Dates: July 30 to August 15, 2010
Location: Dande Concession, Mururu Camp, Charlton McCallum Safaris, Zimbabwe http://www.cmsafaris.com/
Hunter and Observer: David Maple and Darla Maple
PH: Collen Van der Linden
Firearm and Ammunition: CZ 550 American, .375 H&H Magnum, 300 grain Swift A-frame and 300 grain Barnes Banded Solid handloads.
Hunting Method: Tracking and stalking buffalo, bait and blind for leopard.
Animals Observed: Lion, Elephant, Leopard, Cape Buffalo, Civit, Impala, Kudu, Common Duiker, Grysbok, Scrub Hare, Warthog, African Wild Dog, Bushbuck, Hyrax, Baboon, Vervet Monkey, Helmeted Guinea Fowl, Crested Guinea Fowl, Emerald-winged Dove, Double Banded Sand Grouse, monitor lizard.
Game Hunted and Taken: bull Cape Buffalo, cow Cape Buffalo, Leopard
Travel Arrangements: Shawn at Gracey Travel

The trip from DFW to Harare was unremarkable, and we arrived at the airport relatively late in the evening. Myles McCallum met us there, and whisked us away to a nearby Bed & Breakfast where we caught a few winks - not 40, but close enough.

We sat down to breakfast at about 7:30, and our PH, Collen Van der Linden, arrived at 8:30. We wasted no time loading our luggage, and were soon headed north out of the city. The 2-lane tar road gave way to a 2- lane dirt road, to driving on the shoulder (since it was smoother than the potholed asphalt), to a 1-lane bone-jarring road, to a 2-track to the main camp, Pedza Pazi. We unloaded camp supplies and took on fuel there, and set off for the Mururu camp - our home for the next 2 weeks. Somewhere along the way, we picked up a Game Scout who would monitor our actions for the duration of our stay.




Before we even arrived at our temporary home, we crossed paths with another Charlton McCallum hunting party, under the direction of PH Rex Hoets (and recorded for posterity by videographer Justin Drainer). The hunter, Lee Britt, had just bagged a really nice buffalo and they were enroute back to the skinning shed. Introductions were made all around - and since our vehicle was home to a battery operated cooler box, it evolved quickly into an impromptu celebration in the middle of the dirt road. Lee’s excitement was infectious, and his quote became the signature line for our trip - “This place is the real deal.”

We made our way to our camp, unloaded our gear into our chalet, and headed to the shooting range to make sure gremlins hadn’t crept into the gun case on the trip over. I was surprised to find a 50 yard range - but that just served to remind me that dangerous game is a “close up and personal venture” when done right. I fired 1 soft and 1 solid, both printing about 3/4" low at that distance. I made a mental note, but didn’t adjust my zero.


Darkness came soon after, and we enjoyed a fire by the dining area. After supper and a shower, we turned in - our slumber interrupted periodically by hyena music at 11:30, baboons at 1:45, and hyenas again at 2:00.

8/2/10
We rose at 5:30. Might as well since we had been mostly awake since 1:30. We readied our equipment for the day and headed for breakfast. I never knew oatmeal and coffee could taste so good!

We loaded up the truck and prepared to leave for the day’s adventure - Collen, Darla, and I squeezed into the front; and trackers Bongi, Kapazai, and Gabriel climbed into the high seat in the back. The Game Scout joined us, dressed in his snappy green uniform and green beret - topped off by a fleece jacket festooned with images of teddy bears. The bayonetted SKS was a sharp contrast to the cuddly wrap.


We drove roads looking for fresh tracks for about 2 hours. Very little game of any kind was observed. We quickly realized the area’s plains game was in short supply compared to other places in Africa we had visited. We saw a group of 6 warthogs, and 5 impalas during the morning drive. What we did see was abundant elephant sign - freshly-stripped leaves, tracks and dung decorated the dirt path.

Word came over the radio that someone had seen fresh buffalo tracks just down the road from the camp. After confirming the location, we did an “about face” and set a course for what we hoped would prove to be a rendezvous with the herd. We were able to locate the tracks quickly, and the 3 trackers cast about looking for sign, and then gathered to brief Collen on their findings. The consensus was it was a small herd that had passed early in the morning hours and they seemed to be headed in the direction of a small spring for a drink. The PH decided to cut the distance by driving to the spring where we hoped to pick up fresher tracks.

Towering red mahogany trees marked the location of the spring, and as we hoped, we picked up spoor where the buffalo had watered and continued their wanderings. The trackers spread out and worked individually - then converged on a single trail leading from the water hole. They worked quickly but deliberately - occasionally losing the track, but always finding seemingly invisible evidence of the herd’s direction. Large areas of solid rock proved to be no match for the sharp-eyed professionals.

After about a mile, the trackers were visibly more alert and their movements more calculated. It reminded me of watching English pointers working a trickle of scent from a scattered covey. I took a cue from their movements and un-slung my rifle. As unexpected as a covey rise, suddenly there was an un-nerving clatter ahead and the black bodies of several buffalo heaved and rose from their mid-day siesta about 30 meters to the left front. One old dugga boy’s head and neck was clearly visible in a tiny opening in the brush. He hesitated for a 2-count and we made eye contact. I noted his stubby, worn horns extending horizontally from his wide boss as I brought the rifle to the ready. Then he whirled and stampeded off with the rest of the herd, crashing through the brush with all the grace of a herd of buffalo.

The trackers looked sheepish. The herd had apparently meandered in a tight circle looking for a place to bed down in the heat of the day and the trackers hadn’t picked up on the subtle clues. As a result, everyone’s attention was oriented about 40 degrees off the mark. I doubt it would have made any difference had we known they were so close - they were bedded in thick brush in a slight depression out of sight. At least the way it unfolded, the trackers were not in line between the buffalo and the guns. The three seemed truly embarrassed - reminding me of good bird dogs that had busted a covey.

We checked the time - 10:45 - and decided that the best approach was to let them settle for a bit before taking up the trail again, so we headed back towards camp for lunch and 40 winks. Like a horse headed to the barn, the trackers set a stiff pace back to the truck and it was a challenge to keep up.

When we arrived, there was another truck parked near the dining area and as we pulled in Buzz Charlton came out to greet us. His bare feet kicked up puffs of dust and he led us back to the open veranda where he introduced us to Tim Herald, an American hunter in pursuit of tuskless elephant, and to Jon, a videographer. Tim was in the same group of hunters with Lee, whom we had met the day before. He seemed excited at having seen over 100 elephants over the previous 3 days - and a bit frustrated that they all sported teeth.

Jon was downloading video to his laptop, giving us a chance to visit a bit while we waited for the technology to work. Once the transfer was complete, we said our goodbyes and the elephant hunters headed back afield. We hung around camp for a couple of hours - lunching, napping, catching up on notes, taking pictures, and exploring camp.

At about 2:00, we loaded up and headed back to the point where the buffalo and we had parted ways. The trackers made their way from the truck parked at the spring to the point where we broke contact, and without breaking stride, seamlessly took up the trail. The scuff marks from the stampeding herd were fairly obvious at first, but as the animals slowed to a walk and re-grouped, the sign became less visible (at least to us mere mortal hunters if not to the trackers). We followed the lumbering beasts up a ridge, then down a slight incline to a grassy wet area, then made our way up a gentle incline to an area where the tall trees thinned out to an open park land. With a few hand gestures the PH and trackers conferred, and Collen explained in whispered tones that the buffalo had turned and watched their back trail to see if we were pursuing. The decision to break contact after our morning “meeting engagement” had paid off. Since the herd hadn’t seen any sign of their pursuers, they slowed their pace and resumed their ambling gait as they grazed.

On a few occasions, the rocky sand proved difficult for tracking, but the 3 sharp-eyed young men were able to tease out the hints they needed to determine the herd’s path and we gradually closed the distance.

