Jun 7, 2018 | News, Rifles for Africa
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Passion: A return to Africa for the Rigby Rising Bite
“This is now my main rifle. I’m going to use it for everything!” Not many statements could do as much to assure a rifle maker that they’ve succeeded in building a firearm that satisfies, but Adolfo Gutierrez’s words must surely have pleased Marc Newton Managing Director of John Rigby and Company. Adolfo was speaking in the Save Valley, in Zimbabwe, where he had just hunted and killed a mature Cape buffalo. And the rifle? The renowned Rising Bite, the first to be produced from the Rigby workshop in 83 years.
The Rigby Rising Bite double rifle is one of the most iconic of all rifles, and gets its name from the unique vertical-bolt locking system. It was originally designed in 1879, thanks to a collaboration between T. Bissel and John Rigby, with a patent taken out in the same year – the vertical-bolt locking system, one of the most sophisticated ever designed. Approximately 1,000 Rising Bites were built, with the final custom-ordered examples being produced in 1932 for the Maharaja of Karauli. The Maharaja ordered a pair, in .405 Winchester and .350 No. 2 Rigby Nitro Express. Marc decided, in 2014, that it was time for Rigby’s most famous rifle to be resurrected. This was done by reverse engineering an original example made for the Maharana of Udaipur, built in the early 20th century. Marc oversaw this project, with valuable input from historian Steve Helsley and collector David Peterson. The master craftsmen at Rigby have now built a London Best double rifle using the Rising Bite action, which, in late 2016, made its triumphant return to Africa.
Adolfo was the first person to take possession of the newly revived rifle, which was first displayed at the Safari Club International Convention in 2016. For Adolfo, it was a defining moment: “I own several double rifles, but I’d never taken one on safari with me before. I knew that’s what I wanted to do with the Rigby.” His aim, initially, was to hunt the dangerous-game species, with the exception of rhino, and to take all these animals with his newly acquired Rigby. For this purpose, Adolfo booked an 18-day safari on the Save River, where, on his first day, the mature buffalo was spotted, hunted, and despatched in quick succession.
The first shot at game from the rifle was taken at 30 yards, and while follow-up shots were required. The buffalo, a 40” bull, was, as Adolfo says, “dead on its feet. I took the final shot at 120 yards.” No small feat with open sights. However, Adolfo had been preparing for months: “I shot that rifle every single day, so I knew I was ready.” Adolfo, incidentally, prefers not to use sticks on large game: “They slow you down when you are hunting game that is constantly moving.” The fit of the rifle, for which Adolfo travelled from the US to London five times, is perfect, which makes taking these types of shots, “A dream. That rifle feels like the best fitting shotgun when I put it into my shoulder, it’s incredibly natural. The fit is just perfect.”
Along with excellent fit, the recoil is smooth and, according to Adolfo, “Very straight. It doesn’t throw you off, so your second shot can be dead on, too.” The second barrel is just ¼” out from the first, so 1¼” groups at 65 yards can be achieved, a remarkable grouping for a big-bore double-barrelled rifle. In practise, this meant that Adolfo was able to drop a very old kudu on the spot from 90 yards, as well as a mature eland that immediately fell to the Rising Bite’s report.
“Adolfo passed up the opportunity to shoot a few other animals,” explains Marc, “proving himself a truly selective hunter. He only wanted to shoot mature examples, which is admirable.”
Along for the trip, Adolfo had brought a London Best .416 with a scope, but it remained in its case after the success achieved with that first shot on the buffalo. “This is now my primary rifle, for all big game,” Adolfo said. He’s booked his next trip to Mozambique and Zimbabwe for later this year, “And I’m planning to take it with me on a hunting trip every single year from now on.”
Save Valley Conservancy
The Save Valley is one of the great success stories of a partnership between conservation and hunting. From the 1920s until the early 1990s, cattle ranching was the mainstay of the valley, pushing wildlife to the outskirts of the valley. The habitat, grazed by cattle, didn’t support game animals, while predators attacked the cattle, and farmers naturally wanted to protect their livestock. Over the decades, changing markets, foot-and-mouth, and civil war made farming unprofitable, with the final blow to farming delivered by a drought in 1991/1992. A change was needed, and this led to the formation of the Save Valley conservancy. The huge Devuli Ranch, which had been made up of 750,000 hectares was divided into 15 smaller areas, three of which were purchased by Willy Pabst and now form Sango, which is where Adolfo was hunting.
All livestock was removed, internal fences were taken down, and wildlife was reintroduced. Anti-poaching teams were brought in and lodges were built, opening their doors in 2003. An astonishing recovery has taken place, with vegetation increasing year-on-year, as well as indigenous wildlife, including predators such as lion and leopard, and also elephant and both black and white rhino. The combination of high quality but low density tourism helps to ensure Sango’s mission: “To maintain the natural biodiversity of the Save Valley Conservancy, on a sustainable basis for the socio-economic benefit of the region using accepted ecological management practices and ethical business principles. Sango is committed not to derive benefits at the expense of and to the detriment of its flora and fauna.” It’s telling that in 2006, Sango won the Edmond Blanc Prize for Sustainable Development, which is awarded by the International Council for Game and Wildlife Conservation (CIC). Sango was also ranked as the fifth-best safari in the world in 2009 by the Outdoor Channel. Hunting takes place over an enormous area, and the wildlife is free-ranging.
The Rising Bite
With a deluxe, hand-fitted walnut custom-fitted stock and Rigby pattern full-scroll engraving, and gold inlaid details, the new generation of Rigby Rising Bite double rifles are an example of the finest craftsmanship and artistry. The action is color-case hardened, as is the fore-end iron, while the barrels and furniture are blacked. The barrels are “London Best”, and the ejector regulating switch is inside the fore-end, which has a lever release catch. The rifles have sidelock ejectors, and a traditional full-length rib or a Rigby ¼ rib and front sight block. Rising Bites take up to three years to produce, and are available in .416 Rigby, .450/.400 Nitro Express, .470 Nitro Express, .500 Nitro Express, .577 Nitro Express and .600 Nitro Express. Scope mounts can be customised and fitted, and there is a variety of options for engraving and inlay.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”14957,14958,14959,14960,14961″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Jun 4, 2018 | Hunter Speaks Out, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]34 YEARS OF TRACKING AFRICA
By George Gehrman
It was 1984.
“George,” said Gene, my friend and hunting partner, “let’s book a hunt up in British Columbia this fall.” I looked at him for all of two seconds.
“Gene, we live in Cody, Wyoming, with the mountains right in our backyard. Why do we want to go north and hassle with horses in the dark and cold; sleep in a bag on the ground, and climb up and down the mountains all day for one or two animals? We’ve been there and done that for years. Why not go to Africa instead? Comfortable weather. We‘ll sleep in real beds, be fed great food, and can hunt a number of animals we‘ve never even seen before?”
And so it all began.
As a boy growing up just outside of the city limits of Omaha, Nebraska, I had few playmates. But I had neighbors, most of whom were hunters, although just for birds and small game, and from them I had access to Outdoor Life magazine. A branch of the Omaha Public library was within walking distance, and one summer I discovered the Africa section of the library, and I devoured those books. The authors laid out the plains of Africa before me. Their names escape me now, but I do remember Teddy Roosevelt, Osa Johnson, and Jack O‘Connor.
