Folks:

This is all imaginary and the pictures are faked:

It was hot. It was humid. I was sweat-soaked and a bull elephant was 19 paces away slowly turning towards me.

I was on the first afternoon of a hunt in the Omay safari area in Zimbabwe and already Brent Hein of HHK Safaris had put me exactly where I dreamed to be back when I booked my second hunt with him. But, may I digress and give you some of my thoughts about a new type of hunting (to me at least), Problem Animal Control safaris, that is. To those who have experienced P.A.C. hunts, either as clients or P.H.s, I welcome your comments, either in agreement or dissent.

When I first heard about P.A.C. hunts, I feared them to be somewhat of a way to get around quotas and licenses. Elephant hunts that allow trophy exportation are very, very expensive, regardless of the country in which conducted. I wondered how the heck a reputable safari company could offer a hunt for a third of what was regularly charged. Yeah, I had heard the term "crop raider" used and had listened to the explanation that somehow the local "community" was the true beneficiary of fees paid for killing a despoiler of maize, sorghum and cane, but I had my doubts.

Still, I had gotten to know and trust Brent Hein pretty darn well on 12 day safari in late 2004 and when he suggested that I join him in late February of 2006 on a P.A.C. hunt, I decided to find out for myself if the claims were for real.... and what a pleasant confirmation of Brent's representations I found the program to be. Let's put it this way.... I had a great and rewarding experience but with no ivory to bring home... but oh, the memories and pictures! And I saved a bundle of money!

At least in Omay, subsistence farming is a way of life. Most of the plowing and planting is done with yoked cattle. The plots are extremely small and are hardly in multiples of acres. They are just big gardens. Eight or ten elephants in a field at night can threaten several families with starvation, or at least, make them dependent on U.S. or European aid. Almost every little field has a "lookout" platform on which villagers spend 7/24 trying to protect their meager yields from elephants at night and baboons during the day. Crop depredation is a real problem.

Since quotas are necessary even on P.A.C. animals if elephants are going to continue to exist in habitated areas, I don't think that the program can realistically impact much of the damage to the crops, but it certainly raises funds from which good things can flow. The trophy fees go directly to the local council which redistributes the monies as recompense for the farmer and uses the rest for local projects like school uniforms and medicines for local clinics.

To my limited knowledge, it is one of the few times in Zimbabwe that most, if not all of the money stays in the local economy. Cedric, a delightful young fellow and accomplished English speaker who is now the skinner for the HHK Chifudzi camp, was quite proud to show me children whose bright, new uniforms came from P.A.C. money and shelves of medical supplies (albeit, quite limited by U.S. standards) that had the same funding source. Cedric "owns" 24 acres near Chifudzi which he farms with his family. He showed me the community log book where crop damage was documented and any restitution for the damage was calculated. If it's a scam, it I saw farmers walking up to 20 miles to report intrusions for no reason... and perhaps more importantly, I saw local officials verifying their claims. Maybe it's for real. I sure hope so.

This all sounds great, but do you really track down a "raider" or do you just go out and shoot an elephant and pretend it had something to do with damage to crops. Let me relate my hunt to you and you folks can decide for yourselves.

Anticipation of a safari can be just as fun as the trip. I have a Searcy PH model in .470 Nitro Express and chose this gun for my hunt. It shoots the Federal ammo relatively well so long as you use the Woodleigh bullet style. Actually, the gun was regulated super accurately for Butch's hot load which chronographs at 2240 f.p.s. out of the barrels of my gun. I had run out of those so, while at Dallas Safari Club, I ordered a box of ammo from Butch and continued to practice with the factory stuff and snap caps. When the Searcy-made loads arrived, I eagerly shot the gun at 50 yards and was disappointed to find that the respective barrels made two distinct groups with the right barrel separated by 3" from the left and both two inches high.

I called Butch and he checked his records and realized that someone in his shop had sent the lighter load to which he will regulate his guns upon request. That made sense to me since more velocity theoretically would bring the barrels together and with less barrel time (higher velocity), the bullets should hit lower. True to form, Butch, at no cost to me, immediately sent me the proper load and my first four shots, right and left, all hit on a 1.5" inch piece of Duc tape at fifty paces. I was ready, albeit a little late! Thanks, Butch!

