Going through old safari pictures to post on the SAFARI PICTURES thread, brought up a lot of memories.

Those memories are not in pictures.

So I though I will start a new thread, where our members cam post their memorable stories.

Two of my hunting friends, Roy and Walter, somehow managed to get on the wrong side of each other.

One afternoon we decided to give hunting buffalo and go shoot some birds of the pot.

I had a Browning B2000 semi auto shotgun.

We all went to find Guinea fowl and francolins.

I shot a few, then asked Walter to shoot some.

He tried, and kept missing.

Roy, being the helpful professional hunter, got the shooting sticks out, and ran to Walter.

He told him to use the sticks, he might do better than all the missing he is being very good at.

Walter tried, but it was not very easy shooting flying birds off the stick.

Walter asked Roy to put the sticks up, so he can practice on them.

As Roy was adjusting the sticks, Walter put the shotgun barrel by Roy's ears and fired 5 shots in succession1

Roy threw the stick down, screaming and holding his ears "%#@^&* Bloody German! I will $#%@#& GET you for this"

Walter gave up, and I shot a few more birds.

On the way back to camp, riding in the front with Roy, I started talking to him in whispers.

He said "I CANNOT HEAR YOU! THAT BLOODY GERMAN RUINED MY EARS! I WILL GET MY 460 WEATHERBY AND BLOW HIS &#$%@& EAR DRUMS"

This conversation continued all the way to the camp, and Roy thought he was stone deaf.

South Africa 2011

Prelude to the Porcupine story. My Wife wanted some African porcupine quills. She had asked friends who were travelers Africa obtain a porcupine as she wanted the quills, and if they were successful to let us know what we would owe for the trophy fees. Hunting friends who had been hunting in Namibia, Zimbabwe, Botswana and South Africa never saw or ran across one.

Therefore, traveling to South Africa in 2011, I put the Porcupine at the top of the list.

2011 was my first hunting trip to South Africa. Working with the booking agent, he provided me a list of animals that should be available and porcupine was an animal that was on the list. We would be hunting open range areas in the Kwazulu Natal area and I provide a list of 6 animals to go after on a 10 day safari. Porcupine was at the top of the list.

First up was Bush Pig, we had set aside 3 days and evening for bush pig. There were 4 areas on 30,000 acres where bait locations were set up. The first night, we are all hunkered down in a ground blind watching the bait station from about 75 yards away.

The night was cool as we were hunting the end of August. we were trying to fit 2 people in a one person ground blind. So we were tight, a small bush pig slipped in from our right and we let it eat and leave, exiting to our left. Next coming in from our left was larger animal and the PH was not sure if it was bush pig or not.

I was put on notice to get ready and shoot as he slowly turned on the red light. What the PH thought was initially a good sized Bush Pig I could make out as a Porcupine and when it presented a sided view I was shooting and the PH was saying do-not-shoot.

Short story the PH was pissed that I shot the porcupine and I was as happy as a clam in high tide.

We moved to another location and I did secure a nice bush pig.

The PH still tells the story about the hunter who shot a porcupine.

#1

Two friends were hunting elephant along the Ruaha River prior to the area being gazetted for a NP. Hunter 1 walked into camp to find hunter 2 roasting a kori bustard over the fire.

Hunter 1. "You can't shoot them. They are protected."

Hunter 2. "This one wasn't."

---------------------------------------------------------

#2

Years later I was hunting and the ph needed to attend to some personnel business. I told him that was fine. Just leave me with a shotgun around a water hole. He returned about dark and asked how the hunt had been. I said fantastic. I had shot my first kori bustard! (I hadn't)

His reaction

My reaction


--------------------------

That's probably all my kori bustard stories.

First day with a new, to me, PH in Tanzania. We spent several hours sorting out the tracks on a herd of eland and finally came up on them. They were mixed up with a couple of giraffe. I got a clear shot at the biggest bull and he jumped, typical heart shot. I said to Blake that I got a good shot at the big orange one. You wouldn't believe the look I got. He actually wasn't sure. The whole group took out after the herd and I let them go. I went and found my eland before Blake realized he'd lost his client. Was kind of funny, but we had a great safari.

My long time friend, Roy, who I have been hunting with for years, is a big bore fan.

He believes the bigger the better.

He built himself a 585 Nyati.

I arrived at camp with a 416 Weatherby Magnum, and a 270 Ackley.