Bongi suddenly dropped to a knee and gestured to the front. Instantly 6 others hit the ground (ok - Darla required a little coaxing before she joined us). Collen duck walked to the tracker and the two conversed in clipped words and hand signals. The PH rose to his knees and glassed. He quickly ducked back down and said, “there is a good bull bedded at about 120 yards at the base of that leaning mopane tree, next to a cow.”

I slowly rose to my knees to peer above the tall grass and easily spotted the big black-bodied animal. His head was turned towards my right, so I had no indication how large his horns were, but his body seemed huge!

Collen gestured to follow and we began crawling forward on hands and knees. After about 15 yards, he stopped and checked the bull again and moved into a sitting position and said, “Have you ever scooted on your bum?” I nodded “yes”, and we began moving forward bit-by-bit. The tall grass masked our movements as we closed to within 80 yards. I glanced back at Bongi as he tested the wind with the ash bag.

He shook the worn-out sock once, and the gray powder drifted back to us - away from the unsuspecting herd. A moment later he shook it again, and the ash drifted ominously towards the animals ahead.

Collen recognized the significance immediately, and we dropped down to crawl perpendicular to the wind. I immediately got a charlie horse in my right calf - but before it could seize up completely, I was able to fully extend the leg and flex the ankle. Crisis averted. I pulled my left leg up to crawl after the PH, and I got a cramp in that thigh! The transition from walking to crawling was not going smoothly! I extended the leg quickly, and the muscle relaxed and I lumbered along on all fours - trying to keep the business end of the rifle pointed at something other than the PH’s butt.

We covered about 10 yards and Collen rose to his knees to peek over the grass. He stared through the Leica binoculars for a few seconds and then slowly raised the tripod shooting sticks into position.

“Stand up slowly and take a look at the bull. Shoot him if he looks good to you,” he whispered.

I remembered to twist the dial on my Trijicon scope to 9X, and reminded myself to set the trigger once the safety was off. I began my rise to standing position and noticed the herd was on their feet - alerted by the errant breeze. The bull was quartering towards me, and through the lens of the scope I noticed he was lighter in color than I had imagined - then it dawned on me that he was plastered with mud. The bull was walking slowly and was about to pass behind a sizeable tree trunk, so I aimed where the bull would re-appear, set the trigger and pushed off the safety.

As the bull rolled into view, I reminded myself to ignore the horns, pick a spot, and squeeze the trigger. As the more of the bull moved into view, I aimed in on the front edge of the rolling black muscle and began to tighten my trigger finger. I heard Collen whistle just before the trigger broke, followed by the muffled roar of the rifle shot.

I heard the bullet strike and the bull reared up near vertical on impact. The herd lumbered off in a cloud of dust and a thunder of hoofbeats - but the wounded bull separated to the right as the rest departed straightaway.

I felt good about the shot and the visible response from the target and smugly thought, “this shouldn’t take long.” My reverie was broken when Collen said, “You broke his back leg. I was surprised you shot.”

Back leg? The crosshairs were centered on his shoulder...

My mind tried to make sense of it and I finally said “He was quartering towards us and I shot the shoulder as he cleared the tree.”

“No, he switched direction while he was behind the tree and he was quartering away,” Collen replied.

The one thing I so desperately wanted to avoid was now a reality. I had wounded a Cape buffalo bull.

The trackers had been hidden below the grass at the shot, and now they gathered around the PH as he explained the situation. Their previously excited expressions melted away and somber “game faces” took their place as they realized what lay ahead. The hunter had screwed up and it would be their job to help sort it out.

We gave the bull a few minutes before we took up the track. The expressionless faces told it all - there was no need to say out loud - this could be dicey.

Our small band made its way to the place where the bull had stood at impact, and the tracks confirmed Collen’s assessment - the right rear leg was broken and dragging. The trackers cast about for spoor and determined his direction of travel.

“He shouldn’t go far. They can travel a long way on a broken front leg, but usually less than a quarter of a mile on a broken back leg,” Collen said. I hoped he was right.

About that time, Bongi fairly shouted something in Shona and pointed ahead. There was the bull standing momentarily at about 100 yards with only his head and the tip of his back showing. Collen threw his rifle to his shoulder and fired a snap shot as the animal dropped from sight. We couldn’t tell if the shot connected and dropped the bull in its tracks, or if he had merely dropped off the ridgeline out of sight.

We gingerly made our way to the point where we had lost sight of the bull - hoping he was down but ready for a shot in case he wasn’t.

He wasn’t there.

Instead, we found ourselves looking at a wall of 6 foot tall grass surrounding a large termite mound. Crap.

We stopped for a quick pow wow. I don’t know a word of Shona, but it was obvious from the give and take and hand gestures that the concern was that the bull was waiting just inside the screen of vegetation, and to follow up was a fool’s errand.

While the professionals discussed alternatives, I removed the rifle sling and squeezed another solid into the magazine. I didn’t want to run short of ammo or snag on some brush at a critical moment.

Discussion over, Collen summarized the minutes of the board meeting. We would skirt the grass to the left and try to gain advantage on the waiting bull from the high ground on the side of the termite mound.

We began our circuitous route and suddenly found ourselves swarmed by hundreds of mopane bees! The tiny gnat-like bees covered us! We fought off the buzzing hoard with flailing hats and hands, trying to keep from inhaling them or allowing them entry to nostrils, ears and eyes. Thank God they don’t sting, or we all would have been experiencing a fate worse than a buffalo charge!

Finally the plague of bugs diminished enough where we could re-focus on the potential danger ahead, and we crept into the tall grass. We were acutely aware that the bull had had adequate time to plot his revenge, and the terrain and camouflage favored a patient plotter. With everyone trying to look everywhere at once, we eased through the cover.

Quick hand motions indicated the trackers had picked up the trail. Collen moved along the right flank and I took up a position on the left. I figured if a charge came, the unarmed trackers would be less likely to be between the bull and the gun if I were even with them. Bongi obviously was not comfortable with my plan, and gestured for me to close in whenever the terrain or vegetation favored the buffalo.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Darla remained in position with a short gap behind the trackers, with the Game Scout acting as rear security. She took the situation in stride, maintained a safe interval, didn’t lag behind, and walked quietly. She had established a rapport with the trackers and the young Game Scout (Chino) and I knew they would take charge of her safety if things turned south. It was reassuring that I didn’t have to be distracted by concerns for her welfare, and I could concentrate on locating an neutralizing the threat (that I had created). A deja-vu feeling fell over me, and I realized my mind was making an obvious connection to providing flank security during so many patrols in Ranger School so many years ago.

We walked steadily - and the bull managed to stay just ahead of us as we dogged his trail. The dragging hind leg made tracking him relatively easy, but didn’t seem to keep him from tackling difficult terrain. At every ditch and ridge I expected a confrontation. The anticipation would build until I just knew we were at the point of no return, the when the danger failed to materialize, the adrenaline would subside until the next test.

The wily animal took a course that insured we were upwind. He stopped at irregular intervals and we could hear him snort or shuffle in the leaves, but he never exposed himself to view and kept a safe distance ahead of us. The blood trail slowed to only intermittent droplets. It was a strange game of cat-and-mouse, and I wondered at times which role we were playing.

The trackers kept up a steady pace. They seemed to have no difficulty following the spoor. I tried to remember not to look for tracks - let the trackers track and the shooters shoot.

With anticipation came adrenaline - and the 10 pound rifle was easily manageable with only one hand. As the pursuit continued and closed in on the third hour, I became aware of the weight, and I realized my focus wasn’t as heightened. I guess we’re only designed to maintain an elevated state for so long.

Just after 5:30, as the sun headed towards the horizon, Collen decided to break off the pursuit. I punched a waypoint into the GPS so that we could return to the trail at daybreak, and we consulted the device for a direction to the truck. Once a heading was established, the trackers selected a convenient elephant trail and began their characteristic ground-eating stride. I was really having to stretch to keep pace, and as I looked back, to my surprise, Darla was keeping pace. She was taking 2 steps for every one that the long legged trackers and PH took, but she was holding her own!

