Retuned to camp in the vehicle and off to the skinning shed went the waterbuck. Then we headed out to meet up with mbogo...Drove to the south west and after a few miles spoor was sighted...What is spoor, you ask??? Nothing but tracks and crap...warm spoor is good and steaming is even better!!! So I asked Pierre how far are the buf in front of us... maybe 2 hours.. and off we take after them..I am carrying the 450#2 double and Dominic is carrying the 375, in case other animals give us an opportunity...I am following Pierre and I am also watching the pile of bull sh-- to see if color and texture change...Looks are exchanged and the tempo is picked up and we stop...Some how, some where the buf did a side manuver and left the worn path...The Masai trackers start doing what they do best.. figure out where the buff headed or see if they split into two groups...
I can always find my way in the state where I live, but damn Africa always gets me confused as to which direction we are heading..it took me almost 15 days to get it straight...But the first few days were tough...
Whistles and cat calls and the trackers find what they are looking for and off we go..The boys in black are taking us for a good run...Up one hillside across another thru grass that would swallow up the damn land cruiser...Boy, am I glad I have the heavy rifle in my hands...Anticipating a buf to jump and get flattened by the double...Back to the hunt walking, whispering to me Pierre says we are closing in..I hope so, it is not 10:30 am and have not seen or heard them...Oh, the wind.. any who hunt buf know how important the wind is and it must be blowing away from the buf or you must be behind the buf to close in on them...
The biggest problem with the cape buffalo is that they wander, like a drunken sailor...They have no rhyme or reason to their movements...Walk, feed, walk, water, but there is water everywhere..No dried up waterholes...
I hear a snort, we freeze, Pierre looks at me and smiles and I nod my head I know the noise.. buf noise, herd noise...Now lets find them, identify, and make the shot...A little closer we are now sneaking, watching and listening for mbogo...A few more steps and another snort and off the herd goes..Busted.... the damn things were right in front of us 20 yards as big as horses but invisible to us...The grass and the green underbrush was lush from all the rain...So off to the races again...
We pick up the challenge again, and I must say that my conditioning paid off.. walking the 7 miles daily and carrying the 10 pound dumbell..My legs, my wind, and my muscles never complained about speed, oxygen deprevation, or heavy tired hands...I even did not require a lot of drinking water, but I had taken gatorade in prepacked 1 qt. packages and mixed with the bottled water a few gulps and I was back on the top and miles more in me...
The chase continued and we busted those guys 3 more times.. and they got on the wind and kept it betwen us and them...Buf-4, Us-0...Headed back to the truck and don't even think of asking me what direction the truck was...That damn long legged Masai, Twiga took off like someone poked him on the butt with a hot iron...
Now let tell you that guy would walk the legs off a camel...After another hour we arrive at the truck for lunch...The cooler is taken from the truck and Dominic the other Masai tracker went to the front of the truck and brought a soap dish so we could wash our hands..Then lunch begins...You'll never guess what we had for lunch...leftover lobster tail, damn was it good, homemade bread, tomatoes...Cake from my wifes birthday cake and washed it down with a sprite and more gatorade...
We walked around 10 kilometers this morning buf hunting and Pierre said to rest and we would go after them later..I laid on the ground in the shade and my wife said in 3 minutes I was sleeping...Slept for maybe half hour and woke up and ready to beat those buf at their game...
Pierre told me the buf are always moving thru this location, and off we go...In no time we are on to some fresh buf tracks and crap...The chase begins again in earnest...Thru the long grass, across a dried river bed up the hill littered with fresh poop..don't know how many... 20, 30 but alot of sign so even a novice could track these guys. It is hot 80's and sweat is coming off heads, faces like a flowing steam...Down the other side of the hill back into the green long grass like hounds chasing a rabbit, the Masai are relentless... one hour stretches to 2 and still we have not caught up to them...The terrain looks like buf heaven to me shade green grasses but the buf just passed thru...UP again over the top of a hill and our excitement level is still way up... Heading down the other side we stop in the shade for a drink of gatorade I mixed...Wow is that a thirst quencher...5 minutes and we continue on...It amazes me the trackers have no water with them...
All of a sudden Twiga turns and smiles and says something mbogo...The something I did not understand but mgogo means buf...He can hear them and now adrenelin shoots thru my veins and I am crackling with energy...I can even catch a glimpse of some of them in the trees wandering aimlessly away from us..Now head them off?? Sneak closer to them and try to identify them?
After the conference Pierre said to me, Mike this is where Judge and I faced the lions and the buf...I looked around and can occasionally hear the buf horns clicking and snorts they are close to us just inside of the dark tangle of trees and brush...We follow some of them in.. my hands are sweating.. water is falling from my face like I am melting...My thoughts are be ready.. anything can happen.. What if a buf charges, naw that can't happen they don't even know we are after them..Where are they and Twiga points and smiles, in front of us now I have to say it is yards...Anywhere from 5 to 10 yards in front of us..Wind is right I can still feel the cooling breez in my face, just like air conditioning ahhhh!!! All heads and eyes are staring trying to find an opening.. Identify, make the shot, and reload and be ready for anything this close...Then it happens, not a charge, but the littlest change of wind... I feel the chilling effect on the back of my neck and in another second all hell breaks loose... Snorting, stampeding, and dust flying the cloud settles and the buf are gone..
Expletives, expletives...Crap..It is 5pm and Pierre says we have to get back to the truck...
Now If I was asked to lead us back to the truck, I would just have continued walking around the world...It feels like we did at least the first half this afternoon...You have to see Twiga, that tall Masai tracker..Twiga means giraffe...He must think quitting time is race back to the truck...I am a pretty good walker and have a big stride, but that damn Masai must take 10 foot steps...I was practically jogging to keep up..Or maybe he gets to eat first if he makes the truck first...
What ever we are back to the truck at 630 and back in camp around 745pm...
Boy did that first beer taste great, a Kilmanjaro delicious...
My wife askes me 'so how was it' and I smile.. hunting at its finest...True, honest, hard hunting and I was in shape for every inch of it..I toast the time and the hunt...This is what I came for... Africa buf hunting...
After a dinner of shrimp and a wonderful desert.. A brandy by the fire some good conversation and laughs...We say goodnight and head to bed it is 930pm and 530am is just around the corner...
I kiss my wife good night and stare at the tent ceiling and slip into sleep thinking of how we chased mbogo and I am up to it for tomorrow..
Hello, hello I hear somone calling..Its the tent boy and I answer him, I am awake and sit up and boy did I sleep like a rock last night..
Wash, dress, pack up rifles, gear, and head for breakfast.. Bacon and egg sandwich and Rooibos tea...Satisfying and filling...Daylight is showing presence and off we go..Today we head towards the southwest and a different bara bara, road...Not long we are into tracks and crap but this time, for you former safarians with Pierre we are at the watering hole where Palmer shot his hippo..


