Our IT guy sent me a snippy e-mail telling me I'm taking more than my fair share of server space, so I moved some photos and files to disc last night. One I considered deleteing completely, was a smart ass vidoe made just for me by CCHunter-Christer. It was basically all yawning hippos, and a thumb in my eye teasing me about the one I lost in Zim.

Big old bull, half in the water, half out. The whole herd was up on the beach, and papa was last. We spooked them a couple times earlier that day, and finally got down river about a mile, climbed up a very steep and rocky escarpment to a place about 40 yards from them. Millimeter, by millimeter we scooched up until I had a clear but akward shot from underneath a scrubby little bush. I told Mike, my PH "PLEASE feel free to back me up if I screw the pooch on this one!" I had been shooting well all week, but had a bad feeling about the river being right there, and moving so swiftly in a big bend.

I had my .375 right on his temple, held my breath and let him have it. The bullet slapped and he arched his head back, frozen with his mouth wide open. The whole herd bolted for the water, and plowed right over him, knocking him into the river as they run past and over him to escape. Mike stood up and nailed him again with his .416

There was a lot of back slapping and smiling as we saw his hooves poke out of the water as he rolled over on his back, and then disappeared in the swirling water. That was the last we ever saw of my hippo.

We patrolled the river all day, drug a rope with a big rock on the end, and patrolled some more. The river made a big S right there, and on the Zambia side was a fishing village, where each day we saw the men fishing in their dug out canoes and the women and children chattering and agruing on the beach all day long, every day.

The next morning in the grey dawn, we were out again, searching every little eddy, every little twig sticking out of the water. Still no sign of my hippo. Curiously though, the fishermen were not fishing this day, and there was much smoke coming from the village. We sent one of our trackers to talk to them, and he said they were cooking meat, but said THEY had aquired a hippo themselves. We discussed our options and decided to return to camp, grab the truck and go find a kudu.

PH Kevin DuBoil was in camp, waiting for his client to arrive, and volunteered to go try and at least get the tusks. He warned me that last time this happened, at the same camp, he came back in his underwear, and had to make a second trip with two bags of sugar and a knife. I promised to make good on whatever he had to trade to get them.

That night when we got back to camp, he told us he had no luck, and that they denied knowing anything about a hippo at all.

Oh well, that's hunting, and my $2500 trophy fee went up like a wisp of mopane smoke. But at least when I'm out fishing with my buddys, I can say, "Man, you oughta SEE THE ONE I HAD GET AWAY!"

Anybody have a story to share?

Under the circumstances I'd have thought your PH should have awarded you another Hippo. This seems a bit unreasonable to me. But I've not been in that situation.

Well told story Mark. While I enjoyed reading it, I feel for your loss.

Thanks, but don't feel bad for me. there are plenty more where that one came from (Stories AND Hippos). I shot it, I paid for it.

Even more saddening are the missed shots. I threw a wild .458 shot at a coyote standing stone still while on a pig hunt with Kyler Hamann, and almost took out a cow above it on the next ridge over (well, that might be a slight exageration, but the cow didn't think so!)

I'm not sure what the trophy fee is for range cattle, but I'm pretty sure it's more than a pig, and a lot harder to drag to the truck. Not to mention explaining that one to the rancher.

I don't even remember the .458/coyote miss so it must not have been too close to the cow.

Not that I can blame you, some of those cows look a lot like hippos and I know you've got a grudge at this point.

Kyler

at least the cow would have tasted better than the Coyote.

quote:

Originally posted by duikerman:
at least the cow would have tasted better than the Coyote.

Yeah, the last boar I killed with Kyler was so big and fat and OLD, and covered in festering wounds and sores from fighting that the meat STUNK up the whole neighborhood. The homeless shelter called me and asked me to come take it back.

If I brought home an ice chest full of prime beef, I might get more "kitchen passes" to go pig hunting!

My wife loves Chucker because of that trick (I buy cornish game hens and poke holes in them with a chopstick to simulate pellet holes.) She never complains when I ask to go Chucker hunting with Shumba, and I'm always 100% successful!!!