He said "why are you using these little guns? That 270 is a minimum caliber for many animals"

I said "I have magic bullets in it. It will kill anything it hits"

Roy was not convinced, and some of my shots were not exactly killing shots, but somehow the animals died!

We were shooting impala for bait.

I shot at one partially hidden, and he dropped in his tracks.

When we got to him, Roy took a closer look and said "you almost missed him"

He was looking at the bullet hole, which was in the neck, but hardly damaging anything.

I have no idea why the impala died.

I said "see what I mean? Magic bullets"

A few days later, I shot another impala.

Again, he dropped in his tracks.

All hell broke loose when we got to him.

Roy got a stick, and was trying to seeing he could stick it into the chest cavity.

Would not go in, as the bullet just creased the bottom of the chest cavity.

Again, I have no idea why he died.

Roy kept repeating "he shouldn't have died! he shouldn't have died!"

A while later we were walking in the forest, and came across fresh lion tracks.

I said "what do we do now? I only have the 270!"

Roy said "Lets is go finding him. He would no the difference!"

Female Game Scouts. My first experience with one was in 2008 in the Selous. She was issued an old Mauser .458 that she was deathly afraid of. In fact, there wasn't much she wasn't afraid of. We tracked a herd of about 200 buffalo into some really thick riverine crud and tried to sort the herd for a couple of hours at really close quarters. No good bulls, but it was a bit interesting. Finally ran the last of the herd off by throwing rocks. Walking out, we bumped an elephant bull that did his usual routine. Vocal and throwing stuff in our general direction. She was physically ill on both ends.
She followed us one more time after that. We followed a small group of buffalo until we ran out of light and had to return to the gharrie after dark. She never left the car after that.
Only other female game scout I ever had was top notch.

Mixed bag hunt in SA. All going well outside of my Pop dropping his 338 wm out of a tree hide, snapping it in two at the wrist. Local farmer splinted and bandaged her nicely though. I still had a Kudu to get and wasn’t having any luck till the final day. Ph spotted a shooter high up on the side of a rather tall hill(Ohioans call them mountains). I settled in with the 30/06 and dropped this bull straight over on his nose. I mean just poleaxed him, game over. Tracker and my Pop started backslapping right off, our ph incredulously asked what are you talking about? You completely missed him! We all thought he’d been in the sun a bit too long but he was adamant I missed and that I missed a big one. After quickly determining there were 2 kudus, one dead and one still alive picking his way higher up the mountain, a real dandy of a bull, and that I would gladly pay for a second bull, I dropped it as well. Although not as nicely but dead none the less. I believe the first bull went over 50”. I do know the second was 63” and I was dam glad I went for it on a split second decision.

Hunting in Westwood, Zimbabwe.

We drove towards an open plain, where we had left bait for hyenas.

We stopped the truck about a kilometer away, and walked in a forest towards the plain.

Walter followed us at a slower pace.

We got to the plain, but no hyenas were there.

A few minutes later, an old, very thin lioness walked by us, 20 yards from us, and never paid us any attention.

A few minutes later, Walter arrived.

The lioness passed a few yards from Walter, as she over took him!!

Until today, we have no idea what was wrong with that lioness!??

In 2015 I was on my third of five hunts with Jan du Plessis of Sebra Hunting Safaris. While there, Jan had some electrical problems with his Toyota and needed to bring it into Outjo, about a 75 mile drive to get it fixed. He hooked me up with a young PH named Lourens Grobler and we drove in his truck to Orpheus, a farm owned by a PH named Danie Jansen van Vuuren. When arriving at Orpheus we picked up a Himba tracker/ skinner named Kamadi. After three unsuccessful stalks on Blue Wildebeest, Kamadi finally tracked up a monster Blue Wildebeest. A single shot at 90 yards from Jan’s loaner 8X68mm Mauser poleaxed him. We drove back to the skinning shed and Kamadi reduced the carcass down to a European Mount while I sipped a couple of Tafel Lagers and smoked a Cuban Montecristo. I gave Kamadi a $200 Namibian tip, which is about $16 US. You’d think I had given him $1000 US he was so genuinely appreciative.

