Okay, folks. I’m sorry that this took so long, but I’ve got a new puppy (a Boykin Spaniel), work has been demanding, I started to play golf again and I’m kind of lazy, too.

I don't know why anyone would want to wade through this tome, but have at it if you wish. I enjoyed writing it, anyway. It helps me keep it all fresh in my old, old mind.

Anyway, the first part of this is not so much about hunting. It’s about my wife’s first trip to Africa and how much I enjoyed having her with me. If it gets too mushy, after the first few paragraphs, just hold your throw up from the love story and read about my elephant/leopard hunt….

OF WIVES AND ELEPHANTS

I had my Searcy .450 Nitro Express double at my shoulder. Lou whispered in my left ear, “When you’re ready, frontal brain.” The slightly over-sized white bead fell perfectly into the “V” on the rear sight and I thanked myself for my foresight in flying all the way across the U.S. to Boron to see Butch and get a final fitting to make sure the rifle was perfect for me.

Deliberately, I moved the now-aligned pair a bit to the right, calculating (as I’d done in practice sessions dozens of times but this time for real) where an imaginary line would pass perpendicularly between mid-point of the elephants earholes…

Wow! It seemed as if I was aiming way too high on the head, but darn if a straight penetration wouldn’t break the “broom handle”.

With a wee bit of concern, but realizing it was now or never, I began a deliberate, but firm squeeze.

Oh, the joy of elephant hunting! It’s been a 68 year trek, but what a wonderful journey. If you wish, I’ll give you a bit of my history and how I came to be in Zimbabwe on a cold and blustery day.

As soon as I could ride a bike without supervision, when I wasn’t playing Little League baseball or at the local beach, I’d get on my Hercules English Racer three-speed and peddle downtown to the local public library. It was a great way to escape the South Georgia heat and humidity. I’m not sure that I loved to read back then, but our house wasn’t air-conditioned and the library was. A no-brainer for a kid. I learned to love books and particular those about the Dark Continent.

There, among the musty stacks, God gave me the gift of Africa.
At 8 or 9 or 12 years old, among others, I read Livingstone, Stanley, Roosevelt, Selous, Hunter, Hemingway and Ruark. I knew exactly where Happy Valley was. I’d “flown” from London to Kenya in lumbering sea planes. Kudu, puku and vundu weren’t just exotic rhyming names… I could describe each. Heck, I even knew how much the various East African safari companies charged for their hunts. The price was right there in the 3x2 inch, black-and-white ads at the back of Sports Afield and Field and Stream, found in giant periodical racks, right by Look and Life magazines.

I discovered that Holland & Holland, Boss and Westley Richards meant quality and through my reading I’d even learned that the British put the parent first in designating nitro express cartridges like the .450/.400 instead of the American way… say with a .22/.250. Pretty knowledgeable, huh, for a pre-pubescent 1st baseman on Frog Horten’s ball team of miscreant Brunswick boys?

I had a pith helmet I found in a neighbor’s garage, Wellingtons that swallowed my feet into which I’d stuff my blue jeans, a jacket with epaulets and a belted waist (where I found that, heck if I know?)…. I was the coolest White Hunter in Glynn County, Georgia, even if I didn’t even shave yet. With my Red Ryder I stalked tweetie birds, lizards and and occasional rabbit in the marshes behind our house, pretending that I was Teddy Roosevelt or about to find King Solomon's mines.

Oh! Way back then, as a child, how I dreamed of Africa. And I thank my Good Lord that I never stopped.

But for me, I've been more than blessed that it’s been a continuing process to my “perfect” safari.

My dream waxed and waned some, but my life was full. As a teenager I began to hunt every chance I got. I learned about whitetails and turkeys in the local woods. I tied some of the first flies maybe to ever catch reds and weakfish in the marshes between the Altamaha and Satilla rivers. I discovered the undiscoverable mysteries of the fairer sex. I went to college, the Marines, to war (where I dropped a few bombs but mostly missed “the real world” back home) and then worked my way through law school by making good bucks flying incipient bush planes up the Alcan Highway to Alaska where those tail-draggers were morphed into tundra-tire-equipped workhorses of the North… shooting some bears and a truck load of moose and many caribou on those summertime trips.