All total, the GPS said we covered 2 miles in the morning, and 4 in the afternoon in pursuit of the herd - a pretty good distance considering it was steady tracking.

The trip to camp took little time and before long we were sitting at the dining area enjoying a South African white wine. A bushbuck barked across the river bed, and Collen remarked that a leopard must be stirring, and shined his flashlight down the nearly dry wash - and we were rewarded by the sight of a female leopard reclining in the sand about 75 yards away. She seemed completely unaware - or at least unconcerned - so habituated was she to the lights and noise of the camp. We retrieved binoculars to get a better view, and she tolerated being bathed in the bright light until we were called to dinner.

After dinner, we turned in by 9:00. Darla and I slept soundly, though Darla was occasionally awakened by the sound of elephants foraging outside our window. She awakened me once, concerned about the noise (with visions of leopards at the window sill) - and seemed quite annoyed that I was more focused on sleep than the prospect of being eaten.

8/3/10
Despite the spectre of a wounded buffalo, I slept well. We were up before Simba softly knocked on the door. Since we were tracking and needed good light, the day started fairly late. We ate a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee and prepared to slay the dragon (or his modern-day counterpart).

I consulted with Collen about ammunition - softs or solids? He pointed out the advantages of each, then left the decision to me. I chose solids from top to bottom.

We drove to the closest point to where we had left the trail the previous evening and dismounted. There was very little preparation at the truck. Everyone grabbed their assigned equipment and we set out immediately. Gabriel was carrying Collen’s .416 as added insurance, and the PH assured me he was proficient with it.

I set a course on my GPS to the last known location of the bull and handed the device to Collen and we set out for the trail. The pace from the truck to the spoor was closer to a run than a walk. Darla lost ground at the beginning and fought hard to regain the tail end of the fast-moving patrol. To his credit, the Game Scout stayed with her and helped her get untangled from vines a couple of times. He could have easily become exasperated and abandoned her, but I found out later Darla had been providing him chewing gum. Cheap insurance indeed!

As we arrived at the start/end point, the trackers fanned out and almost immediately picked up the trail. With no hesitation and an innocuous hand gesture, we had resumed the previous day’s task. I must admit it took me a moment to mentally make the transition from hiker to hunter, but the serious expressions and measured steps of the trackers motivated me to assume my new role quickly. I took up a position on the left flank, abreast of the lead tracker.

I have never hunted buffalo before, but I have spent an inordinate number of hours hunting quail behind good bird dogs. We had only gone about 250 yards when I immediately recognized the non-verbal signals from the trackers that they were making game. With no wind to forewarn our quarry and fresh spoor, everyone present knew we were about to collide. Experience told us we were walking into an ambush, and the longer the bull could remain undetected, the closer we would be - and the more the scales tipped in his favor.

And then without warning there was a cacophony of noise and a flurry of movement - thankfully not a charging buffalo, but a small flock of oxpeckers rising from behind a low shrub about 30 meters away.

The scales now decidedly dipped in our favor as these tiny winged creatures alerted us to the presence of the bull.

Collen raised his rifle; Bongi motioned to where the animal hid; Gabriel re-located to my left; Kapezai, Bongi, and the Game Scout escorted Darla to the rear; and I aimed in on the cluster of shrubs only slightly large enough to hide a 3/4 ton of danger - in less than 2 seconds.

Collen began the engagement with a shot below the backbone (the only visible portion of the bull) and in less time than it takes to tell, chambered and fired again. At the shot, I saw the bull’s right horn roll up into view as he attempted to gain his feet - and as the head and chest rose into the scope, I fired. The bull disappeared below the line of vegetation as I racked another solid into the chamber and readied for a follow-up.

The bull stayed down. And then I heard a noise sweeter than anything I’ve ever heard (short of the words “I do” or “Daddy”) - the long drawn-out bass notes of the death bellow of a Cape Buffalo. I grinned and muttered, “God that sounds good.” The trackers and Game Scout gathered ‘round and each offered a “well done” and a soft African handshake. Darla looked quizzical as the significance of the mournful sound escaped her. I quickly explained, then joined Collen for the final approach to the fallen animal. The bull wasn’t quite done, but 2 more solids drained the final spark from the beast, and I could finally relax. I remembered to offer up a quick prayer - thanking God for a successful resolution without anyone getting hurt.

We posed the bull for photos, then the trackers and Game Scout quietly left to cut a road into the site and bring in the truck. I finally could relax and examine the object of our pursuit. He was a mature animal with long horns and a deep curl, sweeping backwards at the sharp tips. The PH estimated his age at about 6 years old, and he was slightly soft at the boss - for which Collen apologized. The bull was, in my estimation, magnificent.


My first shot had, indeed, centered the right rear ham, breaking the heavy bone and coming to rest in the intestines. The recovered 300 grain A-frame had mushroomed well and held together as expected from a premium bullet (recovered weight was 254 grains). The other entrance and exit wounds defied examination, and suffice to say didn’t get a complete forensic examination. The heart was unscathed by the numerous (7) shots flung in its direction. One entrance hole was on the right side of the neck - and the corresponding exit was just under the ear on the left. I tentatively claim responsibility for it based on trajectory and memory (sharpened or clouded by adrenaline - take your pick). Collen concurred.

We returned to camp and turned the carcass over to Goodfun and Stewart. They made quick work of the beast - skinning and caping and preparing the skull. The filets were removed for consumption and the rest was quartered for leopard baits.

Lunch was pleasantly interrupted by beautiful birds - lilac-breasted rollers and white fronted bee eaters - and a troupe of baboons that almost made it to the dining area before they veered off into the jess.


We headed out in the afternoon to hang leopard baits. There were tracks not far from camp along the river bed that indicated a male and female leopard were in the area. The trackers and Collen made quick work of selecting a bait tree, and hanging the buffalo quarter. A trail camera was set up to record activity during our absence - and hopefully provide proof of the animal’s gender. Bongi took the time to explain to me that even though the track looked large, the loose sand in the dry river sometimes distorts the tracks, making them look larger.

In between bait sites, Collen stopped by a portion of the river that had cut through layers of solid rock, creating a beautiful swirling natural sculpture. We examined the unique setting from every angle, and with each viewpoint we were rewarded by aesthetically delightful art work that blended rock, water, bright green ferns, and the occasional insect, bat, or fish to provide a contrasting live component. It was the best art exhibit I have ever witnessed. Collen, Darla, and I scampered over the smooth rocks peering into each crevasse - while the more pragmatic members of the group (the trackers and Game Scout) seemed mesmerized by the abundant bream and catfish in the bottom of the deep pools.




The spring where we had followed the buffalo herd seemed another likely location for cats, so we headed there to check the prospects. The trackers and PH fanned out and examined the moist sand next to the standing pools of water, and were able to locate several fresh tracks of male and female cats. A large tree with a horizontal limb had been used as a bait site by previous hunters, and the decision was made to hang a chunk of buffalo meat there to try to entice a hungry leopard. The trunk was smooth for the first 10 feet or so, so notches had been cut into the trunk with an axe for hand and foot holds. Collen scampered up the bole like a 16 year-old and the rest of us hoisted the hindquarter up to him with a rope. At my age, there is a lot that I am not able to assist with - but the Fat Boy can pull a rope. I think the skinny Africans were glad to have somebody to act as a counter weight in case the rope slipped!


We completed the task at the spring and hustled on to a shallow waterhole next to the main entrance road from the highway, and set a bait there. We saw abundant tracks from other animals, but not much leopard activity. Due to the relative shortage of watering holes in the area and the concentration of prey animals taking advantage of the pan, the PH deemed it to be worth watching. There wasn’t much approach cover, and the leopards didn’t seem to like the site - and after several days, we moved the hindquarter to another location.