Because of all those stories, I knew something about going to Africa, so I started by calling someone in the U.S. Forest Service I was working for at the time – he had been to Africa. His advice was to contact a booking agency. Jack Atcheson and Sons were not far away from us in Montana, so we chose them, and they booked us with ANVO Safaris, PH Volker Grellmann in Namibia. Neither of us had ever flown internationally, but we followed the advice of our local agent and made out just fine. Our 7-day, 2×1 plains game special couldn’t have gone any better, as we each collected seven animals – mine were kudu, gemsbok, springbok, Burchell’s zebra, Cape red hartebeest, warthog, and black-backed jackal.
And that was it – Africa was in my blood and I was hooked completely. Plans for a return safari were already spinning in my head!
But a transfer to a new duty station slowed things down, and it wasn’t until 1992 that I was able to return to the Dark Continent, on a hunt arranged by Safari Outfitters. This time it was a 10-day Cape buffalo and plains-game special in Zimbabwe with Clive Lennox of Lenton Safaris. The highlight of this hunt was my buffalo taken on the first day. It was August, and it was dry, and getting quite warm by mid-day. The ground was hard, and tracks difficult to follow, but the trackers trailed three bulls for over two hours away from a tiny spring where they had watered. Catching up with them, I took an excellent bull, 41½” wide and with an incredible boss measuring 17½” over the top. We also scored on waterbuck, reedbuck, impala, Chobe bushbuck, duiker, and steenbok.
A remarkable year was 1994. I retired from the U.S. Forest Service in the April, went on a hunt to South Africa in May, and by October, I had signed on as Africa Manager for the recently opened international booking agency, The Trophy Connection. The South African safari was booked directly with PH Tony Tomkinson of Tony Tomkinson Safaris. My friend Gene joined me again on this hunt, and my wife Pat traveled to Africa for the first time. The main target was a nyala, and again, I shot seven animals, all of which qualified for Rowland Ward. I was beginning to wonder if my birth date, 7/7, was influencing the number of animals shot on each safari. This year it was nyala, springbok, black wildebeest, blesbok, Cape bushbuck, impala, and baboon. The best trophy was the bushbuck, with both horns over 16” long. We detoured on the way home to Victoria Falls, an absolute “must- see” at some point in one’s African travels.
Mbalabala Safaris in Zimbabwe was a great find. I’d heard about it from a total stranger and it sounded good. I booked with them in 1997 and that started a warm relationship with the Stanton family – Charlie and Pam, and sons Lindon and Matt. They had a good reputation for leopard and they certainly lived up to it. I took a nice cat, a 42” sable, blue wildebeest, eland, and many impala, mostly for baits. I missed at least four klipspingers, and broke the “sevens” pattern – it had to happen sooner or later!
In 1999, Pat and I escorted a small group to Namibia for a photo/adventure safari that included Etosha Park and the Skeleton Coast. Northern Namibia is a wild and beautiful place, and the wildlife at Etosha is well worth a stop. When the group departed, I stayed on to hunt two operations – Trophy Safaris with PH Peter Kibble, and Progress Safaris run by his son PH Mike Kibble. We shot a few plains-game species, the best of which was a very good springbok.
In 2000 I went on a month-long visit to several different safari companies in South Africa and Zimbabwe. Spear Safaris in the Kruger region of South Africa, with PH Ernest Dyason, was the first stop. That year there was record rainfall throughout southern Africa and everywhere the grass was very high. Nevertheless, Ernest put me onto good trophies of mountain reedbuck and red lechwe. Then I went to Jan du Preez of Mayfair Ranch in Northwest Province, right on the border of Zambia, where Jan and I took a white blesbok and black springbok before I had to leave for Zimbabwe.
I was concerned about Zimbabwe as Mugabe’s war on the white settlers had begun with two murders just before I arrived to join up once again with the Stantons. However, there weren’t any problems on their concession, and I finally collected a klipspringer and a very nice Limpopo bushbuck. It ended with an extensive tour of the operations of HHK Safaris, managed by Graham Hingeston.
Early on in my stint with the Trophy Connection, I met PH Natie Oelofse, a South African who was operating mostly in Tanzania. He liked teasing me about my African experience by asking when I was going to come to the “real” Africa, meaning Tanzania. And so, in 2001, we arranged for me to do just that, with 15 days in the Lake Natron concession in Masailand and the Moyowashi in the west-central part of the country. And Natie was right – this was like the Kenya and Tanganyika of days gone by. I was on an extended buffalo and plains-game hunt, as well as for much of what the country had to offer, and still offers today. Natie and I teamed up on a huge, battle-scarred 43” buff, plus Thomson’s and Grant’s gazelles, East African bushbuck, topi, and bohor reedbuck. Sadly, Natie passed away a few years later from cancer.
In 2003, we hooked up with old friends Don and Merilee Fuller, traveling to Namibia to visit and evaluate a new operation, Ozonduno Safari Ranch, a fenced ranch with very comfortable accommodation and good hunting for plains game. I shot a zebra there and Don bagged an eland. Then we moved to South Africa to catch up on Mayfair Game Ranch with Jan du Preez. There weren’t many changes, and I took an outstanding 25” plus impala and black springbok, and a long-sought porcupine.
Generally, I have gone to a new destination and/or PH on most of my safaris to broaden my experience and to familiarize myself with the operators I was representing. A few stand out in such a way that I went back more than once. Mayfair Ranch with Jan du Preez was one – Pat and I returned for a short hunt with Jan in 2006, primarily for a bontebok and white springbok. We got good specimens of both, plus a last-minute very nice kudu bull.
At the Nebraska SCI Chapter banquet, I ended up the winning bidder on a safari donated by good friend and business associate PH Ernest Dyason of Spear Safaris. This was a great opportunity for a family member to have a great first safari at a very good price. Our son-in-law Dan Anderson joined us with Ernest in South Africa. Dan took several heads of plains game, while I added an oribi to my record. I also scored a first for me – I shot a zebra and lost it! It was recovered the next day by the landowner, but the hide was ruined by predators.
In 2010, Pat and I planned a long itinerary, supposedly to be our last “Hurrah” in Africa. We booked two safaris, each with operators we hadn’t previously hunted with – Lindale Safaris, with PH Rex Amm in the Eastern Cape of South Africa, and Shona Hunting Adventures, with PH Johann Veldsmann in the Etosha region of Namibia.
With Rex, we hunted several species that I hadn’t taken before, notably the Vaal rhebok and Cape grysbok. The hunt for the rhebok was classic in every sense – high up on a windy ridge I took a nice trophy with a single shot. The grysbok turned out to be big enough to go into the top twenty in the SCI book of records, and it was larger than any Rex had shot.
Between the two safaris we spent several days in Cape Town doing and seeing things we hadn’t done before. Shona offers unfenced hunting for the usual Namibian plains game, and we had a few days in Johann’s tented bush camp, finishing up in his Tualuka Lodge, which certainly ranks among the top three lodges I’ve been to in Africa. This turned out to be a safari of many stalks, but few shots. However, I did take a Hartmann’s mountain zebra, a warthog, and gemsbok for meat.
