I looked it up. “…gruntled” is actually a word that means, among other things, “to put in good humor” and that’s what happened to me last month in the Matetsi #3 concession in Zimbabwe. Dang right, I’m still on a “Matetsi high”!

In an earlier post (Nyati Chaya'ed), I related my daughter’s first DG hunt and the fun we had together. While she was out and about hunt buffalo, kudu and duiker, I was hunting a tuskless and a leopard with Lou Hallamore. Boy! Did us ol' farts have a blast!

When planning the father/daughter safari, the primary emphasis was on Emmy’s pursuits and not mine, but in Dallas last January when we were planning the hunt with Lou, Graham Hingeston, knowing how much I love to hunt elephants, suggested that I try for a tuskless since there’d be lots of old ladies wandering around Matetsi in late July looking for water. Of course, I signed onto that plan.

Graham also offered me a bonus. Although we were going to be hunting only 7 days, if we could get a male leopard to a bait in the day time (not an easy job with all the lions around) I could “upgrade” and take home chui. What a deal!

After all the fun in Victoria Falls, when Emmy and I got to the camp Saturday night, there were two fellows finishing up their safari and leaving Sunday morning. They’d had great luck and we enjoyed a dinner with them and hearing about the great buffalo they’d shot and all the fun and funny stuff that happened during their 10 days afield. They had already reserved another 10 day hunt in 2013. Their four donated buffalo hams gave us instant baits to put up that first morning. A good sign, for sure.

Before they left, the departing P.H.’s told us of a couple of places where they had seen leopard tracks in the road and the resident appy knew of two more places that had been hit by males on earlier hunts, so we had pretty good ideas of where to go. Another good omen!

At first light, we headed out with the buffalo parts to the suggested bait sites. Matetsi lions are infamous for climbing, so Lou and crew picked some pretty straight trees and Clement (his head tracker) amazingly climbed them (like a leopard?).

Before the first day was done, we had four baits up and drags done. Our bait-checking would consist of a counter-clockwise loop of 70 kilometers, often riding on the boundary roads that separated Matetsi #3 from the other Matetsi concessions, Botswana and Hwange Park. The great part about all that bumping around in the Cruiser wouldn’t be wasted because it was just what we needed to do to find elephants.

I don’t think two hours ever went by without us glassing one nzou or 40 in a bunch. Even seeing all those elephants, alas, no tuskless were sighted during the first couple of days.

As to the leopards, by the second day, we had two baits hit, one burned up in a brush fire and another taken over by one of those dad-gummed climbing lions. We put up a trail camera on the tree where the biggest track was found and discovered that the photogenic subject had gonads as big as tennis balls. Whoopee!

Checking tracks:




Tuesday before lunch we put erected a pop-up blind, camo’ed it further to blend in the tall grass and stubby mopane bushes and went to have lunch. Yes, there really is a pop-up in there!



Returning about 3:30, that evening we were in a blind and fired up for Mr. Spots.
At Matetsi, you can’t hunt at night or use lights. That is my preference, btw, and I well knew the problems attendant to enticing a leopard to feed in the day time. We put the baits in some really thick stuff where we hoped chui would feel more secure and also near bushy creek beds so a leopard wouldn’t be exposed coming or going. We also left the trail camera up to see when he came, if we had left the blind.

That first evening in the leopard blind was one of the most exciting times of my life, and the leopard had not a damn thing to do with the pee in my panties.

It was just getting to prime time with maybe 20 minutes of shooting light remaining. I had on my hearing aids (old fighter pilots can't hear worth a flip) which really magnify higher pitched sounds. I was reading THE FEAR Robert Mugabe and the Martyrdom of Zimbabwe by Peter Godwin on my Kindle... and, kind of in the back of my mind, I thought I heard a “sssswwwwwiiiiiisshhh” right behind the blind.

I looked at Lou and the appy who was also huddled with us. They apparently had heard nothing. I heard it for sure this time. “Sssssswwwwwwiiiiiissshhhh” Again, no response from the others.

As quietly as I could, I turned and looked out of the tiny flap at the rear of the pop-up blind where an unsecured bit of Velcro let in a bit of light.

Son-of-a-biscuit-eater! I damn near shit my britches and do think I peed a bit. I guess at that point, I was a bit disgruntled. I had no good humor, to say the least.

