African Outfitter is an independent international bimonthly publication promoting
fair hunting and ethical business practices within the hunting industry.
From a hunting perspective, the preservation of biodiversity on the
African continent is the first and foremost priority. The emphasis
is however also on the sustainable utilisation of wildlife.

African Outfitter Back Issues: CONTENTS - February / March 2007 - (Vol 2/2)

Buffalo, elephants and ants... - Richard Eales

I was on a hunt in Mahenge South on the western border of the Selous in Tanzania. My wife, Wendy, was with me and sat on the back of the Land Rover contending with the Tsetse flies that hovered over us in black clouds.

We had just arrived back at our vehicle and were soaked in perspiration after a three-hour walk looking for Lichtenstein's hartebeest.

After a short rest and not too far down the road, my Masai tracker, Kapai, spotted a large herd of buffalo emerging from thick bush onto a large open marsh area. We had been there just 30 minutes earlier and had seen nothing.

It's amazing how the bush changes all the time! The marsh, shaped like a deformed hand, had a large central area and three fingers that led away from the main marsh.

David, my PH, looked at his watch. It was 17:20. We still had another hour and ten minutes of legal hunting time but the heavens were rumbling and threatening rain. After quick deliberation we agreed to go after the buffalo. David, Kapai, Alisante (my other tracker) and I quickly gathered our things and headed into the bush. Our plan was to skirt around the edge of the large marsh area, hopefully undetected. We intended to enter the thick bush on the opposite side of the marsh and double back towards the herd of buffalo. We moved along quickly, shielded by the tall elephant grass and always checking the wind with a little ash-bag. It was incredibly hot!

We crossed the open area undetected and entered the thick bush. Alisante checked the wind direction almost constantly as we moved closer towards the herd. We reached a spot where we thought the buffalo should be and turned in their direction. We proceeded very slowly, checking every inch of ground ahead of us as we went. Kapai suddenly dropped down, the rest of us followed suit – barely 30 metres ahead of us stood a young elephant bull. He had smelt us and stood with his trunk in the air investigating our scent. The bull was in musk and was clearly agitated. With our rifles pointed towards him, fingers on safety, we slowly moved backwards until we had reached a safe enough distance to turn and retreat. The bull soon lost interest in us and began to wander into the open area of the marsh.

I had not yet seen the buffalo and had assumed they had either changed direction to avoid the elephant or were further down the finger of the marsh which we were following. We walked a further 150 metres and turned towards the marsh once again. A quick look at my watch showed the time as 18:10; we only had 20 minutes left. The slow stalk skirting the marsh left me almost gasping for breath in excitement – I knew we were fast approaching ground zero. As we neared the edge of the marsh we found the herd, their bellies touching the grass as they stood and grazed in the marsh.

We scanned the herd for a bull but saw none. But then, right in front of us, a Mbogo lifted his head and stared straight at us. He was an adequately sized bull – mature enough to shoot. Kapai began to set up the shooting sticks but the Mbogo had already sensed us and turned to flee. There was no time to use the sticks. I flicked off the safety on my .404 Jeffery and shouldered the rifle. Through the scope, which was set at 1.5 power, I tracked the buffalo as he ran in a criss-cross fashion away from me. He struggled in the wet ground. The whole herd attempted to escape the marsh through one narrow gap; the bull had to slow down as the herd became congested in the bottleneck of the gap. The Mbogo turned to his left and stared at me ominously. I focussed the scope's cross-hair on his shoulder and touched the trigger. The shooting distance was less than 25 metres.

I saw the hit; the buffalo bucked like a rodeo bull. I slammed the bolt forward on a fresh round, but hesitated to take the next shot at the fleeing animal. I was using a Rhino solid as I always do in a follow-up shot on dangerous game, but was concerned that I would get over-penetration and potentially wound another animal. The 400 grain Woodleigh soft, travelling at 2 200 fps, had hit the bull square on the shoulder. After the hunt, I managed to recover the bullet from the bull's other shoulder, perfectly mushroomed and weighing 391 grains.

After the shot the herd and my Mbogo disappeared. It was 18:20, still within legal hunting time. We then heard the inevitable bellow about 40 metres away, which droned on and on as we regrouped and refilled our magazines.

But just then a new state of reality dawned on us . . . During our careful stalk towards the buffalo herd we had unknowingly stopped on a sprawling nest of red ants. These little fellows, in the excitement of the hunt, had managed to creep in everywhere. As if by some magical signal, they all began to bite at once. I cannot begin to describe the pain you feel – a thousand blisteringly hot needles piercing your flesh all at once would be a conservative attempt. I thrashed and slapped my whole body while still trying to hold my rifle in the general direction of the wounded buffalo. My companions were in no better a state. David was grabbing his crotch in desperation, Kapai was slapping himself all over and Alisante, who had got the worst of it, had stripped naked and was rolling around on the ground as if possessed.

Within 10 minutes we had managed to gather ourselves together as best we could, and had moved across the marsh in knee-deep muddy water, still slapping ourselves every so often as the odd straggler sank his pincers into our flesh.

We reached the point where the Mbogo had stood when I shot him. We moved forward very slowly – David and I next to each other, and the trackers slightly in front of us and to one side. We moved along at what felt like a snail's pace. There was no track to follow as the herd, in their haste, had obliterated all ground cover. We moved in the general direction of the bellow we had heard earlier. A little further along I saw the curl of a horn above small bush. With a soft whistle to David, I signalled towards the bull. I took another step forward and steadied the cross-hair on the Mbogo's vitals. The bull did not move when hit by this insurance shot. He had expired. We moved in slowly and approached from behind.

I pushed my rifle forward, aiming the barrel at the bull's eye. The safety was off. I touched him in the eye. He did not blink – the sun had set on this truly fine animal.

And as if to bid farewell to the Mbogo the heavens opened.

Then came our next challenge – in our hurry to follow the herd, we had forgotten the panga, axe and torch in the vehicle. We agreed that we would cape the animal and return for the meat in the morning. Caping in the rain is no easy task and the four of us worked as quickly as we could as the light was fading quickly. We caped up to just behind the bull's head, our intention being to cut off the head and carry the cape and head out of the marsh. We had no light and resorted to lighting matches, one at a time, while the Masai used his knife and the saw from my Leatherman to try and free the head from the body. Finally, we got it loose.

With the cape rolled up over the horns, we hoisted the head onto Kapai's shoulders and started our march to where we thought the vehicle was. The rain had luckily stopped, but we were all thoroughly soaked. We stumbled along in the dark, fighting our way through the thick bush, desperately hoping not to bump into the elephant we had seen earlier.

But on our journey back to the vehicle I was forced to fire almost a whole ammunition belt's worth of rounds into the sky because we did cross paths with that elephant bull again. Unfortunately, this time he had the upper hand. As if braver in the dark, he approached us without hesitation. We did not have the luxury of a light or the glow of the moon and did not see him until he was almost on top of us. After each barrage of shots he would depart and soon after would return for another challenge. Needless to say, we survived and he is still wandering around somewhere in the Selous. I am sure his ears are still ringing!

We eventually reached the road and saw the Land Rover's headlights in the distance. As the vehicle pulled up to us I saw my wife sitting on the back, soaked to the bone and completely hysterical. She had heard the first shot, then the long bellow, then the second shot and then sometime later, all the other shots. Fearing the worst, she was now frantic with worry. After some explanation and a little comforting she soon relaxed and shared this very special moment with me.

I unfortunately have no photographs of this buffalo out in the bush because of the circumstances of the hunt, but I can assure you the memory is carved on my soul for ever.