I had a wife or three, a couple of magnificent daughters, both born in my fourth decade, retired young from a relatively unimportant judgeship… started practicing law again with some success… but the sirens of the Rufiji, the Zambezi, and the Limpopo still beckoned.

So, years ago, I went to Africa. And I hunted in great places with wonderful folks. And all that I dreamed of came true. I’ve had blood sprayed on me from a bellowing buffalo who toted a snarling lioness on her back. I killed an old duggaboy who came to collect a bill past due. Finally owning one of Westley-Richard doubles I’d revered as a child, I shot an old bull elephant taking a mud shower, so close that I first received a bit of his bath, too. My office is full of zebra rugs, kudu mounts, elephant tusks, big-bossed mbogo and dozens of pictures of game taken.

WIFE STUFF…. It’s really not that bad, hang in there!

But, if you are lucky enough to have a true soul-mate, and for six years, I’ve had one in my Sandy (who many of you folks know) you may understand how something was still missing. I’ve taken my daughters to Africa and both were caught by the same sirens, but, dadgummit, since I‘ve know Sandy, every time I got on the airplane to fly to heaven, somehow, I needed my special lady to know the joy I felt. I not only knew I’d miss her while I was on safari, there was a more basic need. I wanted Sandy to love the smoky sunsets over the Zambezi, to thrill to the throaty “Mmmuuuuaaaahhh!” of the King telling all the rest of the beasts who was the sovereign, to watch an elephant rip the top half off of a 20 foot tree with the casual twist of his trunk, all for a bit of bark and a leaf or three. I love my lady and Africa so filled my body and soul, I wanted Sandy to love it, too.
So, you may ask, why hadn’t I taken her before?

A couple of things. First, Sandy isn’t a hunter. It just isn’t in her DNA. She cries when she sees a run-over armadillo. Secondly, even though her diploma from college has a summa cum laude on it, she suffers… or at least used to…. from a pretty common malady. I call it Dark Continent Syndrome (DCS, perhaps?). While the symptoms differ somewhat, most folks think Africa is a homogeneous place, all dense jungle, little or no infrastructure… you know, all of the place is like where Tarzan and Jane hung out. And DCS sufferers believe that your life is on the line every moment while there…. from Mau Mau’s to exotic diseases to rouge gorillas (or guerrillas, if you wish) .

Sandy has been with me to the Dallas Safari Club conventions for a handful of years. She’s met dozens of wives who traveled with their husbands to Africa. I guess she got curious and a wee bit less scared. After all, those ladies had traveled to Africa, came back alive and pretty darn happy that they’d gone. So, during the 2014 convention, she took a deep breath, smiled and said, “Let’s do it!”

And, we did!

So, this past January, my sweetheart and I started to plan to go where sundowners, mopane fires and the Southern Cross welcome the night, where hyenas serenade pilgrims with whoops and devilish giggles, clearly jealous of biltong snacks and hot roasted ground nuts one enjoys while safarites sip on pink gins or single malts. It’s where a pretty big part of my heart is vested, and darn if I wasn’t going to get to share it with my best friend! I don’t know if it was a decision based on love, curiosity or too much wine, but before Sandy could change her mind, I started buying tickets and paying deposits.

I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. I know my wife. I had to do this thing right. If I screwed it up, I wouldn’t get a second chance.

If I did an “Ernest-centric” safari, it would be several things, none of which would be good. First, Sandy has absolutely no desire to see anything shot. Secondly, she’d be bored to tears sitting in a Land Cruiser while I was stalking whatever. She’d also not enjoy us toting around a buffalo or a duiker or a kudu in the back of the truck, not to mention a gut-bucket for leopard bait drags. “Not enjoy…. Heck! That’s nowhere strong enough! Sandy would never get in the vehicle.

All that said, Sandy is a realist and knows that the steaks and chicken she eats didn’t grow on a tree, but still, the processes don’t please her. Some folks are like that (and Walt Disney or whatever caused it, you learn to live with it if you want peace). Luckily, we've found that we can accommodate each other. I don’t try to fix her and she doesn’t try to fix me.

