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 30, 2019 | Electronic Magazines
Jul 30, 2019 | Electronic Magazines
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]
Jul 19, 2019 | News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]FATHER OF THEM ALL
Thanks to Zulu, the classic 1964 movie starring Michael Caine, the Martini-Henry rifle enjoys a celebrity among citizens at large that is rare among military weapons. Tens of millions of people have seen that movie and, if nothing else, learned about rifle drill in the British Army in 1879.
For anyone who might have missed it, Zulu depicts, with quite admirable accuracy, the battle of Rorke’s Drift, in Natal in 1879. The army awarded 11 Victoria Crosses; in my opinion, there could have been a twelfth, for the Martini-Henry certainly played a heroic role.
The old Martini is one of the lesser-sung military rifles in history. It was not used for long — about 15 years — and was really a transitional weapon between the muzzleloader and the repeating cartridge rifle. Still, it had an enormous impact in several different ways. After it was officially retired in favor of the bolt-action Lee-Metford in 1888, stocks of Martini-Henrys were distributed to colonial troops, militia battalions, hunters, and target shooters throughout the Empire — and that meant, literally, throughout the world. For a century afterwards, you could walk into a farmhouse in Kenya, Rhodesia, Natal, Saskatchewan, New Zealand, or New South Wales and find a Martini-Henry behind the door, ready for action.
Over the long term, its cartridge, the .577/.450, was even more influential than the rifle itself. For one thing, its 480-grain bullet set the standard for .45-caliber dangerous-game cartridges that lasts to this day. Subsequent nitro-express cartridges, starting with the .450 NE in 1898, used 480-grain bullets. When .450s were banned in India and the Sudan around 1905, to keep ammunition out of the hands of insurgents, it was because there were so many old Martini-Henrys in the hands of the would-be rebels. Substitutes for the .450 NE included the .470 Nitro Express, .475 No. 2 NE, and Holland & Holland’s .500/.465. More often than not, the standard bullet weight was 480 grains.
The Martini-Henry proved to be so durable, reliable, and adaptable that many were rebarreled to .303 British after 1888, and thousands of new Martinis were also made in .303. Many of these continue in service to this day. With .303 British ammunition one of the most common calibers to be found from Cairo to the Cape, it was natural to arm everything from game scouts and park rangers to camp guards and farm workers with them.
The flip side of that coin is that untold numbers of African animals have been either poached, or wounded, by a Martini-Henry, whether chambered in .577/.450 or .303 British, but that is hardly the rifle’s fault.
A lesser known negative of the old Martini is its horrid recoil. Viewers of Zulu might contest that statement, since every shot fired in the movie appeared to have no recoil at all, nor was there much in the way of black-powder smoke. Of course not – they were using blanks. The real-life Martini was noted for brutal recoil, mainly because of the shape of the stock. For its time, however, it was extremely fast to operate — tests showed trained infantrymen capable of maintaining a rate of fire of 20 rounds per minute. The roughly 140 defenders of Rorke’s Drift fired more than 20,000 rounds during the battle. Considering there were 4,000 Zulu attackers, the Martini’s rate of fire evened the odds somewhat.
The rifle is also enormously strong. Tests at the Providence Tool Company in Rhode Island, at the time they were fulfilling a contract to supply 600,000 Martini-Henrys to the Ottoman Empire, proved the action to be a beast. At one point, they put five (5) 480-grain bullets in the barrel ahead of a double charge of gunpowder. The rifle took it without a whimper.
It’s no wonder, then, that the Martini-Henry is still relatively common to find in use, 140 years after it was retired from the British service as obsolete. A 480-grain, hard-cast bullet, in the right place, will still stop virtually anything, and there is little in the way of plains game that can’t be taken with the .303.
To the best of my knowledge, Kynamco in England is the only company that now manufactures .577/.450 Martini-Henry ammunition. Finding some would be the difficulty. If you want to shoot one, handloading is about the only real option. Fortunately, with a little work, brass can be fashioned from .577 cases, which will take Boxer primers; the Martini can handle smokeless-powder pressures with no problem, and cast bullets are common as dirt.
In fact, loading some ammunition and trying to match the 20 rounds a minute record of a Victorian infantrymen would be an interesting challenge. Let me know how you make out.