Was hunting in Simanjiro out of a fly camp near the park boundary. One day around lunch time we found ourselves close to camp, so we decided just to get lunch in camp that day. We'd just finished lunch when there was an incredible commotion in the kitchen tent. Banging and clanging, screeching and a whole lot of Swahili profanity. The camp manager ran up to us, sitting at the dining table. He was sweating and out of breath. With his hands on his knees and breathing heavily, he asked me in Swahili if I wanted to shoot a baboon. I had to laugh.
Hapana! Asante.

I can hear the questions. And where did you shoot this one? -- in the kitchen tent.

Walter and Roy have a bit of a trust issue.

Neither trusts the other, with good cause.

After that incident with the shotgun, Roy kept saying "I am going to get him!"

And Walter looks at anything Roy's does with suspicion.

Walter loves shooting warthogs.

We were in Chete, in an open area by the a river, which has no trees as they were killed by the flooding of lake Kariba.

There were lots of dead trees logs standing, and some laying down.

We saw a warthog lying under one of these logs a few hundred yards away.

Roy took Walter in a sort of a circle, to get down wind of the warthog, which took them quite a distance.

Walter does not like walking.

They got to the pig, and shot it.

When we got to them, there was a heated argument going on between them.

Walter accusing Roy of making him walking "miles and miles" just to satisfy his sorded desire to make Walter tired.

Roy was telling him they would not have gotten the pig if they did not do what they did.

It was the summer, and it was hot.

Walter also likes to shoot zebra.

Trouble is zebra are not easy to get close to if you don't want to walk.

This is another year.

My wife brought along a very realistically looking zebra rug, made of cloth.

She also brought some stage blood.

Now you see why I married her!

We took the zebra blanket with us in the morning, made a frame in the bush close to a water hole, and put teh blanket on it.

The idea was to bring Walter in the afternoon and get him to shoot it.

Walter only goes out with us when we are not hunting buffalo, or elephant. Because he cannot walk, and stayes in teh truck.

At lunch time in the camp.

"What are you hunting this afternoon?" asked Walter.

"I think we might go looking for sable or eland by one of the waterholes we have not been too for a while" I said.

"Then I will come along with you. You need my luck to be successful" Said Walter.

Of we went in the afternoon. We stopped the truck a few hundred yards from the water hole, and went on foot.

I said "Walter, sometimes zebra come here too. We found their tracks the other day. If we see them, you can shoot one. Impala too. If we see any of these, you can shoot one. Sable or eland, my turn"

All he said "good"

Roy was walking ahead, and us behind him.

As he got close to the water hole, he asked us to stop so he can go alone and find whatever is at the water.

He got on his hands and knees, and crawled, went around a tree, and took his time looking through his binoculars.

Eventually he looked back, mouthing the word ZEBRA.

I gave Walter my rifle, and pointed him to Roy.

Being a very seasoned hunter, Walter got down on his hands and knees, and started crawling very slowly behind Roy.

The way Roy got going, was a performance worthy of a Hollywood prize.

The rest of us stayed behind, and I was having extreme difficulty maintaining my composure.

Eventually Roy puts the stick up.

Walter, seeing only part of the zebra as it was hidden behind some bush, asked "which way is he looking?"

"He is looking to the right. What you see is the shoulder. Shoot!"

BANG.

The zebra is still standing.

Roy "He is still there. Shoot him again!"

BANG.

By now non of us could keep quiet, we all burst out laughing.

Klaus, Walter's life long friend from Germany, was telling him something in German, and clapping him on the back.

I had teh stage blood, and ran off to the zebra.

Walter's shots were perfect.

I put stage blood on the holes.

We loaded it up and went off again.

Funny enough a little while later, we found a zebra herd, and I shot one.

As we were loading him up, Walter gets his blanket out, lays down, and sits on it.

Saying "Hahahaha! MY zebra is READY for us. Yours is bloody, dirty, smelly"

Now that's funny!

Took my wife on her first safari in 2017. Promised her two things: 1) no snakes in Masailand in July (sounds like a safe bet); and 2) she'd stay in camp when we were after my one buffalo on quota.

I broke both promises. Snakes seem to find me wherever I go and buffalo are where you find them, whether you are looking for them or not.

quote:

Originally posted by lavaca:
Now that's funny!

Took my wife on her first safari in 2017. Promised her two things: 1) no snakes in Masailand in July (sounds like a safe bet); and 2) she'd stay in camp when we were after my one buffalo on quota.

I broke both promises. Snakes seem to find me wherever I go and buffalo are where you find them, whether you are looking for them or not.

Hahahaha! Too true!