And so much for a last hurrah!
We hadn’t been home very long when our daughter Sara and her husband Jim Holden called and asked when we’d be off to Africa again. They thought they had better get on the bandwagon before it was too late! After considering the many choices, they zeroed in on Shona Safaris, and so it was that we all booked with them for 2012.
Nothing had changed at Tualuka since we were there in 2010, and we spent a most enjoyable time. Jim and Sara took all the animals they were after. Jim hunted some with his bow and took a warthog, and Sara made her old Dad proud by nailing a very nice springbok with his .338-06 after a good stalk with Johann. We ended our time with Johann with a two-day tour and an overnight in Etosha Park where we were overwhelmed with the bonanza of wildlife. The highlight was the huge lion that dropped by (to help us?) while we were fixing a flat tire. Some shopping in Windhoek, and dinner at Joe’s Beer Hall ended a wonderful family outing.
Five years passed by, and I was pretty sure that trip was our last to Africa. Then I received “an offer you can’t refuse” from PH Bert Meyer of De Duine Safaris headquartered in Vryburg, South Africa. It was just the kind of deal that could allow my son, Bill, the opportunity to experience Africa at a very affordable price. And so we booked a 9-day plains game hunt with Bert. Bill got a very good kudu, impala, and springbok, while I ended my African hunting with a very large eland, 37-½ inches, two management blue wildebeests, and a cull impala. We viewed Bert’s fantastic prides of lion, and spent time at three places, and had a good variety of experiences. We spent an extra night at the Afton Guest House on our way back to unwind and enjoy their hospitality once more, having stayed there on our arrival in Johannesburg.
It’s hard for me to believe that 34 years could fly past so quickly. As I review my safaris, one thing I note is the lack of any close calls. Zero charges from any of the Big Five. No run-ins with snakes. In over 120 days in the field I saw only three snakes – one black mamba in Namibia and two puff adders in Zimbabwe. None posed any danger. No problems with any exotic sickness from insects or whatever other causes.
But none of my time in Africa was boring – adventure was always present. Different sights, sounds, and smells were always new and exciting. The people and animals are all so different from what we have in the U.S. that one learns something new every day. Various naysayers will say that Africa is on the way down and hunting will be ending there. Don’t you believe it! While things have certainly changed since 1984, most of it is for the better. And the one thing that never changes in Africa, is that it is constantly changing!
That is why one must be careful when booking any safari, and due diligence is the watchword.
It can be good to book on the advice of trusted friends who have been there. But you end up looking at only one company, one place, and one country. Using an established booking agency is the best way to ensure that you will have a good variety of venues to choose from.
Another reason for using an agent is that they normally support and advise you from the very start of the booking process through to getting the trophies back to the U.S. And their services are free to the client as they are commissioned by the hunting operator.
The large hunting shows are another popular place to book a safari. Shows such as the Safari Club International held annually in Las Vegas or Reno are well attended by hundreds of outfitters from all over the world. One must be a member of the SCI to get into the show, but the price of a membership is very reasonable and the money goes to support various hunting and conservation causes. The show put on by the Dallas Safari Club in Dallas every year is much like the SCI show, and offers a mind-numbing display of worldwide hunting adventures. An all-Africa show is put on by the African Hunting Gazette magazine in locations in both the U.S. and Canada. The African Hunting Gazette may not be really well known as a means for booking a safari, but it is actually a very good source, as they offer a service whereby they “visit and verify” a good number of hunting venues throughout Africa. They feature profiles of several of these in each issue of the Gazette, and a complete listing can be found on their website www.africanhuntinginfo.com. Indeed, it was from a listing in the magazine that I selected Shona Hunting Adventures with whom I hunted in 2010 and again in 2012.
With reference to the hunting shows: Nearly all shows at all levels require the vendors to provide a hunt or whatever it is they are selling as a donation to be auctioned off by the show’s sponsor as part of the cost of a booth. SCI supports various chapters, usually at a state level, but it is sometimes broken down even further in states with large populations. And various other sporting organizations of all sizes do pretty much the same thing. As a result, there are large numbers of hunts auctioned off every year at these banquets where they often sell for pennies on the dollar. So – a great place to book your hunt at a bargain-basement price, right? Not so fast. Some of these hunts have restrictions on them which make them not such a good deal. This can also work both ways when one purchases a hunt and then tries to amplify it in some way without a corresponding change in price.
The number of organizations sponsoring fund raisers has greatly increased since 1984. Many, such as the Rocky Mountain Elk Foundation, Foundation for North American Sheep, etc., are well known, and the number of their chapters has greatly increased over the years. And they have been joined by various other organizations advocating other species (mule deer, wild turkeys, etc.) and causes, until the market is flooded with hunts being put up for auction. The bottom line is some hunts are good, some are bad, and a buyer must really check things out before getting stuck with a trip they may not even use. Vetting is the word needed, and one really needs to apply it in this situation before buying that super deal.
So once one makes the decision, what then? Cost is most likely the first and main consideration, but it is really not that big an obstacle. There are safaris to suit every budget. The price of a safari consists of a daily rate to cover accommodations, meals, local travel, services of your PH, and support staff. A trophy fee is charged for any animals shot or wounded and lost. The final price depends mainly on the length of the hunt, animals shot, and species. There are some safaris available for as low as $4000. Additional costs are the travel to Africa, gratuities to the staff, and shipping the trophies home. Travel to southern Africa is nearly all through Johannesburg, South Africa, and one is well advised to use an agency that specializes in travel there. Medical requirements are few: check with the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, GA for the best current advice. In the end, the cost is really just a matter of priorities – how much do you want to go to Africa? A very good plains-game safari is way less than a new car or pick-up.
Changes over 34 years? Probably the biggest is the numbers of safari operators who have disappeared to be replaced by new names. The oldest names you’ll see are still here because they have consistently performed well. If they didn’t, they’d be gone. New kids on the block must perform well to succeed as in any business.
The technological changes have also been huge. When I started in the business, communications with our companies in Africa were almost 100% via fax. Some PHs handwrote their faxes rather than typing them, and time was lost trying to deciphering what they wrote. Communication by cell phone and Internet, is a great improvement on faxing.
Shooting sticks were foreign to American hunters back then. But when used successfully in Africa, American hunters took to them in a big way. You can now select from an amazing variety of monopods, bipods, and tripods.
Family participation in the hunter’s adventure is a fairly new. The safari industry is starting to do a good job in providing side adventures for non-hunting members of a party, and children, and so we are seeing more and more families on safari. There hasn’t been any appreciable influx of “black rifles” to Africa yet, but they may be coming in light of how popular they have become in the U.S.
In closing, I can only say – Go hunting while you’re still able.
George Gehrman
President, Tracking Africa
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”14951,14952,14953″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
May 30, 2018 | News, Yester Year
South Africa: 2015
A Zebra for Carole
By Archie Landals
Memories of our Namibian hunt in 2012 frequently rekindled our desire to return to Africa, and Carole and I discussed animals we would like in our trophy room, and our priority was a zebra skin.