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Jul 18, 2019 | News, WingShooting
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]Ken Bailey
There’s an emerging trend in African hunting circles that is seeing dedicated wingshooting safaris rising in popularity. As all who’ve hunted or visited Africa know, it is home to an astounding variety of bird life, including game birds, but they’ve largely been ignored as hunters pursued their big-game aspirations. That’s changed in recent years, and current trends are seeing an increasing number of safaris where bird shooting is the primary objective.
Safari Club International (SCI), recognizing this trend, created a new awards program just a short time ago, dedicated solely to wingshooting. The Game Birds of the World Platform was developed to bring increased attention to the array of bird-hunting opportunities around the world. Seven distinct classifications were established specifically in recognition of African wingshooting:
Quail
Four species of quail were identified, including the common quail. It has a wide range, stretching from West Africa to the Red Sea down to South Africa, wherever suitable grassland habitat is found. The blue quail is a nomadic, uncommon species found across sub-Saharan Africa, though it’s rare south of Zambia and Mozambique. The Harlequin quail is very similar in appearance to the common quail, and their range largely overlaps, although the Harlequin doesn’t extend as far north or west across the continent. SCI lumps all buttonquail together, although there are actually three distinct species. To qualify for the African Quail Award, a hunter must shoot two of the four recognized species.
Partridge, Francolin and Spurfowl
SCI identifies eight species in their program, including Coqui, greywing, Orange River and crested partridge, red-wing and Shelley’s francolin, and the red-billed and red-necked spurfowl. These birds are all somewhat similar in appearance, resembling the Hungarian, or grey, partridge familiar to North American and European hunters. These eight species represent only about 20% of the partridge and francolin found across Africa, but are the most common in those countries and regions where the vast majority of recreational hunting occurs. A hunter is required to take at least six of these species to qualify for SCI’s awards program.
Guineafowl
Few African birds are as recognizable or iconic as the guineafowl. A somewhat unusual appearance belies a crafty mind, however, and these birds that would rather run than fly are notoriously challenging to hunt. The three species identified in SCI’s program include the helmeted guineafowl common throughout most of sub-Saharan Africa, the crested species found in scattered regions in west, east and southern Africa, and the distinctive vulturine guineafowl of east Africa. Qualifying hunters must shoot two of these species.
Doves and Pigeons
They don’t quite compete with Argentinian numbers, but African doves and pigeons can be found in significant numbers in nearly every country with hunting. Unlike in South America, there is a wide diversity of species available, and the new SCI program recognizes 12 of them. These include the blue-spotted, Cape turtle, cinnamon, emerald-spotted, laughing, mourning, Namaqua, olive pigeon (aka Kameron/Cameron), red-eyed and tambourine doves, along with the green pigeon and the rock dove, the common pigeon of North America. Most can be found in east and southern Africa. SCI requires that a hunter take nine of these species to qualify for their awards program.
Sandgrouse
Sandgrouse are the most-revered of Africa’s gamebirds, having been referenced in much of the classic African hunting literature. They are fast-flying birds similar to a pigeon, although they’re dressed in natural browns as are typical partridge. The SCI program includes four species – the Burchell’s, the double-banded, the Namaqua and the yellow-throated. All are found in southern Africa, with Namibia and Botswana the recognized epicenters. To qualify for the sandgrouse award, three of these species must be collected.
Ducks
There are more than two-dozen duck species present across Africa, though SCI has selected only 12 as part of their program, focusing on those found in southern countries. These include the African black, the Cape shoveller, the Cape teal, the fulvous whistling duck, the Hottentot teal, the comb (knob-billed) duck, the red-billed and yellow-billed teal, the South African shelduck, the southern pochard, the white-backed duck and the white-faced duck. Qualification for the awards program requires that a hunter take a minimum of nine of these species.
Geese
The program classifies three goose species, including the Egyptian goose, the spur-winged goose (the largest goose in the world) and the pygmy goose, which is actually a duck despite its name. All are widely distributed across much of East and southern Africa. To qualify for the African Geese award, all three species must be taken.