Moral of that story is rarely say anything that may be construed as any kind of promise!

Before a hunting trip to Kyrgyzstan, my wife asked me if the horses would be reliable.

I said yes.

They don’t want to fall down any more than you do. You can trust them.

Fast forward.

A few months later, in the Tien Shan mountains, on the Chinese border, at 12,000 feet.

My wife’s horse was struggling up the steep side of a mountain.

The horse was not quite right.

I was ahead of her.

I looked back, and saw my wife and her mount, as he struggled mightily in the slippery rocks, then faltered and fell.

My wife was thrown, and hit her head on a rock. Then, the damned horse stepped on her leg as it stumbled to its feet.

The bruises were not pretty.

Yellow and purple and painful and plentiful.

But no broken bones and no broken spirit.

I can tell this story as though it happened yesterday - because my wife often and frequently keeps it fresh in my memory.

quote:

Yellow and purple and painful and plentiful.

Horse make up

quote:

Originally posted by Saeed:

quote:

Yellow and purple and painful and plentiful.

Horse make up

Yup. But only if you survive.

How a horse can fall so often, off of four feet, and flat on his and your ass, I will never understand!

Walter brought a gorilla suit to Chete.

We kept goi g around the staff area with our cameras and rifles, saying we have seen a very big ape.

After dinner, Walter puts it on, and goes to the kitchen.

All hell broke loose.

Everyone was running in every direction.

We made all the right screaming noises.

Went back and to bed.

In the morning we found several members of the staff were not in camp!

They spent the night up a tree each!

Oh. Almost forgot this one. Went to a concession the first year the outfitter had it. Poaching had been rampant under the prior operation. We had three dead elephant bulls within a kilometer of camp and you could smell them when the wind was wrong. The President had just issued a very public shoot to kill order. Of course, the poachers hear those too. I was told to sleep with my rifle. Fun times.

Well, one morning, before daylight, everything is going normally:

Hodi

Karibu

They bring in my tea.

I'm dressed by this point, sitting in a chair waiting to put on my boots after I drink my tea. The guys take my rifles to load them onto the gharrie and I start putting on my boots to go to breakfast. Then there is a shot, clearly from right in camp.

I have no weapon other than the small knife on my belt. I never covered the 100 yards between my tent and the gharrie faster (over 40 at least). I was loading a rifle when the game scout rather sheepishly revealed that he was loading his AK in preparation for the day and had an accidental discharge.

No one laughed about that one.

In Chete, Zimbabwe.

We left in the morning looking for elephant.

Found what looked like a promising pair of foot prints, and followed them.

Klaus, a friend from Germany was with us.

We caught up with the elephant in some thicket.

We could only see the top of his head, and we did not want to scare him by trying to get close as we did not know how much ivory he was carrying.

We were in a sort of a small clearing, and Roy suggested we wait there, while he tries to get close to the elephant to check.

It was nice a cool, before the sun went up.

The elephant was less than a 100 yards from us.

After quite a while, we heard the elephant screaming and crashing through the bush.

I was the only one armed.

I said to Alan "what do we do?"

"Nothing. We wait here as it is a bit open"

"How about you Klaus. What do we do?"

"I say with YOU. You have the gun!"

We waited for quite a while.

Suddenly we heard someone coming.

And there appears Roy.

Smiling from ear to ear.

His shirt in tatters, arms bleeding.

Apparently he got close to the elephant, and the elephant came looking for him.

He tried running away.

He ran into a thorn bush, and fell down.

The elephant was right above him, he had his rifle pointing up, with the elephant trunk a few feet from him.

Eventually the elephant smelled him, and took off!

1987Chobe, Botswana. We were fly camping and had 2 small tents. One for the PH and me, and another for the 8-10 staff. The staff tent was shoulder to shoulder with everyone sleeping on the ground.
The PH had the idea to catch a spring hare and let it go in the middle of the night in the staff tent. As you can imagine, all hell broke loose when it was let go. Great memory..

We were hunting in Chete, in the middle of the summer.

Chete gets pretty hot, and some members of our party get a bit affected by it.

We had an old German friend, who wanted to shoot a buffalo.

Trouble was he is not too keen on using my 416 Rigby Improved.

He said it kicks too much.

It was the dry season, and hardly any green.

We came across a very old buffalo bull, lying under a boabab tree.

He was probably on his death bed, and would never get up again.