I finally finished packing and was on my way to Zimbabwe on February 26th at 6:00 a.m. I met Tony Black (.450 NE No.2) in Atlanta and we both had a comfortable flight over since the plane was not much more than one-half full. Tony had a dozen elephant on his plate, and I could only drool. Twelve elephants on one trip! With the three he's already taken, he'll be as experienced as one gets in just two years. I can't wait to get his call when he's back in the states and his video should be wonderfully instructive for shot placement comparisons.

As contracted, I was met by a young fellow from Optima in Johanessburg and he made quite sure that my gun got on the 7:00 p.m. Harare plane. I had almost 6 hours for a lay-over so I went upstairs to the transient hotel and for $60 U.S. got a room and shower. I think that nap and cleaning up did wonders to minimize jet lag this trip.

Refreshed, I got to Harare on schedule and met Brent with a seamless trip through customs/gun licensing. I spent the night in the company of Brent's three Jack Russells and bright and early we began the trek to Omay. The rains had been heavy this year and we had to make several detours when we found river crossings too high or bridges out. Interestingly, not a sign or notice ever informed us of a problem until we personally viewed it. The roundabout route did give me a chance to see lots of Zimbabwe. It being harvest season, thousands of folks were involved in getting grains to the little grist mills here and there. Cattle or donkey pulled wagons were piled high with bags of maize and other grains. Sometimes as many as fifty women in a group would be trudging along with huge white sacks of ground meal on their heads. It was a lesson in subsistence culture.

We arrived shortly before suppertime at Chifudzi Camp and were graciously met by François and his staff. (For those of you who know François [the guy who had half his face ripped off by a buff in Will's book], his is still healing well, the swelling is pretty down somewhat and he doesn't seem to be in any pain. He is engaged to marry in December and has emotionally adjusted well to the injuries.) We had a snack and I unpacked into a quite comfortable chalet (that amazingly had electricity from the grid and not the camp generator most of my stay!)

I took my rifle and shot a couple of rounds to check zero and belatedly learned that the left barrel really shot to the right and high with a clean barrel, but hit right on aim when fouled. I guess I had never really shot the gun for accuracy purposes with clean barrels, but am sure glad I had a chance to foul them. It made a difference. Live and learn.

It was raining, so after shooting some, we just sat in the dining area and I got to know François better along with Richard Swemmer (s.p.?) who had passed his PH exams and had only one more elephant hunt to accomplish to be fully licensed. The young fellow is only 21 years old, but full of experience and a hard worker. I welcomed him to our team and had fun that evening learning about his growing up and education in Zimbabwe, the son (his father was killed by a buffalo) and stepson of PH's in a post-Mugabe atmosphere. Richard (or Ritchie) had done most of his apprenticing in Lemco, so I'll bet many of you know him. A great guy.

We had a supper meal of grilled lamb chops, butternut squash, salad and chips (don't you folks like to vinegar them up... I sure do). A couple of scotches and I was off to bed at 9:30. I had yet to even see a mosquito (and don't really even remember being bothered by them the whole trip... mopane flies being a totally different matter, alas!).

We got up well before dawn and had coffee and breakfast. It was still raining and I doused my Searcy with oil in anticipation of the wet (but left the barrel interiors untouched!). François already had plenty of crop damage reports and we had a good idea where the elephants had been frequenting. I was pumped up when we began to squish out of camp on the rain soaked roads. I was in Africa and hopefully, soon in the presence of elephants! Darn it was thick and green everywhere.

After traveling for 30 minutes or so towards the east, we came upon a field where multiple cows had entered from the road. The maize looked like a drunk on an ATV had run amuck throughout it. Elephant tracks were everywhere along with a few diggings by bush pigs. You had to feel sorry for the poor folks whose sweat and toil and planted the field, only to have it almost destroyed in one night. A bull being first preference according to the program, we continued on down the road a bit until we found another spot where two bulls had caused havoc in a small plot. The local farmers stopped us and asked our help.

In light rain and with the temperature about 75 degrees we un-trucked and hit the elephant trail. Up and down we went for several hours as the heat rose and the rain got harder. It was pretty darn miserable, but the elephant dung was still fresh and the track hot.

Unfortunately, the cows from the first field and the bulls we were following apparently got together and in the rain and mud made following about impossible. There must have been 15 or so elephants of all ages and sexes creating a path fifty yards across from which they periodically departed and returned to. When they crossed a river which was running quite rapidly and was waist deep, we gave up and returned wet and tired to the vehicle.