After hanging each bait, Gabriel performed the “drag the gut pile to lay the scent trail” exercise and decorated each tree with the stomach contents of the buffalo. The partially digested forage was stored in a large plastic garbage can with the lid quite secure until its contents were needed - and the fermenting and decomposing mixture produced a potent perfume that reportedly attracted hungry cats. Gabriel took it all in stride, and seemed to hold a strategic advantage over the rest of the workers when he hurled the aromatic mixture bare-handed onto the tree trunk - as nobody chose to place themselves in the line of fire during the operation!

We returned to camp fairly early before sunset, and as we approached our chalet, Darla said she had seen a “deer-like thing” (translation: a female bushbuck) run across the dry river bed. As she pointed out the path the animal had taken, there suddenly appeared an African Wild Dog in full stride - obviously the motivation for the bushbuck’s hasty retreat! We felt extremely privileged to have witnessed one of Africa’s most unique predators from our front stoop!

8/4/10
We checked the leopard bait near camp in the morning and found that there had been some activity by a male and a female at the site. The sign was good enough to warrant building a blind across the river bed under a large sausage tree. Poles and brush were cut some distance away and transported to the site so the natural vegetation there would not appear to be disturbed. Once the blind was finished, Gabriel cleared a path of all leaves and sticks for a distance of about 75 meters, and marked the trail with bits of toilet paper so we could find our way in the dark. Watching the construction and preparation of this first blind was very new and interesting, but by the time our hunt ended the process was pretty much “old hat.”

We also hung bait at the 4-corners location, the intersection of two dirt roads. Collen said the leopards liked to walk roads looking for prey and the junction of two paths greatly increased our odds of an encounter. The bait tree at this location was pretty vertical, so another small tree was cut and leaned against the trunk to provide easier access for a feeding cat.

We saw a grysbok, several impala, a few kudu, and 5 warthogs today. Vervet monkeys were roosted above our chalet.

8/5/10

We started the day by candle light at 4:00. The plan was to sit in the blind we had prepared yesterday near the camp. Because it was only a short distance, we walked out of camp - making our way down the dirt road for a bit, then crossing the riverbed and quietly following an elephant path on the sandy bank to our blind. We had a clear sky and bright moonlight, so the 20 minute hike to the hide was not difficult. We watched the bait as it became light enough to see (around 5:41) and remained in the blind until about 6:30 when Collen called it quits.

As we quietly slipped out of the hide, I noticed elephant tracks at the rear of the blind that had appeared since we swept the path clean the evening before - and took note of several fruits of the sausage tree strewn about the area of the hide. Both fired the imagination - what would happen if an elephant decided that we were on her path in the darkness? And how bad would it hurt to be conked on the head by one of the 18" long by 4" diameter seed pods from the tree overhead? OSHA would not approve...

We hustled back to the camp and joined Darla for a quick breakfast of pancakes, bacon and coffee - and met the trackers and Game Scout at the Land Cruiser for the start of another day of checking baits. The first stop was the spring, and as we arrived, we could see the hindquarter was...GONE. Evidence indicated a male leopard had been feeding when the wire snapped, and not satisfied with the location of the meat under the bait tree, the cat had picked up the heavy hors d’oeuvres and relocated it to under a bush some 120 yards away. There were drag marks at intervals, but it looked like the muscular beast had carried his prize most of the way to hide it from other predators or vultures. Kapezai located the meat under a large bush, and Collen instructed him to retrieve it so that it could be re-staked in a more advantageous location.

The wiry tracker looked at Collen like,”you want me to do what?” but acquiesced and began crawling through the tight jumble of limbs and logs. Just as he was about to reach out for the hoof, Collen let out a roar and tossed an old elephant bone into the bush and Kapezai almost levitated out of the tangle. Gabriel and the PH were practically rolling on the ground at the tracker’s mad scramble, and to his credit, Kapezai joined in their laughter at his expense.


He retrieved the bait and the remainder of the buffalo leg and thigh was wired to a substantial bush in a small opening that could be observed from a rocky ledge at the edge of the canyon, about 40 yards away. The crew quickly constructed a hide and Collen set up a trail camera before we left.

We headed back to the spring at 2:30 to sit for the cat. We checked the bait and camera when we arrived and discovered the cat had already fed before we got there (3:15)! Collen and I sat until dark-thirty with no activity (although Collen told me several days later that a beautiful Mozambique spitting cobra had come to the back of the hide to investigate, then quietly left). We saw a civit near camp.

Throughout dinner and at intervals all night, we heard lions roar near camp. The next morning, we found tracks at several locations IN camp.

8/6/10
We rose early and prepared for the day. Collen and I hiked to the hide at the spring, arriving long before it was light enough to see. Just after we got there, the PH whispered that he had left his binoculars in the truck and would have to go get them. I sat in the dark listening to lions roaring in the distance, and something feeding occasionally on the bait. Collen made good time - completing his round trip in less than a half hour.

As it finally got light enough to see through binoculars, Collen watched a female leopard trying to drag the bait away. He said she probably was worried that the lions would smell the meat and “re-appropriate it”. The male didn’t make an appearance while we were there.

We drove around looking for buffalo and checking baits during the rest of the morning and early afternoon. No buffalo, but we did see 4 or 5 elephants (finally!) after having seen fresh tracks daily. Collen remarked that the elephants were acting spooky - fleeing from the sight of the vehicle while we were still some distance away.

Lee, Rex and Justin came by the camp after lunch. They had seen vultures and had investigated - finding 2 cow elephants that had been poached. The carcasses were not far from where we had seen the elephants that morning, only a few miles from camp (you could see the vultures from camp). The front half of the elephants heads were chopped off and the tusks were taken - everything else was left for the scavengers. The crew had found a cartridge case at the scene - a 7.62 X 39 cartridge that had been fired in something with a significantly larger chamber. The casing had been blown out - resembling a straight walled case like a .30 caliber carbine - and was split from the mouth to the web. Crude but effective. Later investigation revealed that one cow had succumbed to a well-placed side brain shot, while the other had been shot in the heart (while the foreleg was extended to the front). Unfortunately, a third cow carcass was located about a km. away. The Parks Department was contacted and they dispatched a couple of Game Scouts to investigate. They tracked the poachers for a couple of days, but eventually gave up. A helicopter was brought in to assist - something of a novelty to the camp staff, who watched it as if mesmerized.

We sat in the spring blind in the evening. There was no activity observed.

8/7/10
We were up at 4:00 and out by 4:30. There really was no need for the generator as candles and flashlights would provide enough light to prepare by. We drove to the vicinity of the spring and hiked in the final leg (14 minutes). We sneaked in from the 2-track, and could hear the unmistakable sound of bones crunching from the bait site. I figured hyenas, but Collen whispered, “lions.” We sat in the dark, 40 yards away and listened to teeth on bone, along with occasional growls until daylight approached. Collen peered through the shooting port with his Leicas and gave me periodic updates. First it was two fingers - then three - and then five! When it finally got light enough to see, I took my turn at the opening and watched three lioness for about 20 minutes. The dominant lioness was eating and the other two were impatiently waiting, hoping for a turn at the leftovers. When the urge became too strong, you could see the subordinates inch forward and subtly lean towards the meat in a poorly camouflaged effort to snatch a quick bite - which was rewarded by a sharp growl and a quick swat to remind each of their position in the peck order of the bush. One cat obviously noticed movement at the blind, and we stared at one another for several long seconds before she returned her attention to the dwindling feast before her. Another, obviously put off by a sibling who refused to share, moved off a few feet and picked up a rib bone and toyed with it for a few seconds before becoming bored and leaving the feeding area. The other two, meat finished, moved off as well, leaving a few strands of wire tethering buffalo leg bones to the bush.

We watched the carcass (the tiny bit that was left) for several minutes, hoping the leopard would return to inspect his former larder, but we too became bored and called the trackers on the radio. A few short minutes later, the truck pulled up and Darla and the trackers joined us for a description of the morning’s activities. A game camera had been placed over the bait, and we could see that a number of images were present, including several close-ups of lions peering into the camera lens from close range.