Roy and Oscar went ahead to shoot it.

We were a few steps behind.

The buffalo was lying down, quartering away.

They got to a few yards of him, Roy puts the shooting stick up.

Oscar got on the sticks, and was ready for action.

Roy wanted to wait until the buffalo gets up, so he said "don't shoot"

BANG!

"F*&^! I said don't shoot!"

The buffalo was trying to get up.

Roy repeating "don't shoot!"

Oscars asks "is he dead?!"

I heard this, while the buffalo is trying to get up.

I fell on the ground laughing.

Oscar proceeded to fire 4 more shots to finish the buffalo.

When we got to him, he had 18 holes!!

Oscar's bullet stitched the buffalo from end to end.

Bullet hit him in his rear end, comes out of his hip, goes in the stomach, out by the shoulder, into the ear, out of there into the muzzle, and so on.

We laughed so much.

Roy was saying "I don't think there is any part of his anatomy you did not hit!"

Back when I was a lot younger, we had the hunting car break down and rather than lose an afternoon of hunting, decided to walk the river that camp sat on with a rifle and a shotgun. Hadn't found any game, but did jump a flock of guineas, so I passed my .416 to a tracker and took up a 12 gauge. Guineas don't like to fly so I took off running after them.
Still couldn't make them fly. Broke into a little opening and stopped short, looking at a cow elephant with a very small calf about 50 yards away, and I've got a shotgun and birdshot in my hand. Looked over my shoulder and the tracker with my rifle was nowhere in sight.

Fortunately, the cow took her trunk and nudged the rump of her calf in a different direction. Left me standing there with a shotgun and birdshot. Well when everyone finally caught up with me, I declared the day's hunt over and invested rather heavily into a bottle of scotch.

Back in the day I was 27 years old and desperately wanted to shoot a lion. life was passing me by, damn it!

The trophy fee was $1,500 U.S. The lions were having none of it, however.

One day two old timers showed up in camp. They owned a property in the area and during the frigid South African winters, they would leave their normal homes in the high country and spend a few months in the low veldt where it was a bit warmer.

They gave us permission to hunt on their land but we had to give them the meat. There was no trophy fee but if we shot a lion - we had to give them the $1,500.

Excellent. The game was pretty well all shot out but I did get one free impala. And that was good.

Our camp consisted of rondavels with my rondavel (which I shared with a rather unpleasant dude from California) had about a dozen single beds in it. All were arranged in a circle. The other hunter slept in a bed about as far from me as possible and still complained bitterly that he did not know who made the most noise? Me sleeping or the hyenas that came around at night whooping ..

Nice.

One evening Lolly Sussens and I were driving around when we spotted a hyena. It tried to get through some kind of fence, then changed its mind and took off - heading straight away.

I tried the legendary Texas (in my case, Alberta) heart shot and knocked the varmint down.

Lolly made absolutely sure that the hyena did not have enough life left to chomp off his hand and then, after a few photos, tossed it in the back of the recently purhased $500 jeep and we went back to camp.

Probably had a drink and then went to bed.

A short while later the two good old boys drove into the yard and went straight to the owner's rondavel where he and his lady had gone to bed. It must have been around midnight.

They stormed into their bedroom and demanded to know why we had shot a lion and did not tell them.

The landowner - this was news to him. He told the two angry men where I was sleeping.

They then rushed into my bedroom and demanded answers right then and there.

Hunting Zebra and I told X to shoot the Zebra on the far right. Did not feel I had to mention the foal.

On my one and only trip to Namibia about 20 years ago, things were not going well. Record cold. As I recall 8 degrees F. We were not equipped for this kind of cold.

The PH was not the best in the world nor was he fun to be around. We set a leopard bait. It was hit the first night. We made a blind. About an hour before dark, the PH stood up, announced he was cold and started walking back to the truck. I was thinking WTF?

When we got back to the farm house that was the base for the safari, we learned that six Germans had arrived to hunt. So much for exclusive use of the property. I was not happy.

Needless to say, the Germans spoke German. So did the PH and the owners of the farm. We didn't. As such, we sat there without the slightest idea what they were talking about. The only thing that was clear was they were all getting hammered.

I need to digress momentarily . One of the Germans was in his late 60's. He had long white hair and a long white beard. He looked like Santa Claus.