Since it was lunch time and my first day, we returned to camp and got dry, had a nice cold cut lunch and I took an hour's nap to kill some jet lag. Awakened by a staff member with a Swepes Lemon, my favorite, I was in the Land Cruiser in only a minute of so of my summons. Another crop damage report had come from a fellow who must have walked 10 miles to ask for our presence. We gave him a ride to his village and Friday and William, Brent's expert trackers walked down a path a kilometer or so to discuss the prospects with the local head man and view the field.

Obviously enthused, the fellows, still with the "informant" came trotting back. It seems that two bulls had left the local fields at daylight and had come in our direction, crossing the road just ahead of us. Anticipation building, I grabbed my Searcy and began to follow.

The elephants had wandered along, roaming left and right, periodically pulling down a tree limb and stripping it of its bark. We got deeper and deeper in the bush and the terrain became more vertical. Temperature was about 85 degrees and although it was no longer raining, it was as humid as the bottom of a swimming pool. My light green shirt and pants were soon sweat-stained dark.

The course of the elephants had been somewhat wandering, but always away from the fields, When it became obvious that they had turned an arc and were headed back to the village, our spirits rose. Maybe, just maybe, we could find them hanging out awaiting the dark for cover of their mischief.

We hurried as fact as we could, but as the light became more flat as evening approached, our spirits began to lag. Brent, very familiar with the local area, knew that a deep valley was ahead and sent Friday forward to see if the elephants were in sight across the abyss. After about 15 minutes of grateful rest, we heard a whistle from 200 yards ahead. We trotted up a knoll and were greeted with a sharp drop off of several hundred feet. Across the void, periodically, we could make out 10 to 12 elephants some 800 meters away. I raised my glasses and made out a tuskless cow with a juvenile, several tusked cows with calves and one bull with what I thought were tusks that just had to be too big two qualify for a P.A.C. animal. Brent had told me that 35 pounds was the biggest we could "get away with"... since others were going to pay big bucks for exportable trophies, and the bull I saw had at least that much ivory with great upward curls. I guess you have to save the 40 pounders and above for the trophy hunters who are paying the mucho dinero. Makes sense to me! Anyway, Brent winked and said, "There is the elephant you're going to kill!"

I didn't' allow myself to get too excited for several reasons. First, it was a LONG way to the elephants. Secondly, it would be dark soon and finally, the cliff on which I stood was better suited for base jumping with a parachute than for stalking Tembo.

Brent sent William to the right and Friday to the left to see if the cliff wall had a seam that we could scramble down and get to the valley below. A whistle shortly followed and we followed William down a steep chute that provided amazingly quick and easy access to the bottom. Friday stayed on the cliff to give hand signals as to the elephants movements.

Maybe this thing was going to happen!

With the help of a good shot of adrenalin, I made it up the far bank and soon we were on a flat shelf about 100 yards wide and could see the massive gray shapes lounging along a hundred yards before us.

I loaded my rifle with two Woodleigh solids and William led the way with his puff bottle, checking the wind every few seconds. The elephant were in a horseshoe gaggle with the open end facing us. On our right was the tuskless cow and her youngster. A seemingly unattached calf about shoulder height was over there, too and was aware of our presence but only looked up periodically as we eased forward. I'm sure her mama was nearby. Two cows were soon passed only about 30 yards on on our left and as we cleared them, the bull walked out from behind brush about 40 yards away but immediately turned directly butt-end to us. The brush was more like an English country park than the thick stuff we had been in and it was an amazing sensation to be amongst so many elephants, most in sight at one time. I felt like a U-Boat captain trying to get inside a convoy of ships, ready to loose torpedoes.

Brent moved back to our left and put a tree between us and the elephant. Richard had joined us and was directly behind me with his .375 H&H. Brent whispered the plan. We'd move directly toward the elephant until we were within 20 yards, then move out to clear the tree. Richard's job was to watch the two cows that had just taken a curious notice of us to our left. I'd brain the elephant if I felt comfortable with the shot and if I missed, Brent would get a hip while I put my second shot in the heart/lung area.

We eased forward until, even through the intervening tree branches, the elephant looked like a chubby Mac Truck. It was time.

I moved to the right of Brent and raised my rifle. I could see the elephant well now and he was certainly aware that something was amiss. He swung his head left and right but still was quartering too much away for either a brain shot or even a shoulder pop. I aimed behind his ear several times, but with his movements and nervousness, I just didn't feel right. I told Brent to "give me" his shoulder and I'd put one back in the ribs to angle forward, but he wisely nixed that. "Wait, wait", he whispered.