All I could see was the knee of an elephant about 20 inches from my face. I’m sure the rounded belly of the beast extended over the top of the blind. I am seldom at a loss of how to react, but I just didn’t know what the heck to do. Should I tap Lou and get him to turn around. What if he made a noise and it startled the elephant? My gun was semi-secured on a rest and sticking out of the blind toward the bait tree. Moving it would certainly alert the multi-ton animal that was inches, not feet away. I wished I was home in Brunswick, GA where the only elephants are on T.V.

Lou must have heard my heart pounding because he, too, turned. He couldn’t see out from his angle, but he then heard the elephants gut rumble. I may have again peed a bit, but at the rumble, the appy shit. This is his first year of apprenticeship (actually his second month) and, being a city boy, he was not experienced at all with elephants, but he immediately knew that it wasn’t a good idea to be under the stomach of one. His eyes were as big as 60 watt light bulbs and about as white and bright.

“Sssssswwwwwwiiiiiissssshhhhh” again as the elephant moved right to left behind us and continued about 10 feet. By bending way down and looking up, I could see that it was a bull and for some reason, that relieved me a bit because, perhaps there wouldn’t be a calf around to protect.

Damn elephant just stayed there… and stayed there… and stayed there. All the while we could now hear other elephants moving closer to us from the rear and on our left.

Then the inevitable occurred. One of them got a whiff of us and all hell broke loose. Three elephants, ten elephants, a million elephants, heck, I don’t know, but none farther than 20 yards from us, all decided to leave quickly.

It didn’t take but three or four seconds, but it was like a grenade explosion, except the shrapnel wasn’t little pieces of steel, but six ton pachyderms scattering to the four winds… or that’s what it sounded like because we couldn’t see a damn thing… but we sure as heck could hear them this time.

That ended the first night of leopard hunting. I spilled half of my first Scotch back at camp from the shakes, I'm sure.

The next morning we left at first light and went to check baits. Just before we got to the border post with Botswana on the road that divides Matetsi #3 and #2, we turned into the concession to drive a different route to the blind in which we had sat the evening before (and almost became toe-jam).

About halfway there, I thought I saw some elephants top a hill about a mile to our right. Lou stopped the car and glassed.

I was right. Coming up the hill, on the same route where the others had already crested, were three more elephants cows and two calves. The adults had tusks, but, we needed to check out those already out of sight, of course.

We climbed out of the vehicle, I was handed down my .404 Jeffery that Mike Cuypers had made me this past year and we started out across the mile of relatively open terrain. I hit my GPS as is my habit to be able to find the vehicle if I had to by myself and to see how far our trek actually was. (This particular venture was a total of 3.3 miles out and back if anyone gives a flip?)

It was still pretty darn chilly, maybe 55 degrees Fahrenheit and a quick paced walk was more invigorating than tiring (as would be the opposite case in late October when it would be 100 degrees). Felt pretty darn good.

After 25 minutes of a pretty quick clip, we crested the hill and found 35 or 40 cows with a whole bunch of calves with them. We immediately saw a juvenile tuskless that was about two-thirds the size of the big mamas and no one even discussed shooting her. The elephants ranged from 80 yards to 150 yards from us and as they moved about seemingly aimlessly, some came into and out of sight.

After about 20 minutes of glassing, Clement pointed out a mature tuskless at the far side of the herd, but alas, she had a calf at her heels. We continued to search and to the far right, I could see a cow with no left tusk. I pointed it out to Lou and we began to slip over in that direction.

We’d have another 40 yards to go to get within 30 yards of her. Lou hit his powder bottle and the wind was right. Unfortunately that wind was very light and was no help in masking the corn flake leaves below our feet. Dang, even doing our best, we made a lot of noise, but so were the elephants, tearing down tree tops, farting and rumbling and occasionally a squeak from a baby or a corrective toot from a mama.

We made to the 30 yard mark from the potential tuskless, but still couldn’t see the right side. If she had a tusk, it was very short or broken because it didn’t extend past her lip.

Show us your face, lady!

By that time, a couple of cows and calves had moved a bit toward us and were even closer than the 30 yards to the subject cow. They kept coming and were about to run us over.

We had to do something right then or they would actually get amongst Lou, me and Clement. Lou whispered that he’d make a noise and maybe the "tuskless?" cow would turn toward us and the oncoming bunch would stop. I’d have to be ready for a frontal brain shot and Lou would keep an eye on the intrusive oncomers.