So, this trip primarily had to be about Sandy, not Ernest, or it certainly would be a failure. So, I made a “cake and eat it, too” plan. Sandy agreed. Ten days for Sandy, then, she’d fly home…. and since I was already in Zimbabwe (giggle, giggle), I’d do my thing at Matetsi III, blood, guts and all, after she was back in Georgia, enjoying the last of the summer. What she doesn’t see, she doesn’t mind. That’ll work for me.

Here’s what we did:

We booked business class on Air France, getting three important benefits. First, we got bunches of Delta Frequent Flyer points, and secondly, we got a day in Paris en route. FF credit and Paris were great, of course, but for whatever reason, as a third benefit, the tickets were a couple of thousand bucks each less than the Delta flight 200 routing ATL to JNB, nonstop. A day in Paris and a $2K savings per ticket. That’ll work…. except Sandy determined that she’d shop with her “saved” money. I could live with the trade-off.

Since we slept quite comfortably on the AF Boeing 777(200) from JFK to CDG, our early a.m. arrival facilitated a train ride (cheap and only 30 minutes) into the city for a day of sightseeing (and, alas, shopping). We checked our bags (including my rifles) through to Johannesburg so we just wheeled our carry-ons to an on campus hotel (the Isis at $90 U.S.), took a shower, and off to see The City of Light. I got some serious hubby points for that idea.

After a nice dinner in Paris and a seamless train ride back to the airport, we left CDG at 11:30 p.m. on an AirBus A380, which we found to be not as nice as the Boeing 777 configuration, but with a bit of French wine, we didn’t awake until breakfast somewhere over Botswana. Since the connections required an overnight in Johannesburg, I had Afton Guest House procure my gun permits. No problems there, except my TuffPak takedown case ended up on the regular luggage carousel and I had get a SAPS guy to come and get it. Next morning, after a restful sleep at Afton House, we flew South African up to Victoria Falls.

So far, so good with Sandy… but I saw some incipient angst in Sandy’s eyes during the confusion and milling around at the customs and gun permit process at VFA. Now truly Dark Continent arrived, Sandy was wondering if a shoe was going to drop or maybe kidnappers or rebels or headhunters were coming or maybe a lion was going jump out of a bush and bite her.

I, again, am crazy, but not stupid. I was prepared.

I don’t presume to know how women think or what they want. Often my best laid plans (at least where the fairer sex is concerned) “… gang aft agley ”, so, while planning this thing, I went to a woman I trust, Candy Pieters (Martin’s wife) for advice. I knew she had both a company that arranged activities in and around Victoria Falls and also owned Nehimba Lodge in Hwange Park.

Again blessed, my trust was well placed.

Candy had done everything perfectly, and with my special woman in mind. Of course, exiting customs, we were greeted by a charming young man named Mandela, brightly smiling, possessed with good English skills and a quiet confidence that he could accomplish whatever we needed done. He collected our bags, drove us to the Victoria Falls Hotel, gave Sandy a history lesson about the town on the way and facilitated our checking in. Candy had gotten us a wonderful room with a view of the river gorge. It was perfect.



We cleaned up a bit and Mandela came and took us to the Booze Cruise. We were directed to the upper deck of the boat Candy had booked. It was the like a first class section, nicer furnishings, only three couples and a better view. As usual, the Zambezi did us right, producing an elephant or two, some bushbuck, a yawning hippo and the most beautiful sunset in the world.







After a toddy or three, Mandela took us to the Boma. Always touristy, but dang if a visitor to Victoria Falls shouldn’t eat a mopane worm and drink some awful local brew.



Next day we rode the elephants. I’d done it before, but this time we went to a newer facility, just across the Masui River. Sandy loved it. She had her “own” elephant and was first to see buffalo, waterbuck and a croc sunning on the bank of a creek. Africa began to steal her soul.







