In the Gwayi Valley conservancy 2001, we (Pierre van Wyk, the tracker, and me)are tracking what we believe to be two or three buffalo bulls. Well they are tracking and I am following trying not to make too much noise.

We are getting closer and closer as the dung is getting wetter and warmer every 10-15 minutes.

We had crossed a stream about 50 yards back, and are still in some riverine brush. We have now stopped to listen. After about thirty seconds, about 25 yards to our right front we hear a huge rustle in the brush and see two buffalo rumps take off and runaway.

Pierre and I instantly look at each other dumbfounded as we had been perfectly still and the wind was in our face and then just a second later we hear a horrible barking about 75-100 yards in front of us but the bruuh is pretty dense.

Pierre and the tracker take off running towards the noise and I follow trying to not fall and hurt myself. Within a few moments, I catch up to Pierre and the tracker and there is a male bushbuck caught in a wire snare. It had just happened and the buffalo had heard it a moment before we did and it spooked the buffalo.

Now we have an adult bush buck caught in a wire snare around its head and cutting into its neck. The bushbuck begins to succumb as its thrashing stops.

We want to save this busbuck obviously but we are going to have cut the snare loose and as we approach the busbuck starts to thrash again.

Pierre is checking the bushbuck out and the tracker and I each grab a horn so Pierre can "make a plan" and the bushbuck starts to thrash some more. Interesting how strong a 125 lb animal can be even close to death; i.e. running out of oxygen. I have visions of a bushbuck horn going someplace I won't like. I place my ball cap over the busbuck's eyes I guess I saw one too many Wild Kingdom shows as a kid)and it calms down a bit. Pierre examines the wounds and sees that they look worse than they are and figures if we can't get snare off quickly the bushbuck will live. So I hand my leatherman to Pierre and he cuts the snare loose.

But now we have to turn a pissed off bushbuck loose and we are going to be in close proximity. So Pierre grabs a horn in each hand and tells me and the tracker to "back off". We clear some debris quickly form behind Pierre so he can have quick retreat.

We back off and Pierre gives the bushbuck a mighty shove and releases his grip on the horns. The bushbuck takes off and runs away and all is well. I even remember to pick up my hat.

Just thought I would share.

Mike, good story, thanks.

I shot a bushbuck in Dande and when we went into the jesse to find it, one of the trackers (Dube) took a spear with him. He said they were dangerous.

thanks mike

i really liked that.

best

peter

Mike - Great story! Richard Bell-Cross and I released an Impala caught in snare, hanging upside down, in his Zambia concession. Kinda gives you a good feeling, doesn't it?

Aaron,

Yeah it was a good feeling.

Hanging upside down? Was this like a trip wire snare?

All the snares I had ever seen were simply a big loop of wire across a game trail attached to a tree or a small log that the animal would drag.

What is this crap, an African hunting story on the African Hunting Forum? How did Mark Sullivan and the Vietnam War factor into this incident? Is Pierre a former Navy Seal that has stared death in the eye, mano y mano?

Thanks for sharing. Neat story.

Good story Mike. For my self it is hard to pick just one.

Mike - Many are like you mention. Other times often poachers will also make it like a "trip" snare as you mention. In which they bend over a small tree, and when the animal steps in the snare, its releases and the tree jerks upwards. This impala stepped into the snare with its back leg, and when the snare sprung, up she went! She obviously had not been there long, but we did immediately release her.

Thank you. That is what a man would do.

Rich
DRSS

Last March, my son was hunting buffalo with Lloyd Yeatman in Nixon's Malapati concession. I was along as a happy observer. It's so rewarding to see my son take the rifle into his own hands, his own hunt.

We got into buffalo the very first day. A herd appeared in front of the magic hour before sunset. We were hot on their trail. But they were magicians, fading in and out of the mopane. One bull, just a glimpse, sent everyone's adrenaline pumping. He was just a dream bull. But as the last light faded, so did our chances on this magnificent bull. No worries, tomorrow is another day.

The next two days were repeats. Finding the herds, with only a glimpse of great bulls. But they never revealed enough shoulder for Ty to make the shot.

Day four, we got a radio call from Nixon - two dugga boys crossed the road only a bit ago. Whoosh- off to the spot. On the way in, my buddy John was kind enough to make arrow shaped cairns pointing the way. We found the tracks, and off we went.

Well, it was first thing in the morning - the anticipation ran high. Our trackers were good, very good. If they lost the track, one of the 3 would pick it up again shortly. It was just a matter of time now.

We first bumped the bulls a few hours later. We became aware of each other simultaneously, but their 4 legs could move faster than our 2. After them again. This time, they crossed some heavy, dark ravines. Lloyd glanced around, took the rifle off his back and cradled it in his arms. OK, I did the same, though I had to wonder if it would do much good in 2 feet of visibility. But it did feel better to have 2 500 grain bullets ready to launch.

We bumped those bulls three more times as the day wore out. Lloyd sent the trackers back to get the truck. We would push on and meet them in the road a ways ahead. As we turned a corner, there was a very dark shape on the far side of the pan, 100 yards ahead. One quick look, and the sticks go up. Ty is on it, staring down the scope with the bull staring right back. We are at a standoff.

I am waiting for the bull to turn, anticipating the ensuing shot. Instead, Ty lets 300 grains of X fly strait on. Bullseye! The bull rolls on his back, legs in the air, dead right there.