We spent the rest of the morning looking for buffalo. I wanted a cow, and we needed more bait. We covered about 35 miles or so searching for fresh tracks crossing the roads, but the only sign we saw was too old to follow. We did locate a small band of elephants and I tried unsuccessfully to photograph a young bull. We covered the breadth of the hunting area - turning back at the boundary with the Chewore Concession at the Mkanga River on the northwest side of Dande. We investigated several little “recovery roads” on the way back towards camp, searching for fresh sign. None was found. It is a very beautiful area.


We had lunch and regrouped at about 2:30 for the afternoon session. Collen had received word by radio that Buzz had a client that shot a cow buffalo that morning and that the herd would probably be found near that location. We headed off towards the “highway” beyond the Usanga Usanga Game Scout camp and turned south. We turned left towards the main camp (Pedza Pasi) road and soon saw bits of toilet paper hanging on a tree limb where a new “recovery road” had been recently hacked through the jess.

We dismounted and after quick preparations, struck out on the path at a rapid pace. The trackers and Collen seemed to be heading to some pre-determined location - not so much following spoor as traveling to a start point. Gabriel had lagged behind momentarily to retrieve a backpack with drinking water, and was hustling to regain his position near the front of the column when he suddenly slammed on the brakes and hissed a warning to the others. Bongi, too, had detected movement to our left front and now that we were no longer route stepping, even I could hear the cracking of brush, the see the swish of a tail and the flick of an ear. The transition was dramatic as we had only covered about 600 meters from the truck and were now within rock-throwing distance of 40 to 60 nyati. We tested the wind, and began paralleling the herd, which was just inside a zone of thick vegetation. Quickly, Collen set up the shooting sticks and I covered a narrow lane between trees. I spun the scope to 3X - more was not necessary. Collen narrated the traffic approaching the lane and let me know what to anticipate.


“You see the cow, you can’t shoot as there’s another behind. Here comes a calf, now a young bull, and another calf. They’re too bunched - we’ll have to move ahead.”



And we did - moving from lane to lane - each time a repeat of the previous performance. We got to a fairly sizeable opening with a huge tree in the middle of it, but to get to it we would have to crawl. God I hate crawling! Why, of all days, did I choose to wear shorts today?

We made the tree - Kapezai, Collen and I - and Collen evaluated the herd’s projected route, saying “You’ll have to make an offhand shot. Probably at about 15 yards.” The prospect seemed interesting - and I wondered what will the animals do at the shot?

The others remained at the edge of cover about 30 to 40 yards away. I was anxious that Darla was so close - particularly if the buffalo scattered at the shot, but I was reassured that Bongi, Gabriel, and the Game Scout were with her. She said later she had picked out a good sized tree with limbs and had informed the others, “that’s my tree - you go find another one!”

We peered around the 6' diameter trunk of our tree - monitoring the progress of the herd. Unfortunately, they decided to stick to just inside the thick vegetation instead of offering an easy broadside view. We realized they were again curving away, and we crawled from our hidden vantage point to the edge of the jess. Did I mention how much I hate crawling?

We cautiously picked our way through the shrubs and were able to close the gap. As we watched the animals slowly maneuver their way through the jess, I felt a slight breeze on my neck. Moments later, it was obvious that the errant breeze had carried our scent to the quarry as they bellowed their disapproval and bolted back the way they had come.

They seemed unsure from what direction our scent had come, and stopped quickly rather than abandon the jess. We “cut the corner” - moving directly to an intercept point and Collen set up the sticks. I rested the rifle in the cradle and prepared to acquire a target. Collen whispered, “You see the lone cow? The one looking directly at us? Can you get a shot, or is the branch in the way?”

The branch was in the way and I told him I could shoot if she would take one more step. I aimed in and waited, and she took that step - then another. I fired, and knew the shot was likely a bit farther back than I wanted. There was no thundering stampede. Hell, even my target seemed to amble off relatively unconcerned. I was aware of breaking branches and the sound of hoofs, but nothing to indicate any urgency.

The others joined us and Collen and the trackers discussed their observations. All agreed the cow was hit, but only the PH had observed the strike. We waited a few minutes, then advanced. Collen peered through his binoculars and motioned to follow. Within only a few yards, he pointed ahead in the brush and I could make out a black form standing while other buffalo were walking away.

Collen told me to shoot. How he could tell one from another was beyond me, but I trusted his judgement and fired another soft into the quartering away beast. There was very little reaction as she took a couple of steps forward and stopped. “Shoot again,” came the instructions from the PH. I fired a solid into the ham - the only target I had. She took a couple of steps forward and stood broadside. I shot again, and than again, finally putting her down as the final solid through the shoulders did the trick.

She bellowed - not the mournful drawn out moan the bull had uttered a few days ago, but a credible bellow nonetheless. She finally stilled, and didn’t respond to the PH’s touch.

Congratulations and handshakes all around - not so ebullient as the mini-celebration for the bull. Perhaps a commentary on my shooting. Perhaps celebrations are reserved for bulls only...

She was a nice old cow - long flat horns extending some distance from her tattered ears. She was very fat, and the fillet made several excellent entrees over the next several days.

We had a lion, a leopard, a hyena, civits and genets in camp during the night.


To be continued...

Dave:

You've got us on the edge of our seats!

Remarkably well written with a fine eye for detail, e.g., "His bare feet kicked up puffs of dust and he led us back to the open veranda..." When you have finished regaling all of us on AR, your report could (easily) be converted to an article for SCI or African Gazette.

The wife and I are heading to Mururu camp in about a month, so your report is of special - and timely - interest. Might you include a few extra photos of the camp's details?

Thanks for sharing - now bring on Part II.

Great story Dave - looking forward to the next installment. Sounds like a wonderful hunt.

Very well written... thanks for taking the time to tell about the buff experience. Look forward to hearing about the leopard!

Great story and pics. Can't wait for the next installment. Cogratulations!

Mad Dog

Great reading. We want more!

Thanks for the story. You certainly did a good job reviving the feelings I've had by opening that can of worms with a less than perfect first shot.
Looking forward to part two.

Part II - the Leopard

8/8/10

We received word that Buzz’s hunter had shot a leopard at last light the evening before and had been unable to follow it up safely - and then found the leopard this morning after lions had eaten it. Everyone in camp seemed really down after hearing the news. So much work and effort goes into leopard hunting and everyone, from the PH to the skinner’s assistant, realized how disappointed the hunter and the crew from the other camp must have felt at the loss of the magnificent trophy.

Buzz had suggested that we take over one bait that was periodically attracting a male. It was a long drive to the site, but it was a beautiful area. A stream flowed through the area during wet season and there were several deep pools of water standing at the bottom of a 2 story waterfall in wide bowls of solid rock. The banks of the stream rose nearly vertical at the site, and boulders at the ridge line contained a labyrinth of tunnels and caves - just big enough to shelter leopard-sized animals. Hardscrabble trees seemed to cling to the rocks by sheer will - certainly not anchored by the roots that probed down into the cracks and crevasses seeking water during the dry season. Elephant tracks were plentiful at the pools of clear water.



The PH and trackers hung fresh bait (a hindquarter from the cow buffalo) alongside the ripe zebra hindquarter in one of the large trees growing from the base of a stream. The bait had been fed on the night before, and we didn’t want the animal to lose interest. Collen placed a trail camera at the bait, and we watched it for a couple of days to determine if we had a male feeding.

8/9/10

We checked the bait at the waterfall site and could see that a male leopard had fed. We began casting about looking for a good blind site, and decided that the bait site would be too dark to see in the low light of dawn and dusk due to the heavy vegetation. The ground beneath the blind and any approaches were also obscured. Collen decided to move the bait to another tree situated on the side of a rock incline - and to build a blind across the stream bed on a high ridge.

