Chirisa Buffalo
Kevin Thomas©

Crawling across the dry Sengwa riverbed on hands and knees is not really entertaining …and particularly so when lugging heavy rifles. We had good reason for doing it, because about three hundred metres to our front was a herd of at least forty buffalo (that we could see) and they were ambling along the grassed floodplain on the eastern riverbank enjoying a late afternoon feed. They were in no hurry and appeared to be totally undisturbed, we on the other hand were in a hurry because the afternoon was waning and before shooting light faded; we needed to close with the herd to observe if there were any suitable trophy bulls.

As a PH I am never totally relaxed about late afternoon shots at large game, and particularly so large dangerous game. If per chance a wounded trophy is not anchored before the light goes, there are too many variables that can happen during the twelve or so hours of darkness that follow. If on the other hand, an animal is wounded in the early morning, you have twelve hours of daylight to try and rectify the situation.

However, there are often times when the hunter has little choice but to go for the killing shot, even if daylight is down to its final hour. On this occasion, my client and good friend, Brian Spradling from Denver Colorado, would have to go for gold if the opportunity presented itself, because we only had a five day allocation for the buffalo, before changing areas for our plains game wants.

Eventually, with cramped calves and throbbing upper thighs we made it to the one-metre high riverbank, where we rested; the trackers lying prone on the sand to our rear. Once we were both back in harmony with our breathing, we quietly arose and cautiously peeped over the bank…some of the buffalo were not much further than about 80 paces to our front. A quick, thorough glassing told us that there were no shooters amongst the few herd bulls visible. Gathering up the shooting sticks and my rifle, Brian and I then slowly moved up onto the same level as the buffalo, causing the entire herd to immediately stop grazing and stare in our direction, with glistening uplifted noses trying to decipher our scent.

One bull standing at about 70 paces to our front, although still soft on the boss, would if given time, mature into a solid 43 – 44” spread. Others, more nervous, jostled and pushed their way out of view into the dense bush adjoining the grassy riverside glade, the rest soon followed, until they’d all disappeared, we then re-crossed the riverbed and slowly meandered our way through the brush in darkness, back to the rig, and ultimately camp.

Late on the previous day, after an eight hour drive from Bulawayo, we’d checked into camp in the Chirisa Safari Area, where it was a welcome relief to get settled in and relax around the fire with an ice cold beer, and enjoy dinner before the long day caught up with us and our beds beckoned.

An early morning start after an unusually quiet night, without even hearing a hyena, found us down at the range checking Brian’s rifle for zero. He was carrying a Ruger 77MkII Magnum in .416 Rigby dressed with a Weaver 4.75X Grand Slam scope. His bullets were 400gr. Swift A-Frame and 400gr. Barnes Banded Solids both giving a velocity of 2430 fps/5246 ft-lb.

Aside from my trackers, James & Nicholas, we had also been allocated a female AK-47 toting National Parks game guard…a first for me. After zeroing, we headed to Kadarianze pan but PH Lou Hallamore’s empty rig alongside the road, and human tracks leading off from it told us of a follow-up in progress. We then cross-grained a number of management tracks by vehicle and despite finding plenty of spoor, most of it belonging to herds, decided that following it was either non-viable or the wind was not in our favour.

Our vehicle wanderings also took us to Sipani Pan where we checked for buffalo spoor around the series of springs that seep from deep beneath the ground. While doing this we were witness to large numbers of vultures sitting on trees, sitting on the ground, or parachuting down on angled wings from an azure sky …a lion kill? A wary approach soon gave us the answer; three zebra had all been snared and succumbed to a lingering death by strangulation from wire snares – something now happening all too often in Zimbabwe’s hunting concessions.

When we arrived back in camp for lunch, Brenda, my wife informed us that she had watched a whole herd of buffalo cross the sandy Sengwa riverbed from west to east. The area she pointed towards is known as the Chiwachambere springs and had on previous safaris produced the goods. After a hurried lunch we headed there, and thus it was that we found ourselves conducting the stalk described in the opening paragraphs of this narrative.

Early the next morning we re-crossed the sandy riverbed onto the west bank, and soon found spoor of a big herd moving away from Chiwachambere and up into the Domwe plateau. We followed the buffalo spoor and spent a long morning trekking in their wake through heavy gusu sand that seemed to be going uphill forever, until eventually it leveled out, this coinciding nicely with the wind picking up and starting to swirl annoyingly in all directions. Just prior to this we had skirted a cowherd of elephant moving through the gusu thickets, their feet trampling the carpet of dry leaves giving out a clearly audible ‘chuff chuff chuff’ noise.

The wind situation was worsening and it is futile trying to track buffalo in an unfavorable wind, so we terminated the hunt and proceeded to move back towards the far off rig. On our way back we cut spoor of a small buffalo herd that had crossed over our inbound tracks and those of the bigger herd, so followed them. In some very dense bush we closed with them and then did the belly crawl, and other associated exercises in our efforts to find a shooter. There wasn’t one, so we continued on our way. Eventually after slipping and sliding down the steep sandy slopes of the Domwe plateau we hit the mopane flats, and in the early afternoon humidity crossed the many dongas leading back towards our original departure point. It would be fair to say that we arrived back at the rig on our chinstraps.