We then had a guided tour of the Falls. I was the guide, by the way. After 20 or so trips to see the natural wonder, I think I qualified. I took great joy in seeing Sandy think that Devil’s Cataract (and the few hundred meters visible from there) was “it”. An hour later, my very wet wife turned to me and said, “Toto, we aren’t at Niagara Falls, are we?”





Candy Pieters had done everything just perfectly. I’d spent some time in correspondence with her and she had listened well as to whom my wife is and what she’d like.

That night we had a wonderful dinner at the Ilala Lodge. Kevin Beasley, the camp manager for Matetsi’s I and III brought up his delightful wife and child to have supper with us. Sandy really enjoyed getting to know a young woman, raised in Zimbabwe and still loving the country even with the political and economic turmoil. I know Sandy respects folks from Zimbabwe much more now.

The next morning we went on the helicopter ride over the falls. Luckily for us, a couple had booked an additional 15 minutes to fly down the gorge. What a treat and at no extra cost. Another blessing.

That afternoon, Candy arranged a “shopping” guide for Sandy. Smart move! I don’t do stores very well. If dead animals aren’t Sandy’s forte’, then looking around stores ain’t mine. I chilled and enjoyed my Kindle out on the veranda of the hotel, not forgetting to have a couple of Zambezi beers and the best ham sandwich east of Willie’s Weenie Wagon in Brunswick, Georgia. The wife was happy and so was I. Not bad, not bad at all.

Our last full day at the Falls we went to the croc farm. I’d never have thought I’d like it, but Sandy and Candy thought that shopping for a purse would be fun??? To my surprise, I enjoyed it. It was very clean, the guide was professional and informed as to the farming process and African fauna and flora in general. I’d recommend it. Some damn giant crocs there, buddy!



After three days at the Falls, we checked out of the Hotel and were picked up by Mandela in a most comfortable van and driven down to Hwange Main Camp. There we were met by Candy’s guide, Rob Schlier (spelling?). He not only looked like an aging Jungle Jim, he had been there and done that, hunting for 30 years and for the last 10 or so, guiding in, as he said, non-consumptive areas.



Rob knew his stuff and was a perfect guide for my Sandy’s first forays into the bush. The drive to Nehimba from Main Camp is about 75 minutes. We saw zebra, wildebeest, giraffes, elephant (including a huge tuskless bull), buffalo…. , it was just plain amazing.



The camp is wonderfully setup around a pan in a semi-circle. Almost always visible from either your chalet or the dining area/bar are animals coming for water.





I’ll leave it to the pictures to tell you what a wonderful time we had. My dream of my wife coming to love Africa, came true. Thank you Candy and staff!

The Hot bath the first night at Nehimba was a joy.



Proves I ain't vain, huh?

Nehimba Seep at sunset. We saw the lions there the afternoon before.























THE HUNTING STUFF

Lou Hallamore came to Nehimba for our last afternoon and night. We had a great scrum cap daggaboy that was seemingly trying to get into our chalets that afternoon. I’m not kidding. He was halfway up Lou’s little porch eating on an overhanging branch when we got back for a game drive. What a trophy he’d have made! A truly fine old man!





Lou and I drove Sandy up to the Vic Falls Airport and made sure she got on her flight to Johannesburg and eventually Paris and Atlanta. Not like some other folks, we found Air France to be hassle free, even with firearms and the quite reasonably priced business class seats/beds were great for sleeping. If you choose Air France, do two things. Notify the company that you will be traveling with firearms and ammunition. You’ll need serial numbers, etc. Secondly, make sure you ammo is in a separate container. Not in another piece of luggage from your rifles, a separate container. I didn’t need it on the way over, but returning through JNB, I had to pull my ammo box out of my big bag and tag it separately. No big deal.

After Sandy was on her way, Lou and I drove down to Matetsi III. It was my fourth hunt there and seeing the staff again made me feel like I was at a reunion. For rifles on this trip, I had my J.P. Sauer cape gun in 7x57R and 16 gauge 70mm. It, amazingly, shoots an honest inch at 100 yards with the rifle barrel and the shotgun barrel will put 6 to 7 #1 buck in a pie plate at 40 yards. It has, on claw mounts, a Zeiss 1x4 scope. I planned to use it for a leopard (and the bait, of course). For the tuskless I would be hunting, I had my brand new Searcy .450 Nitro.