Bongi took charge of moving the bait, while Kapezai, Gabriel, Chino and I cut and hauled material for the new blind. The crew made quick work of the construction and Collen strategically placed a trail camera at the bait in hopes of gathering definitive evidence of a male cat. The last step was for Bongi and Gabriel to mark the route from the blind to the road with bits of white toilet paper so we could find our way in and out in low light conditions.

During the afternoon we checked out the area where the elephants had been poached. There were several varieties of vultures weighing down the limbs of trees in all directions, obviously waiting the carcasses to decompose enough for easy access to the abundant protein.
The elephants were a dismal sight. The front part of the head was hacked away to get to the ivory - leaving a macabre, abrupt mass of discolored muscle and broken bones where the “face” and trunk should be. An elephant doesn’t look like an elephant when it doesn’t have a trunk.

The thick skin covering the rest of the body resisted the punctures and tears of predators, so the animals remained relatively intact after 3 days of lying in the open. Collen and Capezai made long cuts the skin along the torso and legs to make the muscles available to hyenas and lions and vultures - hastening deterioration of the carcass.

I had a camera, but had no wish to record the images. Here several weeks later, I realized I had - just not with a camera. I regret I can’t share the pictures in my head with others - and at the same time, I am glad I can’t. In summary, the whole thing was just such a waste.

In the evening, we returned to hunt the waterfall blind. We parked on the “highway” and followed the trail of toilet paper in to the blind. It was quite a long way, and we took pains to reinforce the trail by placing limbs and obstructions wherever we felt we could possibly go astray in the morning hike to the blind in the dark.

We sat in the blind on the hard rock surface until it was too dark to see, and had no visitors at the bait. By the time we finally called it quits, my bum was positively sore and I looked forward to the hike out to the waiting vehicle.

The trip out was long, but not too difficult. The trackers had used a whole roll of tp from the limbs of the shrubs along the way, but due to the distance, the white bits of paper were about 30 feet apart in places.

The morning hunt would be a different matter as the moon rise would not coincide with our trek in to the blind.

8/10/10
We woke up at 3:00, and dressed by candlelight. The crew gathered up at the truck and we were on the road by 3:30 headed to the waterfall blind. Just before we got to the Usanga Usanga camp, a mature cow elephant, a juvenile, and a calf stepped into the road. We stopped about 75 yards short, and allowed them plenty of time to clear the pathway. I could only imagine the damage a mad mother elephant could do to the vehicle if she felt her kids were in danger!

We parked on the highway and began our hike into the blind in the pitch black - intermittently using a red filtered headlight to locate the bits of paper along the trail. Even with the faint illumination, we practically felt our way to our destination.

We finally arrived and settled in - perched on the hardest rock in Zimbabwe. After a few hours of self-inflicted torture, I was ready to tell where Osama Bin Laden was hiding. And no, the leopard didn’t make an appearance.

Collen finally ended the session with a radio call to the truck, which arrived at about 8:00. The trackers dismounted and we met them at the bait tree to search for evidence - tracks and hair - and to evaluate how much meat had been devoured during the night. All the clues pointed to a male leopard and a female leopard sharing the feast. We retired to the truck and prepared to make our rounds to the other bait sites.

That’s when Bongi heard the leopard. The others dismissed his claim as “baboon” or “elephant” until the noise came again - a leopard was just beyond the bait and closing fast! Collen and I practically ran back to the blind, hoping to arrive before the cat treed. Just as we settled back into the hide, the truck started and retreated back down the road.

We waited with anticipation for about another hour, then tossed in the towel. Collen seemed to think the engine starting on the truck so close to the bait was just too much for the cat - and caused him to change destinations.

We met the truck for the second time of the morning, and headed to the main camp where the staff there provided us a sumptuous breakfast - saving us the driving time back to our camp.

We made our rounds of the other bait sites, following our well-established routine of checking the meat, checking the ground for tracks, checking the trail cameras for photos, and sweeping the ground under the bait tree free of leaves and old tracks.



The bait at the intersection of two roads (dubbed “4 corners”) provided very fresh tracks of a male leopard - and once again there was evidence of a female cat as well. Collen decided to build another blind. The crew pitched in and cut bundles of grass in a nearby open area to form the base of the hide, then fleshed the structure out with limbs and small trees cut from nearby.

With the blind finished, we continued on our recon - checking the other baits that were scattered over the area.

We returned to the blind that evening, and had no visitors save the hoards of mopane bees that seemed intent on inspecting the inside of my skull via my ear openings - and the everpresent tsetse flies. It’s really hard to sit motionless when these tiny vermin work in concert to distract and attack.


8/11/10

We hiked into the “4-corners” blind before daylight. The wind from the previous evening had finally subsided and we were, again, sitting in the dark on a rock waiting for the unknown. As the clock slowly ticked towards sunrise, we could hear faint noises at the bait - and noise on the ground at the same time. The feeding cat jumped down - and soon we were treated to the loud, proud vocalizations of mating leopards - 40 yards from the blind! I was glad that Collen was there to explain what was making the noise, and why. Sitting in the dark, I could only envision the deep bass roars emanating from lions. It was some time before the sun would peek over the horizon, and try as we might we couldn’t see the source of the sound.

The morning ended as most other did - high hopes and anticipation finally gave way to sore bums and growling stomachs - and we called for the truck to begin our daily bait-checking ritual.

We found fresh sign of a tom leopard at the Katenderi (sp?) River bait site. We had checked the area religiously and had routinely noted lion sign - but this was the first indication of a male leopard. We built a blind there - taking note that the structure was located on an active elephant path. I wondered just how one was expected to respond if a 12,000 pound elephant decided to join us in the cramped quarters...

We continued our rounds and checked the waterfall and spring baits - swapping the SD cards from trail cameras, evaluating tracks and monitoring meat consumption.

We sat in the new blind in the evening. It was an uneventful watch - aside from the leopard coughs from just beyond the bait at 5:50. We still had a few remaining minutes of daylight at that point, and our hopes ran high - but eventually unfulfilled. A francolin debated on entering the blind for several minutes just before dusk. Even though I sat still as a stone, the oversized quail knew something wasn’t right, and registered its displeasure with a rapid succession of indignant chips and chirps.

We saw an eagle owl on the way back to camp. It sat still in the middle of the 2-track in the dark - and we finally realized it was holding down a small snake. We finally crowded it too closely with the truck and it took off, its wriggling midnight snack firmly clutched in its talons.

The bushbuck barked a few times as we warmed ourselves near the fire - but we didn’t see it or the leopard. Winds increased in intensity through the night - actually blowing some thatch from Collen’s chalet before sunrise.

8/12/10
We sat in the Katenderi blind in the morning. A lion roared just beyond the bait but remained hidden from view. It was probably about 80 to 100 yards from our blind but the dense riverine vegetation obscured our view. We sat until the sun was well up, and checked the trail camera. It showed the leopard had dined 25 minutes after we left the previous evening.

We checked baits and returned to camp in the late morning. We compared notes with Muno, the camp manager. He had checked several bait sites while we checked others, and reported that at one site fairly close to camp (1.2 miles), he had obviously spooked the cat off the bait as the hindquarter was still swinging from the wire when he arrived.

There’s nothing better than timely, accurate intelligence when leopard hunting, so we cut our breakfast short and headed to the bait site. It was a beautiful streamside location, with huge boulders lining pools of clear water, steep sided slopes, and large mahogany trees. When we had hung the bait 2 days previously, we had noted that baboons used the area as a night time roost. Collen and the trackers checked for tracks, and decided that a large male (and a smaller female) were on bait - and once again, we found ourselves building a blind.



We left the new blind and took a mid-day break. We returned to the blind in late afternoon and prepared for another arse-numbing wait. At least this blind had a sand floor rather than rock - though sand is greatly over rated as a cushion.