The bull whipped his head up. Somewhere, behind us and closer than I'd have liked, an elephant trumpeted. On our right I could hear an elephant running. The bull's head, now only 16 steps away began to turn toward me and I began to focus on the ear hole or just below. Damn! He stopped his turn and quickly looked toward the departing elephant that was smashing along now passing him right to left.

There! His shoulder was clear. I dropped my aim a bit, figured where the far shoulder was, aimed about 3/8th up the chest and let the big dog bark.

The bull shuttered like he'd been hit with a giant fist. His back legs failed him for a moment and the elephant wobbled for another millisecond. He recovered quickly, spinning to the left and Brent tried a shot at his left hip. The big fellow sagged again but stayed erect, dragging his leg. I shot at his spine and hit a bit to the right. The bull was clearly done and we let him stagger a few yards where he fell in a resounding crash.

There is a reason to have a professional hunter and two is better than one. I was awe struck, looking at the falling animal. Brent had reloaded his Merkel .470 and was shouting at an approaching cow at the top of his lungs while pulling me towards some rocks for cover.

Richard never took his eye or rifle off of the cow to the left that mock charged to 15 yards in a screaming fit. Without them, I'd be Jello underneath the toenails of a lady Jumbo. Maybe after another 10 or so elephants, I'll be a pro, but I would have just stood there, mouth agape and a target for squashing.

For about a minute, the elephants all around raised hell, tearing down a tree here and there and running towards us and then retreating. I totally forgot about the bull on the ground and stared at the ruckus, still open-mouthed. I probably swallowed a dozen mopane flies. Finally, the herd thundered off down the valley towards the river below.

Relieved, I remembered why I'd come and looked the fifty yards to "my" elephant. His trunk was being weakly lifted and I ran to him and put a bullet into his brain from the top. It was over.

Yet, in some ways, the best part was still to come. Even at that late hour, folks began to climb down into the valley with knives and axes. Brent and the Game Scout, Joseph, asked that they not begin their meat gathering until the morning and they complied.

We arose before light and drove somewhat closer to the kill site than from where we embarked the afternoon before. I liked that. I'd about killed myself climbing out after taking the elephant, all energy being drained by the thrill of it all, and I wondered about folks carrying heavy elephant meat out, but I shouldn't have worried. They skipped up and down the cliffs. About 60 folks (and one skinny dog) were gathered when we arrived in the half light. They ranged from the ancient to toddlers and all patiently sat by while Brent orcestrated the skinning and turning of the bull. The skin was carefully stripped and taken to the vehicle as was the ivory after being chopped out. The local chief had claimed the trunk for his feast and it was taken up the hill and secured for him along with about 200 pounds of meat for the camp staff.

Then the fun began. Brent gave the crowd a signal with a broad sweep of his arm.

There was an instant surge of giggling people. Axes and knives flashed. Chatter and shouts created a buzz heard a mile away. Blood was everywhere with folks covered up from head to toe. Guts were strung out for dozens of yards, The smell of the entrails was stomach churning. The dog drug his quickly-aquired, fat belly over to the shade and after vomiting a few times, went to sleep. The whole thing was a hoot.

I couldn't watch for long as I didn't want to see a hand fly off or a head split and signaled to Brent that I was ready to go. The folks stopped for a moment and all gave me a salute with whatever cutting instrument they had and, then me immediately forgotten, went back to hacking and whacking. As we putted up the hill to the main road, men, women and children scurried out of our path as then ran down the hill not to miss out on their part. Some had pots, some pans, some bags... all had big smiles on their faces. Cedric said it was the first meat many had had since October.

It was an experience I won't forget anytime soon... or at least until next year. I've already e-mail HHK with a reservation for another P.A.C. hunt. Can you blame me?

Fat, old man and imaginary elephant:



The crowd gathers:



Rolling the elephant so the off side can be skinned:



Young fellows ready to dive in with their blades:



Humping half the trunk up the hill for the Chief:



Saeed:
I hope I'm not to presumptious to use up so much bandwidth, but I had a heck of a good time!

When will the book be published????

How was your recent trip.

JudgeG,

Thank you for sharing your hunt with us.

If you forward the photos to me, I will be happy to add them to your report.