Lou clapped his hands and the target cow wheeled around to face us, and there, saving her bacon, was a stub of a tusk, maybe 8” long sticking out of her right side. Dang! She didn’t hesitate but a moment and left for Vic Falls or somewhere.

The elephants that were approaching way too close, thankfully, stopped a moment upon Lou’s clap, spun away and in seconds, they and about 60 more elephants, if you count the little ones, were over a hill and out of sight. Lou's Wilkes .470 N.E. wasn't needed.

Dang, that was a thrill!

After that fun, we checked the bait camera at the blind where we almost became mush and discovered that the big tom had shown up at 3:30 a.m. and stayed until 6:10 a.m. (which was close to shooting light, but no cigar yet).

We decided to sit that night and the next morning, which we did, to no avail. Chui came after midnight and left before dawn.

By day five of the seven day safari, Emmy had already killed her buffalo, a great kudu and was hunting warthogs and maybe a duiker. She already had a good impala from her 2008 safari and was holding out for something bigger, but would take a giant if the opportunity presented itself. She and her P.H. also were keeping a lookout for a tuskless for me.

Right before dark on the fifth day, returning towards camp in an area called Little Deka, Emmy and Kevin saw a gaggle of elephants that had a grown cow sporting no ivory.

Lou and I were about 10 miles away when the radio crackled with their news. We could get there, Lou figured, before dark if we hurried. The elephants, according to Kevin, were about 600 yards from a road and moving toward it. Kevin marked to spot with some toilet paper and moved on so as not to disturb the oncoming animals.

Lou became Mario Andretti as we banged and soared over and into the ruts and rocks on the two-track.

Crap! We hadn’t gone a mile when there were three bull elephants just standing in the middle of the road. We slowed, hoping that they would move on, but they just stood there. We putted closer, maybe 50 yards from them but they seemed not to care much, not even looking our way but to our left... So I looked over to see their interest.

Holy jumbo turds! The whole dang valley was full of elephants, maybe a hundred or more... and only 40 yards away, and looking right at us, was an ancient and huge tuskless lady.

Everyone slipped out of (or off of) the far side of the vehicle, me crawling over Lou’s seat. I looked pretty funny doing it, I'll bet, but thank goodness the videographer was with Emmy. My rifle was handed down to me and I put a solid in the spout and made sure that I had four down.

We peeked around the Cruiser and discovered that “our” elephant had begun feeding again and had moved about 30 yards farther away and was moving down the valley to our left.

View from behind the vehicle before the stalk:



We bent down as low as possible and kind of duck walked back down the road for about 100 yards before we looked for her again. Big Mama had moved another 80 yards away from the road (now maybe 120 total) and was still feeding right to left, but this time, we were ahead of her route.

Lou signaled for the assistant tracker and the game scout to stay on the road bed and he, Clement and I went down into the tall grass (about nipple high) and began our stalk. It was 40 long steps down to a flat and we made that distance rapidly.

Now within 80 yards, I began to think that this might work!

There were no trees for cover in the flat of the valley and the grass was much shorter down there. By this time, we had elephants everywhere but behind us and luckily, the wind was in our faces.

Somewhat putting stealth aside, we just walked slowly toward our target until we arrived where the flat began to rise up the hill. That put us at 40 yards or so. Clement put up the shooting sticks, but I declined them and looked at Lou. He knew what I wanted to do and nodded his head. I eased up the hill a bit, and a bit more.

Grandma was all by herself. There wasn’t an elephant within 30 yards of her. She was quartering slightly away. I took a deep breath and raised my rifle. The white line on the express sight mated with the bead and I moved them together to a spot right behind her ear hole. I let out some air and made a deliberate squeeze.

At the shot, her rear dropped immediately and her head seemed to jerk upward. She was dead before she even hit the ground and stiff-legged half-rolled with her back towards me. Glancing left and right for any elephants that didn’t like the noise, I racked the bolt, aimed back at her and fired at the spine between her shoulders, hitting where I aimed. She didn't even move.

Behind me, Lou hollered at a young bull that really wasn’t running at us, but just hauling ass towards the other elephants. He’d have gotten pretty close if not waved off. Thanks, Lou!

In less time that it takes to read this paragraph, there wasn’t an elephant in sight. A hundred of them gone in no time. Boy does that make a racket and your heart beat like the big bass drum of The President's Own.

I climbed up to the elephant and put another unneeded round in her chest and it was over.

My first shot had entered just behind the ear hole and had exited just in front of the one on the other side. I took a bit of solace that I did it right.