Butch tweaking my rifle during my visit



Both rifles had weathered well all the travel in the takedown TuffPak and no adjustments were needed. A great supper, some Scotch, a warm fire for a bit and off to sleep with pleasant dreams of a great time past with my wife and visions of spotted cats and elephants on the morrow.

Before noon on the first day, we had three baits up. My little cape gun impressed Lou since all the shots on the impala were over 100 yards and three shots and three animals for Mr. Spots. The set trigger on the rifle barrel almost makes it like cheating. Crosshairs on the shoulder, touch the trigger and a leopard has a dinner ready.



Of course, we were always looking for elephants when we drove around picking out bait sites and shooting impala. Usually, most of Hwange is dry by August, but this year being unusually wet, elephants were still finding water in the park, so our elephant spotting was a bit less than what I’d hoped. Still, we saw four or five groups that first day and checked out each for a tuskless, but to no avail.

If you’ve ever done it, I don’t have to tell you how much fun tuskless hunting is. It rocks one’s soul to get right in the middle of a bunch of elephants, usually just cows and calves, but sometimes with a couple of bulls there, too. Wind, crackling leaves and the elephants’ eyesight (although poor) all are considerations. So is getting stomped. Jelly in elephant toes. Greasy stains in the bush.

Let’s say you are trying to find a tuskless among 20 elephants. You really need to get glasses on everyone. The ladies may be spread over several acres and Murphy’s Law provides that the one furthest from you is the one most likely to be legal. It is not rare at all to end up with tons of great big gray animals 360 degrees around you. You don’t plan it that way, of course, but somebody forgot to tell the elephants. …. So, tuskless hunting means, almost always, you have elephants on at least two sides of you as you slip up close enough to check all the ladies. It is always exciting, especially when a mama discovers that you are between her and a calf. Closed casket stuff if you screw up.
Lord knows I love it. The first day was wonderful. Several encounters with elephants, good shots on bait animals, being with my old friend Lou and in Africa.

Day two was cold. Really cold. Freezing cold. I’d never worn long underwear in Africa, but this day I left my “regular” shorts in my room and layered up with thermal underclothes, a tee-shirt, a sweater and a heavy safari jacket. I’d bought a pair of zip-off pants, so I put them on, hoping that it’d get warm later. I even wrapped my head with a scarf and wore gloves. I still was cold in the 20 mph wind. I’d have been ready for muskox.

That second morning, after a good breakfast of eggs over easy, buttered toast, grilled ham and hot tea, we motored out in the half light and checked the closest cat bait. Nothing had hit it. Alas! I still had nine more days, though. So… off to the second bait with an eye out for the gray ships of the bush.

We never got there.

We hadn’t gone but a few miles when the guys in the back tapped the roof of the Land Cruiser. Lou slowed and one of the trackers whispered that he’d spotted a dozen or so elephants a few hundred yards into the bush to our left. We slowly putted on for another few hundred yards, got out, grabbed our guns and ammo and quietly had a pow-wow as to the best plan.

It seemed that the elephants were in high grass with only their backs showing. They were all headed into the brisk wind that was blowing from them to us. We decided to walk back down the road to where the elephants had been spotted, figure an angle that’d get us somewhat to their left, but still crosswind and check them out when they passed by us. We knew we would never see them all, but we hoped that the tall grass would be thin enough for us to see at least a few well enough to determine if a legal tuskless was in the mix.

Amato, the lead tracker went first, then Lou, then me with two assistant trackers and the game scout trailing. It took an hour of slow and deliberate creeping along, but we finally began to see giant figures moving slowly from our right to left. Damnit, the grass was too thick to see much. Maybe one or two of the elephants were visible at a time, but we were missing most of them as they passed by.

We decided to make a big loop, at first away from the elephants, then back to intercept them again, hopefully, this time with better visibility. So… another hour of the stalk passed. No need for an ash bag! The wind was steadily blowing and it was still cold!