We got up to leave as did Santa Claus. Santa Claus was hammered. He walked straight into the deep end of the swimming pool. As I recall it was in the 20's on the Fahrenheit scale. He was in the deep end and was going to drown unless someone did something.

Well, I sure as hell wasn't going to jump in given the cold and his size. I weighed about 150 lbs at the time. I saw the pool skimmer. I grabbed it and stuck it out while yelling at him to grab it. He didn't understand English.

Well, I decided to take decisive action. I stuck the pool skimmer over his head and started pulling him to the side . Momentarily this freaked him out. He figured it out quickly relaxed for the short ride to the side of the pool.

Th next day, the wife got deathly ill. This pretty much ended the hunt. Back to Windhoek we went. As she got better, I decided I had had enough. Off we go to Sun City.

It was also cold cold cold . Palace of the Lost City is fantastic. Off we go to the casino. I proceed to win a bunch of money playing blackjack.

We head back to the hotel. I notice a jewelry store. Inside I notice this magnificent leopard bracelet. I bought it for the wife. It was expensive. She was happy.

Several months later, the bracelet had a problem. I arranged to send it back. I forgot about it totally. In the meantime, we got divorced.

About 2 or 3 years later, I go back to the Palace of the Lost City. When I walked by the jewelry store, I suddenly remembered the bracelet. I walked inside and the same guy who sold it to me was there. He recognized me. He remembered the bracelet. Still had it. They had lost my contact info. He was happy to give it back to me.

Now I had my ex -wife's magnificent leopard bracelet complete with diamonds & emeralds. I flew back to home wondering what to do with it. Seemed to me that I could either (a) give it to the ex or (b) give it to my girlfriend.

The girlfriend loved it when she got herself a new leopard bracelet!

I am sorry but I still think that is hysterical.

I am enjoying reading these stories.


As a youngster, my father and I go out to get some meat. Dad gets out of the Landrover to take his morning constitutional under a tree. He whispers loudly for me to bring a rifle. His pants are around his ankles and his business is on the ground as I hand him the 375. He has seen a herd of impala and tries to get a steady rest while in a squatting position. He pulls the trigger without considering Newton's Third Law of Motion. The kick sends him rocking backwards. He pushes back harder to keep from landing in the remains of yesterdays meals. He however fails to keep from dragging his pants that are firmly ensconced around his ankles through the mound. He removes his pants and cleans them the best he can. Unfortunately the smell was with us the rest of the day.

The impala was drt.

On a Botswana hunt, a troop of monkeys moved into the grove of trees we were camped under at dusk.

In the morning, while still dark and as I was getting dressed, I realized that the maid had given me the PH's clothes and he mine. I walked to his tent to trade out clothes. After exchanging clothes, I walked off his deck to a shower of debris that hit the top of the tent and my head. As I wiped off my head an oatmeal textured paste covered my hand. I smelled it and realized I had just been defecated on. I went back to the tent and washed the top of my head off. The smell however wouldn’t go away. After a few minutes I found some excess feces on my glasses and got rid of it. The smell however lingered. Finally after licking my lip I found where the last of the smell was coming from.

In the mid 90’s I made my first trip to Tanzania. My oldest brother tagged along to film. He had never been before .

I gave him some videos and some Capstick books. He read the books and was terrified.

We land in the Moyowasi. The PHs are there to pick us up. We are chatting and they say for us to beware of Brutus. I asked who Brutus was. They advised the proper question was WHAT is Brutus. I am thinking WTF? They advise that Brutus is this old buff bull that comes into camp every night . I am thinking this might be BS.

Night arrives . My brother and I are in the same tent. Jet lagged, I cannot sleep. I hear something walking in the grass. I lift my head and look out the screen window on my brother’s side of the tent . I’ll be dammed if there isn’t a large old buff bull walking right in front of the other tents. Brutus is real!

I alert my brother who is instantly terrified. He wants a gun to shoot the bull. The tell him to shut the f&$k up and be still. He is hyperventilating.

Well, Brutus proceeds to walk between our tent and the next tent on by brother’s side . He comes around the tent and walks up to the window on my side of the tent . He sticks his nose right up to the window .

How close was he? Let’s put it this way . I could have lifted my hand without ever lifting my elbow and touched his nose . He was no more than 12 inches from me.

He laid down next to the tent and stayed there all night until the Africans got up to start fires. When they started stirring around , Brutus stood up and walked off.

I would have to think that I have been closer to a wild buffalo bull than just about anyone ever.