Carole had learnt to shoot in Canada with her own rifle, a Savage Lady Hunter in 30-06, and she wanted to be the one to take the zebra.
We had worked at the African Event in Calgary, January 2015, for Louw van Zyl, our Namibian friend from Track a Trails Safaris. Our booth was next to Izilo Hunting Safaris, Mark Oberem and Dave De Coning from East London, South Africa, and during the course of the show we chatted about the possibilities of a safari. Mark and Dave said they would organize a tour between Cape Town and East London to make the experience even more interesting.
The upshot was our first trip to Africa by ourselves, on a personalized tour with Trevor Ankiewicz, a retired forester and university professor as our guide and driver. Trevor was an excellent choice. He knew every nook and cranny of the region as well as all the plants and animals, and took us to botanical gardens and nature hot spots that were not on our itinerary.
Our adventures over the course of two weeks included monuments, parks, wineries, breweries, farmers markets and scenic viewpoints. We visited Cango Caves and had tours at Cheetah Land, an ostrich farm, primate rehabilitation center and an elephant rescue center. Boat tours took us to seal and cormorant colonies, whale watching and cage diving with the Great White Sharks. Shamwari Game Reserve, a photographer’s paradise, could be a stand-alone holiday. With the exception of leopard, we photographed the rest of the Big Five. Plains game was everywhere. The evening sound of wildlife during our sundowners was enchanting. For us, it was African magic.
A four-hour drive from Shamwari got us to East London where Mark was waiting. We picked up Wilson our tracker and headed for Maweni Lodge, near Queenstown, three hours north. Maweni is a storybook hunting lodge: thatched roof, red sandstone buildings in a natural setting surrounded by mountains, with impala grazing on the lawn. We had one of three fully furnished guest cottages. Meals were in a beautifully constructed central lodge. Gary and Dag were gracious hosts with a lifetime of stories, especially about hunting leopard with hounds.
Millions of years of erosion of flat-lying red sandstones sculpted the landscape around Queenstown. Mountain ranges were separated by wide basins with streams in the valleys. Several truck trails provided access to the mountains at Maweni. There were always panoramic views. Giraffe, waterbuck, eland, kudu, impala, warthog, mountain reedbuck and zebra were visible every time we stopped to look.
The first evening we watched kudu, impala, giraffe and zebra on the mountainside and discussed where we might make a stalk on a zebra for Carole. We were confident we would have ample chance to get one while we looked for nyala.
Up at 6:00 we had a quick coffee and were off at first light with plans to return for a hot brunch mid-morning. Ten minutes from the lodge, Wilson tapped on the roof and pointed out an Eastern Cape kudu on the mountainside. Although not an animal we intended to hunt, Mark said it was a very good bull and that I should take it. Grabbing the rifle, I started up the mountain behind Mark. The steep slope was strewn with large sandstone boulders concealed in tall grass, making footing tricky. I was so out of breath I could hardly stand when I caught up to Mark. And after spending two weeks with Trevor, I did not need to ask Mark what an aloe was when he said the kudu was above the tallest aloe!
My first shot wounded the kudu, and as he emerged from the bush at 400 yards I hit him twice more, but he did not go down. I quickly reloaded and saw him standing facing Gizmo, the Wire Haired Fox Terrier.
“Don’t shoot,” said Mark, “Gizmo will chase him down the mountain.” He did. By the time I got to the bottom, Wilson and Gizmo were there, standing near the kudu lying in the brush, where I finished him off. When skinned and quartered it weighed over 800 pounds, the heaviest ever taken at Maweni.
The morning still young, our hunt continued. Passing up several large waterbuck, we neared the top of a mountain trail and spotted eland across a steep valley. With the spotting scope we confirmed a couple of good bulls, but the wind direction and lack of cover ruled out a stalk. Glassing the surrounding mountains turned up three bulls on our side of the valley. With a favorable breeze, we started a long fast stalk on the bulls that were moving quickly. I finally got a chance at 368 yards. Using a 7mm Remington Magnum with a 4 to 12 scope that belonged to Mark, I put the cross hairs just above the eland’s shoulders and heard the bullet hit. He took a few steps forward, staggered back and tumbled down the mountain. I had a magnificent eland bull with a large red ruff. Regrettably we settled for a European mount, as it was far too large for our trophy room.
Happy hunters, we returned to the lodge for brunch. During our stay, Dag cooked what we had shot, a great treat. The afternoon and evening we spent looking for nyala as we did the following evening and next two mornings. Nyala would appear like phantoms, peeking out of the thick brush on the steep rocky slopes. Some were immature bulls; others appeared as shooting light was failing. One exceptional bull gave us the slip on an unsuccessful stalk.
The second morning we passed up two solitary zebra stallions on a rugged mountain slope with little cover, before spotting five stallions with a group of giraffe. These were in more accessible terrain and looked like a better bet for Carole. Making careful note of visible landmarks, a long circular stalk was planned to take advantage of the wind and available cover. The giraffe towering above the bush helped the stalk. Quietly following Mark and obeying his hand signals, Carole was eventually in position. The zebra did not go down after two solid hits at 180 yards. Staying out of sight and downwind, Mark continued the stalk with Carole following close behind. Mark was an excellent PH, with all the patience in the world coaching a first-time hunter, and soon had Carole in position and back on the shooting sticks. This time it dropped. Carole was ecstatic – she had her first African animal. I was more excited for her than I have been in many years of hunting. Photos in a beautiful African setting capped off a magical morning.
Imvani, a fabulous landscape of open savannah between sloping mountains was our destination on day three. We were hoping to get Carole a chance at a black wildebeest or red hartebeest. From the mountain slope we were able to glass vast areas of the plain. Hundreds of animals, wildebeest, hartebeest, impala, zebra and blesbok grazed below. A wildebeest some distance from the herd was a possible stalk. A mile later we were getting close. I waited while Carole followed Mark. After several attempts they were in position, and Carole dropped a good bull with one shot. Following Mark, she ran so hard she had the dry heaves. She need not have run – she had a second beautiful trophy.
Before leaving Imvani, I got a red hartebeest. As a group of them moved quickly through the bush, the best bull passed through a small opening and I dropped it. Mark commented that he had not yet found it in the rangefinder. I would like to say that when I shoot I let out a deep breath and squeeze the trigger, but that is seldom true. I have always shot fast, handling my rifle on a moving target much as I do my shotgun; it is an automatic reflex.
We left Maweni without finding the elusive nyala. We headed for the coast and Crawfords Beach Lodge a resort with all the amenities, pool, spa, lounge, dining room, laundry service, drinks on the beach; all part of the hunting package. They did their best to get us hooked on cappuccino, and might have succeeded if it hadn’t been for the local beer and great South African wines. The balcony of our thatched-roof suite looked out on the Indian Ocean, with palm trees and waves lapping on white sandy beaches. Izilo Safaris is really on to something for those with non-hunting partners. Izilo has access to nearby properties with most species of plains game. We were hopeful we would find a nyala and bushbuck, but were unconcerned as we had already had a great hunt.