Well, we tried the looping thing once… then again… and finally we got to an opening where the grass stopped for a while and elephant-ravaged mopanes were the norm. You still couldn’t see very far, but 30 yards was much better than the ten or fifteen in the thick grass.

Dang if the wind didn’t just plain stop. Like you flipped a switch. From enough to heel over Nelson’s Victory to not a bit. Weird. Now, we had to be especially quiet. We could hear the elephants ripping and tearing, farting and squeaking, and if we could hear them, surely they could hear us. All of a sudden, I was hot, really hot with all my clothes on. I shed my jacket and handed it to the game scout. I guess he thought it was a gift because he put it on and wore it every day thereafter. He’s still got it, I assume. He was about half my size, but he was so happy his face beamed. If he wanted to look like he had on a 10 man tent, I didn’t mind. I can get another from Cabelas and it didn’t cost that much.

Darn if the elephants didn’t decide to take a siesta right at the edge of the grass, some in sight, most still hidden and all way out of range. We backed off and talked about it. I shed the rest of my heavy clothes and got back to my fighting trim of shorts (albeit zip-offs), ball cap and safari shirt. We had a drink of water and decided to get further into the mopanes where, if the elephants ever decided to continue their path (Lou thought it was to a nearby pan), we’d be a lot closer. The other guys stayed back where the tall grass ended and the mopanes began. Lou and I, alone, half-crawled, half duck-walked within 30 or so yards from the lead elephant. Darn did my legs ache. Reaching our destination, we rose to the vertical very slowly and began to glass.

Surprisingly, the first elephant we were able to identify was a bull. Maybe a 35 pounder. He was right at the edge of the tall grass, slowing flapping his ears and quartering away a bit. Several elephants were closer, but still in hidden by grass. We knew from our earlier contacts with this bunch that there were at least 20 elephants and probably, but the lone bull, all cows. We waited.

After 20 or so minutes, a grown cow walked out, pretty as you please, in plain view. She had long skinny tusks and had a baby with her. She never stopped and walked out of sight to our left. About five minutes later, we began to hear others coming through the grass and as the elephants began to appear, we glassed and whispered “No”… “That one”… “Wait!!” … “Crap!”.. “No”… “The one on the other side”… “Damn!”… “Tusks!”…. Probably 10 grown elephant passed by as we speculated, discerned, hoped and dismissed , the most distant not being 25 yards. Frustrating. You want all to be tuskless, of course, and that just isn’t going to happen. I’ve looked at over 100 elephants in an afternoon before and ne’er a tuskless did I see. It takes patience.

Whoa! Out of the grass came a cow and calf that looked like they were going to walk right over us. They got so close that I held my breath. Not sure why. It just seemed appropriate at the time. They passed so closely that I could hear the pop of the mama’s joints as weight was placed on each big foot. Don’t think I want to do that again.

I was to Lou’s left. I looked across him and saw several more elephants emerging from the grass. Lou was still looking at the slowly departing cow’s ass. Still pretty close, but moving away. Satisfied that the danger had passed, he looked where I was staring. We watched as two cows, both with calves came out of the thick stuff with a path whereby they’d pass at 15 yards or so, when, behind them came a great and obviously old cow, clearly tuskless. She was a few yards farther away but coming in range.
A few more steps and I’d have the perfect side-brain shot.

But, as hunting goes, one of the babies turned to its right, walked about 20 yards and began to pull at something on a termite mound. Both moms and the other calf decided to see what was up and that trio now were moving directly away. The tuskless, too!

When the parent cow got to the curious calf, she bumped it with her trunk and moved it along. Now all the elephants were about 40 yards and departing with the tuskless being the most distant.

Not saying a word, Lou and I stepped back a bit and, hoping that the mopanes would screen us, we angled to where we thought we could intercept them again. When we got where we wanted to be, we again saw the two cows and two calves and right in the middle of them all was the toothless old lady. Forty yards, maybe. For whatever reason, now she was digging at something in the ground with her trunk. Both calves were motionless underneath their respective mothers.