I was asked if I wanted to shoot him. I passed.

Wherever we normally hunt, there is normally some areas which are out of the way, and hardly ever get hunted because there is no easy access to them.

We are probably the only clients whoever manage to get there, as we don't mind walking.

We decided to go early one morning to get into those hills to see what we could find.

We stopped our truck and up the hills we went.

This was just as the sun was coming up.

Around 8 we found a lone buffalo bull standing in an opening on top of a hill.

He was less than 100 yards away, facing away.

Roy got ready to shoot.

Alan breaks a twig, trying to get the buffalo to turn.

No chance.

Alan shouted.

No chance.

Alan screamed.

No chance.

I was trying to take a video and pictures, and laughing so loud, that I could not stand any more so fell on my knees to be able to hold the camera stead.

The bull would not budge.

Someone said "is he dead on his feet?"

This went on for quite sometime.

Eventually, the bull turned to look back, and Roy shot him.

He was so old, his teeth almost gone, his horns were polished smooth.

We decided to only take the head, and leave the rest of him to the hyenas.

Roy, me and our game scout stayed there, while Alan and his trackers went off to get the truck.

The truck was roughly 1 kilometer away.

Time was about 8:30 in the morning.

We expected them back within 2-3 hours at most.

Lunchtime came and no sign of them.

We had two bottle of water, and we shared these.

We were not really thirsty, as both Roy and me drink nothing if we are walking out, all day if necessary.

We only drink once we stop for lunch or back at the truck.

4 o'clock came and no sign of them.

Our camp was on the river, several kilometers away.

The river was roughly a mile away.

The road was roughly a kilometer away.

I said to Roy "if they are not back by 5:30, we should start walking to the road. I want to get to it before it gets dark. We can walk back on the road to camp"

He agreed.

5:30 came, and we picked our rifles and shooting sticks, and started walking back.

Suddenly Alan and Robert arrive.

They tried and tried, but there was no way to get the truck much closer to us.

We cut the head, and carried it back to the truck.

We tried giving Alan hell.

He could not careless.

"With you two here I don't need to worry. Someone else, yes"

Larry,

Two nice stories. Sounds like Brutus found a good way to avoid the lions. Who said buffalo are stupid.

As to Andrew's point, it's very important to make sure the hunter and PH are communicating clearly. I once had a PH till me to shoot the impala ram facing to the right, which I dutifully did. He said that I missed and I begged to differ. He and the trackers went off following the ram they wanted me to shoot and I went to where the ram I shot was standing. Damu.

"Facing to the right." My right, or the animal's right? I shot the one facing to my right. Not what he intended.

quote:

Originally posted by lavaca:
Larry,

Two nice stories. Sounds like Brutus found a good way to avoid the lions. Who said buffalo are stupid.

As to Andrew's point, it's very important to make sure the hunter and PH are communicating clearly. I once had a PH till me to shoot the impala ram facing to the right, which I dutifully did. He said that I missed and I begged to differ. He and the trackers went off following the ram they wanted me to shoot and I went to where the ram I shot was standing. Damu.

"Facing to the right." My right, or the animal's right? I shot the one facing to my right. Not what he intended.

Been there done that. Once had a chap shoot a female Sable that was standing under the shade of a tree. Sometimes the obvious is confusing.

Talking of sable.

We were after a bull that hung out with a herd.

Found them one morning feeding in the bush.

We stood about 200 yards away as the fed by.

We can only see parts of some at any given time.

We stopped at a place where we hoped they would pass.

And as some of you might understand, one sometimes only get a very short glimpse of an animal as it walks through a clearing.

Well, there was a clearing they were walking through.

Roy was looking with his binoculars, and I was ready on the sticks, aiming at that clearing.

Roy said “get ready. He is going to be ne t through that clearing”

I saw horns coming, and I started applying pressure on the trigger.

As the body came through, I could see it was not black.

The rifle was about to go off!

So I pulled it up.

BANG!

“Damn! That was a cow!” Said Roy.

“I know! I think I missed! I tried pulling the shot at the last moment!”

We went to look for the results.

No blood!

Not very often both client and his PH are happy for a miss!

We all stopped for a drink, and a good laugh!

We were driving back to camp after a successful eland hunt.

My wife was in the back of the truck, with me. Our lead tracker, Taru, and the other trackers, were behind us, in the bed of the truck, standing and balancing around the carcass of the huge and still bleeding eland bull.