Birds to be submitted for consideration in the program are not measured as is required with big game animals. Rather, SCI requires that a field photograph showing the distinguishing characteristics of each bird be submitted. To protect the ethical considerations of the program, SCI further stipulates that:
- Each species must have been hunted by a legal method within the country where it is harvested;
- That each species must have a known population status;
- That birds be harvested during a specified hunting season for the species; and
- That the species be recognized as either an upland game bird or waterfowl species by the SCI Game Birds Committee.
It is not clear from their program promotional material, but the wording in SCI’s online description of the awards program suggests that birds beyond those specifically listed on the awards submission form would be accepted provided they meet the four criteria identified above.
For many years hunters have been shooting birds as an add-on to their big-game hunts, a relaxing diversion when they have an afternoon off or are looking for a little variety for the stewpot. It wasn’t really until the 1980s that we saw any outfitters catering specifically to wingshooters, and that effort met with largely mixed results. In recent years, however, we’ve seen a resurgence in both the interest in bird hunting and the number of outfitters offering dedicated wingshooting safaris. Hunters seeking a truly mixed-bag hunt that includes birds are advised to check out the promises their prospective outfitter makes. Having birds on the landscape and a shotgun or two in camp doesn’t equate to a professional wingshooting safari outfitter. Those outfitters with a dedicated bird program know how to hunt birds, have all the gear required, including decoys for many of the species, and run quality dogs, usually pointers for the upland species and retrievers for waterfowl hunts. It pays to check references if you’re serious about spending a few days, or an entire safari, focusing on bird hunting.
What separates African wingshooting from that offered around most of the rest of the world, is Africa herself. There remains to this day broad expanses of relatively untouched habitat, even in developed areas, and the diversity of bird and big game present is one of the great attractions. Where else will you see an English pointer lock up on a reedbuck ram hiding in the grass as I did on a greywing partridge hunt in South Africa’s Stormberg Mountains? Or watch giraffes, kudu, springbok and a host of other large mammals come in to a waterhole as you wait for the next flight of sandgrouse, as I experienced in Namibia?
When you get the Africa bug, as so many sportsmen have, you look for any excuse to go back. For those who’ve already checked the boxes for the big game they want, or for those who are avid wingshooters seeking a new destination, a dedicated African bird hunting safari may be just the answer.[/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%2F96-97|||”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_media_grid grid_id=”vc_gid:1563438682116-c72b66ba-21a3-4″ include=”22638,22639,22640,22641,22642,22643,22644″][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Jul 17, 2019 | News
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“Hurry, Hurry! Shoot! SHOOT!
(And other helpful comments.)
Towards the end of his career in Africa, Robert Ruark had one particular tracker named Metheke without whom, he wrote, “I feel naked in the bush.” He does not make it clear exactly who Metheke worked for when Ruark was not around. Presumably, it was one of the Ker & Downey professional hunters, but Metheke always seemed able to detach himself to accompany Ruark, no matter who he was hunting with at the time. Or so Ruark would have us believe. He was Man Friday to Ruark’s Robinson Crusoe.
Ruark was very adept at creating ideal situations that embed themselves in your mind, making you seek out such perfection on every hunting trip henceforth. Alas, perfection in hunting — and especially in hunting companions — is a very scarce commodity. On rare occasions I have met trackers in Africa who compare favorably with the sainted Metheke. Lekina Sandeti, a Masai who works for Robin Hurt in Tanzania, is one. Cuno, who worked for Chris Dandridge in Botswana, is another; I never did know Cuno’s surname. Nor did I know Charles’s surname, who was Clive Eaton’s tracker and always dressed in a shirt and hat more in keeping with a beach in Hawaii than on the track of a Cape buffalo. His attire belied his ability, however, which was second to none when it came to finding game and tracking it.
Books and stories from old Africa often depicted trackers and gun bearers in less than flattering terms. Some were outright racist to a point which, in this day and age, causes even the most non-politically-correct to cringe. Even those who purported to like and respect the safari staff were often condescending in their treatment of native people and their foibles. Most wrote about their trackers the way a wingshooter writes about a particularly gifted bird dog. Ruark, I hasten to add, did like and respect them. At times he was critical, but never condescending.