The sun was directly behind the Grand Dame. It looked as if she was giving off a florescent full-bodied halo. In retrospect, it probably was caused by sunlit particles of red dust flying about from her body, dislodged when she moved and tugged at whatever had her interest in that hole she was so intent on expanding. It was surreal. It was wonderful. It was Africa.

We crept another dozen or so steps and I signaled with a quick nod that I felt comfortable with the distance of 20 yards and I didn’t need a rest.

I’d never thought about shooting an elephant with a frontal brain when its head was so low. Dang, to hit the brain, I’d almost be shooting the top of the noggin’, not a wrinkle on the trunk, a hand-span below the eyes or whatever folks think of with frontal shots. Still, if you “break the broom handle between the ears, I figured it would work, so I made that calculation and fired.

At the shot, a spout of dust, on target, flew up just above my front bead, the elephant’s butt collapsed, the head snapped back and the trunk went right over her head, whapping the lady’s back. A loud smack, now. Not a little tap. Like a wide belt being struck hard on a flat table. First time I’d ever seen or heard of that.

And more stuff, in the micro-second after the shot continued.

You'd thought a nuclear bomb went off when the elephant hit the ground. With the sun in our face, it made a memory that I’ll absolutely never forget. Never! I can't see it as clearly as when it happened as I type.

First, red dust sparkling in the glare like a billion tiny rubies roiling upward in a ball. Burned into my memory, just like a brand on a baby beef's butt.

All different kinds of colors began to appear in the dust, first just red, but as the cloud rose, blues, pinks, greens and aquas. I hope to live to be a hundred, but if I die tomorrow, I’ll die satisfied. It doesn’t get any better.

I immediately put in a safety shot through her ear and into her chest. The other elephants were long gone.

As always, Lou left me alone for a while. Just me and the elephant. I mourned a bit, patted the wonderful animal a while, just stood there thinking of all that she’d experienced in a life almost as long as mine. I thanked God for the opportunity to hunt her.

Inspection showed that she was probably on her last set of teeth. It was her time. Better a quick death than starvation until the lions and hyenas came. She given me a great hunt and I’ll always cherish her memory.







I didn’t get a leopard. Such is my usual fare. I don’t want to shoot one after dark and in Matetsi it’s illegal anyway. I did get two great thrills, though. On the same day I shot the elephant, we found that a male was on one of the baits and we built a blind and sat that evening.

Well before sunset, I heard a rustling in the grass behind the blind. I bent my head around as much as I could and saw a leopard about 5 yards away in the grass. He was staring right at me (or, maybe the blind…. It looked scary as hell, either way). He growled… Raaaahhhhh, Raaahhhhh, twice and slinked off. Smarter than us, he came back every night, but well after dark.

On another bait, we had a large track of a cat and we sat there one evening. Our blind was 40 yards from the bait tree with the setting sun behind us. That evening, about 5:00 p.m. a really large female appeared at the base of the tree. We watched her for twenty minutes on the ground, stretching, grooming… just being a leopardess before she climbed the tree. There we got another 20 minute show when she so daintily had her repast. My binoculars brought her, it would seem, almost into the blind with us. I could count the whiskers on her face. What a slinky, but powerful creation of God. We’d used a zebra shoulder as a bait and she, effortlessly would pull that heavy quarter around like it was a canapé at a cocktail party. One of my best memories of Africa, for sure… and I still have an excuse to hunt leopards.

So… every safari is special, but maybe you can now understand why I think this time was my best. Sure, I’ve killed bigger animals, had up close and personal charges, seen more elephants or whatever. But this time, my sweetheart learned what called me to Africa and learned to love it, too.

Yep, the best safari, ever!

Great Report. Well worth the wait. But the Ultimate is days gone by. Congrats on a great trip.

Judge,
That was an exceptionally well written and thoughtful post/report. I really like the background childhood tales that are similar to my own where the infatuation began ( for many of us I'd say) I am sitting in my office with a collection of those very books in front of me now.
Its fantastic you have a wife to share in these adventures with you and make them even more fulfilling

Awesome report Judge,you just made my day

Thank you, Judge. Another tale well told.

Excellent read.

The report could be used as an example in a descriptive writing class. Very well done.

