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From the book STRANGE TALES FROM THE AFRICAN BUSH, by HANNES WESSELS, ISBN 1-57157-233-3 published by Safari Press. He relates the story of following a wounded buffalo. “…Summoning every ounce of awareness with which we humans are endowed, I moved very slowly forward, searching every bush and cranny for signs of life. The chase and the charge at the thicket had left me sapped of strength and energy, and my rifle shook in my hands. One shot would probably be my lot, and missing the mark would quite likely make it my last. I heaved air into my lungs and tried to breathe steadily. Despite my most diligent efforts, I saw nothing of the animals until it crashed out of the thicket to my rear, charging straight towards my back. I had just time to turn and face the commotion when it smashed into my hip with fearsome power, lifting me off the ground and sending me flying into the air. The thought of firing into its back from the air briefly crossed my mind, but it seemed pointless. And so, in what is a testament to the skill and cunning of these grand adversaries, I failed to fire a single shot. My return to earth was a thumping one, and in doing so I lost the rifle from my hand. Winded and helpless, I watched the great beast lower its head, and with extreme malice, run into me again. Everything was dust and thudding, sickening pain, and blwo after blow, until suddenly I was airborne again, impaled upon the animal’s right horn. The point had entered my groin and thrust up inside me to a point just below my liver. I hung motionless in midair for a brief moment, and then with terrific strength the animal flicked me over its head, whereupon, I took up a position face down on its back, my head close to the base of its tail. Its bizarre what thoughts go through one’s mind at times like these. It occurred to me what a bloody fool I must look to anyone observing the altercation, and thanked the Good Lord that the audience was a small one. I tried in vain to grasp the tail in an attempt to remain where I was, out of the range of the horns, but the buff bucked around with terrifying speed, sending me hurling back to the dirt. Now it came at my head. I lifted my arms in a rather pathetic attempt to ward off the blow and was treated to the sight of left biceps being separated from the bone by a slash of horn. I awaited in total submission for the next stroke, knowing it was almost certainly finish me. Quietly I watched, transfixed, stunned, in awe. The big black head with the small, black, beady eyes and the killer horn swung back, prior to plunging in again, when a rifle shot echoed through the brush. Instead of boring back into me, the buffalo’s muzzle suddenly jerked upwards. That shot saved my life. I looked on in helpless bewilderment as another crack came over me, and the great beast crumpled to the ground like a boxer dropped by a rabbit punch. At the moment the bullet entered its brain, the buffalo was standing astride me, and when it fell the full weight of the animal came crushing down on my broken body. The rich, rancid smell of buffalo sweat filled my nostrils, and I struggled to breath. Paul sprinted into view, and I realized that he had saved me from certain death with a shot that a second later might well have been too late. In the panic the rest of the party had disappeared into the bush, and suddenly it was all very quiet. I struggled to come to grips with what had just happened, and what would happen next. The pain from my stomach and groin was exquisite, and I felt warm liquid pumping down my left trouser leg. My mouth was dry and full of sand. Breathing was difficult as I forced my hand down under the dead weight of the buffalo’s rib cage and brushed past the area where moments earlier my manhood had been. There I discovered to my terrible disappointment that now there was nothing, and then I noticed a large hole slightly to the left, into which I inserted my hand. To my further dismay I felt it disappear into my thigh and finally come up against my femur. Concluding quite logically that my scrotum had been torn off and my femoral artery severed, I reasoned that I had just seen my last hunt. My time was short….†| ||
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YEEOUCH!!! That's gotta hurt! George | |||
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IF the femoral was indeed severed, no way he'd be writing about it....I t still serves as a great lesson to those who claim dangerous game hunting is way overrated when it comes to danger. jorge USN (ret) DRSS Verney-Carron 450NE Cogswell & Harrison 375 Fl NE Sabatti Big Five 375 FL Magnum NE DSC Life Member NRA Life Member | |||