At about 5:35 Collen went on high alert. Somehow, above the noise of birds and small animals scurrying through the leaves, he had detected the noise of an approaching cat. He peered through the port, and indicated we had a visitor. He whispered that he couldn’t make out the sex of the cat, and suggested that I check it out through the scope on 9X. I slowly pushed the barrel through the shooting port and peered through the Trijicon scope. No, no testicles. The small female fed for several minutes, then leapt to a branch over the bait and stood broadside, perfectly silhouetted by the setting sun. With her tail slightly elevated, it was obvious it wasn’t a male, no matter how hard I wished it to “grow a pair.”

She climbed down (I’m always amazed to see a leopard run down a tree truck head first) and disappeared. We could hear coughs and growls from behind the bait and Collen indicated that the male had come in, and they were busy making cubs.

At 6:15 Collen said he could barely make out the outline of 2 cats drinking at the creek 30 yards downhill. I could hear them, but couldn’t make out any shape through the scope at 3X. The male (probably) climbed up and began feeding while the other remained on the ground. It was too dark to make anything out, so we stealthily made our way out of the blind and returned to camp.

8/13/10
Up at 4:00. We motored the short distance to the parking spot and walked at a brisk pace to the blind. It was DARK. With no moon, I was moving by feel rather than by sight. We reached the blind and I clumsily negotiated the two horizontal limbs at the back of the blind - over one and under the other. I finally inched my way into the hide and sat quietly as the world woke up around us.

The baboons that roosted nearby didn’t react to our arrival, but welcomed the twilight with hoots and muffled squeals. In the distance we heard an impala bark, and Collen pointed and grinned. Over the past fortnight we had come to communicate well without words - I translated his simple gestures as, “Did you hear the impala bark? He’s responding to a predator movement, and based on the location the sound came from, the leopard may be approaching. We’ll keep listening, and we’ll be able to track the progress of the leopard until he jumps into the bait tree and we get him!” At least, that’s what I heard in my mind’s ear...

Shortly after sunup, the baboons began animated screaming and barking. Calls became quite intense. Collen peeked through the opening and grinned and indicated “up” with his trigger finger - a leopard was in the tree. It was 7:15. It was obviously the same female we had been privileged to watch the night before. She fed only a minute or so when a big dog baboon stationed himself below her and hurled insults and threats until she climbed down. She slipped away to our left, and I assumed the show was over.

The baboon noise increased again and I peered out the shooting port - in time to see the cat in hot pursuit of said male baboon, who was streaking back towards the safety of the troupe. She chased him for about 20 yards, then slammed it into reverse and bolted back to our left with 3 male baboons chasing her! They crossed some invisible line, and suddenly the hunter became the hunted and the baboons came flying back towards the safety of the troupe with the cat gaining with every bound. The leopard finally broke off the engagement and headed up the creek to our left and the troupe of baboons, muttering and grumbling, re-grouped and prepared to continue their day’s activities.

We nearly suffocated trying to stifle our laughter. I’m sure that what we saw as humorous was, in fact, a struggle for life and death. I’m sure if the cat had strayed a step too far, the sharp canines of the protective baboons would have inflicted a lot of damage to their age-old enemy. Just as surely, had the baboon pursued a few steps beyond the protection of it’s bretheren, I’m sure the leopard would have enjoyed dining on rare baboon rump roast.

As if nothing had happened, the baboons began to parade by in the general direction the leopard had gone in single file. They each ambled by, just beyond the bait tree - male and female, youngsters and adults. Collen whispered that he thought the show was over, but we would wait a bit longer in case the male leopard decided to feed.

About 15 minutes later, the baboons began again to scream and shout. At first, it was sporadic, then it built in fervor enough that it was obvious that we had feline company again. Occasional growls of the leopard persuasion indicated that the male and female had again (literally) joined up. Moments later, Collen said he could just make out the spots of a cat screened by vegetation just beyond the bait tree.

I peered through the shooting port and was rewarded by the vision of a cat gliding down the slope to a point just under the bait. The baboons continued to carry on, but the cat never even looked in their direction. Disdainful arrogance described his demeanor.

All the physical attributes (a blocky head and muscular neck and shoulders) said “male”, but he was sitting on the ultimate proof, so we waited. I had the rifle through the port and quietly slipped off the safety - and even had the presence of mind to engage the set trigger. The cat sat on its haunches looking towards us as Collen and I waited for proof of gender.

For reasons only God and the leopard understand, he turned and began to slip away uphill and to the right. I tracked him in the scope as Collen debated aloud - and finally he said, “It is definately a male. Shoot quickly.” Two more steps and it would be behind a tree and gone forever.

I gently pressed the trigger and made a mental note that the crosshairs were placed perfectly for the quartering away angle.

The rifle had barely recoiled before I chambered another round, noting in my peripheral vision the empty cartridge arc in slow motion and bank off the grass thatch of the inside of the blind. The cat dropped hard - and I covered it immediately, vowing to put several more .375 caliber holes in it if necessary before I let it slip away wounded. It twitched and began moving downslope - pulled by gravity rather than propelled by muscles - until it came to rest just below a huge mahogany tree.

“Come quickly,” Collen urged as he threaded his way out the back of the blind. I followed - several steps to the rear as he made his way to the clear area overlooking the creek. “He’s still breathing just a bit,” he said in hushed tones. I covered the cat with the crosshairs, but couldn’t make out any movement.

Collen offered a handshake and a “well done” and said he would call the guys on the radio. He left for a moment and I rested the rifle fore end in the crook of a small tree and remained aimed in on the cat lest he suddenly decide it was time to pull a “Lazarus” and rise from the dead. Collen returned and we crossed the stream and made our way to the now-still cat.

Even before we reached him I could see it was quite large - not long but chunky - and the color was a deep golden hue. The neck and back were covered with black spots, and rosettes became more defined down the sides, flank, and back.


The entrance hole was huge - a 2" wound. The exit wound was under the chin at the base of the neck and was the smaller of the two holes. The 300 grain A-frame had done its job well.

The cat was covered with scars that told of old battles - long irregular tears across the back extending 8 to 10 inches. A fine scar cut across the bridge of the nose, and the pad of one paw showed evidence of a deep cut. The tip of one ear was gone and the other had been shredded. He was a battler.

His fangs and claws were impressive armament - long, thick and sharp. The paws were almost the size of my hands.




We took photos, and eventually loaded him into the truck for the journey “home”. Collen asked if I needed something to drink. I said, “I would like a beer.” What the hell, so what if it was only 8:30 am - I had just shot a leopard! Collen agreed, and joined me in toasting our success. We climbed into the truck and started back to the camp - and discovered we had a flat tire. Oh well, TIA.

We finally arrived in camp and were greeted by the entire staff. The killing of a big cat is truly a cause for celebration in Africa! We turned the tom over to the waiting hands and skills of Goodfun, the skinner, and he began to carefully prepare the skin for the taxidermist. I checked on the progress at the skinning shed several times during the day. By noon, the skin was removed and the skull and floating bones were submerged in a drum of water simmering over a low fire.

We spent the evening driving about the northeast corner of the Dande Concession looking for zebra. A fire had burned through much of the area the day before, and stumps and clumps of elephant dung still smouldered, sending tendrils of wispy smoke into the otherwise blue Zimbabwe sky. We focused our search adjacent to the Mozambique border in a more open grassland/shrub habitat. Zebras are not plentiful in the area, and we were unable to locate any during our 3 hour trek before calling it a day.

With only one day left before we were scheduled to return home, we discussed our options. Faced with a 3:00 am departure from camp to make our flight on the 15th, we elected to schedule a short hunt for bushbuck in the morning and leave for Harare by mid-morning. We turned in early after dinner.

8/14/10

I awoke at 5:00, and dressed in long pants to match the cool morning. Darla elected to stay behind and pack up our kit while I made one last kike through the Zimbabwe bush. Leopard tracks fairly ringed our chalet from the camp female - some right at the corner step about 6' from the door. Darla said she had come looking for me - to even the score for shooting her boyfriend.