I don’t claim to be any less inherently racist — or at least, race-conscious — than other men of my age and background, but I have always tried to write about Lekina, Cuno, Charles, and the others in the same terms I wrote about the white professionals who headed up safaris. Perhaps this is because, 20 years before I ever went on safari in Africa, I went there as a freelance foreign correspondent and spent long periods living in grass huts, mud huts, and, on occasion, refugee and guerrilla camps. (Grass huts, by the way, are the most comfortable, and you become fond of the lizards that scurry around.)
In the course of that and later such expeditions, I learned enough Swahili to get by, or at least enough to show the trackers I was making the attempt, and this always seemed to put them on my side. Earning the respect of your trackers is, of course, the best case. Failing that, not incurring their enmity is something to be desired. One time, I was told about a client in Botswana, hunting with some Bushmen, who made the mistake of treating them badly, constantly denigrating them and generally being a boor. It has been my experience that people respond in kind, and that a little politeness goes a long way. At any rate, the Bushmen determined on some revenge. Knowing they could go long periods without water, while the fat American needed a drink every fifteen minutes, they took him out one morning and did a long, looping circle under the hot sun, with no water. Hours later, dehydrated, hallucinatory, and almost dead with fatigue, they delivered him back to camp. I don’t know whether he changed his ways, but the guides certainly got a bit of their own back.
Sometimes it’s not a matter of respect, mutual or otherwise, but simply competence. For every superb Lekina or Cuno, I have met trackers and other staff that seem to have been hired at short notice out of the local saloon, and have no more idea about hunting than if they’d been hired to teach quantum physics. One time, I was trying to locate a wounded wildebeest in the thick bush of Natal. With no tracks or blood trail, going back the next day to search for it was like looking for the proverbial needle, but we had to try.
We split up, with the PH and one tracker going one way, and a tracker and me going the other. By some miracle, a lone wildebeest bull appeared on an open slope about 200 yards distant. We had no shooting sticks, and no convenient tree. I was studying the bull in my binoculars while the tracker gesticulated wildly, insisting it was the wounded animal. My only chance was an offhand shot.
“Hurry!” he shouted. “Shoot! Shoot!”
Already out of breath, nervous, I tried to place the dancing crosshairs somewhere near the shoulder, and yanked the trigger with predictable results. The bull melted into the undergrowth. My guide looked at me, practically in tears. “Why you not shoot?” he asked, obviously thinking that killing an animal with a rifle required nothing more than pointing it in more or less the right direction and pulling the trigger. The wounded bull — if it was our bull — was gone, then and for all time. I should add that it was a hell of a head.
Guides like that make you even more nervous and likely to miss. Others, like Lekina, know that their own chances of survival go up considerably if they keep you calm in a tight situation, and try to make things easier rather than harder. Shouting “Shoot, shoot!” when the client is either not ready, or not in a good position to do so, accomplishes all the wrong things.
I’ve heard of, although I’ve never experienced, the extreme case of a guide running on ahead to try to spot a wounded animal, and then turning around and shouting to the hunter to “Shoot!” when he can’t even see it from where he is. And, naturally, the shout then spooks the beast to make tracks.
On my first safari in Botswana, my professional hunter was a Tswana by the name of Patrick Mmalane, a Sandhurst graduate and captain in the Botswana Defence Force. He had signed on as a professional hunter with Safari South. Naturally, he being black as the ace of spades, I insisted on referring to him as my “white hunter,” which caused great mirth among the trackers. Since Patrick and I both held the Queen’s Commission, we declared our end of the dining table to be the officers’ mess. We became quite good friends, and I went back the following year for a four-week odyssey wherein we drove around Botswana, wingshooting, seeing the sights, and setting a number of local beer-drinking records.
Patrick eventually left hunting and rejoined the BDF, and the last I heard he was a lieutenant-colonel. I mention all this because it was interesting to see his relationship with our trackers. They were Bushmen, in whole or in part, and as at home in the bush as Patrick and I were on a drill square. While Patrick was good with a rifle, and held command in an easy grip, he was not a tracker, and game spotting was not his long suit. The trackers treated him with the same somewhat bemused respect that an experienced sergeant-major accords to a newly appointed young officer.
