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Hunting in God's country - Mario Seradinho
The other area that I had considered hunting in was the western side of Mozambique, boarding on Zambia and Malawi. This area has not seen much hunting since the war in the 70s and 80s, which left the region ravaged. This is the area where Harry Manners, Ian Nyschens and Pondoro Taylor hunted ivory for a living. Ian Nyschens spent many months taking heavy ivory in this area. When the Rhodesian authorities were hot on his trail, he would simply bury his ivory in caches along the Zambezi River and return to collect it months later. There was no risk of it being discovered as the region was so large and remote, with only the occasional "two-track" road.
I received a call from a South African outfitter who had been allocated a concession in the west of Mozambique, just north of Tete. He had an elephant and lion licence available for a reasonable price. The outfitter had just purchased some books from my wife at Zimbi Books and she had mentioned to him that I might be interested in hunting in Mozambique. The opportunity was too good to pass up and a few weeks later I was seated on a Boeing 737 on my way to Tete.
Arriving in Tete, I couldn't help but notice that the town, so reminiscent of Portuguese colonial times, still had the same aura as in years gone by, despite being in an obvious state of disrepair. You could be mistaken in thinking that you were back in the 1950's with the local population bathing in the Zambezi and fisherman poling their handmade macoro-canoes, laden with fish and reeds, to the local market despite the threat of hippos and crocodiles.
Taking a breather
While walking around the camp I found evidence of some good-sized trophies taken in the area. Apparently, a rich Spaniard had used this area for his personal hunting ground in the past. More recently, two problem elephants had been shot by the scouts, both of which were about 50 lbs. Sadly, the locals lost out on the financial benefit that paying hunters offer. This area is renowned for huge lion, big elephant, roan, sable, Lichtenstein's hartebeest, kudu, impala and some smaller game. Hippo and crocs are common in the tributaries of the Zambezi River.
I have always felt that I could only (and should only) ever hunt one elephant in my life. It would have to be a big elephant of 60 lbs+. I could not justify taking more than one of these magnificent animals. I don't believe anybody has the right to do so, but that is just my opinion.
Two years previously, I had purchased a .470 Victor Sarasquetta double-rifle, built in 1959, from an American gun-dealer. It had taken me 16 months to get the rifle into South Africa, but not in time for the new gun laws. At the time of my departure for the hunt, I had still not gotten my licence. This was very frustrating for me as I had always imagined hunting an elephant with a .470 double. Nevertheless, I also have a beautiful Spanish double in 9.3X74, which only weighs 8 lbs, and bearing in mind that elephant hunting entails walking mile upon mile following tracks, the 9.3 would be ideal. I used a load which I thought would suffice a 286 gr Rhino solid, at 2250 fps should penetrate and exit any elephant's skull. I also took along 286 Rhino soft, at the same speed, just in case I got a chance on a lion.
Prior to departing for Mozambique, the prospect of hunting a lion began to occupy my thoughts more and more. Despite being a PH for many years in my spare time, guiding hunts on my own game farm in South Africa, I never imagined I would actually hunt a lion myself. All the free-ranging lions are beyond my budget, and if I were ever to hunt a male lion, it would have to be in a country where they are free-ranging, like Zambia, Tanzania, Botswana or Mozambique. Knowing that the deal I had gotten to hunt in Mozambique was very affordable, I knew if the chance to shoot a lion presented itself I would grab it!
Thats me on the left with PH Martiens Ras on the right
We left early on the first morning, heading further north on a two-track road. The first rains had fallen and more rain was on the way. The terrain was hilly with beautiful palms and large teak trees and granite boulders everywhere this was really God's country! We saw plains game every now and then but they had to be tracked as they did not wait around. Elephants were moving around because there was enough water in the bush following the first rains. At about 10 o'clock we came across the tracks of four elephant bulls, one of which seemed to have an enormous track which beckoned us to follow. The heat was an excruciating 38-40 degrees at midday. My Camelbak, containing 2 litres of water, was a life-saver as our water was limited to the one extra bottle carried by the tracker and believe me, if you stop drinking you will dehydrate. We never found those elephants, but it was rewarding to walk mile upon mile in that astounding paradise of bush where few have walked before.