Collen and I dawdled around the campfire, sipping coffee and conversing until the sun provided plenty of light to track by. Bongi and Gabriel joined us and we headed upstream from the camp. Kapezai would take the truck to a meeting place at the head of the canyon to save us from re-tracing our steps.

We hiked a bit up the broad, sandy main channel, then cut away onto a much narrower tributary stream flanked by high, steep-sloped hills. At the juncture, there was an impressive rock waterfall - now just a trickle in the dry season - that had carved smooth graceful forms in the sandstone face. There were several deep basins carved into the monolith - only a few feet across but over 10' deep! Really beautiful spot.

We continued up the narrow gorge, criss-crossing the shallow stream seeking the easiest walking path. Elephant sign was abundant, and tracks of other creatures indicated the popularity of this shaded water supply. We checked out one small spring where elephants obviously drank - the outlet enlarged by probing trunks and tusks.

We rounded a corner and found ourselves underneath a rock “skywalk” formed by water eroding through the mass of stone. The structure was probably 12' overhead, about 30' wide and about 150 ‘ between the “abutments.” A “manhole” about 30" in diameter formed a “skylight” overhead. We all just stared in amazement.

We continued our trek up the canyon - quietly slipping through the grass and brush on conveniently located elephant paths. The Game Scout indicated by his actions that “he was done” - crunching through grass rather than around obstacles, his hard-soled footwear clattering on the rocks like hob nail boots. But even his ‘tude didn’t diminish the enjoyment of this final walkabout.

We crossed over the narrowing streambed and began our ascent out of the canyon head, and realized there was a second “skybridge” arching over the chasm. Collen and I couldn’t resist walking over it, all the while marveling at the natural beauty of the area and the timeless power of millennia of floodwaters that had etched out the rock arch.

The canyon walls were quickly converging at the head - and we had nowhere to go but up. We climbed the steep sides, eye level to the soles of the boots of the person in front of us. The narrow paths up the steep slopes were littered with elephant dung. Amazing animals! How a 6 ton beast could hoist itself up the rock face was beyond me! As we neared the top I had an epiphany - where there is elephant dung, there could be elephants - where does one go to avoid an impending collision with a pachyderm? Over the side was the only (unpleasant) answer.

We finally topped out and radioed Kapezai. I enjoyed the breather at the summit while we waited for our ride. I mentally reviewed the wondrous sights I had enjoyed on the morning hunt. We hadn’t stirred a bushbuck, but the experience was exquisite. I hadn’t brought a camera to record our final morning, but the images will last forever. I was glad to be alive.

Post script

We thoroughly enjoyed the company of PH Collen Van der Linden. He was very knowledgeable in every aspect of African flora and fauna - a bonus to someone like me who has made a living managing wildlife and wild areas for years. In addition to guiding hunters on Dangerous Game hunts, he offers photo safaris to a different clientele in other parts of Zimbabwe. His flexibility and unflappable demeanor helped make our trip go very smoothly. We would welcome another opportunity to spend time with him afield.



We had leopards on bait quickly, and had several toms feeding at a number of locations around the concession. But the bottom line is, we didn’t bag a tom until the next to last day of a 14 day hunt. We had 12 bait sites and by the time we ended our trip, we had hunted from 7 different blinds. We had a number of toms and females visiting the same baits, but there seems to be a peak in breeding activity during the time we were hunting, and the males were not interested in eating so much as breeding. They were in the area - but preoccupied by the fairer sex rather than posing on the bait limb for an easy shot.

My gun case didn’t accompany us home. It took a detour at Johannesburg and we weren’t reunited for10 days. Not a big deal, except SAA decided it was cargo rather than baggage and shipped it to Austin via a cargo shipper. Cost me 5 hours of time and $140 to finally reclaim it. We aren’t through with the airline.

Dollarization in Zimbabwe seems to have a very beneficial effect. There are more goods and services available than previously reported, though the prices of some things are pretty high compared to what they are valued in the States. I think the market will adjust with time, and the overall result will be positive. As an American, I wish my government wasn’t printing and providing currency to run another country - but that’s reality. I found it humorous that the wall of the airport at Harare is decorated with Andrew Jackson’s portrait. The Zimbabwe populace has no historical reference, only a contextual (monetary) connection to our former president.

Thanks to all of you who have contributed to my meager understanding of hunting, reloading, animal behavior, history, and all things African. I thank God regularly for the time and place in which we live - and having a thousand mentors on-line is part of it.

ahhhh great leopard....If I could be so lucky next month....

A good story, well told. Congratulations on an outstanding hunt. Your recollections of Mururu, the sounds of the night including hyenas and lions calling in and around camp bring back wonderful memories. Thanks for sharing your adventure.

Very good report. Congrats on a great hunt.

Great report, thanks for posting it.

Great report & congrats on a wonderful hunt
and on Mr. Spots!!!! I greatly enjoyed the CM Safari crew w/Lee Britt-- and I totally agree that

"This is the real deal!"

An outstanding story and very well told. Thank you for sharing your safari with us.

Thanks for the kind comments from all.

Kim, I don't have many photos of the camp facilities, but I'll attach what I have below. I envy you - we would go back tomorrow if circumstances allowed. Hope you have a great time!

This is the dining area - a nice open air facility with cold drinks and coffee. Everything is on the banks of the riverbed, so wildlife watching is great!


This is inside the chalet. Twin beds left and right, curtain separating from ensuite toilet and shower. Not fancy, but cozy. Windows covered with curtains over chicken wire - no glass so you hear everything stirring!


Skinning shed. There is a small wire-enclosed building across from this where capes are salted and skulls are stored. There's just enough room under the door for the camp leopard to squeeze in and snack should there be any bait stored inside. No hyenas allowed though.

Best of luck on your hunt.

Dave

Excellent read, Acer, through and through.

Congrats on the fantastic safari.

Congratulations on your safari.Nice leopard and thanks for the pictures.

Thank you so much for that great story

Good hunting

CF

Thanks for sharing. Your story-telling abilities made it all come alive to me. Possibly as close as many of us will come to such an adventure.

Hugh

Wonderful! Congratulations!

What a great, well written report! My wife and I are scheduled for Maruru in 2012 on a leopard/buffalo hunt. Sweet anticipation!

Congratulations. I hunted with Collen last October and will do so again this October. He is very skilled and a true gentleman.

Those trail cameras you used were likely the cameras I left with them last year.

Congrats again.

Leopard and buffalo are my two favorite african animals. Well done.

WOW, now that's a hunt report!!!!!! A well earned buff and leopard.

That was a tremendous read!

Congrats on your two buffalo and a great leopard.

You have a way with words, Sir!

Well done on a great hunt and an excellent writing style.

Great hunt report. Very well written.

Everybody blows a shot now and then. God knows, I have. It's hard to sit here and read such a great report, knowing that my Africa days are finally over.

You are to be congratulated.

Nice report, congratulations on a great hunt.

awesome hunt - well done to all

Awesome report and 2 great trophies!! Congrats

I really appreciate all the positive comments! That's the payoff for the effort involved in posting - hearing back on the similar experiences others have had, and reading the anticipation in the messages of those who have plans to go.

Godspeed and best of luck to you all.

Dave

Gosh, that was well-written.

On my hunt in June I used a CZ 550 9.3x62 but in the heat of the moment, I never had the presence of mind to use the set tirgger. I fully intended to but I was too much caught up in the moment.

it is sad to hear that poachers are having so much success.

I can't wait to hear about Ingwe.

Dick

"Looking back on it, I don't think I ever was the man I used to be...
"
Mac Dowell,
Sage of the Sandhill Plums.

Acer-Thanks for taking time to post this very good hunt report.It appears to be honest (with all the warts included) ,comprehensive, and well written.i enjoyed being there with you.

Dave...so glad it all turned out well for you and congrats on a great hunt. Very nice report, and it was a pleasure meeting you in Dande!