Seems Lloyd saw Ty shoot, and asked my son if he could shoot the bull between the eyes. Ty complied, perfectly.

Does not get ay better than that!

Jack,

That is a great story...and well written too.

Congrats to you and Ty.

Thank you Mike, I liked yours too.

And thanks for the course correction. Feels better than mudslinging, don't it?

Tracked a big-footed ele for 4 hours in the heat of November in the Caprivi. Turned out to be a big-footed cow.
When we finally got up on them, they were lounging in a mudhole, and one youngster was rubbing his butt on his cousin.


I took photos and we backed out.

I hate a snare worse than a rattlesnake.

I recently saw an elephant with one around its knee and a giraffe with one around its foot. Both animals were ambulatory and well nourished, but it was obvious that they were in pain and that they would likely die a long, painful death. It just about made me cry. I sure am glad that you saved one animal from a horible, indescriminate death at the wrong end of a poacher's snare.

As Mrs. Safari Lawyer aptly said, "I'd like to catch a poacher in one of those snares and watch him suffer."

On my first trip to Africa we met this little old lady. She was raising her teenage grand kids because he son and his wife were killed in a car accident. She was about as happy as anyone i have ever met. Made my wife and i happy just to be able to meet. her.

There you go guys, now this is the real AR.....

Mike, your story reminds me of when I saved a bushbuck in much the same kind of situation. It was on the Borderline walk last year, on the Kariba shoreline and also a pretty big ram. I approached the snared buck cautiously as it was threshing about and grabbed its horns. Then I loosened the wire and got it over its head, maintaining a firm grip on one horn. I then employed the same method as Pierre - holding its horns away from me and giving it a good shove. But this particular bushbuck was a little disorientated and it spun around, shot past me and leaped into the dam! It promptly became entangled in weed in quite deep water and began sinking. Well, what could I do but leap in after it, hoping that if a croc decided to put in an appearance it would go for the buck not the man! I eventually got the buck to shore and once again shoved it towards the bush. But this time it turned and attacked me. Fortunately I saw it coming and it was somewhat weakened by its ordeal. As it dropped its head I turned my back and it horned me in the left buttock. Not very badly, but a frontal would have been a lot worse I reckon. My tracker took photos throughout and I have a pretty good sequence. I have a weak internet connection right now but will post some of them when I can. Thanks for the entertaining thread.

Wasn't there a certain PH killed by a bushbuck? Anyone hear this tale? In Tanzania if I remember correctly....

Dave

David,

If you email me the photos, I can post them right quick. mike.dettorre (at) gmail .com

Drop the spaces and replace the (at) with @.

I don't remember a PH getting killed but I thought a homeowner was recently hurt in the RSA.

On the last day of a safari I said I'd like a crack at a bushbuck. We spent the last few hours of that day slowly stalking a riverine bottom for a few miles. Saw a bunch of different animals including bushbuck. Alas the few we saw were all females.

After the sun had set we began slowly walking back to the vehicle. As darkness settled in I started hearing these barking noises coming from all directions around us. There were more than a few individual animals involved.

Eventually I asked my PH what animal was making that barking noise as it didn't quite sound like anything I had heard previously. He replied it was bushbucks calling.

I looked at him and said that if he told me only the males barked I was going to shoot myself.......he laughed and said both sexes bark.

I never verified that and I really don't want to know.

I have been sworn to secrecy about my fondest memory. BUT DAM IT"S FUNNY.

Thanks Mike, it's even a problem to email them from here....I'm working on it, may have to downsize them further, hope to get a few through to you.

Nice Post Mike and a welcome turn of direction for the board. I've put a temporary ban on Rich and have told him to get in his jaguar, take the top down and see how briskly his ponytail can flap in the wind. Seriously that's a nice story and one the antis don't hear enough of from our side.

They're ignorance would lead them to believe we'd do something to end the bushbuck's life. Instead it was a hunter that gave him new life.

interesting bushbuck story-- i was hunting in the eastern cape and shot a nice bushbuck about 300 yards off of a cliff, he was standing next to a small creek about 12 ft across.he went down at the shot and we proceeded down leaving my hunting partner and one of the guys on top, when we got down he was gone, we looked arounf and the tracker was even baffled, I looked up and they were hand signaling me to go across creek there is was with a big hole in his side. They watched another Ram hook him and with a single toss threw him across the creek. needless to say we were shocked

Mike, I managed to upload a few to photobucket....Still trying to get the rest to you.

Finally managed to upload some more of the operation bushbuck sequence....The poor creature had little chance of survival anyway - we lifted so many snares in that area that we couldn't carry them all and had to resort to stuffing them down old antbear holes and throwing them into the water.....The Zimbabweans in Mlibizi blame the Zambians but I believe that it is actually open season on both fronts there. One thing for certain is that no authorities (forestry area) are combating poaching there. I would have posted a picture of my pierced buttock, but fear being banned for posting pictures of half-naked men.....

Great thread, great stories

great posting great pictures and story thank you very much

Last summer when hunting for Buffalo in Hippo Valley we heard a kudu barking. Upon walking up on him, we saw that he was caught by a snare in the midsection.

As we walked up on him, he stopped moving and trashing and stared us down. As he was staring down my buddy and I, the game scout slipped up next to the kudu with my leatherman tool and was able to undo the snare. The kudu gave us a bark, turned away and crashed through the brush.