Friday morning found us back at Kadarianze pan just as the sky began to lighten, where amidst piles of wet mucus covered dung, and drying puddles of foam flecked urine, it did not take our trackers long to find the viable spoor of six dagga bulls leading off from the waters edge, so we took up the tracks. Many kilometres later and after crossing numerous shale ridges and narrow valleys we still hadn’t caught up. Eventually the wind picked up, and a flick of the ash bag confirmed the dreaded hostile swirls and eddies carrying our scent in all directions.

Things were not looking good, when suddenly and as if to prove the point there was a crashing in the bush on a ridgeline above us and with pebbles and shale flying in all directions from pounding hooves, six dagha bulls lumbered off in their signature rocking horse gait, heads held high and tails curled over their rumps. After a halfhearted attempt at following the now doubly alert bachelor group, we threw in the towel and retraced our way back to the truck…it had been another hard hunt and time was starting to turn against us.

Returning to camp via Sipani pan in the midday heat, we spent time crawling around in the jesse thickets trying to find a trophy amongst a fair sized herd that soon tired of our antics and moved off. En route back to camp we found another smaller herd approaching the pan from the opposite direction, but they too, had nothing worth shooting, so after spending time on our knees watching them we stood up and walked back to the vehicle. There was no shortage of buffalo; we were just having bad luck.

Late afternoon found us once more looking around the Chiwachambere for solitary daga bulls that like to lurk in the dense evergreen thickets surrounding the springs. As we quietly moved between springs, the female game guard walking behind us, suddenly pointed east across the river and whispered, ‘Nyati’. Undoubtedly the same herd we had glassed on our first afternoon of hunting, once more feeding in the same place. Making our way into the cover of the big trees and dense scrub growing along the river’s edge, a glassing exercise by Brian and me soon showed that two bulls were takers. We had either missed them on our first meeting with the herd or they had only recently linked up. Clambering down onto the sand we bunched up and then doubled over from the waist, moved across the dry riverbed. Luckily the buffalo were so intent on grazing and with the opposite riverbank high enough to hide us they paid us no heed.

Leaving the trackers and the National Parks official behind, we crawled downstream towards the placidly feeding herd and once level with them snuck a peek. They were strung out across our front grazing, at about 80 to 100 metres. With just my head above the cover of the riverbank I was glassing the herd and pondering the fading light problem, when a mature bull stepped into view from behind a group of cows and sub-adults.
He was a good trophy and about 65 metres out, so quickly ducking down I described to Brian exactly where the bull was. He then peeked over the bank and soon had the bull, still totally oblivious to the bullet(s) in its future, in view. After another quick joint look confirmed we were both speaking about the same trophy, I gave Brian the nod.

Coming up into a shooting stance he used a solid clump of reeds as a rest and with the buffalo well presented made the .416 Rigby do what it is designed for. Acknowledging the impact of the bullet, and although he was hit hard, the buffalo hunched but did not go down. While he slowly turned through 180 degrees we quickly leapt up onto the bank placing us at the same level as the buffalo, and I set up the shooting sticks from where Brian drove a few more well placed shots into the by now extremely sick animal.

With that typical buffalo ability to absorb punishment, the bull continued to move slowly towards the dense brush, by now a dark shadow in the rapidly fading light. Brian put in another round and the noble animal went down, fighting the dark cloud of death until the last, his final bellowed death rattle escaping his throat as we warily approached with rifles at the ready. It had been a superb and exciting hunt with Brian’s reward going 39 ¼” on spread, with 15 ½” bosses. Elated as we were our day was not done and getting the rig to the buffalo, plus quartering and loading saw us drive back into camp at about 21hr00.


Brian Spradling looking across the Sengwa River, towards the Domwe plateau, from the Chiwonde viewpoint in the Chirisa Safari Area.


The Sengwa River bisects the Chirisa Safari Area.


At day’s end the sun disappears behind Chirisa’s Domwe plateau.


Using an old elephant skull as a seat, Brian zeros his .416 Rigby.


Sipani Pan is actually a fairly extensive area covered by springs and seepage, providing much needed water year round.


After a hard day’s hunting Brian and the writer relax by the campfire.


Chirisa is a dusty area and calls for frequent cleaning of guns, the writer’s .375 H&H and .458 Lott.


Brian’s reward went a respectable 391/4” with 151/2” bosses.



Brian relaxes in Swainson’s Camp Chirisa, on the morning after our successful hunt.

What a beautiful concession!

well written , well done !

Nicely written report. My next hunt is for two buffalo and only hope the hunting is as good as you have described.

You just described the perfect buffalo hunt.

It just doesn't get much better than that. Congratulations.

Very Nice, Thanks Kevin.

Been there and done that. Great report!

I have stayed in that camp and been to those exact places.


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I hunted out of that camp with Philip Smythe in 2011 and had an exceptional buff/ele hunt. We sat on that very rock point and saw a heard of 141 buff cross the sengwe. It was amazing!

Africa, AH what memories!

Mike