Your quote,"I knew exactly where Happy Valley was" brought back memories. When I was old enough to understand what Happy Valley was about I could pinpoint it on a map as well. The plan was to go there when I was old enough.

Thanks for bringing back some common childhood memories.

Glad you had a great hunt. Thanks for sharing the experience with us.

About time!!!
I enjoyed the report immensely! Well worth the wait!

Very nice report.

Great report Ernest. Thanks.

Sorry to have missed you & your wife at VF - I was there 3 weeks later but no hunting.

Fantastic report; well done sir. Making memories never gets old!

Great story Judge. Very well written!!!!!

Well done Ernest. Congrats on a fine trip and many memorable experiences.

Absolutely the best name for an AR thread ever. BEST. EVER.

Thank you Judge

Normally I much prefer to see reports with big trophies, as I personally like big stuff. However, regardless of trophy/trophy size - I sincerely enjoy your reports Judge. Always interesting, and entertaining!!!

Thank you and congrats!!!!

Well done.I enjoyed your adventure. Better Tomorrows.

Well done on all counts, Judge. It was well worth the wait.

So the next safari is ...?

Very good sir, very good indeed.
You have a "gift" for telling a story.
I remember the day I told my non hunting wife I was going to Africa. I expected to hear "ARE YOU NUTS?", but instead, she said "I want to go too". Many happy memories she & I have made there.

JudgeG,
Per usual, absolutely fantastic. Thank You

this report resonates. next year i hope to take my new wife to Africa and introduces her to the other love of my life. FANTASTIC REPORT, ERNEST!!

Beautifully written!! Thanks!!

Very nice report. Bravo.

Thank you for a well written report. Even after taking a class on hunting reports I still write travel logs. Yours tells a great story. If you haven't already, you may want to submit it to DSC for publication.

Thanks for sharing. Congratulations on another good trip!!!

Very well done and very well written.

Congrats to you and your wife on all those memories made.

Thank you for letting me go along....so to speak.

Ernest,

Great report! Nice to see you gave so much detail to making your new wife's African experience so special for her. You're a good man.

Mark

Ernest, I always enjoy your reports. Safari is so much more than shooting animals. Congratulations on the experience and on successfully introducing your wife to Africa!

Thanks for the great report.

Very nice, Judge.

Excellent!!!...

not only a great story but after taking so long it was just wonderful to hear from you again. was getting a bit worried that something bad had happened

Superb report! All of my African safaris have been together with my wife as my hunting partner and sharer-of-the-experience. I would not have it any other way.

Judge G,

As always a wonderful piece of writing. Thank you so very much.

Warm regards

Well done and well reported in your vivid prose Ernest! Glad the wife came to treasure Africa as much as you. May the two of you make many special memories on future safaris!

Great Story!!

JudgeG;

Of course, any safari is better with your woman along!!! Congrats to you and your lady for having a great time and then your subsequent hunt! Wonderful that you had the opportunity to introduce her to you other love!

I wished I'd known you were going to Boron to visit Butch...you were in my neck of the woods and Butch is a dear friend!

I truly enjoy reading all your reports!

Best regards, D. Nelson

Well worth the wading and the wait.
Congratulations on your best to date!

A few more pictures and some comments, if you will:

A pretty rare sight.




Going to be a great bull!





I've often heard that a rifle has to be sighted in for the individual that shoots it. Demonstrative of that, look at this target. Every double Butch has made me (and I think it's 5 now?), shot too high for me. We, therefore, made an accommodation in advance. Butch shot the bottom group from his regulation rest at 35 yards, I shot the top, albeit, off-hand at 50 yards. Whatever the reason, I bullets go lower for me. I think I hold the sights just as Butch does (like the drawn in diagram). Go figure. In any event, it is a well regulated rifle for sure and suited me perfectly.



This great lion came at us, full bore, roaring and snarling. Scared the pea out of me. He stopped about 10 yards from the vehicle, turned around with disgust and laid down. Great pictures, huh?

Great approach. My woman is the same way in regards to hunting.

This gives me an idea for sure. Bring her for a week or so photo Safari and then go hunting for a month .