On the second day I found out that one of the other clients who had come to Mozambique to hunt a lion had been unsuccessful, and his lion had now become available to me what a bonus! His baits were still in place and a fly camp had been used 40 miles north of our camp. I told my PH that should any baits be hit we should move to the fly camp as fast as possible.
We decided to hunt in an area that the scouts felt would be good for elephant and parked the Land Cruiser under a huge teak tree to keep our cooler box protected through the heat of the day. The area was strewn with granite hills and ravines full of flowing water. At about 12 o'clock we came across the tracks of about 12 elephants, with the tracks of two big bulls amongst them. After three hours of tracking we heard branches cracking ahead of us. It was such an adrenaline rush to know that the herd was just ahead of us.
We moved slowly and quietly as we knew that the herd was resting in the shade. Ash bags indicated that the wind was good for our approach. Our hearts thumped as we moved forward. I checked my 9.2 was it loaded? Would my ammo be sufficient? Seconds later we spotted a grey mound 15 yards ahead in the shade. We kept moving forward and found ourselves in amongst the herd. My PH guided me slowly forward but we could not see the bulls, only the cows to one side. If the wind changed we would have been in great danger.
In an instant a bull stepped out from behind a thicket of trees. He was massive and only 25 yards away. He filled my vision and I could not take my eyes off him. His presence captivated me. The elephant stood with his broadside facing us, and the PH indicated an estimated weight of 40-50 lbs to me with his fingers, but I didn't notice. I was mesmerised by the giant and asked myself, "Who am I to take his life?" In a moment he was gone and all I could see was his rear-end quietly disappearing into the bush. Not heavy enough. I slowly shook my head.
We kept still, made no noise, but something alerted the herd to our presence. Without warning, there was an explosion of movement, bushes shaking and dust being thrown into the air. In the confusion, I caught sight of the second bull that moved right in front me. He could easily have weighed in at 50 lbs a nice bull! I considered if I would be doing the right thing by not taking him. I am used to shooting off-hand with my double and had no doubt in my mind that I could take him before he disappeared, but I didn't. Something told me I could do better. What a day!
It took me about ten minutes to calm down. The excitement was incredible for me but the trackers and my PH were calm, used to this sort of scene. We turned back. According to my GPS we were 14 km from the truck quite a walk! We were scarcely halfway back when it started to rain, an absolute downpour which soaked us through and through. Even my double got drenched. We were walking on a game path at the time and after about ten minutes of heavy rain the path resembled a river. Eventually, I got used to the rain but as soon as I began to enjoy the experience it stopped. An hour later we were almost bone-dry again only in Africa!
We got back to camp at 8 o'clock that night and later that same evening heard over the radio that some bait has been hit by a large male lion at the fly camp. We left the camp in a rush just after dinner and reached the fly camp around midnight. The fly camp consisted of three smaller tents and one large tent that served as a dining room. I washed and fell into bed. I was so sunburnt and exhausted that not even mozzies got my attention.
I woke to the most pleasing sound, a lion roaring miles away. It was fantastic, the hair on my arms stood up as his roar reverberated off the hills that surrounded the camp. What an experience! I could not go back to sleep and I lay in my bed listening to that primal sound.
We were up and ready to move out of camp at 4 o'clock the next morning. The tracker and scout told us of the large male lion they saw at the bait site the day before. No hide had been built at the bait site and I told my PH that I wanted to try and stalk the bait without the use of a blind. He was not happy about my request but finally agreed to let me stalk the lion on foot. We drove in the direction of the bait. I had my 9.3X74 loaded with 286 gr Rhino softs. I also took along my 9.3X62 scoped BRNO in case of a long shot, also loaded with 286 gr soft. We parked the Cruiser two kilometres away from the bait and walked the rest of the way.
Everything was quiet except for the occasional grunt of lion, which echoed around us. As we neared the bait the tracker slowed his pace and pointed to a lone-standing tree in a small clearing about 200 yards away. The PH took the lead as we slowly edged forward another 100 yards and came to a stop under a tree that offered frontal cover. We scanned the area around the bait tree but saw nothing. We hadn't heard the lion since first light. There was no movement and no sound, but just then I saw a snakelike movement in the grass about ten yards away from the bait a fly-swatting movement. It was the lion! The mopane flies were buzzing around the lion's tail. I focussed my binoculars on that spot and slowly I made out the shape of the lion, lying broadside and looking away from me. I could see his tawny mane he had to be about seven years old big enough for me. He appeared quite relaxed, having eaten most of the buffalo hindquarter left as bait.