Shooting an elephant is not a casual act for me. They are big. They might be as old as you or I am. They are magnificent and complex animals. I do love to hunt them, but it is always an emotional experience when I kill one.
I don’t shout in exuberance upon their death. I don’t do high fives or dance a jig. Neither does Lou as the picture reveals.



I usually just sit down by the great animal and think of what it might have experienced. Lions and poachers, raising offspring, raiding crops, surviving wars and government changes.

Elephants are animals, just animals… certainly not scient or with a soul, but mighty special animals they are. So I sat there for about five minutes and thought about what I’d done.

I’d hunted her fair and square. I went in close and among her fellow elephants. There was some real danger, I guess. I made sure she didn’t have a dependent calf. I made the right shot.

After a minute or two, I began to smile and the emotional conflict began to become joy of a job well done and a damn fine hunt. I walked over to Lou and slapped him on the back and asked him if we could do this again next year. Lou smiled. He didn’t have to say a thing.

I looked to the west. The sun was a red ball just touching the nearest hill.



It was black dark before we got back to the vehicle only 300 yards or so away. I reached into the cooler, popped a Zambezi, turned to the lady, now asleep forever and drank a toast to her for giving me the opportunity to hunt such a fine animal. I was in Africa and all was well

Pictures the next morning:



Not much hair on this old woman's tail.













Lil' Ernest really works!



The excitement was far from over.

When we got the "tuskless sighted" call from Kevin, we’d just put up a female impala in the tree where we’d been awaiting the leopard. The theory was that the cat would take the bait to a place it felt more comfortable and more likely to feed during the daytime. Lou called it a "take-away". Kind of like McDonald's drive-through for Mr. Spots, I guess.

We found out the next morning, after setting up the recovery of the elephant, that Lou’s theory was correct when we arrived about 11:00 a.m. and found the impala gone.

Following the drag marks was pretty easy at first in the dusty soil, but it got a bit slower when we got to a grassy creek bed about 300 yards from the original tree. The wind was blowing about 30 miles an hour and that didn’t help much either.

Obviously, following the path where a leopard has taken an animal is not something you do without great caution. We proceeded very, very slowly and constantly scanned the trees, hoping to spot the impala where the leopard stowed it.

Amato is Lou’s second tracker. He’s mighty good. We were proceeding with Amato first, Clement a bit to his right and Lou behind them about arms length. I was right behind Lou's left shoulder and the game scout was behind me. Lou and I had rounds in the chamber, of course.

All of a sudden, with no little animation, Amato excitedly pointed, not at a tree, not at a distance, but right at his feet. Damn if there wasn’t a leopard, inches from his right big toe, dead asleep. The air pressure immediately dropped a few millibars when our collective assholes snapped shut.

I’ll never forget the size and blackness of one rosette on the cat’s left hind end. Lou and I snapped our rifles to our shoulders and the safeties clicked off in unison. I remember hearing them over the howling wind. Maybe that’s what awakened the leopard because it immediately was in fifth gear and in the tall grass before anyone could even think of shooting it or was it male or was it a danger or whatever. All I knew was that it was a leopard, it had a big rosette on its ass and it was gone.

I don't think I ever want to be six or seven feet from a live leopard again. No... I'm sure. Next leopard I'm that close to had better be in a zoo or resting peacefully in kitty heaven 'cause of an expanding bullet through his lungs.

Maybe 20 seconds later, when we calmed down a bit, Clement started pointing up the hill where the leopard had headed. Dang if the darn thing didn’t just curl up in a ball and lie down again. I’ll bet he (assuming it was the one we had pictures of) didn’t know what had spooked him, he just heard a metallic noise and got out of there, but who knows?

The leopard was now about 250 yards away and we watched him preen himself a bit, then get up and move off towards some thick stuff. He didn't seem very spooked and we took that for a good sign.

After he disappeared we discovered that he had taken the impala up a tree and wedged it in a fork that we couldn’t see from the backside. He’d eaten the whole dang thing except for the guts which he’d ripped out like a surgeon and left on the ground.

We went back to the truck and got the rear hams from another impala to refresh the bait and as quietly as possible we built a blind up the hill and down wind.

We sat on the blind that night, the last morning and evening.



The cat came back regularly, but after dark. He’s a smart dude and will probably die of old age…. But, boy! Did he give us a thrill?