In the end, we all proved ourselves to each other — and earned whatever respect we had — through our own abilities, and by the end of the week, one Cape buffalo bull and several lesser species later, we all got along with a kind of easy familiarity. Everyone did his job, no one screwed up, and we had a pretty happy ship.
It would be nice to be able to say that eventually I ended up with one tracker who did for me what Metheke did for Ruark, but those were other days. A tracker/gun bearer/factotum of the Metheke stamp is either a distant memory or, more likely, an ideal that never really existed — certainly not for visiting client-hunters like Ruark, or me.
One of my most treasured memories of hunting in Africa, however, is when, on my second safari with him, Lekina Sandeti invited me to be a guest in his hut, and to drink a cup of the buttermilk-like concoction that is a staple of Masai life. This was, I was told by my PH, a great honor. Whether Metheke ever did the same for Robert Ruark, I don’t know. As I say, those were different times[/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%2F146-147|||”][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][/vc_column][/vc_row]
Jul 16, 2019 | Artist Profile, News
[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]An innate knack for drawing, an encouraging art teacher, and a passion for wildlife have inspired and motivated Debra to take her art to legendary levels.
Debra was born in Manistee Michigan, a little tourist getaway on the coastline of Lake Michigan. Most of her schooling was in the Manistee area, and she graduated from Manistee High School with three passions: her family, her community, and her talent.
Like any artist, she had a number of influences in her life which have guided her style, the greatest being that of her high school art teacher, Ken Cooper. Ken was always a source of encouragement; he knew she was mostly self-taught, but often reminded her that the origins of one’s art didn’t matter – it was just the talent and desire to run with it. It was his words that gave her the drive, and self-confidence, to take her art even further. And it wasn’t until Debra started working for Legends, that she began to see other styles that resonated with her, the most influential being those of John Benovich and Craig Bone. Their paintings depict a hauntingly realistic perspective of the wildlife they portray and, said Debra, “It was wonderful to meet these great artists in person at some of the venues I have attended.”
Debra has chosen to focus on wildlife for one particular reason – the animals. As a young girl living in Michigan, she was blessed to have the opportunity to witness the antics of the local wildlife. From her back door she could see a whitetail deer nibbling on fruit in the orchards, a groundhog chasing around the yard, and even the entertaining hunts of the family cat! Animals are an intricate part of our environment, and it is her desire to capture it in her artwork.
With her current position at Legends, she has had the privilege to appreciate animals, from around the globe, portrayed in their natural habitat, from the plains of Nevada, the snowy landscapes of Alaska, showrooms in Honduras, to the shores of North Africa. However, by far, her favorite creature to paint is the elephant. Awesome behemoths, these animals have an array of emotions that humans may find difficult to comprehend – they offer a subject she finds utterly fascinating.
Debra feels that painting creatures such as the elephant are essential for African conservation efforts. “We have such a Western view of conservation, we focus so much on preserving the cycle of life that we forget that hunting, and breeding programs are a part of that cycle. Working with the Legends Consortium, I have witnessed firsthand how artwork reminds everyone that in order to protect wildlife, we must accept the entire cycle. From birth, to play, to death, to exhibition, every step is a part of the process to save these great beasts.”
The mechanics of Debra’s artwork can be broken down simply: she is a huge fan of acrylic paints! “Acrylic paints dry fast and are easy to paint over which gives the flexibility to make adjustments after the fact. That being said, the speed of drying makes it difficult to make correction on the fly, so the greatest advantage is also the downside!” Typically, inspiration will strike when she least expects it. “I’ll be watching my grandchildren play outside, and then the imagery will begin to form. This leads to a bit of digging, through a variety of mediums, to better understand the scene in my head. I will look through a hodgepodge of photos and videos of the animals in question. Photographs will often illustrate muscles and how the limbs of the creature will stretch and interact in life. This leads to the work itself. Gradually bringing to life a creature via bits of graphite and acrylic paint, is an indescribable feeling of creativity.”
Debra has been often asked what makes her artwork unique, something she finds difficult to answer. “I suppose it is because I paint on animal hides, which is a bit of a rarity! For me, to see an animal painted on its corresponding hide just has a certain amount of finality, a fitting tribute.”
Contacts:
www.DebraCooperWildlifeArt.com
info@legendstaxidermy.com
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