On my first chance at a nyala… I shot over it twice! My second chance was a good hit and it dropped with the second shot. Mark quickly congratulated me, told me to wait, and headed off at a run for the truck. Wilson, a second tracker, and Gizmo headed toward the nyala. With Gizmo barking and the trackers yelling, I had visions of them trying to finish off the nyala with a rock. (I later found out that all the noisy excitement was caused by a swarm of bees from a nest they had stepped on.)
Then I realized why Mark had run – I was out of shells. Returning, he handed me his .300 Remington Ultra Magnum, told me to plug my ears and go finish it off.
Before our hut was over Carole got a fine impala ram, again with a single shot. A hunter for less than a year, she had shot at four animals and got them all.
I missed my first four!
Bio: Retired after 40 years in parks and conservation, the author has hunted for as long as he can remember. He has hunted across his native Alberta, Canada as well as New Zealand, Namibia, South Africa, the western United States and the Canadian Arctic. In 2013 he was awarded the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal for his work in conservation.
May 27, 2018 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Namibia: 2017
A Dream Come True
By Michael Clavel
It’s April 2017.
Ninety minutes south-east of Windhoek airport, Namibia, is Bergzicht Game Lodge, a ranch owned by Hannes and Geraldine du Plessis. Three generations of family are there – my wife and I, and two daughters, all at the invitation of my parents-in-law, experienced hunters who have hunted pretty much everywhere in the world.
Today is the third day of our safari. We’re on the road with our guide Steph Joubert and trackers Obed and Fessy, and we are still searching for sable antelope or southern greater kudu. We spot a couple of kudu standing on the side of the mountain before us, but, “Too young,” say the trackers. They could make great trophies for someone in the future. We had arranged with Hannes to only take the most beautiful trophies.
At a bend in the path, we come across a red lechwe, a beautiful animal, its bright tawny coat gleaming in the sunlight. I manage to photograph it just before it disappeared into the bush. Later in the day we would also come across several other species of antelope: hartebeest, impala, springbok, blue wildebeest, black wildebeest, and steenbok. At the end of the morning, we see a herd of sable. Observing silently, we hope to catch a glimpse of the large male we are looking for… but after several minutes of glassing, we find there are only females and young.
At mid-day we return to camp for a delicious lunch and siesta. Having recently bought a drone, I took advantage of the moment of calm to send it over some of the area to look for different species of animals that I could film or photograph.
A mid-afternoon recce had us hoping that today would be the day. We know that time is of the essence, as the sun sets about 5.30 p.m. and so make for the direction of the sable group we saw in the morning. Under a scorching sun, we’re grateful for the slight wind that cools us down. At our destination we begin searching for sign that will help to find a great trophy sable or kudu. We see an impressive warthog, but decide not to shoot for fear of possibly spooking any sable that could fulfil our hopes. Sunset is not far off, and we know that time is not on our side. We have to be quick.
We emerge from the bush to see our trackers indicating a Sable bull right in the center of the plain.
1. “It’s a magnificent male,” our guide Steph says, binos to his eyes. “But we need to be very careful. The terrain is very open, and we are in a bad place with the swirling wind.” With some difficulty, we manage to work our way through the grasses and holes in the ground. We get closer, and judging by Stephan’s smile, this must be a big one. Another two to three hundred yards to go, and my heart is beating hard, my mouth dry. Steph looks back at me. “I’ve lost it,” he says. Had the sable caught our scent? We continue the stalk, advancing slowly. Steph thinks it has settled down for the night… After crawling along for several yards we lift our heads but still see nothing. Nothing, that is, except what I think is a branch above the grass. I point out this large, curved branch to Steph. It’s him! He’s about 90 yards from us, lying down, immobile, obviously relaxed.
We hide behind a nearby bush, within firing distance. The animal is still lying down, unmoving, and I can now make out the top of its head and its back. I’m in position, ready. We’re waiting for it to get up, not wanting to fire on an animal lying down. My heart is pounding. After several minutes of waiting, Steph indicates that it would be better to move to the other side of the bush. As we do so, to my horror we see that our sable is up. In the time it takes me to shoulder my .300 W.M. my trophy is speeding off at a rapid pace, only its rear end and horns visible.
Disillusion. Disappointment. I was so confident that my dream was within reach. But we must continue, even though my heart is no longer in it… It’s difficult to start all over again. Then suddenly, and right in front of us, a majestic kudu bursts into a run. Steph indicates with his stick that I can shoot, as it would be a wonderful trophy. Still upset, with images of the sable filling my head, I didn’t shoot.
We continue through the plain without any sign of the large bull, although we walk in the general direction of its escape. There’s still enough light, and after 500 yards the trackers make a sign – the sable is lying down a hundred yards from us, at the foot of some dense bushes. We’re in position, calm and unhurried. Steph whistles to make the animal get up… but it doesn’t move. After several more whistles, it jumps up and whirls around. I’m ready, and have its back in my sights. It flashes through a bush – I see it, then I don’t. As it bolts out of the bushes I have it in my sights, and take the shot behind the shoulder. I see that it has been hit, but it continues to run, stopping eventually behind another bush before dropping. It was a killing shot!
He’s on the ground, beautiful, his abdomen and muzzle pure white, and the black of its coat shining in the setting sun. An immense trophy. The goal of my trip has been achieved… the dream.
Night has almost fallen and we take several photos to memorize the event. This awesome animal, of which I have dreamed for so long, will take its place of honor in my trophy room, and will remind me forever of this fabulous afternoon that almost didn’t happen.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”14934,14935,14936″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
May 23, 2018 | Hunting News, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]South Africa: 2017
Top of my Bucket List – Cape Buffalo
By Dave Brodhagen
Cape buffalo. Big, mean, and unpredictable. Hunting this animal may not be your cup of tea, but I had waited a lifetime.
For as long as I can remember, my heart had been set on hunting one African animal. All the stories I had read of famous hunters like Robert Ruark, and Ernest Hemingway had pointed me in only one direction – the cagey and dangerous Cape buffalo.
Over the last eight years I have travelled to Namibia, and to the Limpopo Province South Africa, escorting groups of hunters while fulfilling my own hunting dreams. In 2015, I attended the African Hunting Gazette show in Toronto, as a customer. Some outfitters I recognized; others were new, and fortunately I could sit with each and review the options for my next trip.
Finally, I ended up at the Hunting Safari South Africa booth, and immediately felt at home. The PHs there answered every question. Some answers I already knew, but I wanted to hear their responses. Although new to the safari industry, this outfitter was well established in game breeding and tourism, and apparently, they had a good stock of mature Cape buffalo.
Our nine-day hunting safari started in May 2017. Five of our group were from central Ontario and two from Nova Scotia, Canada. We met in Toronto for our twenty-hour flight to South Africa.
The first night we stayed at The Afton Safari Lodge close to OR Tambo International. After a peaceful night’s sleep and a full English breakfast, we met our friendly hosts, head PH Louis De Bruyn and dangerous-game PH Wessel Scholman from Hunting Safari South Africa. Excitement was high for the upcoming hunt.