We are headed due west now, the Masai trackers are on to those cagey buf..across a open area, trees.. but the grass is low maybe 4 feet in height...We are into this stalk now only an hour and there is one buf in front but can't ID as he it is swallowed up by the long grass...Carefully we are proceeding forward at a snails pace and you guessed it.. an errant gust and off they go..We sit and have some water, Pierre a smoke and after letting the buf settle down we are after them again...Over and over these reruns are becoming emotionally scarring...But one of these times it will pay off, patience Mike...
Back to the truck after busting the buf 4 times and not seeing one.. only black, tracks, and steaming crap...We have lunch and Pierre says Mike we are going to head to the southern end of the concession where there are some big valleys where the buf pass thru after a midday snooze...So we head there and I see my first kongoni, a herd at 300yds...Looing thru the scope and Pierre says, "Mike see the left one?" "yes" "shoot it". I got on the sticks and off they went..But I did see the mass on the males head compared to the one next to him a female.
So now I know what a male kongoni looks like...
We are driving along and also checking an area where a lion has been and I get to see lion tracks and now also a a baiting area...We continue on and a commotion from the trackers..That damn Twiga just saw mbogo off to my left...The truck stops and the two trackers game scout and Pierre and I head into the long grass...Low keyed jabbering is going on and thanks for that tall guy in the lead Twiga, he can see over the grass...I can now hear and see the buf...There are two herds and we head for the close one.. It is like a game of chess, moving towards them, parallel to them...Trying to anicitpate, to keep the wind in our favor...I am on the sticks maybe three times but they move off... The dagga boy is hidden but Pierre got a glimpse of him...So the game of movements continues...Finally Pierre says Mike follow me and we take off jogging away from the buf which are only 60 yds in front of us...I am gulping lung fulls of air so when I get to the critical time of shooting I can control my breathing...This chase goes on for maybe 4 or 5 minutes and as we break into the trees, there they are... Only 30 yds in front of us..I am ready and the double is up and on the sticks..Now where is the big guy??? Like a wish, he walks out and I dont wait to be told..Off goes the right barrel and yahoo!!! the buff is up in the air maybe 4 feet leaping and Pierre says great shot Mike...Bang goes the second barrel and I hear the second shot hit as he is running in front of me right to left up and over the top to the slopping savannah..We are after him like a flash and Pierre says something and I see a korongo, a wash out and jump it..But not the second and I am flat down on the ground...Hamilton has me up and no bruises and off we go making the top of the hill... we stop...First to get together and then to see where mbogo went... 20steps and there he is down, but not out...He raises his head and I am not about to let him get up...Unconsciously I give him the first shot in the shoulder and he raised his head and I slam a copper solid into his neck like he was stuck by lightning he is down I break his neck and Pierre carefully walks up and give him a dimple between the eyes..
My first Selous buf and he is a slammer around 38 with a big high boss and broomed horn tips...A real buf and old warrior taken in true fashion hard hunting a chase and the shot...A well deserved and earned trophy... Five shots the big double did its job...
The truck is sent for and mama chop chop comes back with it..Smiles hugs and thank yous are in order..Photos, chop in half, load and 2 1/2 hours back to camp...All smiles...





