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From a hunting perspective, the preservation of biodiversity on the
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Following dark shapes
The cookies were the best I had ever had after walking for hours in the bush. As for those tsetses, well let's just say words can't explain it. I had considered myself to be physically fit, mentally ready, and a pretty good shot. I soon found out that Mozambique was going to challenge all of these things.
I was already eight days into my 14-day safari and by then had mastered the everyday routine of being up at 4 am. As ever, Nathan was already up with John, our tracker, who had completed packing the car with our supplies. There was time for one quick cup of coffee, a light breakfast and we were off.
We were headed back to a water point where we had tracked a lone bull on the second day and had come up empty handed. Hunting in the wilds of northern Mozambique was proving to be very challenging! Buffalo were few but the trophies were worth all the effort.
It took us about three hours to get to the area we wanted to hunt in and at first light we already had those tsetse's keeping us company. We chuckled and agreed it was far too early for those damn flies. Needless to say we pressed on, parking the vehicle and walking into the bush, checking the known water points in the area for fresh spoor.
After a rather slow start to the morning with no fresh tracks we decided to divert a short distance to a little koppie a few kilometres away. There was a good water source near the bottom of this koppie; Nathan had named it the Snake River due to the large African rock pythons that lived near the water. Come to think of it, Nathan had a bit of a reputation for naming things in the bush. This often proved to be quite funny; in order to remember an area he associated the strangest of things with each other, providing a pleasant respite and a good laugh when we stopped for a break in the walking.
We were very close to the koppie, which was about one kilometre from the dirt track. Just as we were about to stop Nathan pointed out fresh buffalo dung on the side of the track. By now it was around 9.30 am and the sun was already beating down on us. John jumped off the back of the vehicle and had a closer inspection of the dung. With a big smile and he gave us the thumbs up – it was fresh, very fresh.
Within five minutes we were ready. John had his backpack with all our water, cookies, energy bars and the shooting sticks, Nathan was carrying his .458 Lott and I was carrying my .375 H&H. My scope was turned all the way down and that feeling of excitement began to well up in my stomach. Nathan turned to me and said that the buffalo were going to the water and because of the long grass (over six feet tall) we would have to move very slowly. So, we fell into single file, John taking the lead followed by Nathan, I and the military game scout, who accompanied us everywhere (part of the rules when hunting in Mozambique).
It was not 10 meter before we found more dung in the grass, making it a lot easier to follow the trail. We very slowly walked the kilometre up to the Snake River, stopping regularly to check wind and sounds. The dung was green in colour and still warm; wherever they were, they weren't very far ahead. At the river we could see where they had drunk – the ground was still wet, with water on the leaves all over the place.
The thought was that there were between six and ten of them; however, we now had a problem. We could see where they had entered the water but because of the amount of tracks in the mud around the area, finding the correct path to follow on the way out was going to be tricky.
John turned to us and politely asked us to sit under one of the trees on the side of the river; he did not want us putting our footprints all over the place trying to help him find the tracks. He took a radio and off he went to work his magic, and trust me, it was pure magic.
I have been hunting for a long time, around 15 years, and have hunted with many trackers, but I have never seen or met one who ever came close to John. He has a sixth sense and has the ability to see things that even to the most experienced hunter are not always visible. We could see him from time to time walking in the bush, following different tracks and very quietly talking to himself, almost as if he were communicating with something we could not see. About 30 minutes passed. Nathan and I sat in silence, watching and listening to everything that moved, the tension and excitement escalating, waiting for that radio call. We heard a click on the radio and a quiet, but very excited John on the other side, "Nathan, Nathan, come in for John! I found them; they are right in front of me." Nathan had to slow John down, as he was talking so fast and was so excited that he was not making sense. My heart started pounding and my stomach was in a knot. Was this going to be the day?
The message became clear. He had found the buffalo; they were lying down and had not seen him. He was on his way back to fetch us. A few minutes later the game scout appeared to guide us back to John. As we walked I could see that Nathan was just as excited as I was. He pointed at my scope, asking me to double check everything, and whispered, "This is it!"
The game scout stopped and pointed. John was about 100 meter ahead of us, standing behind some tall grass and trees. He indicated to us that they were still lying down and that we should approach slowly. The wind was perfect, right into our faces. The game scout stayed behind and we made our way to John, who had already set up the shooting sticks for me. Nathan indicated to me that I should immediately get into position and wait for his instructions. He glassed the buffalo and whispered into my ear, asking if I could see the bull next to the tree, lying down and looking at us.
There were about 10 animals, all on top of each other. Honestly, even with the scope turn down, all I could see were buffalo. A tree was obscuring my view of the bull and they were only between 40 and 50 meter away. Nathan grabbed the sticks and moved us about 10 meters to the left to try another position; no tree this time but too many buffalo behind and next to each other. I stayed in position, Nathan moved back to the original spot.