On our way to the hunting lodge, we stopped at Trophy Solutions Africa in Polokwane, capital of the Limpopo Province and met the owner Johan van der Merwe. We wanted to visit the facility where our trophies were to be processed. Dipping, tanning, and packing details would need to be reviewed before our trophies could be shipped to Canada. We were impressed with the professionalism, right from reception to the finished taxidermy area, and left confident our trophies would be in good hands.
Approximately two hours later we arrived at the Hunting Safari South Africa camp. Tucked away in the bush, the lodge is beautifully decorated with hunting trophies and solid wooden furniture. We assembled in the main entrance where the staff welcomed us in true African style. Snacks and a toast to a successful hunt preceded the introductions of our group’s PHs for the week. In the morning, we would be up for an early breakfast and then off to the bush. Having arrived late in the evening we would have to sight in our rifles after breakfast.
Assuming I would have no further need of a big gun of my own, I had borrowed a .450 Ruger Number 1. After a few afternoons at the range I felt very confident. I had heard about the recoil of big guns, and I was surprised to find that it had little more kick than my Ruger .30-06. Zeroed in at 100 yards and equipped with a couple of dummy rounds, I practiced rapid firing from my shooting sticks. I knew I would need to be able to send off a quick second shot. Buffalo usually run when hit, are hard to knock down, and are extremely dangerous if wounded. So, I practiced and practiced. They say that dead buffalo kill a lot of hunters. I did not want to be on that particular list. The remaining six members of my group would be hunting plains game, and set out practicing with their rifles at 100 to 200 yards.
Our plan: Find the buffalo spoor; pursue on foot until I could get within shooting distance; place the bullet into the shoulder triangle, and the old Dagga Boy would drop… Well, that was the plan!
Our first day out, we checked some of the waterholes and roads for spoor. Abel, our tracker said that a very large Dagga Boy had frequently been seen in a dense section of bush to the west of us. Off we headed looking for a first glimpse. Unlike the more southern areas of the state, the bushveld was thick cover with only occasional open grassy areas.
I could see this hunt would be among the thorn bushes, giving little visibility. The uncertainty of what to expect from my quarry, and the fact that I had never used this rifle in an actual hunt situation left me unsure as to how this single shot rifle – and I – would perform. My anxiety grew with each step.
We soon found spoor that indicated a very large bull. The track was wide, and rounded on the front, distinctive among all the others. A pile of fresh dung splattered on the trail ahead alerted us – we were close. Wessel stuck his finger in the center of the dung. The warmth indicated that the bull wasn’t far ahead. Shiny and still warm, it confirmed his presence, and the direction he was headed. Two hours later we closed in on my Dagga Boy, but only once did we get a clear view of the animal. With heavy drooping horns with a wide boss, this lone bull was worth hunting.
Buffalo make a lot of noise as they push their way through the thorny bush, and this old boy was no exception. Occasionally we could hear him, snapping branches as he meandered through cover so thick, we could only catch glimpses of his dark form. I had hunted other parts of the Limpopo Province, but I soon found out that in this area, it is rare to find a bush, tree or plant without thorns.
By a sheer stroke of luck, we were forced to backtrack a few yards because of extra thick bush blocking our path. There he stood, through one of the rare openings in the bush, completely visible, ever so slowly moving away from us. The wind had been in our favor. Undetected, we stepped cautiously into a space between two bushes.
Wessel put up the shooting sticks. “He is broadside, take him on the shoulder,” he whispered. I settled the cross hairs onto the front shoulder. At eighty yards I hoped my typical grouping of two inches would drop the buffalo. As the adrenalin pumped, the recoil from the Ruger .450 seemed non-existent. Squarely, the bullet hit the shoulder. The buffalo turned and ran.
In spite of all the rapid reloading I had practiced, I did not have time to reach for the second shell before the buff turned, disappearing into the thick bush on the opposite side of the clearing.
We discussed the situation, waiting for a safe time before we followed him into the unknown. Excited, I was not sure if he was down, and until I saw him lying on the ground, I could not accept that the hunt was over.
Although with what appeared to be a solid hit, there was no blood. Nothing, except tracks to follow – three hours of slow, cautious tracking, before darkness settled in. I had read how tough these animals are – now I was finding out. We would have to abandon the search and come back in the morning.
As every hunter knows, when an animal is hit and not immediately recovered, the doubts begin. Was the shot good? Too far forward? Did the bull move? Right or wrong, every possible scenario goes through your head. Neels the hunting manager assured me we would find him in the morning.
Tough, this Dagga Boy was. For two full days we followed him through some of the thickest bush you can imagine. With temperatures nearly 30°C, shorts and a short-sleeved shirt seemed appropriate. Maybe not my best decision! My arms and legs were badly scratched, I even wondered if the buffalo, out of spite, had deliberately dragged us through the thorny brush. Many a time we knelt, peering under low-hanging bushes as small groups of buffalo ran by. A shift in the wind, then a flurry of legs and swishing tails would disappear into the dense bush beyond. We were thankful they were running the other way.
Fortunately for us, his track was so distinctive, that even in stony terrain we were able to eventually pick up the trail. Wessel and Abel, with the persistence of bloodhounds, stayed determined. When we thought the buff was lost, that single identifying spoor would magically appear. As the tracks disappeared over a small rise, it seemed our quarry was heading towards a nearby waterhole.
Finally, we spotted a black shape standing motionless about thirty yards away. Wessel glassed the buffalo. It was my bull. Cautiously, we positioned ourselves for what we hoped would be the finale. Wessel raised his Nitro .500 to his shoulder. “Can you see the vitals?”
Repositioned, I set my cross hairs on the shoulder. “Are you ready to shoot?” I asked Wessel. “After I shoot, you fire also.” At this distance I did not want to take any chances. I fired, and almost simultaneously I heard the bang of Wessel’s .500 nitro. Turning, the buffalo headed to his left, stopping even closer now, his head low behind a small bush. We expected him to charge. Slowly, we walked side by side toward the animal, trying to get a better angle. Ever aware, he waited, sizing us up. Wessel stood ready in case the bull charged. Quickly I focused the cross hairs onto the black body, and shot another 400-grain solid into the bull’s spine.
He dropped, and we listened for the death bellow. Confident that he would not get up, we approached. Not taking a chance, Wessel instructed me to put one more into the heart. Four .450 shots and one .500 nitro – who would have believed that one animal could be so tough!
To our amazement, we found that the initial bullet wound had scabbed over in only two days. Except for the droplets of blood leading down from the hole, little sign existed of him ever being hit.
Post mortem investigation showed that the original .450, 400-grain solid, had entered the shoulder, breaking two ribs and deflecting forward into the neck. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected that a bullet of that caliber and weight could be deflected. I am grateful to my PH Wessel and tracker Abel. They have by far been the best team a hunter could wish for, and I stand in awe of one of God’s most magnificent creatures.
An eventful week. Every evening the success stories of the other hunters were told around the campfire, and over the dinner table. For Ralph and Eleanor, their highlight was being chased from the bush by an irate Cape buffalo. For Alvin, it was the diversity of animals and the realization that his childhood dream to hunt in Africa had finally come true. Alvin had, as they say, caught the African bug, already talking about returning. Mike and Freda kept us laughing, and Julian kept us serious, each having successfully taken the animals of their dreams. What more could we ask for?