Ernest,

As always, a pleasure to read your posts..... welcome back my friend.....

See!!!!!!!!!!! I told y'all he killed an elephant!!!!!

Great story Ernest and a very good PAC bull. Well done old man.

Perry

Judge as you had stated in your PM to me before you left, you did indeed make the post upon your return. Thanks for the story. Though I have no interest in killing an elephant I enjoyed you relateing the facts of the trip none the less. cats
BTW your comment to being a fat old man makes me think back to a thread not too long ago where the author was describing his fat and how he needed to shed it (read that bragging how much he had shed already) to go on his up comming elephant hunt...

Another adventure - well shared.

Thanks for taking us there Judge

TerryR

Congrats, great story!

JPK

Judge

I've always enjoyed your novels - and look forward to many more!! A great story that makes me think that I ought to own a double.........!!

Rgds Ian

Outstanding job Marine! Nice ivory! I enjoyed your story brought back memories of my hunt.
Dean

Great Job.


urdubob

Well done Judge. It sounds like an immensely satisfying hunt and experience. And a chance to do good as well while you were at it.

Now the unbearable wait until the next one.

Great story, Judge!

Thanks Judge!

BOWHUNR

Well done Judge and a great story about the PAC hunt. Great detail! Must be a never ending battle with the indigenous people and the ele. Was scheduled for a PAC hunt myself, but it got cancelled for a tuskless hunt instead, so I really appreciate the time you spend on your report. Good Hunting!

Dak

Enjoyed your story Judge,thanks for taking the time telling it.
Looking at the "trophy photo" , 2 thoughts:
1 who is the hunter? dont recognize the man judging from previous pictures.In other words, hearty congrats to a successful fitness course.

Re the tiny elephant: what a shame those nice ivories dont adorn your home,yes the experience counts much,but at least to this here greedy and immature hunter, the trophy memories are sweet. Doesn't this leave a void in your heart?

Great read, Ernest, what a great elephant too. It's also nice to see a GREEN Africa!

Thanks for posting.

Thank you for the adventure. How are Mopane flies by the way?
and did you partake in any of the Elephant yourself? I often wonder if it has flavor and would fit in with fine cuisine.
Frank

Congratulations Judge! Great story and elephant!

Great story Judge. Thank you for sharing.

George

Jude, Wonderful, just wonderful. Thanks for sharing the account, it was as though we were there with you.

Welcome home Judge and CONGRATULATIONS!!!
A very nice bull!!! Please keep the hunt fresh on your mind so you can tell and retell the story next year in Dallas.

Don't be a stranger to this forum either!!

John

That was a great story. Sure hope you shoot a real elephant one of these days....

How many pounds was the ivory estimated at?

Hearty congratulations!

Amasa Aginalo....Thanks, Judge.

Rich Elliott

Once again Judge,, well done,,

Dreams of Africa,,AH!!!!!!

Great story, JudgeG. I felt like I was there. Welcome home.

Bully good show Judge!

Judge,

Fine story, very fine...

Mike

So you ain't dead.

quote:

Originally posted by Frank Martinez:

and did you partake in any of the Elephant yourself? I often wonder if it has flavor and would fit in with fine cuisine.
Frank

Frank,

I was served back strap steaks from my old ele cow the day I shot her. The chef marinaded them nicely and grilled them like a beef steak. Kind of on the rare to medium rare side (the way I like steaks).

I thought they were delicious. Nice like any game meat or beef.

Later, the PH told me the cook pounded the meat for 3 hours just for me. I wasn't sure if he was kidding or not but the meat was nice and tender!

Judge, thanks for posting your hunt. Once again, you have brought all of us along for the hunt, with your skill at the keyboard.

Hog Killer

Well done, Ernest!
Thanks for sharing your adventure! Always a pleasure!

Thanks for posting that!

Great story and a great trophy Ernest. Next question: When do we hear the story in person amidst wafting cigar smoke and a good single malt? jorge

Judge,
Well done old chap. I'll raise a glass in you and your ele's honor tonight.
You are right Judge, PAC is the way to go. I will never forget my first and cannot wait until the next.

Great story of a fine hunt, Judge.

Congratulations!

Hey Judge,

Just an awesome hunt, thanks for the story.

Great hunt, Ernest, and a report that lived up to such a great adventure. I'll gladly pass it on to our friends in the Corps.

Thanks, Judge ...... REALLY enjoyable !!!