Mike

This is Cherie....for inquiring minds....I chose to stay on the truck while the guys were 'chasing buff'. Even with the training I did with Mike, my rhuematoid arthritis prevented me from keeping up with them. Someone always stayed with me, and this gave me a great chance to get my 'other pictures' of flora. Read a lot, napped a lot, felt sorry for the guys, but didn't need to....they were having the time of their lives!!!!

Bravo Mike!! Well told! Now that my friend, is pure adventure!!

John

Yeah Mike, thats what we're asking for! Good job on the buff and the tale.

Your hunt description made my heart beat faster. You get a major attaboy.

Terrific story, Mike. Hey, if we go up to the cabin this October, you'll have to come over and debrief me in person! jorge

You're a great story teller, Mike. I enjoyed that hunt with you.

What a beautiful buff. I like the way the boss is worn almost smooth.

Great description of your hunt. You are a good writer! I like the ... when you end sentences. This indicates to me that your mind is really engaged in telling the story as you experienced it... Thanks a whole lot for this great story.

Exit31

Wooooohhh! That's awesome. Now you've got me practically frantic. Well told!

talking to self.....Calm down Canuck...only 2 more days to go....

Cheers,
Canuck

Mike,
Reading your stories are just like being there. Congratulations on a great hunt.

Mike,

Thanks for the detailed description of the hunt - you really put me there with you. Sounds like a great series of stalks and I love those old, worn-down dagga boys!

Excellent Mike, Thanks for this story. I know you will give us more. Your word pictures are great. More?

Awesome story, Mike! A well deserved trophy!

All I can say is I am jealous!



465H&H

You told it well! I felt I was right along with you every step --- Congrats!!

Way to go Mikey!!!


Dulcinea

Mike,
Congradulations and well done!
Russ

Most probably the best buff story I read in my life, thanks for the detail.

The photo's does not show only red X's in blocks

quote:

Originally posted by 30ott6:
Bravo Mike!! Well told! Now that my friend, is pure adventure!!

John

My feelings exactly, Mike. Way to go.