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I wonder if all this poetic stuff is flashing through your mind at the time when the buff is wasting your butt or only when recounting it for the "book." I would guess the poetry is an afterthought. ------------------------------- Will / Once you've been amongst them, there is no such thing as too much gun. --------------------------------------- and, God Bless John Wayne. NRA Benefactor, GOA, NAGR _________________________ "Elephant and Elephant Guns" $99 shipped. “Hunting Africa's Dangerous Game" $20 shipped. red.dirt.elephant@gmail.com _________________________ If anything be of note, let it be he was once an elephant hunter, hoping to wind up where elephant hunters go. | |||
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Man that's gotta hurt. Then you will get one of those doctors that will ask you. Can you tell me where it hurts? "Science only goes so far then God takes over." | |||
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We want the next chapter too! _________________________________ AR, where the hopeless, hysterical hypochondriacs of history become the nattering nabobs of negativisim. | |||
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You just can't be to careful when following a wounded whitetail deer in thick cover! Reminds me of the old Almond Joy commercial. I’m sure you remember the tune, Sometimes you feel like a nut... Will, I think possibly you've spent too many years slobbering over engineering and tech papers. I believe that it has affected your sense of happiness and ability to read anything other than technical writting without bitching about it. I think that if this had been written in the style of a destructive engineering report that maybe Mr. grumpy would have "clicked" with it a little better. I'll give it a shot. The engineer's version of the above story. After failure of the extruded copper projectile weighing 500 gr @ a nominal 1900FPS creating approximately 4896 FTlbs KE not factoring in the relative humidity @ 34% and air temp of 34 deg C and factoring in the skin elasticity chart with an elasticity factor of 45 EMU. Said projectile minus velocity loss with an approximate air density factor and the relative mean altitude of 423 meter ASL. Causing and relative increased drag coefficient of approximately 1.489765432% minus the sonic area rule deduction of approximately .0045897634552% and taking into effect any biological pre impact post sonic separation events with a nominal reduction of .0000000018976354289%. Given the above factors said projectile should have had a mean penetration coefficient of approximately 84.516743298% Therefore said projectile was obviously capable of penetration of the project target (buffalo) and destroying the primary and secondary power sources and ambulatory motivators. With an approximate DRT factor of .6719832645% Therefore it is suspected that the C.E.P. of the projectile was miscalculated most likely due to operator error. Or possibly an optical misalignment factor given the front to rear optical alignment device probability of optical alignment is historically in the .0123748561%. Another possibility is that the projectile operator had a Schizoid embolism at the time of tactile engagement with trigger mechanism. Placing the projectile into the protein and fluids processing area rather than the primary power and or ambulatory areas of the project target. The damage mechanism to the projectile operator was quite simple. Mass x Energy x Velocity of Project target greatly outnumbered the Mass the Velocity and the skin/ muscle elasticity and tensile bone capability of the projectile operator causing complete destruction of the reproductive and pleasure center of the projectile operator. Does that version of the story give you a warm fuzzy inside. Or don't we get those anymore? | |||
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Moderator |
I thought it was very well expressed, realistic in every way. Even during the toughest fist-fight, one may experience the oddest, unrelated thoughts. | |||
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Well, he must have lived or he couldn't have written the story. Wonder if he ever found his nuts? Rich Elliott Rich Elliott Ethiopian Rift Valley Safaris | |||
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It is stories like this that make buff hunts sell for US$15K. | |||
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Surestrike said, "You just can't be to careful when following a wounded whitetail deer in thick cover!" Funny you mention that. Last month I tracked a whitetail buck I had hit with a 12 ga. slug about 400 yards . He left a really good blood trail. He finally crossed a weed patch that was about waist high. Easy tracking because he left blood on each side as he passed through the weeds. Suddenly he sprang up ten yards away, looked at me, lower his head, and here he came. I shot him point blank from the hip. Never ever though about being "charged" by a deer. Rich Elliott Rich Elliott Ethiopian Rift Valley Safaris | |||
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And here I was faintly worried about the blood draw scheduled for tomorrow morning ... There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn’t. – John Green, author | |||