Slowly, the buffalo again started to stand still, unaware of our presence. Suddenly, Nathan frantically waved at me to bring the sticks and come across to him. I positioned myself right next to him, ready for anything. Again he whispered in my ear, "The bull is on the right, standing just behind the cow. Can you see him?" Just as he said that the bull nodded his head and Nathan whispered, "The one who nodded." He was standing broadside, 40 meters away. I finally had a shot. Nathan again whispered in my ear, "On the shoulder, take your time and breathe." There were some small branches just in front of the buffalo and I was using Swift A-Frames 300 gr softs.
We had agreed beforehand that Nathan would not back me up unless I asked him to or he felt that the situation required it. He whispered to me one last time, "Have you got the shot?" "Yes," was the reply. He indicated the branches in front of the buffalo and said, "I'll wait for you but I think a back-up is best, just in case." I agreed. The obvious thing is to never shoot any animals through any form of branches, especially dangerous game. However, sometimes opportunities are limited and I was confident that I could see the shoulder clearly, had a steady rest and could place a good shot. Nevertheless, I thought a back-up shot was a good idea, just in case.
Safety off, cross hairs on the shoulder, dead rest and the shot was off, followed up immediately by the 458 Lott. The sound of the buffalo running, the dust in the air and pure adrenalin … can only be described as awesome! My hands were shaking and my mind was so clear about everything, I knew the shot was good. We looked at each other, smiled and Nathan said, "Let's give it some time."
We talked about the shot and the animal, ensuring that I had indeed pulled the trigger on the right one. I was rather anxious as I listened intensely for the so-called death bellow that buffalo make when they are on there last legs, but I heard nothing. Nathan reassured me that you don't always get to hear the animal die, and that going in to find the buffalo was half the fun. John looked around for the spoor and after about 15 minutes we got ourselves together and set off.
Not more than 15 meters in and John found the spoor of a loan buffalo breaking away from the rest of the heard. A few paces on and there was blood. John smiled at me, "You got him." I let a sigh of relief but by no means was it over. At first the blood was dark red in colour but then it quickly turned pink with lots of pieces of flesh and bubbles in the blood, indicating a lung shot. Good news, we thought. Walking shoulder to shoulder we all expected to find the buffalo a few paces ahead. We walked very slowly, both of us with cartridges in the chamber, ready for anything. Again Nathan and I discussed the situation should we have to follow up on the buffalo, agreeing to stand together, me on his left side and, once we found Buff and he was not down, to keep shooting until we were both empty. As Nathan jokingly put it, "When there's lead in the air, there's hope!"
At first, the trail was easy to follow with plenty of blood and spoor. This, however, did not last long. John found a patch where the buffalo had laid down. There was blood everywhere. We had walked only a few hundred meters since the start, and I honestly thought to myself, "Not long now". Suddenly, there was a rush ahead of us. It was the buff. He was off! The bush was so thick we didn't even see him but we now knew he was not down and we could possibly expect a charge.
I looked at Nathan and I think the look on my face said it all. I certainly felt it deep inside me. I thought: Oh boy, I fluffed the shot and now I have to put everyone in harm's way to find this thing! Nathan came straight out and said, "He won't go far, you hit him good. We know he's hit in the lungs … just a matter of time." I think I repeated the shot in my mind a thousand times. Deep down, I knew it was good, but it's very easy to doubt yourself in this type of situation. The one thing that was sure was that the shot had missed the heart, so it must have been either slightly high or just behind the shoulder.
Now that the situation had changed from looking for a downed buffalo to one of tracking a wounded buffalo, everything got a whole lot more tense. To top it all the buff had moved off into the thick long grass, which made following the spoor impossible. The only way forward was to follow the blood or by John's sixth sense.
We walked at a snail's pace, inspecting every shadow, looking under every tree for that illusive black shadow that moved. Just before 12.30 pm we found another patch where the buffalo had laid down, again with large amounts of pink blood and bits of flesh. We knew that we weren't far behind him and this made us even more alert to all movement. John was truly amazing. He stuck to the blood trail, sometimes taking short cuts through the bush to ensure we had the wind in our favour or moving us away from potential risky areas where the buffalo could ambush us. This gave us the advantage all the time of checking these areas, but still keeping the trail.
By then a few hours had passed and John suggested that we take a break as we were constantly pushing the buffalo and he was just keeping in front of us all the time. Everyone was tense and fatigued. Nathan called for a break; the rest was welcomed by all. "You can only stay sharp for so long," he said, "then you start making mistakes." Not much talking took place. We just drank some water and had the last of the cookies Nathan had stashed in our pack. John just quietly sat and watched as Nathan surprisingly managed to squeeze in 15 minutes of sleep. I must admit I was mentally shattered and the slightest movement got me very nervous. Nathan must have felt even worse as he not only had the buff to worry about, he also had the rest of us.