The experiences and pleasure of hunting with the Hunting Safari South Africa team will last in our memories for years to come.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”14930,14929,14928,14927,14926,14925,14923″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
May 20, 2018 | News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]South Africa: 2016
A Croc for Ross
By Kim Stuart
Family dynamics can be, among many other things, strange, complex, mysterious, challenging, funny and downright unbelievable. And our family is certainly no different from any other family…
Last fall, on a cool, northern Californian evening, our home phone rang. I answered, and a man’s unfamiliar voice said, “Kim, I have been waiting over sixty years to make this call. My name is Ross Taylor and I am your half-brother.”
The sixty years fell away with our long overdue reunion – phone call, visits, and meeting 50 other relatives. We found we were kindred spirits, the most in common was our love of fishing and hunting!
I gave Ross a copy of my book, Dangerous Game Animals of Africa. One Man’s Quest. He was intrigued, and bombarded me with the in-depth questions of a true hunter.
I mentioned a trip I was planning to South Africa specifically for croc hunting. My hope was to take three crocs with three different weapons: a handgun, home-built muzzleloader, and conventional rifle. I wanted to complete The Magnificent Seven. Having taken the Big Six with three different weapons, this hunt would be the last, and possibly the most difficult challenge, and provide new material for the final chapters, and re-write of the book.
Ross listened to my plans and obviously had an idea of his own.
“I’d like to have a full mount of a croc. You know, put it down in the basement to scare the grand-kids. You think you could bring back a croc skin for me?” How could I say, “No” to a scheme like that?
At the 2014 Safari Club Convention in Las Vegas I stopped at the Mabula Pro Safaris booth, and the photos of huge crocs drew me in. After meeting the enthusiastic owner, Christo Gomes and his attractive wife Stella, I told them of my croc-hunting goal.
“No problem, we have lot and lots of crocs,” said Christo. I was hooked, and booked the trip for the end of August, 2016.
However, by the time of our safari two years later, drought had seriously taken its toll in South Africa. Near Bela-Bela in the Limpopo Province, Christo’s 18 000 acre property had suffered as well. A river that once ran through much of the valley and provided water to the many remote lakes, ponds and watering holes, had dried to a few marshy damp spots. Consequently, the habitat for the crocs and hippo was almost non-existent.
Shooting at a croc is not a big deal. Hitting it accurately in one of two places about the size of a golf ball, is. The importance of making the first shot good, is that if you miss and the wounded croc slips into the water, you have a very dangerous job fishing him out. That is, if you can even find him by dragging a grappling hook through the muddy water. It’s usually an all-day project. So the trick is not to miss!
Prior to the safari my aim was to become proficient with all three weapons. The handgun I would be using was a .35 Remington, shooting a Federal Premium 200-grain expanding bullet. The scoped bolt action held one in the chamber and three in the magazine. A synthetic stock and twelve-inch barrel completed the package. My rifle was a Tikka T3, in .300 WSM, using a hi-performance 180-grain expanding bullet. I had used this weapon on many hunts, in Africa and in the U.S., and with consistently good performance. After a few trips to the range, I could easily put three shots with either the handgun or rifle, into a 2-inch circle at 50 yards. The muzzleloader was a custom-made English sporting rifle hand-built by my hunting buddy of many years, Jim Gefroh. The .54 cal. rifle, with various different projectiles, had been successfully used for taking game from a diminutive steenbok to a Cape buffalo, each with a single shot.
As the hunt date drew closer, the problem of having black powder waiting for us in Africa became more of a concern. Our options were limited. After 9/11, traveling with black powder was no longer a consideration. Shipping black powder was also out of the question. After a number of emails to Christo inquiring about the possibility of him finding black powder, he came up with a possible solution. He found something called Sannadex – “A rifle grain, special gunpowder.” I’d never heard of it, but some online checking indicated it might work, with the proper ignition caps!
After considerable research, Jim found a solution online. He located an adapter nipple that would screw into the breach of the muzzleloader and accommodate a number 12 shotgun primer. We emailed Christo again about finding us the primers. Without the combination of the correct powder and primers, we were still out of luck.
We decided to sight in the rifle when we got to Africa, as shooting with a different powder or primer from what we had practiced with was not a plan.
A few short months later, Jim and I were enjoying the hospitality of Mabula’s impressive facilities near Bela-Bela. Straddling the top of a rocky ridge with a commanding view of his fully fenced 18,000-acre domain, Christo and his wife Stella have created a safari nirvana.
The day before our six-day hunt was to begin, we were at Mabula’s well-equipped rifle range with PH Dewald Beeker who happened to be a fan of muzzleloaders. Our goal, using my rifle, was to sort out the new black powder and nipple adapter combination, and to make sure that we had consistency with the powder ignition and accuracy at a 50-yard target.
We soon learned that the adapter worked, but was far from user-friendly, especially during reloading. The process was as follows:
- Unscrew the nipple from the breach.
- Disassemble the two-part nipple.
- Pry off the spent shotgun primer.
- Use a pipe cleaner to clean out the orifice in the nipple.
- Clean and lube the threads of both parts of the adapter.
- Install a new shotgun primer on the nipple.
- Reassemble the two parts of the nipple.
- Using a nipple wrench, install the complete assembly into the breach.
- Pour 150 grains of powder into the barrel.
- Seat the .50 cal sabot with a short starter, and finish the loading with a ramrod.
After a few practice shots Jim and I were able to reload the rifle in about four minutes. Or, about four times as long as a normal reload would take a seasoned muzzleloader shooter. It was superfluous to say that the muzzloading part of the hunt had to be a “One-shot kill” due to the ridiculously long loading time of the rifle. The potential dangerous results of missing any shot meant that all the shots, with all three weapons had to be one-shot kills.
Ross didn’t want a monster croc, a good thing because on our first day, after many hours of checking remote ponds and watering holes, we found very few crocs of any great size. Dewald knew the challenge at hand and suggested that the first croc should be taken using the most difficult weapon – the handgun. Although I felt confident in my shooting abilities with all three weapons, I also felt the self-imposed pressure of not missing with any of them. Let’s be honest, no one wants to wound an animal, and no one wants to pay double for a trophy fee, and trophy crocs aren’t cheap!
Late in the afternoon of the first day, on our way back to the lodge, we passed a pond we had checked earlier that morning. Almost as an afterthought, Dewald casually glanced over his shoulder, did a double take and said, “There is croc on the bank, just a couple of feet out of the water, but he’s too small.”
“What’s too small?” I fired back. Dewald stopped the truck and took a closer look through his binoculars.
“I’d say about nine feet.” The perfect size for Ross’s basement, I thought.
We pulled the truck into some thick bush about 80 yards from the pond, checked the wind, and started a slow, quiet stalk. As we got closer to the water, cover became sparse and the elevation of the ground dropped, making it difficult to keep the croc in view.
With the necessity of a broadside shot at a maximum distance of 50 yards, an elevated shooting position, a solid spot for the shooting sticks, and another rest for my right arm, the scenario became complicated. Constantly testing the wind and maneuvering closer a few feet at a time and into a position that gave us the advantage of a rest on a diagonal tree branch, I eased the handgun into position. The angle of the branch and its hard surface against that of the handgun was a bad match, one with no stability.