Taru smiled an immense white toothed smile, and said to my wife, “You . . . are fat!“

My wife was astonished. She said to Taru, “No, no, no, I am not fat!“

Undaunted, Taru, still smiling immensely, insisted, “Yes, yes, yes . . . YOU are FAT!“

This, of course, is the highest compliment a man can pay to a woman in Taru’s native country, Zimbabwe. It means she is well fed, well cared for, and rich. It means she is not starving, or worse, suffering from AIDS, drug addiction, or some other fatal illness.

When my wife told our PH and me, later, what Taru had said, our PH was mortified. He apologized profusely.

Yet we all still laughed, and we still do, except for my wife.

Andrew,

At least the dink I shot was a ram, but I confess that the first time I saw a herd of sable it was a bit confusing.

Funny things must run in the family.

We were hunting in Westwood, and one day we decided to take an afternoon off to hunt doves.

There was a waterhole they came to drink at.

They always come from our left.

Walter's son, Walter Junior, was with us.

He did not want to hunt any animal, and that afternoon was with me helping collect dead birds.

After a bit, I asked him if he wanted to shoot some doves.

He agreed.

He fired a few shots, and never hit anything.

I asked, "how the hell can you miss those? Where are you aiming?"

"Straight at them. But they did not die!"

"You bloody nitwit! Aim about a meter to the RIGHT!"

Suddenly one dove lands on a tree not far.

I said "Shoot that one"

BANG!

The dove flies off.

"You missed a sitting dove? Where did you aim?"

Answer came back "as you told me, a meter to the right!"

We laughed so much, my throat hurts!

The apple must not fall far from the tree!

quote:

The girlfriend loved it when she got herself a new leopard bracelet!

quote:

Originally posted by ledvm:

quote:

The girlfriend loved it when she got herself a new leopard bracelet!

This reminds too.

Many years ago I knew a very nice Greek girl.

She was a friends girl friend and we used to get invited to her house for dinner.

She heard I was going hunting.

So she asked for a TIGGER skin.

I had one my hyena skins done very nicely, and gave it to her.

I told her these are very rare, the TIGGERS.

She absolutely loved it.

I made her boyfriend promise not to her the truth, or something nasty might happen to him!

My Dad grew up on a dairy farm in WV. As the youngest of 9 kids, they hunted to put meat on the table. Whenever my Dad shot a whitetail buck he would cut off the nut sack and tan it. He then would buy a clasp set and make a beautiful woman’s change purse. When he would give one to one of his girlfriends they would marvel that the purse had no seams! He also did a lot of trapping to sell the animal pelts. Whenever he caught a male raccoon he would save the pecker bones and dry them out. After drying the bones, he would sharpen them and they would look just like engraved ivory toothpicks. So his teenaged girlfriends carried their change around in deer balls and picked their teeth with raccoon peckers!

We stopped for something, and went off.

Left Walter by the truck.

Walter put a whistle in the exhaust!

We came back, had a drink, and Roy started the engine.

He heard a strange whistle.

We started talking about it, and someone mentioned the cylinder head gasket might have a leak.

Engine off, and investigate.

Walter was having a field day, as Roy was trying his best to find where the problem!

On another occasion, Roy driving and I was sitting with him in the cap in the front.

Walter was sitting behind him.

Walter put his head forward close to Roy, but behind him, and started making a sound as if the air was coming out of the tire - only certain times.

“ Bloody hell! We have a puncture!” Says Roy.

“Can you feel it pulling?” I asked.

“No, I can hear the air coming out!”

We stopped to investigate!

Nothing wrong.

Walter started making his loose air sound!

We all are laughing, except Roy!

He had a cooler installed in his truck.

He made a socket behind the driver, the power for that plugs in.

We plug it in while driving, and turn it off when we stop to avoid running the battery down.

We went following elephants for a few hours.

On the way back, as we got close to the truck, Roy stopped to answer the call of nature.

I ran ahead, plugged the fridge in, and disconnected the battery.

We had our drink, and Roy tried starting the truck.

No joy!

All hell broke loose.

Him complaining about the stupid idiots leaving the fridge -lugged in!

Never a dull moment with us.

quote:

Never a dull moment with us.

The African team of Abbott and Costello. I'm surprised that Roy wasn't admitted to an insane asylum after a trip with you two!