I had now convinced myself that I had fluffed the shot as no buffalo could go for that long with damaged lungs. I also began to deal with the fact that we may not even find this animal and that made me feel even worse. Thirty minutes passed. Then John got up and said, "Let's go find your buffalo." With that, we were off again.
It was now about 3.30 in the afternoon and following the blood spoor was becoming even harder as there were fewer spots and it was drying up. Again, John totally amazed me with his ability to keep on the track. He was thinking like a buffalo, talking to himself very softly. We lost the track here and there but he put us right back on again.
It was approaching five in the afternoon and no one said a word, but I knew we were all thinking the same thing. This buffalo was not stopping and we weren't going to find him. Yes, we had pink blood and plenty of it, but if I had fluffed my shot, potentially this buff could go for days. Suddenly the 6-ft grass cleared – we had walked in a half circle, almost back to the car where it had all begun. John looked at Nathan and me and announced, "He's dying." When I asked him how he knew that he replied that for the past six hours the buffalo had circled us three times while working his way back to the area where he had been wounded. Nathan pointed out that each time the bull was coming back perpendicular to his back trail. Each time, he had stood or lay down in thick cover. Each time, facing the direction we would approach from. So, we pressed on. Another half hour passed. Half past five, the sun was setting and all hope had started to fade away for me. I began to accept the fact that I must have delivered a bad shot and we weren't going to find this buffalo.
Suddenly, John stopped and showed us fresh dung and blood. Nathan went off to some rocks on the left where he could see over the long grass. John and I stood not making a sound. All of a sudden, Nathan turned to me and said, "There he is." I scrambled to the rock and stood on Nathan's left. Fifty meters in front of us, slowly staggering away, was the old dagga boy. He was swaying from side to side as he slipped away. Nathan looked at me as if to say, "What are you waiting for, shoot!" I lifted my .375 and, free standing, took two shots, my PH backing me up with simultaneous shots from his .458 Lott. I hit him between the shoulder blades with one bullet and the next struck the buff just behind the base of the boss, right in the centre. Nathan put his two shots in the rump area.
Then the buffalo disappeared. I turned to Nathan and said, "I can't see him anymore." Before he could answer there was this spine-chilling death bellow coming out of the grass. Then, for the first time, I knew I had got him and he was down. I tried to reload my rifle but my hands were shaking so badly I just couldn't. Eventually, on the fourth or fifth attempt I got it right. John came to our side and he led us up to the bull. But still he was not done yet and I had to put in another shot to finally end it all.
Initially, I had no emotions and there were none of the usual whoops and shaking of hands. All of us just kind of stood there in amazement as to what had just happened and how physically and emotionally drained we all were. Slowly, we started to come around to the fact that he was down and we began with smiling all around. I think John was taken aback when I gave him a very hard hand shake followed by a huge hug. He had been truly amazing and I firmly believe that if it were not for John we would never have found that buffalo. To me, he is the unsung hero of this story and it would take someone of exceptional quality to ever better his abilities in the bush.
The buffalo turned out to be a 40-incher with a body of exceptional size. Both Nathan and John indicated that to date it was the best buffalo they had ever taken in the bush. I was anxious to get him upright and see where my first shot was. To me, and I think Nathan's amazement too, my first shot was good, on the shoulder, slightly back, missing the heart but going through both lungs ending up just under the skin on the opposite shoulder. Nathan's first shot had been in the neck, virtually severing its throat. How he had ever gone for so long, is truly amazing.
Buffalo are tough animals. What you see on TV or in DVDs is not a true reflection as to their character. Yes, some people do have easier hunts for buffalo and some do go straight down but I expect that this is not the norm and personally I would not have wanted my hunt to be any different.
In the beginning I said I was physically fit, which is essential when hunting buffalo, particularly in very wild parts of Africa where you have to do one hell of a lot of walking. Secondly, I thought I was mentally ready and I was, but I learned the value of true persistence. No matter how tough it got we always moved forward and stayed mentally sharp. Lastly, practice your shooting. It helps to be confident in your ability to place tactical shots as, hunting buffalo, you have to take what opportunities come your way.
One last thing that is essential to a good buffalo safari – your PH. Make sure you communicate and discuss all aspects of the hunt with him. Be honest and don't bull-dust about your abilities! Sure, we would all would like to be 100% ready and wish we could shoot bulls' eyes free handed at 100 meters, but this is seldom the case. Know your capabilities and trust your professional hunter. He's there to get you in the right position and make your safari a true hunting experience.
