for 20-plus years, was following what I could only describe as ridiculous hints of blood spoor. I will show you the pic below and then overleaf will circle the blood. It was like one of those frustrating Facebook images that ask if you can identify some specific object in a mass of confusion. But far worse than a Facebook puzzle, here was I, supposed to see this blood spot, while at the same time looking out for danger, hot and tired, and with a few thorns in my legs!
The next day they went back to resume the search. I decided not to go as I felt it was a personal experience for the hunter on his own with his PH. Over five hours later, we got the call to the camp. On top of some hill, in thick undergrowth, rocks everywhere, this monster had given his final charge. And Bob, a PH of several decades, couldn’t explain how George, his tracker, found the buffalo – which is the common theme when PHs try to explain their trackers’ abilities. Meanwhile, the client was grumpy because Bob had to shoot to finish the hunt as the 1000-pound steam train charged and fell just 10 yards from them. (The client could not understand that without Bobby’s intervention, he would probably have been run over – but that is the subject of another day!)
In times like this, trackers are to hunters what seeing-eye dogs are to the visually impaired. Maybe not exactly – but you get the idea. I digress again, but that expression – “seeing-eye dog” – is probably one of the greatest “Americanisms” I have ever heard. The rest of the world simply calls them “guide dogs”.
Anyway, it is never too late (though it has taken me decades), so here is a challenge for both hunters reading this, and for industry professionals who rely on these trackers to make world-class safaris: Let’s hear the stories and let’s honor these wizards of the wild.
If you have an experience or story about a tracker, jot it down as you recall it, and send it to me. Include a picture as well if you have one. This is something I really feel passionate about, and we will publish the anecdotes to recognize these bush craftsmen – our trackers.
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Jul 22, 2019 | Bowhunting, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]By Frank Berbuir
What is a tsessebe, some guys in my home country asked when I told them about my bowhunting adventure on this African antelope…
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It is the end of August and I am lucky to be back again in South Africa to bowhunt with my PH Izak Vos from Vos Safaris. For a week we have been in our cosy hunting camp on a nice farm on the border of the North West Province, close to the Limpopo Province.
The scenery along the Crocodile River is stunning, with some challenging hunting grounds – stony mountains, dense bush, and open plains. In our last week we saw from time to time a small herd of tsessebe with a very old bull, some females, and only a few juveniles. We also saw, quite far from the herd, two very young males with some clearly visible signs of injuries. The farmer explained that the bull was either fighting to the death with the male calves, or exiling them from the herd where they would most likely die in the bush from their injuries or fall prey to hyenas and other predators. So the herd did not grow much the last five years, and we would be doing him a favor if we hunted this bull.
Our first day started with a refreshing morning walk to the area where the “beestes” usually roam, and where we had seen them before. South African winter early mornings are quite chilly, but the splendid sunrise and the warming sun in our faces was a delight. When we reached the area we planned how we wanted to approach and stalk the animals. Even though the herd was small there were plenty of eyes, ears and noses that are much more sensitive and sharper than ours, and they get your scent and silhouette in a split second. With the wind in our favor we sneaked closely to a bush where we could hide and see them. We were about 150 meters from them when it became more challenging. We slowly moved forward, almost waddling like ducks to the next covering bush, always keeping an eye on the antelopes. So far they were all calm and easy.
It took an hour to shorten the distance to 100 meters when suddenly they all looked up in our direction. We froze behind our sparse cover, and when you are sitting on your haunches, this starts to hurt after a couple of minutes! We could not figure out what disturbed them, but they started slowly moving away from us. That´s the way the cookie crumbles.
So, it’s a case of begin again to follow and try to get closer. Once they were behind some bushes and we were not in their sight, we cautiously sneaked out behind our cover and stalked bent over, at a snail´s pace to the next available cover. To make a long story short the situation repeated several times. Four hours went by, and with the sun high above and rising temperatures, the challenge became more and more demanding. Suddenly there were crackling noises from behind us, and we saw three giraffes approaching at about 50 meters from us, and they would likely smell or see us.
Now it was getting even more difficult. If we got up or moved we would probably spook them all. So we hid ourselves in a thorny bush, as low as possible and keeping dead quiet. Thankfully the Sniper Africa camouflage hunting clothes are quite thorn-resistant and the hunting gods were also in our favour, as the giraffes fortunately turned to the left and wandered off unconcerned, not even seeing us. But it was exciting for us.
Luckily the tsessebe were still there, unperturbed by the giraffes, but we still 100 meters distance from them. We gradually crawled closer.
Time was running out. By now it was high noon and hot. However, we made progress without spooking any tsessebe. At the last bush between us and the animals we stopped and checked the distance with the rangefinder.
“The bull is standing to the left at 38 meters,” Izak whispered. “You will not get closer and you have to wait until he turns quartering away or broadside but you better get ready. It’s now or never, Frank. It’s Showtime!”
It was up to me. I knelt, nocked in the arrow quietly, and set the sight on the correct distance. Still calm, I pulled my bow smoothly to full draw. I angled my upper body a bit to the right for a clear shooting window, and aimed with my sight pin on his vitals.
I could feel my heart beating fast, and it seemed like eternity until the bull stepped to the right and stood quartering away. I take a deep breath and finally tap the trigger of my release.
The arrow was on its deadly mission and within a split second penetrated the antelope´s body.
“Yes,” Izak whispered. “The arrow is completely in and you can only see fletches sticking out.” The bull jumped, and together with rest of the herd was running away. We tried to follow his direction before he disappeared between some bushes, then heard nothing more. We were in suspense. After a 20-minute rest we followed the tracks and blood trail from the spot where the arrow had penetrated. At first the trail was clear and easy to follow, but after 50 meters there was no more sign of blood. Happily I had an excellent and experienced professional hunter at my side who is also an expert tracker. He found the tracks of the bull and carefully went forward with me following, when he suddenly stopped at the edge of a bush, shook my hand, and hugged me.
“Congrats, well done my friend. You got a tsessebe!” he said. I was surprised and bewildered.
“Why are you congratulating me?”
“Look around the bush!” he smiled. I did, and there was my fine tsessebe bull. Overcome, I knelt down, and evaluated the magnificent animal. It had again been an incredible and challenging experience with bow and arrow, and finally I was able to take this magnificent animal. After some great pictures we radioed the farmer to pick us up, and when he arrived and saw the bull, the joy was complete – a happy farmer, happy professional hunter and happy bowhunter.
Once more a tremendously good hunt with unforgettable impressions and memories together with my friend and PH Izak Vos from Vos Safaris in South Africa. Shoot straight, take care, always good hunting, “Waidmannsheil” and “Alles van die beste”.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_btn title=”View Article in eZine” color=”chino” align=”center” link=”url:https%3A%2F%2Fafricanhuntinggazette.com%2Fjuly-aug-sep-2019%2F%23africanhuntinggazette-ezine-july%2F92-93||target:%20_blank|”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_media_grid grid_id=”vc_gid:1563781289224-814704d5-ca3f-4″ include=”22661,22662,22663,22664,22665,22666,22667″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