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Saeed, Seriously, what happened to him afterwards ? Except for writing his piece. Frederik Cocquyt I always try to use enough gun but then sometimes a brainshot works just as good. | |||
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Administrator |
He recovered. They found his nuts somewhere inside him, and sawed them back. He did not mention if he had any use for them any more. Quite a funny book. He called a leopard with a duiker call. He also relates the story of huntging with another PH with a husband and wife team. These two did not get on well with each other. The husband wanted his wife to shoot everything, but she did not have any heart for it. She had her eyes set on the PH instead. He sat with her on a lion bait, making sure that he did everything wrong, so that no self respecting lion would show up. The trackers were instructed to utinate all around the bait, the blind was built in a sort of half hearted way. Leaving the rear and sides open. As he sat with the wife in the blind, reading a book, something told him to look behind. 10 yards way were two male lions, looking at them. Why doesn't this ever happen to me?? | |||
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Saeed, probably the saem reason that bears never show up in my camp during season, twist of luck. My brother asked me this year why I never hang the food up, wasn't I afraid of a bear coming into camp. I told him no, they won't be showing up unless it is out of season. Red My rule of life prescribed as an absolutely sacred rite smoking cigars and also the drinking of alcohol before, after and if need be during all meals and in the intervals between them. -Winston Churchill | |||
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Thanx Saaed, Appreciatte it very interesting and very glad for him that he found his manhood and still hunted afterwards. Frederik Cocquyt I always try to use enough gun but then sometimes a brainshot works just as good. | |||
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"Science only goes so far then God takes over." | |||
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Rich's story and that poor, de-nutted fellow sound like how my hunts usually go... I can't say I have been charged by a buff or deer but a very mad rabbit came after me this year after I shot him in the front leg with a .22. I shot several more times , then darn near shot my own foot before I stomped him after running out of ammo. It was embarrasing to say the least. You likely do not want me backing you up.... | |||
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Nothing worse for a man then an image of "slaughtered" cajones! Holy spit, that's gotta wound the pride and affect the way you hunt there after! | |||
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Take his buddy Paul away so he is alone. Make the rifle a cheap .22 and the critter is a crazy saddle horse and your foot is hung in the stirrup under the horse. | |||
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---- Uh-huh, yep. And I'll bet it was Ray Atkinson that fired the killing shot, his 1st of hundreds of Buff, and at the tender age of 10 yrs old. Using a 7x57, CRF of course, one that he sold later. Dungbeetle | |||
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Great story,and Yes it would be a terrible way to go. BUT there are much worse fates like dying in a hospital bed as doctors poke away at your last shread of dignity. Crushed in a mass of steel and concrete as you bleed to death in the front seat of your car on some city motor way. Please let me die in battle with a Buffalo doing what I love... p.s. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR If your parents didn't have any children chances are you won't either. | |||
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Sorry surestrike, The buffalo was wounded with a bad frontal shot at 150 yards, using a 375 H&H. Would you please re-write your scientific paper taking that into consideration. | |||
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Saeed, Simply deduct all factors by - 31.0987654567% then include the V/M X DRT +(SHTF X Optical realignment) - a BS factor of 100%. That and a slight adjustment for the angle and decreased DRT of 1.2374655% should give you good numbers. If you are having trouble with the math I'm sure ALF or one of our other mad scientists can point you in the right direction. I haven't the time as I've got to teach a special Co-ed class for scholastically challenged over sexed blondes starting in ten minutes. PS This class usually only lasts me about 3 minutes on a good day!! | |||
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Surestrike - that last post of yours is an absolute riot - if we meet someday, I will buy you several beers - thanks for the humor - KMule Hear and forget. See and remember. Do and understand. | |||
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KMule Just trying to keep it real brother. | |||
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