We were in the Okavango delta. We had stopped for lunch at a hippo pool. Our PH said to keep our eyes open, if a kudu comes to drink we could take him. It would be a long shot, 400 meters directly across the pool. One does show up, but to our left not directly across. My brother holds right on the top of the shoulder, shoots, and the Kudu staggers and runs. One small problem, the shore to our left was closer, about 200 meters away, not 400. We start walking following his tracks and a few drops of blood. It's about 11. At about 3 the Kudu is still running and gaining on us, the blood has long since stopped. Our PH says that it's obvious that he sufferred a flesh wound and we are not going to catch up with him. We turn back. After another hour it's obvious that the PH is lost. After another half hour it's obvious that the tracker is lost. Needless to say, David and I have been lost from the start. Finally, as the sun sets we find a road that is familiar. After another hour of walking in the dark we get back to the truck. I estimate that we walked about 15 miles that day, and I bet that that Kudu is still running.

TerryR

Another story.

I was on the edge of the Kalahari, different trip, different PH. I was hunting on a ranch. Hunting was hard, a group of russians had preceeded us. They took 65 animals in a week, most of them shot from the truck. The result was that the game on the ranch had come to associate the sound of the truck with danger and the most common sight was the North end of a south bound animal. Finally we got within 150 yds of a zebra. We could only see his neck and head above the brush. The PH says " your 375 will go right through the brush go ahead and take him". We couldn't manouver for a better shot without spooking the zebra. I had a awkward stance and had to shoot off hand. I didn't feel good about this. I took the shot. Bad choice, my fault. At the shot the herd bolted. There was a good blood trail. The Ph looked and utterred the kiss of death "you hit him hard, he won't go far". This was about 11. We would get near, he'd run, we'd get near he'd run. We got close enough to see that I had hit him on the hip, the brush had deflected the shot. Finally, as the sun was setting, we got to with in 80 yds. Just as we were about to set up the sticks we heard a snort and then hooves. I said "what now?" The PH motioned for the truck, said "climb in and keep you gun ready." We take off and soon are paralleling the Zebras. Suddenly we swing off the road and careen through the bush after the Zebras. We catch up and the driver slams on the brakes. As we slid to a stop the PH yells SHOOT SHOOT. I snap off a shot, low. We take off again catch up, the Zebra cut through some small trees. I think, "that's it, by the time we go around they'll be gone." We don't go around, we barrel through the trees. My next truck will definately be a toyota. Slam on the brakes again. This time I Think "Put one in him and he'll slow down then we can finish him", another mistake; zebra sure can soak up lead. I shoot for center of mass. He keeps going. Once more we chase them, stop, this time I decide lead to him like I was shooting a shotgun. Bang, he's down. When we dismounted one more surprise. It's a she. But she is a beautiful trophy, and fortunately not pregnant. This was not a total surprise as the PH had said that we may have to take a female zebra as the ratio of males to females was way out of balance and there were very few good males but a lot of good females. They were planning to cull them after the season. The first shot deflected left and hit on her hip. My second creased her belly. The third was a little too far behind the shoulder and my last broke her neck.
This one didn't get away, but probably should have.
First lesson learned: don't take a shot that you are not 100% comforable with. That is the first animal that I've had to track and finish off. I hope it's the last.
Second lesson: Don't believe the PH, brush will deflect a 375.
Third lesson: even when the ranch is huge, the sides measured 12 miles by 6 miles, the animals can get get very spooky as a result of hunting pressure. If you follow a large group like we did you may have a tougher time. We did ok, I took a zebra, kudu, and an ostrich, my buddy took a kudu and a zebra, but we sure had to work hard. Lots of stalking on our hands and knees only to have the animal bolt at the slightest sound. aside, the ranch owner said that the russians were not welcome back.
To top it all off, as we were driving back with the zebra in the truck, the PH said " Don't tell the owner that we chased the zebra with the truck. It's his truck and we might have broken something."

TerryR