I motioned for Dewald to pass me a soft rifle sleeve. Using the sleeve as a pad and holding it around the tree branch and then grasping the handgun, gave a slightly softer contact point on the stock. I’ve tried to shoot a handgun from shooting sticks without a rest for my right elbow, and the results were not very pretty. With so much at risk and the thought of wounding a valuable animal, I opted to use the shooting sticks as a rest for my elbow, giving me a two-point rest rather than just the handgun balanced on the tree branch.
Sighting through the scope at the croc broadside at 47 yards with the makeshift shooting position did not create the solid sight picture I had hoped for. The croc was on the far side of the pond and lying close to the water’s edge, below the rim of the dam. My view of the golf ball-sized target where the body meets the head, was just a narrow band of no more than 6 to 8 inches.
A shot too low would hit the dirt at the top of the dam, and a shot too high would miss the spine and wound the croc. The shot had to be perfect, and as I looked through the scope, to be totally honest, I did not like the possibility of making the shot. I had to back off, take a deep breath and reassess the situation. So with some readjustments of the rifle sleeve, the shooting stick elbow rest and the ground around my feet, my comfort level improved to where I was certain of the shot.
Upon impact, the croc’s head shot upward, its tail flailed violently, and within seconds the croc was still, anchored where he had been lying just a few feet from the water’s edge. My spine shot had been perfect!
All hunters know the ups and downs of a hunt. The excitement of making a difficult shot, and the depression from blowing an easy one. It’s part of the game. However, when everything comes together in a challenging situation, and the ultimate goal is achieved, the reward is monumental.
I couldn’t have been happier with the 9-foot croc for Ross’s basement, and I knew he would feel exactly the same way.
OK, one down and two to go. On our second morning of the hunt and in a remote area of the huge property we found a pool with a small island and two decent-sized crocs. Dewald’s guess was that each would measure between 11 and 12 feet. There was also a bull hippo. Many visits to the pond that day and the next, hoping to find either croc in a position for a shot, were unsuccessful. Eventually we did see the larger of the two lying broadside, in perfect position and at a perfect distance for a shot. The croc was on the island, but the bull hippo had staked out his territory in the water between the shore and the island, directly between us and the croc.
Dewald was all for taking the shot. But…
One of us would have to swim or wade to the island, past the hippo, secure a rope to the croc to pull it across, then make it back past the hippo. Dewald had guts, but he also had a wife and new baby daughter, so I nixed the plan. We would try again tomorrow.
Day 3 was a bust. The crocs were slow in leaving the water and when they did, they were very wary. The few we saw slid off the bank into the water never to reappear again.
Day 4, we were all getting nervous about our chances at two more crocs that were proving to be a greater challenge than we expected. About mid-day, and again after many hours checking the remote ponds throughout the vast property, Dewald spotted a loan croc resting just feet from the water.
The set-up was great – sufficient cover up to about 40 yards from the croc, a good angle to shoot from, wind slightly blowing to us and, most importantly, a solid rest for the muzzleloader. Knowing that with this croc there would never be the option of reloading and making a back-up shot, my first and only shot had to be accurate within a couple of inches.
Black smoke belched from the barrel of my muzzleloader obscuring our view of the croc, but as the smoke dissipated we saw the croc quiver for less than a minute, then become still. The 50-caliber sabot found its mark directly on the spine, anchoring him just inches from where we had initially spotted him. Our luck had held, and my English Sporting Rifle had performed flawlessly again, even with the strange powder and unusual nipple assembly. Croc number two, measuring about 11 feet, was in the box, and we still had two days of hunting left.
We saved what we thought would be the easiest of the weapons, the rifle, for our last croc. Good planning. Well, in theory. On Day 5 we went back to the dam that had the two crocs and the hippo. After a stealthy approach from our usual direction, we spotted one of the crocs. Unfortunately, he was in an impossible position for a shot. We watched patiently for over an hour, hoping he would move, but he seemed to be planted firmly in one spot, almost instinctively knowing his safety zone.
Moving was not an option, as changing our location in either direction would put us upwind, so we waited. Eventually, we decided to take a break, and moved away a few hundred yards. As the hours passed, our tracker would occasionally sneak to check the croc’s position. He would always come back to the vehicle, head down and walking slowly. Then just as we were close to calling it a day he came rushing back, hands in the air, thumbs up.
The opportunity for crocs was diminishing, along with our hunting days, so our approach for what we hoped to be our last croc was even more careful than usual.
This croc, a twelve-footer, by far the largest of the three, had moved slightly. He was lying at a slight angle facing away, near the water, about five yards off, on a bank with a slight downward slope. Still an awkward shot, and with only one more day left, it was not a high probability one. Having to calculate two different angles, plus place a single shot on the spine, would normally be a scenario to walk away from. However, we had been lucky and we didn’t want to leave chance to the last day… so I decided to try the shot.
I had a great rest, the croc was still, so there was no hurry. Other than the fact my mouth felt like dry oatmeal, I knew my rifle well and the shot should be a no-brainer. As the trigger released, the croc rose up from head to tail, and with a shudder, froze, and slowly slid upside down into the shallow water. He was a very dead croc, but we watched him for at least half an hour before driving the truck near the pond. Working within inches of the jaws of the croc, our tracker wrapped a stout rope around the croc’s neck and hooked it to the winch of the truck. Slowly we brought the big flattie up the bank to where we could take some photos.
Before taking the pictures, I asked Dewald to pour water from the cooler onto the croc so I could clean the mud off it. The old boy cleaned up pretty well and looked good for the pictures taken with all of us crouched near his head. I got up to find somewhere to put my rifle and have both hands free to help load him in the truck. Passing within a yard of the croc’s head, the vibrations of my feet must have triggered an instinctive reaction. He made a head-high, twisting, aggressive lunge for me, and came within a foot of locking his massive jaws on my leg.
I threw myself backward, rolled, and came up laughing, more from the surprise than fear. Jim and Dewald couldn’t believe what a supposedly very dead croc was capable of, but it all made sense. He was in the sun, washed off with cool, clean water, and had had a massage from head to mid body. Walking so close to him after his spa treatment obviously stimulated a reaction, and he did what crocs do – they attack!
A quick 200-grain round shattered a perfectly good croc skull, but prevented any chance of another surprise.
Our curiosity about the croc’s revival prompted an autopsy. What we found was a round that didn’t hold together. We estimated only two-thirds of the bullet weight remained. It was lodged next to the spine, and had not penetrated deeply. Problem solved. After taking the shot near the spine, the croc was in shock. Everything we did after that was a slow process of reviving him, which we did very well!
Fifteen months after the croc hunt, Ross has his full croc mount proudly displayed on a large, custom-built table, and is the focal point of a room surrounded with other precious personal memorabilia. Monarch Taxidermy in Montana did a museum-quality job, with a lifelike mount. The croc is in attack pose, mouth agape, and up on its front legs, and the realistic color brings back vivid memories of the actual hunt.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_gallery type=”image_grid” images=”14915,14916,14917,14918″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