So, now you know why I got gruntled at Matetsi.. A great hunt for my daughter, a fine old tuskless lady for me and almost counting coup on a leopard.

The last night in Africa, we had a superb dinner at the Ilala Lodge in Victoria Falls with David Hulme and Russell Caldecott. I highly recommend the place. Russell, of course, arranged it. The other fellow (Lee Davenport, also from my hometown) had just returned from a great hunt to the Caprivi with Karl Stumpfe). I had no Scotch, of course. As you can see, the tail didn't make much of a bracelet, but dang, I'll wear it proudly, anyway.



I’ll be back.

I just can't get enough of Africa.

What a great hunt and you sir just made me experience it with you,congrats you are a fine writer and a great hunter.

Great report Judge. A trip like that will allow a guy to put up with a year or two of life's usual BS by reliving the experience.

Perry

Judge G,

Absolutely brilliant...love your descriptions of the experience.

Regards

S

Thanks for taking us along Judge !!!

Congratulations on the ele and a fine hunt with your daughter !

Thanks Judge! A great hunt story.

Fine report as always sir, exciting and well written. It is great to see young people like Emmy getting out there with the 'dagga boys'!

Best regards Judge, hope to run into you again soon. David

Sounds like a great time was had by all! Good show Ernest

465H&H

You packed a lot of excitement into one hunt Judge! Well done.

I'd be gruntled too with a hunt like that. First time I've heard the term but obviously the opposite of disgruntled must be gruntled. A good story and a nice new word to bandy about.

Judge ,
your a brave man sitting next to Russell. you know his ugly will rub off on you!!!!!

Nice looking 404 and a good story to go with it.

quote:

Originally posted by ddrhook:
Judge ,
your a brave man sitting next to Russell. you know his ugly will rub off on you!!!!!

It'll never happen. There's too much of a good looking counterbalance on his other side.

Wonderfully written. Congratulations on a great safari.

Nice -----very nice!
Congrats
G

Well done Sir!

Thanks for the report. Almost made it seem like we were there, almost.

Tom

Well written and entertaining as all get-out, Ernest! Thanks for taking the time to share...

Great tale Judge. I could feel your excitement and reflection about the old lady.

Always a great story Judge, emotions included. Cheers, David

Yes, it's ALWAYS hard to come back. . . .Great report and pics!

Wow, That was a fantastic read. My butt puckered a little too with the leopard. That must have been one exciting safari.

Thanks for sharing the adventure. I always enjoy your stories.
I was considering having myself regruntled, now I know it's possible.

Great story telling!

Ernest, sounds like you and Emmy had as much fun as Dan and I did, up in the Omay. Great story, and in the end, it's ALL fun!


Mad Dog

I could actually feel the tension when you were in the popup under the elephant. Great writing! heck of a good story, too.

Judge,

Thanks for posting this report. My Lil Ernest is sitting next to me as I write this. We leave for Zim on October 23.

Hartley

Judge,
You are a true artist with words. I've always enjoyed your stories, and this was no exception.
Max

JudgeG,

I thoroughly enjoyed reading your story. You are an excellent writer! In this day and age it most don't have half the command of the written word that you have. I'll bet you could write a book on your adventures. Since I'm still a young man, I can only hope to one day experience a hunt like this and be able to record it like you have. I really like your perspective on elephant hunting as well.
Congratulations on a wonderful hunt!


Joshua

Brilliant report, and I totally agree with your views on the emotions involved in hunting elephant. On one hand, why would we ever want to do it?, but on the other that instinct and that need just keeps drawing us back. I have never been able to make any logic out of it, but I cant wait to do it again next year.

Great story telling. Hunting with your heart in the right place. I thought I was the only one that sits and looks at the quarry and wonders if we did it the right way, or gave him the right amount of honour before the end. Enjoying the chase but being slightly remorsefull
dave

I'm disgruntled about not being on an African hunt this year.

Brilliant !

quote:

I took a bit of solace that I did it right.

You certainly did, Judge.

Great writing, great story, we all enjoyed your efforts at bringing it to us!! How did your daughter's story go???

Another great report Judge.

A great report and wonderful adventure--I'm counting on hearing a "live" version of this story when around the campfire in 3 months.

Absolutely loved it. Great tale! Hard to convey the feelings after shooting an elephant, unless you've done it, but you certainly got it right.

I walked those same path's in 2004..

Matetsi will allway's be one of the fondest in my heart..

MM

Somebody buy my Model 70 in classifieds so I can go again!