I watched him for about fifteen minutes; it took me at least as long to calm down. I indicated to my PH that I was going to leopard-crawl another 50 yards towards the lion, as far as there was available cover. I intended to step out into the open when I ran out of cover and to shoot him off-hand. The PH looked at me as if I was mad, but that was what I wanted. I had dreamt about it for years and was not going to miss my chance.
I crept forward, rifle at the ready, the sun up in the sky; it was starting to get hot. The tsetse flies were biting me, but I ignored them and remained focused on the prize trophy in my sights. My PH was just behind me. As I got to the edge of the bush, a stretch of grass opened up in front of me revealing the last 40 feet between me, the bait tree and the lion. He just lay there, stomach full and ready to sleep for the rest of the day. I prepared myself, heart pounding, and stepped out and away from the bush and lifted my rifle. At that moment he noticed my movement and turned to look at me. In an instant he was on his feet but I never give him another second. I fired my first shot at his shoulder and hit him spot-on. He took off, roaring and tearing at his shoulder, spinning in circles. I fired my second shot into the blur of movement and hit him in the gut. I grabbed my bolt action from the PH and walked toward him as he scrambled away. I found him in my sights as he ran away from me and the shot knocked him down. Later I saw that I had hit him behind his head, the shot exiting out of his cheek. He lay there moaning; I moved in and finished him off with two more shots from the double. All my shots exited. He was a huge male weighing over 480 lbs. I spent almost an hour alone with him while everyone walked back to fetch the truck. I tried to imagine his life in this wilderness. What had he hunted? Where had he roamed? What a privilege for me to hunt him and carry those memories with me forever. We celebrated that night eventually the tsetse flies and mosquitoes gave up on me as my gin level rose.
The next few days were left exclusively for elephant hunting. I never thought I could possibly be lucky enough to go home with a large male lion and a big tusker, but I soon realised that anything was possible in that area as long as I was prepared to work hard for the hit.
We started moving further away from camp each day looking for big elephant tracks, while the tsetse flies feasted on us. I felt sorry for the trackers as they did not have any of the expensive repelling sprays we used. Instead, they used branches to swat themselves continuously to keep the flies away.
Early in the morning on the eighth day of the hunt we found the tracks of about seven elephant. The sun was roasting us and the novelty was wearing off. Thoughts of giving up were on my mind. By 10 o'clock I noticed we were still moving north, away from the truck. We had already walked about 20 km and we were running low on water. I informed the tracker that the PH seemed to be ill. I advised that we head back to the truck because our water had all but run out and the PH had developed a fever. I asked the tracker to follow the shortest possible route back to the truck.
We had been walking for about 30 minutes, when suddenly the tracker spotted elephant ahead of us. Before we could even take cover an enormous bull stepped out between two cows. I could only see him from the side and what I saw took my breath away. The tusk I saw was not curved or thick. It was straight, slender and very long, at least 3-4 ft of tusk protruded from his mouth and I estimated an approximate weight of 70 lbs. While I tried to calm down, my PH briefly recovered from his fever, taking the last gulp of water from one of the trackers' bottles. In that time the distance between us and the elephants got smaller because they were moving towards us while feeding. The bull just stood there, fanning his ears to keep himself cool. We moved in straight towards him, ignoring the others in the herd. I was very nervous. Only 30 yards away, then 20 yards; we stopped behind a tree. He turned his head just as I was preparing to lift my rifle to take a side brain shot when I saw that his other tusk was broken. Oh no! I couldn't believe it there was no more that one foot of ivory sticking out of his mouth. We backed up slowly, knowing there was no use in shooting such an amazing animal. But he had already seen us and swung around to face us head-on. I felt instant fear but the PH kept me moving, his hand tugging lightly on my arm. All of a sudden, the bull turned and crashed away through the bushes with the rest of the herd following his lead. We stood there in a daze until their sound became inaudible.
It took us two laborious hours to trudge back to the Land Cruiser. We were all tired, worn out and thirsty but I felt happy. I could have had him if I wanted. What an amazing experience! I will never forget Mozambique and hope to return some time to look for that big tusker who still roams that bushveld paradise.
